carpets and .. . Your advice would be of great help," he added, and then smiled. "Doesn't that sound pompous? Sorry, but I'd like you to stay."
Cindy looked round the room wildly. Part of her longed to stay while the other part told her to run. And fast, too ! This was the man she had fallen hopelessly in love with, the man she could not forget, and there could only be one result—heartache. Yet she wanted so badly to stay.
She was startled when he leaned forward and put his hand on hers. The touch of his warm fingers sent a tingling through her. "Please !" he said quietly. "It's years since I've been here and I'd enjoy driving round the Lakes with you. It's not much fun on your own."
Staring at him as if mesmerised, Cindy swallowed.
"I'll stay," she said. "Just for the rest of the week."
He let go her hand. "Good ! That calls for another
drink."
Later that night, in bed, Cindy read some more of Robert Baxter's notes. He blamed himself for losing his son, wished he could contact him and say how sorry he was, but the son never gave him an address, never approached him. Yet Luke Fairhead had said he'd seen Peter there ! And Mr. Fairhead would not lie, Cindy thought.
Peter was already in the dining-room when Cindy
went down for breakfast. He greeted her with a smile.
"Don't look as if you're on the way to the guillotine," he said. "I'm not going to eat you, you know."
As usual, Cindy found herself laughing with him. "I'm sorry, I didn't intend to look scared."
Mrs. Stone came in with a big plate of sausages, bacon and eggs. She gave Cindy a strange look.
"You'll be packing to go now ?" she asked, but it was more of a statement than, a question.
Peter spoke before Cindy could. "On the contrary, Mrs. Stone, Miss Preston has consented to stay for the rest of the week as my guest."
Mrs. Stone looked startled. "Is that so now?" she said, and almost scuttled from the room.
"Was Mrs. Stone here before you . " Cindy began, and then stopped, feeling her cheeks burn, for it was no business of hers and she had no desire to awaken sad memories.
But Peter didn't seem to mind. "No," he said, "we had a dear old ex-nannie. You know the kind I mean. Unfortunately she died and I suppose, my father engaged Mrs. Stone because he was sorry for her. My father was a strange man," he went on as they ate their breakfast. "The essence of compassion and
understanding except where it concerned his son." Cindy looked at him quickly. "Perhaps that was because he loved you."
"Loved me? I doubt it," said Peter. `More coffee? Sleep all right?"
"Fine." Cindy hesitated. Should she tell him about the diary she had found? Surely that would make him realise how much his father had loved him, and
how greatly he regretted the quarrel? But Mrs. Stone came hustling back with some crisp hot toast.
"I hope it's all to your liking, Mr. Baxter," she said.
Peter smiled at her. "Splendid, Mrs. Stone, thanks." Mrs. Stone made a quick exit, giving a strange look in Cindy's direction.
"Why doesn't she like me?" Cindy asked.
Peter laughed. "You're not as dumb as that, surely, Cindy? In the first place, she obviously expected the castle to be taken over by some wealthy person, so she hoped she could stay on ... then you turn up, a bit of a girl without a penny, so she sees the sack—then she hears the castle is to be demolished, and then I turn up. She must feel very confused and has to blame someone, and you happen to be handy "
"I suppose that's one way of explaining it, but she hated me from the beginning ... as they all do," Cindy said wistfully.
"Can you blame them?" Peter frowned, rubbing his chin. Cindy realised suddenly that was a habit of his. She saw there was a cleft in his chin, or was it a dimple? He was looking at her with ill-concealed amusement and she felt her cheeks go hot.
"It wasn't my fault," she said defiantly. "Uncle Robert chose me. I didn't ask him to make me his second heir."
"It wasn't that. It was the thought of the
Cindy looked round the room wildly. Part of her longed to stay while the other part told her to run. And fast, too ! This was the man she had fallen hopelessly in love with, the man she could not forget, and there could only be one result—heartache. Yet she wanted so badly to stay.
She was startled when he leaned forward and put his hand on hers. The touch of his warm fingers sent a tingling through her. "Please !" he said quietly. "It's years since I've been here and I'd enjoy driving round the Lakes with you. It's not much fun on your own."
Staring at him as if mesmerised, Cindy swallowed.
"I'll stay," she said. "Just for the rest of the week."
He let go her hand. "Good ! That calls for another
drink."
Later that night, in bed, Cindy read some more of Robert Baxter's notes. He blamed himself for losing his son, wished he could contact him and say how sorry he was, but the son never gave him an address, never approached him. Yet Luke Fairhead had said he'd seen Peter there ! And Mr. Fairhead would not lie, Cindy thought.
Peter was already in the dining-room when Cindy
went down for breakfast. He greeted her with a smile.
"Don't look as if you're on the way to the guillotine," he said. "I'm not going to eat you, you know."
As usual, Cindy found herself laughing with him. "I'm sorry, I didn't intend to look scared."
Mrs. Stone came in with a big plate of sausages, bacon and eggs. She gave Cindy a strange look.
"You'll be packing to go now ?" she asked, but it was more of a statement than, a question.
Peter spoke before Cindy could. "On the contrary, Mrs. Stone, Miss Preston has consented to stay for the rest of the week as my guest."
Mrs. Stone looked startled. "Is that so now?" she said, and almost scuttled from the room.
"Was Mrs. Stone here before you . " Cindy began, and then stopped, feeling her cheeks burn, for it was no business of hers and she had no desire to awaken sad memories.
But Peter didn't seem to mind. "No," he said, "we had a dear old ex-nannie. You know the kind I mean. Unfortunately she died and I suppose, my father engaged Mrs. Stone because he was sorry for her. My father was a strange man," he went on as they ate their breakfast. "The essence of compassion and
understanding except where it concerned his son." Cindy looked at him quickly. "Perhaps that was because he loved you."
"Loved me? I doubt it," said Peter. `More coffee? Sleep all right?"
"Fine." Cindy hesitated. Should she tell him about the diary she had found? Surely that would make him realise how much his father had loved him, and
how greatly he regretted the quarrel? But Mrs. Stone came hustling back with some crisp hot toast.
"I hope it's all to your liking, Mr. Baxter," she said.
Peter smiled at her. "Splendid, Mrs. Stone, thanks." Mrs. Stone made a quick exit, giving a strange look in Cindy's direction.
"Why doesn't she like me?" Cindy asked.
Peter laughed. "You're not as dumb as that, surely, Cindy? In the first place, she obviously expected the castle to be taken over by some wealthy person, so she hoped she could stay on ... then you turn up, a bit of a girl without a penny, so she sees the sack—then she hears the castle is to be demolished, and then I turn up. She must feel very confused and has to blame someone, and you happen to be handy "
"I suppose that's one way of explaining it, but she hated me from the beginning ... as they all do," Cindy said wistfully.
"Can you blame them?" Peter frowned, rubbing his chin. Cindy realised suddenly that was a habit of his. She saw there was a cleft in his chin, or was it a dimple? He was looking at her with ill-concealed amusement and she felt her cheeks go hot.
"It wasn't my fault," she said defiantly. "Uncle Robert chose me. I didn't ask him to make me his second heir."
"It wasn't that. It was the thought of the
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