That Would Be a Fairy Tale - By Amanda Grange Page 0,39

That person was Miss Eugenie Postlethwaite - or, as she was more usually and correctly known, Mrs Eugenie Dortmeyer.

Alex went down to the library as soon as he was dressed. He had arranged to meet Eugenie at half past seven. As the long-case clock struck the half hour the door opened and Eugenie, looking magnificent in a long tailored skirt and high-necked blouse, entered the room.

‘Eugenie.’ Alex smiled. Taking her hands, he kissed her on the cheek. ‘It was good of you to get out of bed so early. I thought we had better meet at this hour so that we would not be in any danger of being interrupted by any of the other guests.’

Eugenie returned his greeting. ‘I understand.’

‘In fact, it was good of you to come to the house party at all,’ he said, indicating a chair for Eugenie and then, when she had settled, sitting down himself. ‘Especially at such short notice.’

‘To help you catch that rat I’d have come a lot further,’ she said, not mincing her words. ‘And done it at the drop of a hat.’

There was a hint of an American twang in her voice. After growing up in the same neighbourhood as Alex, Eugenie had set out to explore the world. She had fallen in love with, and eventually married, Hyram Dortmeyer, an American magnate, and now spent most of her time in Boston or London. But she had responded to Alex’s plea for help and had been only too happy to join him at the Manor.

She ran her eyes appreciatively round Alex’s study, taking in the splendid book shelves and large mahogany desk before turning to look out of the French windows. ‘You’ve found a beautiful place here,’ she said, as her eyes roved over the sweeping lawns.

‘Yes. It’s perfect.’

‘It’s lucky your Miss Haringay had to sell.’

‘My Miss Haringay?’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘She is not my Miss Haringay.’

‘No?’ Eugenie gave him a knowing look.

He returned her gaze. ‘No.’

‘That’s funny. From the way you were looking at her -’ began Eugenie.

‘And what do you mean by that?’ he interrupted.

She laughed. ‘Why, nothing, Alex . . . except that every time you look at her your eyes smoulder and your hands clench, as though you want to sweep her off her feet and carry her up to the bedroom,’ remarked Eugenie with a mischievous look in her eye.

Alex gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Ever since you’ve married you’ve become incorrigible,’ he said.

‘I have, haven’t I?’ she asked innocently. ‘Marriage does that to a person.’ She twinkled at him. ‘You should try it yourself.’

‘If I thought I’d be as happy as you and Hyram I’d marry tomorrow.’

Eugenie was unperturbed. ‘You would be.’

‘Perhaps. But even if I asked Miss Haringay to marry me tomorrow – which I have no intention of doing - I doubt if she would have me. She regards me as a cross between a Philistine and Attila the Hun.’

‘Really? I haven’t seen that in her face when she looks at you. What I’ve seen is her looking at you as though you’re forbidden fruit: tempting, but dangerous,’ she said. ‘What makes you so sure she doesn’t like you ?’

‘First of all, because I knocked her off her bicycle and then laughed at her when she fell into the duck-pond -’

‘In that case, I’m not surprised,’ said Eugenie.

‘Secondly, because I wouldn’t let the Sunday school hold their picnic here -’

‘That’s not like you,’ said Eugenie, surprised. ‘You’re usually so thoughtful where other people are concerned. Especially children.’

‘Not when I have a lot on my mind,’ Alex admitted. ‘And not when I’m ordered to do it by a busybody who hardly lets me unpack before ordering me about. And thirdly —’

‘Yes?’

‘Thirdly, she doesn’t like businessmen.’

‘A few obstacles have never stopped you getting what you wanted before,’ said Eugenie. ‘Why don’t you make her change her mind?’

‘It’s tempting, I have to admit,’ said Alex, remembering every delicious encounter with Cicely. ‘But marriage involves more than physical attraction, it involves trust and respect, and there was no way I could ever trust someone from her world. Not after what they did to Katie. And now, to business. We are here to catch Goss.’

‘Ah, yes, Goss. I came here to help you catch a thief, not to tease you about Miss Haringay, although I have to admit, I’ve kind of enjoyed it!’ Eugenie looked appreciatively round the room again. ‘The Manor’s the perfect place to catch him.’

Alex stood up and strode over to the fireplace. ‘It