her from potential injuries. He was rich, handsome, and heavily degreed. Maybe if she’d been able to just convince him to keep his mouth shut so he didn’t speak and ruin the illusion, she might have been able to do something more with him than look around for the nearest exit. How she was going to survive an entire summer with him in the same town, she couldn’t say.
She was obviously going to have to invent a few disguises in order to elude notice.
The taxi stopped sooner rather than later, which gave her hope for a Dory-free afternoon. She scooted out the door, reached in for her suitcase, then extricated her belongings before Dory had even stopped talking about whatever it was he’d been talking about.
“Thanks,” she said with her best smile. “Sure appreciate the rescue. I’m not sure how much we’ll get to see of each other . . . here . . .”
She stopped talking partly because he wasn’t listening to her and partly because he’d gotten out of the taxi himself.
“I’ll be fine from here,” she said. “I really appreciate the ride. I’ll treat you for scones with clotted cream the very first chance I have.”
“Sooner rather than later, because the old man hasn’t put my allowance in the bank yet,” Dory said. He looked at her with a frown. “Have any cash?”
And there in a nutshell was the reason she had only gone on one date with him. Never mind that her father had handed her a cool hundred on the way out the door to that movie. She was not interested in dating a guy who wasn’t prepared to at least fork out cab fare.
She knew she should have simply turned around and walked away, but something stopped her. She wanted to say it was good breeding, but it was probably just her inability to stand up for herself. She muttered uncomplimentary things about herself and Dory both under her breath, set her suitcase on the ground, then pulled her notebook out of her pocket.
There was money there, of course, in almost precisely the right amount for the taxi. Her mother would have determined that ahead of time, of course. Samantha paid the cab driver, then started to put her notebook away. Dory stopped her with his hand on her arm.
“Got to get back to my flat, you know.”
She gritted her teeth because she knew she was going to hand him money in the end anyway so there was no point in not handing him money from the start. She dug around in her bag for her secret stash of pound coins her brother had sent her inside a box full of ratty Victorian period costumes their mother wouldn’t have touched on pain of death, counted out what she’d handed over the first time, plus a little extra, then put it all into Dory’s hand without delay.
“So appreciate the escort,” she said waving vaguely in his direction, “but I’ve got to go. There’s no time like the present to make a good impression on the employers.”
“Already done that,” he said, taking her by the elbow and pulling her toward the door. “Introductions first, then we’ll go have lunch.”
Not if she could help it. She would bide her time, then make her escape, which would hopefully include being on opposite sides of a sturdy door from him. She didn’t argue with Dory as he took her suitcase and gallantly led the way up the two steps to the stoop just outside a dark brown doorway that seemed to blend into the stone of the building it found itself in.
The door opened and a neat, elegant woman in her forties stood there. Samantha was wearing her best work clothes, but she had to admit she had a ways to go if she were ever to stand next to that stylish woman and not feel a little frumpy. Maybe she could spent a little of her carefully hoarded money on something not insisted on by her mother. Nothing said serious scholar, apparently, like dark trousers, a polyester long-sleeved shirt, and sensible walking shoes.
Before Samantha got her mouth open to introduce herself, Dory was doing the honors for her.
“Lydia Cooke, this is Samantha Drummond. Samantha, allow me to present Mrs. Lydia Cooke. Her husband is off in Stratford, making certain their situation is what was promised.”
Could the taking of a rolling suitcase and using the heavy, wheeled part to knock a New England blue blood in the face be