That Would Be a Fairy Tale - By Amanda Grange Page 0,35

all the confusion she had barely noticed that she had lost it when being manhandled out of the gate.

‘Of course,’ said Alice, glad to be of use.

She ran off.

‘You need not be afraid of me,’ he said, looking down into Cicely’s eyes and seeking to reassure her. ‘If you come to the Manor you will have nothing to fear.’

‘I am not afraid of you,’ she said. But her voice caught in her throat.

‘No?’

There was a sudden tension in the air.

She swallowed. ‘No.’ She almost said, I am afraid of myself, but managed to stop herself just in time. But it was true, she was afraid of herself. When she was with Mr Evington she discovered parts of herself that she had not known existed. He had touched something inside her that had been laying dormant, and though it was wonderful to experience the new and scintillating feelings he awakened inside her, it was alarming as well.

‘Then you have no reason to refuse my invitation to stay at the Manor,’ he said.

‘You are very kind.’

His mouth twitched humorously, as though kindness was not the motivation for his offer.

Is it wise? she asked herself, before committing herself to an answer. But wise or not she had no real alternative. ‘Thank you. I accept.’

‘There is one thing.’ He hesitated.

‘Yes?’

‘If you are to be my guest, you can’t go on calling me Mr Evington.’

She felt a shiver of apprehension. She knew what he was going to say next.

‘You must call me Alex.’

There was something intimate about the notion, and she knew that it would make it harder for him to treat him with the distant manner necessary. And yet it was unavoidable.

‘And at the party you must call me Cicely,’ she said.

‘Cicely.’ His voice was soft and sultry.

Fortunately for Cicely’s composure, at that moment Alice returned, bearing her shoe.

‘I’ve checked to make sure there’s no glass in it,’ she said.

‘Thank you.’

Cicely tried, with little success, to dismiss the memory of Alex’s voice as it had caressed her name, and slipped the shoe back on her foot.

‘Miss Haringay has accepted my invitation,’ said Mr Evington, standing up. ‘I hope you and your mother will do the same.’

‘I’m sure we will,’ said Alice, her voice filled with excitement.

‘Then I will expect you as soon as I see you. I will return to the Manor and tell the housekeeper to make up rooms for three more guests. Oh, and you must bring Gibson,’ he said to Cicely. ‘He, too, will need somewhere to stay. In fact I am sure he would be very useful in the coming week, as well as very welcome - that is, if you have no objection to his helping out?’

‘No. None.’

He looked down the lane, to where a group of people were converging on the Lodge. ‘The local officials can take over now,’ he said.

Cicely slipped his jacket from her shoulders as he stood up. She handed it back to him, knowing she must not detain him. He took it, swinging it over his shoulder. As he did so, Cicely’s eyes were drawn to the sight of his muscles working beneath his shirt, and she was filled with a sudden desire to feel his arms around her once again. But such a thought was madness. No good would come of such ideas, and she must banish them from her mind,

‘Miss Haringay,’ he said politely. ‘Miss Babbage.’ Then making the ladies a slight bow he walked away.

Cicely’s eyes followed him down the drive - until she realized what they were doing, whereupon she forced her attention back to the pressing matter in hand. And it was pressing. She gave a deep sigh. She must now deal with the aftermath of the explosion.

An hour later, explanations had been made and workers organized to assess the damage with a view to carrying out the repairs. She had made no mention of the fact that Tom had stoked the fire too high when asked about the cause of the explosion, she had simply blamed it on the back boiler being old. Tom had been doing his best to help, and a quiet word in private would make sure he knew the risks involved in making the fire too hot so that he would not do it again.

Then came the task of cleaning up the mess the explosion had left in its wake. It seemed to take forever to sort things out, despite the number of willing helpers who lent a hand, but at last it was