Miranda Lee - Knight To The Rescue

‘I’m sure I will,’ Audrey beamed, buoyed up by the woman’s warm and seemingly sincere compliments. Lavinia’s uncharitable reaction to her improved appearance didn’t hurt quite so much now. ‘Here, let me take your coat.’

She had barely done as much when the doorbell rang again.

‘That’ll be Dwight,’ Edward said. ‘He pulled into the drive just as we reached the top step. As you can imagine, we decided not to wait for him.’

Audrey conceded that mounting the front steps at the Farnsworth residence took some time, since there were thirty of them. The house was relatively new and, Audrey thought, far too ostentatious. Double-storeyed, but of no particular style, it had columns and curlicues all over the place, not to mention acres of Italian marble and huge open-planned rooms that gave no sense of privacy.

She infinitely preferred the older, cosier home that had been her mother’s family residence. But no sooner had Lavinia become the new Mrs Farnsworth than she had insisted on having a house built to her own taste. Audrey had come home one summer holiday from the boarding-school she’d been dispatched to, to find they had moved into this brand new edifice.

She turned again and opened the door a second time. Dwight Liston, Modern Office Supplies’ sleek yuppie marketing manager, and his attractive blonde wife, Frances, literally gaped when they saw her. Their reaction did wonders for Audrey’s growing self-esteem. But nothing could obliterate the underlying feeling of apprehension at Elliot’s non-arrival. She threw an encompassing glance over her guests’ shoulders at the driveway and the street beyond the garden wall. There wasn’t a black Saab in sight. Surely, oh, surely he wasn’t going to let her down!

Dwight and Frances were duly ushered inside along with Edward and Alice, their presents deposited on the special table alongside the very ornate birthday cake Lavinia had chosen. Audrey was vaguely conscious of several more lavish compliments on her appearance and a glass of champagne being pressed into her hands. But her smile was plastic, her ears straining to hear the thrum of Elliot’s car arriving. When the maid offered her an hors-d’oeuvre she took it and ate it without having any idea what it was.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.