That Would Be a Fairy Tale - By Amanda Grange Page 0,69

heiress who’d taken a fancy to me - or at least, that’s how it seemed when she bumped into me on the promenade. I thought she was the answer to my prayers.

‘So as soon as I’d accepted her invitation to the dinner party I made it my business to discover where she lived. In fact, I found out all about her. Where she went, what she did, what she liked and disliked, and - oh, yes - what kind of dowry she was likely to have.’

‘So you intended to marry her,’ said Cicely, realizing that this was why Goss had made so many enquiries.

‘I did.’ His eyes hardened. ‘Until she played me for a fool, and nearly put me in prison. Whereupon I intended to extract my revenge. I sneaked into the house - not difficult, as you were all out and only a handful of old servants were left behind - and found the young lady’s room, intending to pay her back for what she had tried to do to me. It wasn’t hard to tell which one was hers. It had a lot of pretty clothes in the wardrobe, the sort a young lady would wear - only at the time I didn’t realize there were two young ladies in the house.

‘Until you walked into the room. And then, in a blinding flash, I saw the whole thing. That you were behind it, and Miss Lessing was just doing what she was told. I should have seen it coming. Miss Lessing had no reason to trap me. She didn’t even know me. But you did. You were there at the Manor, and you knew who was really behind the theft of the necklace. So you decided to set a trap.’

‘You deserved it,’ said Cicely recklessly. ‘You caused an innocent young girl to be accused of your crime.’

He made a derogatory exclamation. ‘Innocent young girl? She was a maid. What did it matter? You of all people should know that servants don’t count.’

‘They count every bit as much as you and I,’ said Cicely hotly, realizing that Alex had had some reason to take against the landed classes. Goss was everything that was corrupt and disgraceful.

He sneered. ‘Every bit as much as you, perhaps,’ he said, flexing the scarf between his hands again. ‘But no one matters as much as me.’

He took a step towards her and Cicely shrank back. Her hand went instinctively to her neck.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said with an evil sneer. ‘It won’t hurt - much.’

He lunged towards her and she held up the hat in a useless gesture of defence . . . and then saw the candlelight gleaming on the head of the hat pin. She was saved! If only she could pull it out in time . . .

He closed the distance between them, throwing the scarf round her neck and pulling it tight. She fought down an impulse to raise her hands to her throat and instead focused all her energies on drawing the wicked long pin out of the hat. It flashed momentarily in the candlelight as she pulled it free, and then she brought it down with all the strength she could muster, driving it into his hand.

He let out an exclamation of pain and she felt the pressure go from her neck as he dropped the scarf and clutched his injured hand, which was dripping with blood.

‘You little . . . !’ he shouted.

Eyes watering, coughing and wheezing as she gasped in lungfuls of air, Cicely nevertheless braced herself for a renewed attack. She held the hat pin aloft, ready to defend herself.

Martin looked at the wicked pin and then at Cicely’s determined face. His eyes went beyond her, over her shoulder to the door.

For one moment, Cicely was tempted to step out of the way. If his route to the door was clear she felt he would make his escape. She nearly moved aside. But then she remembered that Sophie and Mrs Lessing were in the villa. If Goss should come upon them, there was no telling what he would do. She raised the pin still higher and stood her ground.

His eyes blazed with rage. Then, darting suddenly over to the window he threw it open and climbed out.

Cicely willed herself to follow him but she felt dizzy and weak, and knew she would never be able to climb out of the window in her present condition. She was still not breathing properly, her throat being bruised and