Read Online His Convenient Marriage by Sara Craven - Free Book Online
Authors: Sara Craven
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was no real need to mention it ever to her volatile sister.
Because she was turning Miles down, and the sooner the better. She knew that, and she was comfortable in her de¬cision.
Which did not explain why she spent much of the re¬maining night tossing and turning in her bed. And it wasn't Alastair's easy charm and smiling brown eyes that were keeping her from sleep, but a man with a scarred face and premature winter in his gaze.
And that, she told herself firmly, was ridiculous.
CHAPTER FOUR
Chessie felt edgy and out of sorts as she made her way to the small room adjoining Miles' study that she used as an office.
She'd cleared her desk the previous afternoon, so she was surprised to find a substantial pile of new script await¬ing her attention.
Apparently, she wasn't the only one to have had a rest¬less night, she thought, biting her lip.
She sat down with a sigh, and switched on the computer. Jenny had been irrepressible at breakfast, Alastair's name never off her lips. She plainly saw him as the romantic knight on the white charger who was going to solve all their problems and carry Chessie off to eternal bliss as a bonus, and Chessie had longed to put her aching head in her hands, and beg her to stop.
'I'll be a bit late this evening,' Jenny said as she grabbed her school bag and headed for the door. 'Choir practice.'
But Chessie, newly suspicious and hating it, saw that her sister did not look at her directly, and her heart sank.
She couldn't put off the inevitable confrontation for much longer, she reflected unhappily.
The distant bang of the back door alerted her to the ar¬rival of Mrs. Chubb, the daily help. And no prizes for guess¬ing what would be her prime topic of conversation, Chessie thought as she made her way to the kitchen.
'You'll have heard, then.' Mrs. Chubb, resplendent in a flowered overall, had already switched on the kettle for her first cup of tea of the day. She tutted 'Poor Sir Robert. Who'd have thought it? Mind you, I always said he should never have gone to a hot place like Spain,' she added ominously. 'You should leave the Tropics for those who've been bred there. They can stand it.'
Chessie, contemplating Spain's new geographic status, murmured something neutral as she began to assemble Miles' coffee tray.
'And that means we'll have her ladyship back, coming the high and mighty,' Mrs. Chubb went on. '"Call me ma¬dam," was what she told us all in the village.' She snorted. 'And a right madam she's turned out to be. Sir Robert at death's door, and her wanting Chubb to mark out the tennis court.'
'Actually, Sir Robert is expected to make a good recov¬ery,' Chessie said, trying not to relish Mrs. Chubb's unflat¬tering remarks about Linnet.
Mrs. Chubb sniffed. 'Not with her nursing him, he won't. Suffer a relapse, I shouldn't wonder. Make her a rich widow, and suit her just fine.'
'Mrs. Chubb—you really mustn't...'
`I,' Mrs. Chubb said magnificently, 'speak as I find. Chubb loves those gardens at the Court, and he'd never leave, but I'm not going back there to clean, not even if she doubled my hours and my money—which she won't.'
She poured boiling water onto her tea bag, compressing it until the water turned black, then added a splash of milk, and two spoonfuls of sugar.
'Proper tea, that is,' she remarked with satisfaction. 'Not like that scented muck that Madam drinks. Used to fair turn my stomach, that did.' She sipped with deep appreciation and nodded. 'Now I must get on,' she added, as if Chessie had been deliberately detaining her. 'The master left a note asking me to do out the spare room, so he must be ex¬pecting visitors. And about time, too. This old place could do with cheering up.' And she departed purposefully, mug in hand.
'The old place is not alone in that,' Chessie muttered as she spooned the rich Colombian blend that Miles favoured into the percolator.
While she was waiting for it to brew, she collected the mail from the box by
Because she was turning Miles down, and the sooner the better. She knew that, and she was comfortable in her de¬cision.
Which did not explain why she spent much of the re¬maining night tossing and turning in her bed. And it wasn't Alastair's easy charm and smiling brown eyes that were keeping her from sleep, but a man with a scarred face and premature winter in his gaze.
And that, she told herself firmly, was ridiculous.
CHAPTER FOUR
Chessie felt edgy and out of sorts as she made her way to the small room adjoining Miles' study that she used as an office.
She'd cleared her desk the previous afternoon, so she was surprised to find a substantial pile of new script await¬ing her attention.
Apparently, she wasn't the only one to have had a rest¬less night, she thought, biting her lip.
She sat down with a sigh, and switched on the computer. Jenny had been irrepressible at breakfast, Alastair's name never off her lips. She plainly saw him as the romantic knight on the white charger who was going to solve all their problems and carry Chessie off to eternal bliss as a bonus, and Chessie had longed to put her aching head in her hands, and beg her to stop.
'I'll be a bit late this evening,' Jenny said as she grabbed her school bag and headed for the door. 'Choir practice.'
But Chessie, newly suspicious and hating it, saw that her sister did not look at her directly, and her heart sank.
She couldn't put off the inevitable confrontation for much longer, she reflected unhappily.
The distant bang of the back door alerted her to the ar¬rival of Mrs. Chubb, the daily help. And no prizes for guess¬ing what would be her prime topic of conversation, Chessie thought as she made her way to the kitchen.
'You'll have heard, then.' Mrs. Chubb, resplendent in a flowered overall, had already switched on the kettle for her first cup of tea of the day. She tutted 'Poor Sir Robert. Who'd have thought it? Mind you, I always said he should never have gone to a hot place like Spain,' she added ominously. 'You should leave the Tropics for those who've been bred there. They can stand it.'
Chessie, contemplating Spain's new geographic status, murmured something neutral as she began to assemble Miles' coffee tray.
'And that means we'll have her ladyship back, coming the high and mighty,' Mrs. Chubb went on. '"Call me ma¬dam," was what she told us all in the village.' She snorted. 'And a right madam she's turned out to be. Sir Robert at death's door, and her wanting Chubb to mark out the tennis court.'
'Actually, Sir Robert is expected to make a good recov¬ery,' Chessie said, trying not to relish Mrs. Chubb's unflat¬tering remarks about Linnet.
Mrs. Chubb sniffed. 'Not with her nursing him, he won't. Suffer a relapse, I shouldn't wonder. Make her a rich widow, and suit her just fine.'
'Mrs. Chubb—you really mustn't...'
`I,' Mrs. Chubb said magnificently, 'speak as I find. Chubb loves those gardens at the Court, and he'd never leave, but I'm not going back there to clean, not even if she doubled my hours and my money—which she won't.'
She poured boiling water onto her tea bag, compressing it until the water turned black, then added a splash of milk, and two spoonfuls of sugar.
'Proper tea, that is,' she remarked with satisfaction. 'Not like that scented muck that Madam drinks. Used to fair turn my stomach, that did.' She sipped with deep appreciation and nodded. 'Now I must get on,' she added, as if Chessie had been deliberately detaining her. 'The master left a note asking me to do out the spare room, so he must be ex¬pecting visitors. And about time, too. This old place could do with cheering up.' And she departed purposefully, mug in hand.
'The old place is not alone in that,' Chessie muttered as she spooned the rich Colombian blend that Miles favoured into the percolator.
While she was waiting for it to brew, she collected the mail from the box by
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