Horatio went with her. He accompanied her everywhere if she allowed him to do so, disappearing only occasionally if the lure of the rabbits that populated the Court’s parkland proved too much for him. He always returned from these abortive forays out of breath, with a guilty expression in his eyes, almost as though he felt he had to apologise for deserting her.
As the afternoon advanced, the air grew still and hot. Too hot, Rue recognised worriedly. There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky, but the sun had taken on a brassy hue which made her suspect that the weather forecast was likely to prove all too correct. She would probably have to spend all day tomorrow picking her flowers whether they were ready or not. Either that or risk losing them altogether if the thunderstorms came early. It was at times like this that she desperately wished she had someone with whom she could share the responsibility and worry of ma
king the right decision.
But there was no one, and as she headed for the drying shed she told herself hardily that she was better off that way.
Having eaten with Mrs Dacre, and knowing full well what an excellent hostess Hannah was, she decided against making a meal, and worked steadily from five until just gone seven, realising suddenly how little time she had in which to get ready. The expensive watering system she had had installed in the spring was now proving its true worth. It was marvellous to be able to go out and ensure, by simply turning on a tap, that her entire crop was watered. Before it had involved backbreaking hours of work, carrying buckets full of water to and from the nearest tap which had been in her walled garden.
The new system had cost a fortune, which was one of the reasons she was so desperately anxious that this season’s crop should be a good one. She had perilously little in her bank account. Since Julian’s death, money had been a constant source of worry to her, and even though now she didn’t have the enormity of Julian’s debts to concern her she still suffered from sleepless nights when she lay awake frantically doing sums in her head.
If she lost this summer crop… She wasn’t going to lose it, she told herself firmly. The storm wasn’t forecast for another two days, which gave her plenty of time to get the blooms in, even if it did mean picking them a little before she would really have wished.
While the sprinkler system was doing its work, she rushed upstairs and hurried into her bathroom. Horatio lay on the floor outside the door and whined protestingly. He knew quite well that she was getting ready to go out and, as always at such times, adopted the manner of an animal who was being ruthlessly abandoned by a heartless owner.
Rue, used to such wiles, firmly ignored them. It was really too hot to wear the black velvet dress, but she had nothing else. It slid easily on to her body, the satin lining stroking her skin, almost like a caress. The thought made her tense and glance quickly over her shoulder, almost as though she half expected Neil Saxton to suddenly materialise at her side.
Damn the man. Why should he have to keep intruding on her thoughts so much?
Half-way through getting changed, the timer which she always set when she was watering went off. Her hair, still slightly damp, curled on to her shoulders and round her face in tiny tendrils, as though glorying in being freed from its normally constraining ponytail. When she was going out, she usually looped it back in a neat twist, considering that long hair left flowing free was for girls under twenty-one, not women of twenty-five, a view she had grimly held on to despite Hannah’s astonished laughter when she had passed it on to her.
‘You’ve only got to look at the television to see how many women of over thirty—and over forty—wear their hair long and loose,’ Hannah had chided her. ‘And yours is so very lovely. You don’t know how lucky you are to be so naturally fair.’
Grimly Rue had reiterated that if she had any sense she would have it cut, but at least when it was long it was easy to tie back and keep out of the way.
The evening breeze caught it as she stepped out into the garden, and hurried towards the tap. She didn’t see Neil until she had virtually run into him; his hands coming out to steady her made her gasp in shock, her eyes huge and brilliant in the suddenly pale oval of her face. As though her shock was transmitted to him by her flesh, his fingers moved gently on her shoulders, almost as though he was stroking her in reassurance.
‘I startled you. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,’ he apologised.
‘What are you doing here?’ Rue asked him, stepping back from him unwillingly aware of the tiny tremors of sensation racing through her body.
She realised that he was wearing his dinner suit and snapped, ‘And if you’ve come here to try to persuade me to have dinner with you, you’re wasting your time. I’ve got another engagement.’
‘I know,’ he told her mildly, but Rue could have sworn there was laughter dancing in his eyes. Laughter, and at her expense. Her body felt hot, her anger growing. She had as little liking for being laughed at as the next person, especially when it was Neil Saxton who was doing the laughing. ‘That’s why I’m here,’ he added before she could say anything. ‘I’ve come to escort you.’
‘What?’
‘Your friend, Hannah, the interior designer, whose telephone number you gave me,’ he explained helpfully. ‘She’s invited me round for dinner, and she asked me if I wouldn’t mind collecting you and driving you there.’
Rue was seething. Half a dozen acid retorts sprang to her lips, furious denials that she had any need of him to do anything for her, but she realised at once that her anger would simply increase his lazy amusement.
‘I’m afraid I’m not quite ready yet,’ she told him stiffly, taking refuge in the first excuse that sprang to her mind. ‘Why don’t you go on without me?’
‘And have Hannah and her husband think me ungentlemanly?’ One dark eyebrow rose.
The breeze caught her hair, tangling it with warm fingers, ruffling strands of it forward so that it brushed against Neil’s shoulder. He reached out and touched it, smiling an odd smile.
‘You have lovely hair,’ he told her quietly, and when she would have jerked away form him he reached out and curled his finger through the loose strands. It was an oddly intimate gesture, one that made Rue’s stomach somersault.
As he released the curl that had wound almost lovingly round his finger, he told her softly, ‘I don’t mind waiting.’
Rue stepped back from him, torn between fury and fear. He had no right to barge into her life like this, to force his unwanted presence on her—and what on earth did Hannah think she was playing at? She would have something to say to her friend when she got her alone.
Knowing there was not a single thing she could do about it, other than refusing to go to the dinner party at all like a sulky child, Rue retreated into the house. The good manners instilled into her by her old-fashioned upbringing would not allow her to deliberately dawdle until the man waiting downstairs for her got so fed up that he left. That wouldn’t be fair to Hannah, and no matter how angry she might be with her friend Rue could not bring herself to ruin Hannah’s dinner by arriving late.
All that she could do, when she slid into the passenger seat of Neil’s car and waited for him to join her, was to say frostily, ‘I hope you realise that none of this was my idea.’
CHAPTER FIVE