His Convenient Marriage

‘I didn’t realise it was a place you visited.’

Linnet shrugged. ‘Oh, it’s always been a good place to see people, and be seen.’ She paused. ‘But I’d have thought it way above your means,’ she added, eyeing Chessie’s blouse and skirt. ‘Or are you working here as a waitress? You never really trained for much, did you? And you wouldn’t have any real references either—working for your father.’ Her brow furrowed. ‘Nor anywhere decent to live. I presume Silvertrees House had to be sold.’

This, Chessie thought detachedly, was quite definitely the evening from hell. She lifted her chin. ‘Yes, of course, but I happen to work for the new owner, and we still live there. I keep house for him, and do his secretarial work.’

‘Well, that sounds a cosy little arrangement,’ Linnet purred. ‘You’ve certainly fallen on your feet. So, who is this paragon who’s taken you on?’

Chessie hesitated. ‘I work for Miles Hunter, the thriller writer,’ she said reluctantly.

‘Hunter?’ The violet eyes sharpened. ‘But he’s a bestseller, isn’t he? You see his books everywhere. He must be worth an absolute fortune.’

‘He’s very successful,’ Chessie agreed, wincing inwardly at the older woman’s crudity.

‘And charitable to waifs and strays too, it seems.’ Linnet’s voice was cream spiced with acid. ‘How did you manage it?’

Chessie shrugged, trying to control the temper boiling up inside her.

‘He needed someone to run things for him,’ she returned shortly. ‘I was available.’

‘I’m sure you were.’ Linnet gave a small, tinkling laugh. ‘However, I don’t advise you to start getting any foolish ideas this time. No girlie crushes. Because not everyone’s as understanding as Alastair.’

Chessie felt her whole body jolt with shock as if she’d been physically struck. Her nails curled into the palms of her hands. Over Linnet’s shoulder, she saw Miles emerging from the dining room, pausing to lean on his cane as he slotted his wallet back into his jacket.

She said, ‘Thanks for the warning, Linnet, but it really isn’t necessary.’

She went to Miles, sliding her arm through his with deliberate possessiveness, and giving him a radiant smile.

‘Darling, may I introduce Lady Markham, who’s just come back to live at Wenmore Court? Linnet, this is Miles Hunter.’ She paused quite deliberately. ‘My fiancé.’

Miles did not move, but the sudden tension in his body hit her like an electric charge.

Later she would hate herself, and she knew it, but now the expressions chasing themselves across Linnet’s face made it all worthwhile. Or nearly.

Linnet, however, made a lightning recovery. ‘Congratulations.’ She held out her hand to Miles, along with a smile that lingered appraisingly, and frankly approved.

My God, Chessie thought bleakly. First the waitress, now Linnet. Am I the only woman in Britain not to have registered his attraction on some personal Richter scale?

‘So, when did all this happen?’ Linnet went on.

‘Tonight,’ Miles returned, his face impassive. ‘We’ve been having a celebratory dinner. You’re the first to know.’

‘How marvellous,’ Linnet approved fulsomely. ‘I’m sure you’ll both be fabulously happy.’ She paused. ‘When’s the big day? I suppose you’ll marry locally?’

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