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Authors: Barbara Taylor Bradford
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although he hadn’t dared to crack a smile.
If he had, there would have been retribution of some kind. Nigel had been born a tough little bugger.
And nothing’s changed, he thought coldly.
Opening the door, Miles stepped out onto the covered porch, walked over to the balustrade, and stood looking out toward the distant hills. Kent was such a beautiful part of the world, his kind of country with its rolling wooded hills and crystal lakes. It reminded him of Yorkshire and of his childhood, a good part of which was spent there.
These days it was mostly Nigel who used Aysgarth End as a weekend home when he could get away from London, and for all the national holidays when they didn’t go to France to see Tamara’s parents.
Certainly it was a marvelous spot to raise a family.
When he went back to England he would go up there for a few days. He had long been planning to do an oil painting of Nigel’s two children, and he wanted to paint them against a moorland background.
Power of a Woman / 79
Now the view of the distant Litchfield hills rein-forced this idea, was quite inspirational in a way.
His fingers suddenly itched to hold a brush; he would start tomorrow, do a few sketches of Natalie and Arnaud from memory. It would be the beginning of the portrait. The prospect pleased him.
Miles shifted his stance slightly and glanced down into the garden below. It looked dank and foggy, and the mere sight of the sunken rose garden stripped of all its summer radiance and color made him conscious of the cold weather. He turned away and went inside.
Drifting back to the great hall, he sat for a few moments in front of the fire, staring into the flames, thinking unexpectedly about Allison Grainger.
He had been startled, not to mention miffed, when Chloe had brought her name up in front of the others. He was loath to give his family anything to speculate about, even his mother, whom he adored.
Nonetheless, like all mothers, she wanted to see him settled for life.
He liked Allison, liked her a lot in fact. She was a really great human being and a lovely young woman, and they had had a lot of fun together these past few months. But he did not want to spend the rest of his life with her—for a very simple reason.
He was not in love with her.
In any event, he had learned his lesson today, and learned it well. Young Chloe wasn’t to be 80 / Barbara Taylor Bradford
trusted. It was patently obvious that she was a little blabbermouth, and this disturbed him. She was always poking her nose into his business, and he was going to have to put a stop to that. He loved her, and he didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but she didn’t know how to edit herself. Wasn’t it his fault though? He had let her into his life since he had been in New York. Oh, what the hell, he thought, no harm done, and I’d better keep my own mouth shut from now on. At least around baby sister.
Later, upstairs in his bedroom, Miles glanced around with satisfaction, noting the blazing fire, the bowl of fresh fruit, the bottled water, and the collection of magazines and newest books on a long library table behind the sofa.
His mother had always paid great attention to detail, and provided great comfort in her homes, thinking of everything. The perfect reading lamp stood close to the overstuffed armchair next to the fireside; a cashmere blanket was thrown over the back of the sofa; a plump duvet skimmed across the top of the big double bed; and naturally, orchids bloomed on tables in various corners.
She cossets, he suddenly thought, that’s exactly the right word. She did the same when we were children. She’s always done it, pampered us, and everyone else. “Smothers us, more like,” he heard Nigel’s voice say. He frowned, thinking of his brother once again. Nigel had developed a very acerbic tongue of
Power of a Woman / 81
late and could be quite vituperative. “It’s as if he’s bitter,” Miles muttered under his breath, walking over to the
If he had, there would have been retribution of some kind. Nigel had been born a tough little bugger.
And nothing’s changed, he thought coldly.
Opening the door, Miles stepped out onto the covered porch, walked over to the balustrade, and stood looking out toward the distant hills. Kent was such a beautiful part of the world, his kind of country with its rolling wooded hills and crystal lakes. It reminded him of Yorkshire and of his childhood, a good part of which was spent there.
These days it was mostly Nigel who used Aysgarth End as a weekend home when he could get away from London, and for all the national holidays when they didn’t go to France to see Tamara’s parents.
Certainly it was a marvelous spot to raise a family.
When he went back to England he would go up there for a few days. He had long been planning to do an oil painting of Nigel’s two children, and he wanted to paint them against a moorland background.
Power of a Woman / 79
Now the view of the distant Litchfield hills rein-forced this idea, was quite inspirational in a way.
His fingers suddenly itched to hold a brush; he would start tomorrow, do a few sketches of Natalie and Arnaud from memory. It would be the beginning of the portrait. The prospect pleased him.
Miles shifted his stance slightly and glanced down into the garden below. It looked dank and foggy, and the mere sight of the sunken rose garden stripped of all its summer radiance and color made him conscious of the cold weather. He turned away and went inside.
Drifting back to the great hall, he sat for a few moments in front of the fire, staring into the flames, thinking unexpectedly about Allison Grainger.
He had been startled, not to mention miffed, when Chloe had brought her name up in front of the others. He was loath to give his family anything to speculate about, even his mother, whom he adored.
Nonetheless, like all mothers, she wanted to see him settled for life.
He liked Allison, liked her a lot in fact. She was a really great human being and a lovely young woman, and they had had a lot of fun together these past few months. But he did not want to spend the rest of his life with her—for a very simple reason.
He was not in love with her.
In any event, he had learned his lesson today, and learned it well. Young Chloe wasn’t to be 80 / Barbara Taylor Bradford
trusted. It was patently obvious that she was a little blabbermouth, and this disturbed him. She was always poking her nose into his business, and he was going to have to put a stop to that. He loved her, and he didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but she didn’t know how to edit herself. Wasn’t it his fault though? He had let her into his life since he had been in New York. Oh, what the hell, he thought, no harm done, and I’d better keep my own mouth shut from now on. At least around baby sister.
Later, upstairs in his bedroom, Miles glanced around with satisfaction, noting the blazing fire, the bowl of fresh fruit, the bottled water, and the collection of magazines and newest books on a long library table behind the sofa.
His mother had always paid great attention to detail, and provided great comfort in her homes, thinking of everything. The perfect reading lamp stood close to the overstuffed armchair next to the fireside; a cashmere blanket was thrown over the back of the sofa; a plump duvet skimmed across the top of the big double bed; and naturally, orchids bloomed on tables in various corners.
She cossets, he suddenly thought, that’s exactly the right word. She did the same when we were children. She’s always done it, pampered us, and everyone else. “Smothers us, more like,” he heard Nigel’s voice say. He frowned, thinking of his brother once again. Nigel had developed a very acerbic tongue of
Power of a Woman / 81
late and could be quite vituperative. “It’s as if he’s bitter,” Miles muttered under his breath, walking over to the
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