Read Online No Other Haven by Kathryn Blair - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kathryn Blair
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the Esplande, the town end. He’s the brightest light in the Port Acland younger set.”
Before Lindsey could fabricate a decisive refusal, Mrs. Conlowe’s saloon turned into the drive and came to rest a few feet from the steps. Without appearing to hu rr y, Adrienne got there first, and extended a helping hand.
“Well, it’s over for another week.” Her voice had miraculously gone gentle and quiet. “You really must accept Madame Rose’s offer to send a girl to do your hair here.”
“It wasn’t so bad.” Mrs. Conlowe was smiling. “Lindsey! How nice to see you. Did you tell Julius you’re staying for lunch?”
“No. I thought ... ”
Again Adrienne took the initiative. “Lindsey guessed you’d be a little tired. I’ve just invited her to Tony’s with me.”
Mrs. Conlowe laid an affectionate hand on Lindsey’s shoulder. “That will be better for you. Have a good time with the young things and come back to tea with me. What’s Stuart doing?”
“Lunching with several men and after that they go to the Town Planning Office. He should be here by four.”
“Good. Use the car, Lindsey. Can you do without the chauffeur? I promised him this afternoon off.”
Lindsey hated having to say, “I can’t drive.” But there was no alternative.
“If you’ll trust me with it,” Adrienne inserted diffidently.
“Yes, my dear. I’d forg o tten you’re an expert at the wheel. Off you go, then.”
With superb carelessness, Adrienne swung the big car out into the lunch hour traffic on the Esplanade.
“I’m fond of Mrs. Conlowe,” she said presently. “She knows how to carry her riches, which is more than you can say for the new wealthy who are infesting the best parts of town. Of course, your angle is somewhat different. One must always be wary of a mother-in-law, especially when one has married an only son.”
“My case happens to be an exception,” Lindsey answered swiftly. “Mrs. Conlowe and I are the best of friends.”
Adrienne laughed, a glossy little sound intended to disarm. “She was prepared to like anyone whom Stuart might choose for a wife. Secretly, of course, she hoped he’d marry a South African, but she has the tact and breeding to accept defeat gracefully.”
“You do her an injustice. Mrs. Conlowe is only interested in Stuart’s happiness.”
An idea struck Adrienne. It was apparent in the way her long slim fingers tightened on the wheel, and the contraction of her narrow, flame tinted lips.
“I sit rebuked,” she said softly. “So long as Stuart shows every sign of the happily married man she will clasp you to her heart like a daughter.” A gay smile. “Woe betide you, though, if you etch a single line of disillusionment on that handsome brow!”
At a large corner hotel they swerved into a road of spacious white boarding houses. On the first floor of one of the taller buildings, a veranda was packed with guests who seemed to be brandishing glasses and sandwiches and all talking at once. Adrienne pulled into the curb.
“Tony! Tony, are you there?”
A good-looking young man with crinkly brown hair and a pleasant voice appeared between two women and gazed down.
“Come on up, Adrienne. Who’s with you?”
“A potential client . ”
“If that’s so, darling cousin, I’ll come down.”
“ Tony’s a fashionable photographer,” Adrienne told Lindsey. “He has the flair. Magnates drape their wives in jewels and send them to Tony for a better-than-life reproduction. Unfortunately, there aren’t enough proud business men to keep him in the splendor he was born to, so he throws these parties to rope in custom, and, incidentally, as grist for the social column which he writes for the Week-end Courier .”
By this time Tony Loraine had reached the sidewalk, and Adrienne made the introductions. Confidingly, he took an arm of each and led the way up a flight of red, polished steps.
If this is a veranda lunch, thought Lindsey after half an hour of noise and
Before Lindsey could fabricate a decisive refusal, Mrs. Conlowe’s saloon turned into the drive and came to rest a few feet from the steps. Without appearing to hu rr y, Adrienne got there first, and extended a helping hand.
“Well, it’s over for another week.” Her voice had miraculously gone gentle and quiet. “You really must accept Madame Rose’s offer to send a girl to do your hair here.”
“It wasn’t so bad.” Mrs. Conlowe was smiling. “Lindsey! How nice to see you. Did you tell Julius you’re staying for lunch?”
“No. I thought ... ”
Again Adrienne took the initiative. “Lindsey guessed you’d be a little tired. I’ve just invited her to Tony’s with me.”
Mrs. Conlowe laid an affectionate hand on Lindsey’s shoulder. “That will be better for you. Have a good time with the young things and come back to tea with me. What’s Stuart doing?”
“Lunching with several men and after that they go to the Town Planning Office. He should be here by four.”
“Good. Use the car, Lindsey. Can you do without the chauffeur? I promised him this afternoon off.”
Lindsey hated having to say, “I can’t drive.” But there was no alternative.
“If you’ll trust me with it,” Adrienne inserted diffidently.
“Yes, my dear. I’d forg o tten you’re an expert at the wheel. Off you go, then.”
With superb carelessness, Adrienne swung the big car out into the lunch hour traffic on the Esplanade.
“I’m fond of Mrs. Conlowe,” she said presently. “She knows how to carry her riches, which is more than you can say for the new wealthy who are infesting the best parts of town. Of course, your angle is somewhat different. One must always be wary of a mother-in-law, especially when one has married an only son.”
“My case happens to be an exception,” Lindsey answered swiftly. “Mrs. Conlowe and I are the best of friends.”
Adrienne laughed, a glossy little sound intended to disarm. “She was prepared to like anyone whom Stuart might choose for a wife. Secretly, of course, she hoped he’d marry a South African, but she has the tact and breeding to accept defeat gracefully.”
“You do her an injustice. Mrs. Conlowe is only interested in Stuart’s happiness.”
An idea struck Adrienne. It was apparent in the way her long slim fingers tightened on the wheel, and the contraction of her narrow, flame tinted lips.
“I sit rebuked,” she said softly. “So long as Stuart shows every sign of the happily married man she will clasp you to her heart like a daughter.” A gay smile. “Woe betide you, though, if you etch a single line of disillusionment on that handsome brow!”
At a large corner hotel they swerved into a road of spacious white boarding houses. On the first floor of one of the taller buildings, a veranda was packed with guests who seemed to be brandishing glasses and sandwiches and all talking at once. Adrienne pulled into the curb.
“Tony! Tony, are you there?”
A good-looking young man with crinkly brown hair and a pleasant voice appeared between two women and gazed down.
“Come on up, Adrienne. Who’s with you?”
“A potential client . ”
“If that’s so, darling cousin, I’ll come down.”
“ Tony’s a fashionable photographer,” Adrienne told Lindsey. “He has the flair. Magnates drape their wives in jewels and send them to Tony for a better-than-life reproduction. Unfortunately, there aren’t enough proud business men to keep him in the splendor he was born to, so he throws these parties to rope in custom, and, incidentally, as grist for the social column which he writes for the Week-end Courier .”
By this time Tony Loraine had reached the sidewalk, and Adrienne made the introductions. Confidingly, he took an arm of each and led the way up a flight of red, polished steps.
If this is a veranda lunch, thought Lindsey after half an hour of noise and
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