The Millionaire's Rebellious Mistress - By Catherine George Page 0,60
said Sarah with a sigh. ‘It doesn’t leave much energy over for going out in the evenings.’ Which only proved the point she’d tried to make to Alex. Though if he could see her right now, she thought bitterly, her face grey with fatigue and her hair stuck to her head with sweat, he’d run for his life, offering up thanks for his escape.
By half past three on Sunday afternoon, Sarah was beginning to regret her impulsive invitation to Alex’s mother. In part, Sarah knew only too well, it had been a knee-jerk response to his sarcastic crack about her social time. Or lack of it. But there was something about Helen Alexander as a person which called strongly to Sarah, and made her eager to know her better. So now her flat was shining, she’d arranged flowers at one end of her trestle table, and set a tea tray ready in the kitchen. She’d taken extra care with her hair and face, and wore a pink cotton shirt tucked into the white jeans of her night with Alex. Since it was no use even for an evening with Oliver, the sequinned dress was bundled up in a bag, ready for a charity shop next time she was in Hereford. Her lips twitched as she thought of Oliver’s reaction to the dress. Oliver liked to think of himself as broad-minded, but not, she had a fair idea, when it came to his goddaughter.
When Sarah’s bell rang promptly at four, she pressed the buzzer for the outer door, then walked across the hall to greet Alex’s mother. ‘Welcome to my retreat,’ she said, smiling as she led the way back to the flat.
Helen Alexander, cool and attractive in a leaf green linen dress, greeted her warmly. But when Sarah ushered her inside the beautiful hazel eyes widened in awe as Helen took in the dimensions of the room. ‘My dear girl,’ she said, impressed. ‘What a wonderful retreat it is. Alex told me it’s all your own work, that you actually fitted it up yourself, so show me exactly what you’ve done.’
In the face of such genuine interest Sarah found herself giving every detail, but at last apologised for going on too long and offered her visitor tea. ‘I won’t be a moment. My kitchen’s a bit small, Mrs Alexander—’
‘It’s Miss these days,’ her visitor corrected, as she followed her to the kitchen doorway. ‘I reverted to my maiden name after my divorce. But just Helen will do.’
‘Thank you.’ Sarah smiled in apology as she poured boiling water on to teabags in her best cups. ‘I’m afraid that, unlike Alex, I don’t have a teapot. At least not here with me. That kind of thing is still in store in London. But the cups were my mother’s.’
Helen eyed her speculatively. ‘Sarah, I normally scoff at women who talk about their intuition, but even Bel noticed something in the air between you and Alex. And if you’re acquainted with his teapot you must know him quite well.’
Sarah picked up the tray. ‘He bought the cottages I restored.’
‘He showed them to me. I was deeply impressed.’ The hazel eyes were searching. ‘But if you’ve been to his house there’s a lot more to it than that. Alex tends to keep his home off limits to visitors.’
‘We met occasionally in the run-up to the sale of the cottages, and we’ve had dinner together a couple of times since,’ Sarah said casually, and carried the tray over to the table. ‘Would you like some cake? Home made—though by the lady who bakes for the local Post Office stores, not by me.’
‘Honest creature! I’d love a piece of cake.’ Helen took it, and sat down in the cherry wood rocker. ‘So, tell me about yourself, Sarah. I know you’re Oliver Moore’s goddaughter.’
Sarah explained about the relationship. ‘He was always a hands-on godfather, but since Dad died Oliver takes his duties even more seriously.’ She smiled wryly. ‘My way of earning a living gives him nightmares. Irregular income, plus down-and-dirty physical labour.’
Helen looked thoughtful as she ate some cake. ‘Oliver would rather you worked office hours in a pretty dress?’
Sarah grinned. ‘Exactly. But that’s enough about me. Alex said you live in Stratford? You enjoy that?’
‘I do—very much. I bought a flat near my sister, and I’ve made quite a lot of friends there, not to mention having the Royal Shakespeare Theatre on hand.’ Helen smiled wryly. ‘It’s not too far from London, or to visit Alex—and