the circle, seeking a chair. Slowly she slid down, glad to feel the softness of the cushion against her thighs.
“There’s no easy way to do this.” His voice was soft and kind. “It seems that Mrs. Sanderson was attacked, brutally so. We couldn’t really be sure it was her but for dental records.”
“It can’t be Jasmine. You said a shepherd found her. Jasmine would rather eat rabbit dung than be found in shepherd country. My sister was a city girl.”
Mrs. Carrington had come beside her. Poppy felt her thin, rather bony arm go around her.
“Poppy,” she said softly.
“No…”She shook her head. Feeling her eyes well up with tears, she was crying for this poor girl who had been found, not for Jasmine. She’d promised she would always care for Jasmine; that they were apart didn’t mean she hadn’t cared for her.
“If you would like to—”
“No.” She choked on the word. “There really is no need for me to see this girl. I know it isn’t Jasmine. I know it.”
A firm voice echoed across to them. “What’s going on?” Turning to the door, Poppy saw that Seth was there. Seth in a black cashmere Crombie car coat over a light gray suit, looking like a million dollars. She’d never seen him so well dressed. He’d clear this all up. She just knew he would.
Chapter 8
It was very dark. A single light from a lamp glowed through the darkness. There was the flash of firelight on the ceiling but nothing else. Poppy lay on the settee. She hated herself for being a coward and for refusing to acknowledge even a modicum of truth.
Seth had gone with the police. He’d been gone hours.
Jasmine, why are you doing this? Why are you running away?
But there was only one person running and that was she, and she was running from reality. The police had to be pretty certain of the truth. They wouldn’t have come otherwise. They’d checked and double-checked, yet still deep inside her there was a glimmer of hope.
Through the silence of the house came the sound of a door closing. Not softly but not loudly either. Just clicking to a close. She didn’t move. Waited, holding her breath, praying for Seth to burst in with good news.
The door squeaked open. Seth was framed in the threshold. He looked terrible. His complexion was dredged of all color. His eyes, those wonderful green orbs, full of agony. She didn’t have to ask; instead she gave a slight moan and turned over, burrowing into the cushion. Trying to hide from confirmation of what she dreaded. But the police had checked Jasmine’s dental records; they had known it was her. Only Poppy found it difficult to accept. Now, looking at Seth, she knew for certain.
There was a clink of glass against glass. Seth was pouring drinks. If ever a man needed a drink she knew he did. Whatever he felt for Jasmine now, he’d once loved her. Probably, like many before him, adored her. He had to be in pieces. She had to help. With effort she pulled herself upright. He was coming towards her, a glass of brown liquid in his hand. “Drink this,” he commanded.
She took the drink; the smell told her it was brandy. She sipped obediently. It was well diluted with soda. His drink looked like it was straight and he threw it down in one.
“I can’t get the picture out of my head.” The sentence staggered out of him. Pulling away from the sofa, Poppy went to him, taking him in her arms and hugging him to her. Her hand went through his hair, stroking his scalp as if he were a small boy in tears.
“God, Poppy,” he said. “I’m so glad you didn’t go but I…” he swore bitterly, disentangling himself from her embrace. “I need to get drunk.” He staggered across the room and poured another brandy. This one he nursed and sipped. “I’ve seen so much in my life but this…it was so damned personal. How could someone do that to that beautiful girl?”
“Don’t tell me just yet…I need to know, but not now.”
“She’d taken a lot of cocaine; did you know she
“There’s no easy way to do this.” His voice was soft and kind. “It seems that Mrs. Sanderson was attacked, brutally so. We couldn’t really be sure it was her but for dental records.”
“It can’t be Jasmine. You said a shepherd found her. Jasmine would rather eat rabbit dung than be found in shepherd country. My sister was a city girl.”
Mrs. Carrington had come beside her. Poppy felt her thin, rather bony arm go around her.
“Poppy,” she said softly.
“No…”She shook her head. Feeling her eyes well up with tears, she was crying for this poor girl who had been found, not for Jasmine. She’d promised she would always care for Jasmine; that they were apart didn’t mean she hadn’t cared for her.
“If you would like to—”
“No.” She choked on the word. “There really is no need for me to see this girl. I know it isn’t Jasmine. I know it.”
A firm voice echoed across to them. “What’s going on?” Turning to the door, Poppy saw that Seth was there. Seth in a black cashmere Crombie car coat over a light gray suit, looking like a million dollars. She’d never seen him so well dressed. He’d clear this all up. She just knew he would.
Chapter 8
It was very dark. A single light from a lamp glowed through the darkness. There was the flash of firelight on the ceiling but nothing else. Poppy lay on the settee. She hated herself for being a coward and for refusing to acknowledge even a modicum of truth.
Seth had gone with the police. He’d been gone hours.
Jasmine, why are you doing this? Why are you running away?
But there was only one person running and that was she, and she was running from reality. The police had to be pretty certain of the truth. They wouldn’t have come otherwise. They’d checked and double-checked, yet still deep inside her there was a glimmer of hope.
Through the silence of the house came the sound of a door closing. Not softly but not loudly either. Just clicking to a close. She didn’t move. Waited, holding her breath, praying for Seth to burst in with good news.
The door squeaked open. Seth was framed in the threshold. He looked terrible. His complexion was dredged of all color. His eyes, those wonderful green orbs, full of agony. She didn’t have to ask; instead she gave a slight moan and turned over, burrowing into the cushion. Trying to hide from confirmation of what she dreaded. But the police had checked Jasmine’s dental records; they had known it was her. Only Poppy found it difficult to accept. Now, looking at Seth, she knew for certain.
There was a clink of glass against glass. Seth was pouring drinks. If ever a man needed a drink she knew he did. Whatever he felt for Jasmine now, he’d once loved her. Probably, like many before him, adored her. He had to be in pieces. She had to help. With effort she pulled herself upright. He was coming towards her, a glass of brown liquid in his hand. “Drink this,” he commanded.
She took the drink; the smell told her it was brandy. She sipped obediently. It was well diluted with soda. His drink looked like it was straight and he threw it down in one.
“I can’t get the picture out of my head.” The sentence staggered out of him. Pulling away from the sofa, Poppy went to him, taking him in her arms and hugging him to her. Her hand went through his hair, stroking his scalp as if he were a small boy in tears.
“God, Poppy,” he said. “I’m so glad you didn’t go but I…” he swore bitterly, disentangling himself from her embrace. “I need to get drunk.” He staggered across the room and poured another brandy. This one he nursed and sipped. “I’ve seen so much in my life but this…it was so damned personal. How could someone do that to that beautiful girl?”
“Don’t tell me just yet…I need to know, but not now.”
“She’d taken a lot of cocaine; did you know she
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