Read Online A Man To Tame - Rachel Lindsay (Roberta Leigh) by Rachel Lindsay - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rachel Lindsay
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you have a table by the
window?' he asked the waitress.
They've all been reserved; you're
lucky to get one at all.’
'I know,’ he smiled, and helped
Kate off with her coat before they sat down. There's no menu to choose from,’ he
explained. It's a set meal and you either take it or
leave
it,’
'How odd!'
‘You won't say that when you've
tasted it. This place is only open for lunch, but people come here from miles
around. If's owned and run by a Frenchman and his wife.
She's Welsh,’ he added, 'but he does the cooking.'
'You're beginning to make sense,'
Kate smiled, and drew a deep ecstatic breath as a fragrant soup was set before
them. Jewel-coloured vegetables nestled in a broth
fragrant with fresh basil. This was followed by a blanquette
de veau that bore no relation to the normal veal stew
served in British restaurants, and was accompanied by buttered baby beans and
carrots sprinkled with parsley.
At the sweet stage Kate baulked,
'I'm too full for anything more. Just coffee, please.'
It was only as the cups were set
before them that Dermot glanced over her shoulder and gave a slight movement. 'Mr Howard has just come in.'
'And has gone to a table by the
window,' she said dryly.
'Was that feminine intuition at
work?’
‘Normal logic,' she replied. 'He's
the sort of man who always expects to get the best wherever he goes.' She
longed to look round and see if he was alone, but forced herself not to do so,
though logic again told her he was certain to be lunching with someone.
‘Why did you let me believe Mr Howard was married?' she asked.
'Did I?' Dermot said, surprised,
and then shook his head. ‘You misunderstood me. You asked me if there was a Mrs Howard and I thought you meant if his mother was alive.
I took it for granted that you knew he was a widower.'
‘How should I know? I never met him
'until I came here to work.'
‘I assumed you knew about him because
you were recommended to the post by one of his friends.’
‘I know nothing at all about Mr Howard's private life.’
‘You don't look as if you care,
either,’ Dermot smiled, a statement which made it impossible for Kate to disclose
her curiosity.
Dermot signalled
the waitress for more coffee and as Kate half turned to watch the girl
replenish their cups, she was gratified to see that it brought Joshua Howard
almost within vision. It only needed a slight turn of her head for her to see
him clearly. He was a difficult man to miss. Even sitting down he bore such an
air of authority that it minimised everyone around
him. He was in tweeds and this made him look larger than ever and also younger,
so that she amended her original belief that he was in his forties-and decided
that late thirties was nearer the mark. He was not
lunching with a man, as she had expected, but with a girl, who was quite one of
the loveliest Kate had seen. In colouring she was as
dark as her companion, though her hair was long and black and fell dramatically
straight from a centre parting. Her Skin was golden, but from a distance it was
difficult to tell whether this was its natural colouring
or whether it was tanned by the sun. Certainly her clothes indicated she might
be foreign, for the cut of her dress was crisp and the
colour a vivid coral beloved by Rome.
The next Mrs Howard?' Kate
murmured, turning to see that Dermot had noticed where her attention had been
held.
‘Felicity hopes so,’ he replied.
‘Felicity. That’s an unusual name. Is she English?’
‘Welsh,’ he corrected, 'She has known
Mr Howard most of her life.’
‘You're destroying all my illusions,’
Kate said lightly. 'I didn't see her as the girl next door but as a glamorous
Latin.’
‘Until she was fifteen she was
definitely the girl next door,' he smiled. 'But a couple of years after he got
married she went off with her parents to live in America. She came back a year
ago and now lives in one of the prettiest cottages in the district. She's been
making a play for Mr Howard ever
window?' he asked the waitress.
They've all been reserved; you're
lucky to get one at all.’
'I know,’ he smiled, and helped
Kate off with her coat before they sat down. There's no menu to choose from,’ he
explained. It's a set meal and you either take it or
leave
it,’
'How odd!'
‘You won't say that when you've
tasted it. This place is only open for lunch, but people come here from miles
around. If's owned and run by a Frenchman and his wife.
She's Welsh,’ he added, 'but he does the cooking.'
'You're beginning to make sense,'
Kate smiled, and drew a deep ecstatic breath as a fragrant soup was set before
them. Jewel-coloured vegetables nestled in a broth
fragrant with fresh basil. This was followed by a blanquette
de veau that bore no relation to the normal veal stew
served in British restaurants, and was accompanied by buttered baby beans and
carrots sprinkled with parsley.
At the sweet stage Kate baulked,
'I'm too full for anything more. Just coffee, please.'
It was only as the cups were set
before them that Dermot glanced over her shoulder and gave a slight movement. 'Mr Howard has just come in.'
'And has gone to a table by the
window,' she said dryly.
'Was that feminine intuition at
work?’
‘Normal logic,' she replied. 'He's
the sort of man who always expects to get the best wherever he goes.' She
longed to look round and see if he was alone, but forced herself not to do so,
though logic again told her he was certain to be lunching with someone.
‘Why did you let me believe Mr Howard was married?' she asked.
'Did I?' Dermot said, surprised,
and then shook his head. ‘You misunderstood me. You asked me if there was a Mrs Howard and I thought you meant if his mother was alive.
I took it for granted that you knew he was a widower.'
‘How should I know? I never met him
'until I came here to work.'
‘I assumed you knew about him because
you were recommended to the post by one of his friends.’
‘I know nothing at all about Mr Howard's private life.’
‘You don't look as if you care,
either,’ Dermot smiled, a statement which made it impossible for Kate to disclose
her curiosity.
Dermot signalled
the waitress for more coffee and as Kate half turned to watch the girl
replenish their cups, she was gratified to see that it brought Joshua Howard
almost within vision. It only needed a slight turn of her head for her to see
him clearly. He was a difficult man to miss. Even sitting down he bore such an
air of authority that it minimised everyone around
him. He was in tweeds and this made him look larger than ever and also younger,
so that she amended her original belief that he was in his forties-and decided
that late thirties was nearer the mark. He was not
lunching with a man, as she had expected, but with a girl, who was quite one of
the loveliest Kate had seen. In colouring she was as
dark as her companion, though her hair was long and black and fell dramatically
straight from a centre parting. Her Skin was golden, but from a distance it was
difficult to tell whether this was its natural colouring
or whether it was tanned by the sun. Certainly her clothes indicated she might
be foreign, for the cut of her dress was crisp and the
colour a vivid coral beloved by Rome.
The next Mrs Howard?' Kate
murmured, turning to see that Dermot had noticed where her attention had been
held.
‘Felicity hopes so,’ he replied.
‘Felicity. That’s an unusual name. Is she English?’
‘Welsh,’ he corrected, 'She has known
Mr Howard most of her life.’
‘You're destroying all my illusions,’
Kate said lightly. 'I didn't see her as the girl next door but as a glamorous
Latin.’
‘Until she was fifteen she was
definitely the girl next door,' he smiled. 'But a couple of years after he got
married she went off with her parents to live in America. She came back a year
ago and now lives in one of the prettiest cottages in the district. She's been
making a play for Mr Howard ever
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