Read Online A Christmas Romance by Betty Neels - Free Book Online Page A

I’ve had him.He was living on the streets before that, but that’s not the same as being free.’
    She had bent to stroke the furry head and the professor said gently, ‘Shall we leave him to get used to everything? The dogs won’t hurt him and we can leave the kitchen door open.’
    He unlocked the door behind him and stood aside for her to go inside. The kitchen was small, with a quarry-tiled floor, pale yellow walls and an old-fashioned dresser along one wall. There was an Aga, a stout wooden table and equally stout chairs and a deep stone sink. She revolved slowly, liking what she saw; she had no doubt that the kitchen lacked nothing a housewife would need, but it was a place to sit cosily over a cup of coffee, or to come down to in the morning and drink a cup of tea by the open door …
    ‘Through here,’ said the professor, and opened a door into the hall.
    It was narrow, with a polished wooden floor and cream-painted walls. There were threedoors and he opened the first one. The living room took up the whole of one side of the cottage, with little windows overlooking the front garden and French windows opening onto the garden at the back. It was a delightful room with easy chairs, tables here and there and a wide inglenook. The floor was wooden here, too, but there were rugs on it, their faded colours echoing the dull reds and blues of the curtains. There were pictures on the walls but she was given no chance to look at them.
    ‘The dining room,’ said the professor as she crossed the hall. It was a small room, simply furnished with a round table, chairs and a sideboard, and all of them, she noted, genuine pieces in dark oak.
    ‘And this is my study.’ She glimpsed a small room with a desk and chair and rows of bookshelves.
    The stairs were small and narrow and led to a square landing. There were three bedrooms, one quite large and the others adequate, and abathroom. The cottage might be old but no expense had been spared here. She looked at the shelves piled with towels and all the toiletries any woman could wish for.
    ‘Fit for a queen,’ said Theodosia.
    ‘Or a wife …’
    Which brought her down to earth again. ‘Oh, are you thinking of getting married?’
    ‘Indeed, I am.’
    She swallowed down the unhappiness which was so painful that it was like a physical hurt. ‘Has she seen this cottage? She must love it …’
    ‘Yes, she has seen it and I think that she has found it very much to her taste.’
    She must keep on talking. ‘But you won’t live here? You have your house in London.’
    ‘We shall come here whenever we can.’
    ‘The garden is lovely. I don’t suppose you have much time to work in it yourself.’
    ‘I make time and I have a splendid old man who comes regularly, as well as Mrs Trumpwho comes every day when I’m here and keeps an eye on the place when I’m not.’
    ‘How nice,’ said Theodosia inanely. ‘Should I go and see if Gustavus is all right?’
    He was sitting by his basket looking very composed, ignoring the two dogs who were cavorting around the garden.
    ‘It’s as though he’s been here all his life,’ said Theodosia. She looked at the professor. ‘It’s that kind of house, isn’t it? Happy people have lived in it.’
    ‘And will continue to do so. Wait here; I’ll fetch the food.’
    They sat at the kitchen table eating their lunch; there was soup in a Thermos; little crusty rolls filled with cream cheese and ham, miniature sausage rolls, tiny buttery croissants and piping hot coffee from another Thermos. There was food for the animals as well as a bottle of wine. Theodosia ate with the pleasure of a child, keeping up a rather feverish conversation. She was intent on being cool andcasual, taking care to talk about safe subjects—the weather, Christmas, the lighter side of her work at the hospital. The professor made no effort to change the subject, listening with tender amusement to her efforts and wondering if this would be the right moment to tell