‘Me! But I can’t advise you. I don’t know the first thing about writing a book. Surely your publishers…?’
‘A second opinion is always of value, even if it only helps to clarify your own thoughts. Besides, you said you’d like to read more about Hugo. You already know the character, so don’t underestimate the value of your opinion. Don’t put yourself down so much,’ he added coolly. ‘If you aren’t prepared to value yourself as you should, then at least don’t deny others the opportunity to do so.’
Hazel was too stunned to speak.
‘I haven’t booked anywhere,’ Silas continued. ‘I wasn’t sure whether you’d be free, or if you’d be willing to help me out.’
When he put it like that, how could she refuse him, or pretend that she was already engaged elsewhere?
‘I’ll have to change,’ she told him uncertainly.
‘That’s OK—so will I. Is there anywhere in particular where you’d like to eat?’
‘There’s an Italian place in Knutsford,’ she told him. ‘I don’t know if you like Italian food.’
‘I do,’ he assured her. ‘Do you know the name? I could telephone and book a table.’
Feeling rather as though her life had suddenly escaped from her own control, she gave him the name, and then headed for the stairs.
Half an hour later, standing in front of the mirror and frowning at her reflection in a red jersey wool dress which Katie had insisted on her buying the previous winter, and which was one of the few really smart things in her wardrobe, she wondered what on earth she was doing.
Silas had made it plain enough why he wanted her company, and she did not for one moment doubt that he had spoken the truth, but what about her—what about her motives? Was she honestly and completely sure that she had managed to root out of her system the perverse and extremely disruptive thoughts which had been attacking her ever since she had set eyes on him?
Yes, of course she had! Of course she had.
* * *
THE RESTAURANT was a small comfortable place run by a large and garrulous Italian family, who recognised Hazel the moment she and Silas walked in through the door, despite the fact that she had only eaten there on a handful of occasions.
The proprietor, genial, rotund, and very, very Italian, came forward to greet them and then exclaimed lavishly, ‘Ah, at last we see the husband of the so beautiful lady who dines here only with her friends. I say to my own wife then, that this lady, she is too beautiful to be on her own. All my male customers, they are distracted from their food by her beauty.’
Hazel could feel herself going scarlet, but as she opened her mouth to correct his misapprehension Silas touched her lightly on her shoulder.
When she turned round he shook his head and murmured so that only she could hear, ‘I shouldn’t bother if I were you, it will probably only lead to further confusion. Unless of course you wish to take issue with him on the subject of his chauvinism and point out that no woman these days needs a man to make her life complete.’
Hazel shook her head numbly, following the beaming Italian to a small table set in an alcove, and romantically illuminated by the discreet lighting and the candles on the table.
‘I can’t imagine why he thought we were married,’ she told Silas uncomfortably when they had given their order. ‘I’m not even wearing a wedding ring.’
‘I shouldn’t let it worry you,’ Silas responded, frowning a little as someone coming towards them caught his eye.
Hazel turned her head to see what had caused his frown.
A man in his mid-fifties, accompanied by a girl who could not have been much older than Katie, were being shown to a table several feet away from their own, and it was immediately obvious that their relationship was not one of father and daughter.
‘Now, that’s something I always dislike to see,’ Silas commented quietly to her. ‘No doubt if questio
ned both of them would claim that the age gap between them isn’t important; that they love one another, but somehow such arguments fail to be convincing, and one is always left with the uncomfortable feeling that he has bought her youth to wear on his arm like a trophy and that she has sold herself out to him because it is easier to be the pampered pet of an indulgent older man than to work at a relationship with someone younger and poorer.’
The distaste in his voice echoed his words, causing Hazel to stare at him in surprise.
‘You don’t agree?’ he questioned, watching her.
‘Yes…yes, as a matter of fact I do,’ she told him vehemently when she had got over her surprise. ‘It’s just that it’s so unusual to hear a man voicing such views. A woman, yes, but men seem to have a complete blind spot where their own vanity is concerned. Ask any man of over forty if he genuinely and honestly believes that a girl of eighteen or twenty can really love a man in his fifties for himself and not his assets, and he will immediately say yes, denying every argument you can give him to prove otherwise.’
There was a small pause while they were served with their first course, and when the waiter had gone Silas leaned across the table and said quietly to her, ‘You don’t have a very high opinion of my sex, do you, Hazel? We aren’t all blind to reality, you know. Nor do all of us have such fragile egos that we need to buy ourselves a pretty little plaything to show off to our friends.’
‘No, I know,’ Hazel agreed. ‘That was why I was so upset when I thought that you and Katie—’