Betty Neels - The Proposal

She stood still the better to look at him. ‘It is really none of your business …’

He brushed that aside. ‘That is definitely something I will decide for myself.’ He smiled down at her. ‘I’m a complete stranger to you; you can say anything you like to me and I’ll forget it at once if you wish me to—’

‘Oh, the Hippocratic oath.’

His rather stern mouth twitched. ‘And that too. You’re not happy there, are you?’

She shook her head. ‘No, and it’s very kind of you to—to bother, but there is really nothing to be done about it.’

‘No, there isn’t if you refuse to tell me what is wrong.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘How long do you have before you have to report back?’

‘Fifteen minutes.’

‘A lot can be said in that time. Brontes and I will walk back with you as far as Piccadilly.’

‘Oh, will you?’

‘Did I not say so?’ He turned her round smartly, and whistled to Brontes. ‘Now consider me your favourite uncle,’ he invited.

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