father, in his own private hell, and her eyes widened. `You wouldn't embarrass my father?'
Jonah's smile abruptly disappeared. `I have the greatest respect for your father,' he told her sternly.
She thought she could believe him. But, even so. 'I'd better sign something to the effect that it is I who owe you that money,' she suggested.
Jonah's harsh manner departed. `I think I can trust you, Lydie,' he said evenly.
She had previously believed she could trust him-and had been set up for her pains. `It isn't for you. It's for me,' she told him bluntly.
He looked back at her, his chin thrusting just that aggressive fraction forward. `You don't trust me?' he said coldly. `You think, after the discussion we've just had, that I'll forget everything we've said, and that I'll send the debt collectors after your father?' Stubbornly she refused to back down. Silently a pair of obstinate clear green eyes stared into a pair of cold blue eyes. Then Jonah Marriott opened a drawer and drew out a sheet of paper. He dropped the paper down in front of her and without another word uncapped his pen and handed it to her. He hates me, she thought, but was unshakeable in her resolve. That cheque had been made out to her father. She took the pen from Jonah and after a moment's thought wrote.
I, Lydie Pearson, in respect of the fifty-five thousand pounds borrowed from Jonah Marriott and paid into the bank account of Wilmot Pearson, hereby agree that the repayment of that fifty-five thousand pounds is my debt alone.
She read through what she had written and, while she felt lawyers might phrase it a little differently, she believed it said what she wanted it to say: that the debt was nothing to do with her father. Before she signed it, and purely as a courtesy, she turned the paper round so Jonah should read what she had penned.
It did not take him long. Though, when she would have taken the paper back and signed it, he took the pen from her hand and in his strong writing added something. Then, as she had, he turned it round for inspection. `The fifty-five thousand pounds to be repaid at the direction and discretion of Jonah Marriott,' she read.
Lydie was not very sure of the ground she was on here, but, having stubbornly held out to have something in writing, she did not think she could start nit-picking about any wording now.
Without looking at him, she took the pen from him and signed her name at the bottom, and then added the date. She handed both pen and paper back to him, and watched while he recapped his pen and stood up. He was a busy man; her appointment with him was over.
`I take it you'd like a copy?' he queried.
Since the idea of that piece of paper absolving her father of the debt was her idea, she didn't know how Jonah could ask. In fact, she thought the original should be hers.
She stood up, chin tilted. `Please,' she answered shortly.
He smiled that smile she was beginning to hate. `I shall look forward to Saturday,' he said.
With that she had to be content. She would see him on Saturday-now how was she going to wangle him an invitation? And what possible excuse could she use for wanting him there? And what, in creation, was she going to tell her father?
CHAPTER THREE
LYDIE thought and thought all the way home. But she still had not worked out what to tell her father when she was heading up the drive of Beamhurst Court. She wanted to stick as close to the truth as possible, but doubted that her father would be impressed that his near to penniless daughter had claimed his debt as hers. He just would not stand for that.
The first person Lydie met on going indoors was her mother. Oh, grief. Her mother had not seemed very friendly towards Jonah Marriott when she had spoken of him. Lydie just knew she was going to ask quite a few vitriolic questions when Lydie said she wanted him to be invited to Oliver's wedding.
But there was a smile on her mother's face. `Oliver's home,' she beamed,
Jonah's smile abruptly disappeared. `I have the greatest respect for your father,' he told her sternly.
She thought she could believe him. But, even so. 'I'd better sign something to the effect that it is I who owe you that money,' she suggested.
Jonah's harsh manner departed. `I think I can trust you, Lydie,' he said evenly.
She had previously believed she could trust him-and had been set up for her pains. `It isn't for you. It's for me,' she told him bluntly.
He looked back at her, his chin thrusting just that aggressive fraction forward. `You don't trust me?' he said coldly. `You think, after the discussion we've just had, that I'll forget everything we've said, and that I'll send the debt collectors after your father?' Stubbornly she refused to back down. Silently a pair of obstinate clear green eyes stared into a pair of cold blue eyes. Then Jonah Marriott opened a drawer and drew out a sheet of paper. He dropped the paper down in front of her and without another word uncapped his pen and handed it to her. He hates me, she thought, but was unshakeable in her resolve. That cheque had been made out to her father. She took the pen from Jonah and after a moment's thought wrote.
I, Lydie Pearson, in respect of the fifty-five thousand pounds borrowed from Jonah Marriott and paid into the bank account of Wilmot Pearson, hereby agree that the repayment of that fifty-five thousand pounds is my debt alone.
She read through what she had written and, while she felt lawyers might phrase it a little differently, she believed it said what she wanted it to say: that the debt was nothing to do with her father. Before she signed it, and purely as a courtesy, she turned the paper round so Jonah should read what she had penned.
It did not take him long. Though, when she would have taken the paper back and signed it, he took the pen from her hand and in his strong writing added something. Then, as she had, he turned it round for inspection. `The fifty-five thousand pounds to be repaid at the direction and discretion of Jonah Marriott,' she read.
Lydie was not very sure of the ground she was on here, but, having stubbornly held out to have something in writing, she did not think she could start nit-picking about any wording now.
Without looking at him, she took the pen from him and signed her name at the bottom, and then added the date. She handed both pen and paper back to him, and watched while he recapped his pen and stood up. He was a busy man; her appointment with him was over.
`I take it you'd like a copy?' he queried.
Since the idea of that piece of paper absolving her father of the debt was her idea, she didn't know how Jonah could ask. In fact, she thought the original should be hers.
She stood up, chin tilted. `Please,' she answered shortly.
He smiled that smile she was beginning to hate. `I shall look forward to Saturday,' he said.
With that she had to be content. She would see him on Saturday-now how was she going to wangle him an invitation? And what possible excuse could she use for wanting him there? And what, in creation, was she going to tell her father?
CHAPTER THREE
LYDIE thought and thought all the way home. But she still had not worked out what to tell her father when she was heading up the drive of Beamhurst Court. She wanted to stick as close to the truth as possible, but doubted that her father would be impressed that his near to penniless daughter had claimed his debt as hers. He just would not stand for that.
The first person Lydie met on going indoors was her mother. Oh, grief. Her mother had not seemed very friendly towards Jonah Marriott when she had spoken of him. Lydie just knew she was going to ask quite a few vitriolic questions when Lydie said she wanted him to be invited to Oliver's wedding.
But there was a smile on her mother's face. `Oliver's home,' she beamed,
Similar Books
