A church! What on earth had made Linus choose a church when he knew that the whole marriage was only makeshift? About the Author Title Page CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT Copyright

A church! What on earth had made Linus choose a church when he knew that the whole marriage was only makeshift?

As soon as Red was able to get Linus alone, she said, “Surely a registrar’s office would have been the right place for us? And we could have got it over and done with so much more quickly.”

“I don’t think I fancy getting married in some dusty office.”

“But it isn’t for real!” she exclaimed.

Linus gave an exasperated sigh. “If you want to convince people that you mean something, even if you don’t, then you have to make it look good. Appearances are all, Red. You ought, as an actress, to know that....”

SALLY WENTWORTH was born and raised in Hert ford shire, England, where she still lives, and started writing after attending an evening class course. She is married and has one son. There is always a novel on the bedside table, but she also does craft work, plays bridge and is the president of a National Trust group. They go to the ballet and theater regularly and to open-air concerts in the summer. Sometimes she doesn’t know how she finds the time to write!

Look out for THE CUILTY WIFE by Sally Wentworth in August (#1902). When a wife keeps secrets from her husband, the result is a stormy marriage!

Marriage By Arrangement

Sally Wentworth

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

‘WHAT the hell is it?’

The man who finally opened the door to Red McGee’s continuous ring looked extremely angry. He was tall and wore only a bathrobe belted round his waist. He also looked as if he had a monumental hangover. Under dark, dishevelled hair his eyes were puffy and bleary, and he hadn’t shaved for so long that his beard looked like overgrown designer stubble. Maybe it was designer stubble, but Red didn’t think so. This guy looked as if he had been on some bender.

She hesitated, not having expected a man to come to the door, and checked that she’d got the right house number before saying, ‘G’day. Is this Mrs St Aubyn’s place?’

‘Yes. But what-?’

‘I’ve called to see her.’ Red made to step into the house but the man barred her way.

‘What for?’ be demanded brusquely.

Red grew indignant. ‘I’ll tell that to her.’

‘No, you won’t.’

She put her hands on her slim hips. ‘And why not?’

‘Because she’s in bed; that’s why not.’

Red went to glance at her watch, then remembered that she’d pawned it. But it must be almost noon. ‘At this time of the day?’ she said in surprise.

‘So?’ The man pushed his hair back off his forehead and surveyed her belligerently.

Red blinked, wondering if his bleary-eyed state wasn’t, after all, due to drink but to a long, passionate night and morning. But that wouldn’t explain the beard. Unless...

Red’s mind boggled. He was, she supposed, in his thirties, and might have been called good-looking if he hadn’t been so unkempt, but if he was the type that this Mrs St Aubyn, the voice coach she’d been recommended to, wanted to spend half the day in bed with, then who was she to judge? So Red shrugged and said, ‘I came about voice-training lessons.’

‘She doesn’t give lessons at the weekend. Phone on Monday.’

The man yawned without putting his hand over his mouth and swayed a little, his eyes beginning to close. He went to shut the door but Red stuck her foot in the way. ‘Look, I’m in a hurry. I’d like to book some lessons so that I can start Monday.’

‘I told you, she isn’t available.’

‘So can’t you look in her appointments book? Can’t I come in and leave a note so that she can phone me back? Is it so impossible to get anything fixed around here?’ Her voice had risen and her accent grown stronger in annoyed frustration at having to deal with this moron.

‘Come back on Monday.’

‘No, I want to get it fixed up now.’

The man gave something close to a snarl. ‘Look, I’ll spell it out to you so that even someone as woollen-headed as you can understand. She—is—not—available. Call—on—Monday.’

He pronounced each word slowly, as if he were speaking to an idiot, making Red seethe with anger, the temper that went with her thick mane of red hair starting to rise. ‘Don’t you call me a sheep just because I come from Australia,’ she retorted, her accent now as broad as it had ever been.

‘I wasn’t implying that. I just meant that you were thick and stupid.’

‘Why, you pommy bas—’

The door swung wide as it was pulled from the man’s hand by a woman wearing a delicate silk negligée.

‘What on earth is going on?’ the woman demanded.

It had to be Mrs St Aubyn; her voice was well modulated even though she was frowning in annoyance. She was older than Red had expected—very slim and well preserved, but definitely in her late forties at least. And definitely older than the man, which must make him some kind of toy boy.

Red shot him a look of contempt. ‘I came for some voice lessons,’ she explained.

‘Well, you certainly need them. You’d better come in; the whole street must be watching.’ Mrs St Aubyn stood aside and put a caressing hand on the man’s shoulder, saying as she did so, ‘I’ll deal with this, Linus. You go back to bed. You poor darling, you must be exhausted.’

Wow! Red thought as she stepped inside. He must be really something if he can perform that well. The man merely shrugged and turned away immediately to go upstairs, so didn’t see the surprised, contemplative look that she gave him.

Leading the way into a room off the hall, Mrs St Aubyn picked up an appointments book and turned to Red. ‘I take it you’re an Australian?’

‘Yes, I am,’ Red said with defensive pride.

‘So why do you want lessons?’

‘I’m an actress.’

‘And there isn’t much work around for Australian girls,’ Mrs St Aubyn said in understanding.

‘No. I tried for a part in that television series based in the East End of London, but they said no as soon as I opened my mouth. Then someone I know recommended you, said you were good.’

‘Thank you. When did you want to start the lessons?’

‘On Monday.’

The older woman shot her a glance. ‘I’m really very busy. I’m not sure if I can fit you in at such short notice. But in three weeks or so—’

‘I can’t wait that long.’

‘You’ve got the chance of another part, have you?’

Figuring that there was always a chance of a part, Red nodded. ‘I’ve got to get rid of this accent.’

‘Yes, well, I’m hardly surprised. Actually, you’re in luck; I have a young man who’s joined a touring company, so he has postponed his course of lessons. You can take his block of appointments, if you like.’

‘That’s great. When do I start?’

‘Come on Tuesday, at eleven.’

‘And how much is a course of lessons?’

Mrs St Aubyn named the figure. ‘That’s for ten lessons of one hour.’

The price was high, but not a lot more than Red had expected. She nodded. ‘Right.’

‘Your name?’

‘Red McGee.’

Raising delicately arched eyebrows, Mrs St Aubyn wrote in her name. Watching as she did so, Red rather wistfully noticed how elegant she looked, even though unmade-up and wearing just a nightdress and the negligée over it. Most women wouldn’t have got away with it, but Mrs St Aubyn seemed to be one of the fortunate ones who always looked classy under any circumstances.

Remembering how she herself looked after a late night, let alone a hectic one spent with a lover, Red wondered if it would be possible to learn how to acquire such elegance along with the voice training.

Showing her to the door, Mrs St Aubyn said firmly, ‘And please don’t call here again at the weekends.’

Was that because she always had her boyfriend to stay then? Red wondered. She glanced up the staircase with its curved banister rail, but there was no sign of the man who’d tried so hard to get rid of her.

What had Mrs St Aubyn called him? Some outlandish name. Linus, that was it. What kind of wimpish, pommy name was that? Although the man hadn’t looked like a wimp—more like a drunk. Still, he must have something, because it was quite obvious that Mrs St Aubyn was keen for her to go so that she could go back to bed, back to her toy boy. Red hardly had time to turn to say goodbye before the door was shut behind her.

Glancing back at the narrow, three-storeyed Georgian house, with its wrought-iron balconies at the first-floor windows, Red saw that the shutters on that floor were still closed, and couldn’t help wondering if that was the room where the two slept—or more likely weren’t sleeping at all.

This was a place typical of London, in the area they called Pimlico—a quiet street, tree-lined, the houses long terraces of yellow brick that had weathered into a pleasant greyness over the last two hundred years. Each house had a solid front door, generally painted white, with an ornate fanlight over it, and some of them had tubs containing neat bay laurels on either side of the doorway. Not a pretentious street, but nevertheless one that gave an aura of quiet gentility and the means to preserve it.

Red hurried home to the small flat she shared with another actress, Jenny, older than herself by some eight years, and told her all about it.

Jenny whistled when she heard how much the lessons were going to cost. ‘Where on earth did you get the money?’

‘I pawned my watch,’ Red answered without a qualm.

‘Not the one your father gave you for your twenty-first birthday?’ And when Red nodded, she added, ‘What if he finds out?’

‘He’s in Australia; how will he find out?’

Jenny shook her head. ‘You shouldn’t have done it.’

‘He should have sent me the money instead,’ Red said impatiently. She had in fact asked for money, but her father considered that the allowance he sent her every month was enough for her to live on so had ignored her plea, instead sending instructions for her to collect the watch, a gold one, from a famous London jeweller’s instead.

When Red went to the house in Pimlico again for her first lesson, Mrs St Aubyn was beautifully dressed and made-up, looking even younger than Red had first expected her to be. Of her boyfriend there was no sign. Nor of a Mr St Aubyn.

The lesson went well; Mrs St Aubyn took her right back to basics, teaching her how to breathe and form vowels, and being very patient with her, making sure that Red had got it right before moving on. She was such a good teacher that the hour flew by, and Red went home to drive Jenny mad by practising all evening.

‘Do you mind? I’m trying to watch television,’ Jenny remonstrated.

‘I’ve got to get it right. Mrs St Aubyn said I should practise until it comes naturally to me.’

‘So go in your bedroom and do it! I’m sick of listening to you. You sound like Eliza Dolittle.’

Red gave her an indignant look. ‘You know I don’t have long. If I don’t get a decent part within the next few months my father will make me go home.’

‘I’m beginning to be glad I’m an orphan. Surely you can persuade him to let you stay on in England?’

‘You don’t know my father,’ Red said with feeling. ‘I had to promise that if I didn’t get a decent part within a year then I’d go back.’ Turning away, she began again. ‘Ooo. Aaa.’

Jenny threw a cushion at her in exasperation, then covered up her ears.

During that month Red went to her voice coach twice a week and made such progress that she managed to get a part in a commercial. She didn’t have to say much, just the name of the product a couple of times in a sexy tone, but at least it was work. On the strength of it she sent her father a picture postcard of Buckingham Palace saying, ‘Have got important new role,’ and hoped that it would keep him off her back for a while longer.

Her course of ten lessons was coming to an end, and she could now, with care, speak in what Mrs St Aubyn called ‘an unaccented tone’, but which Red thought of as an English accent.

Considering it money well spent, Red decided to spend the fee she’d got from the commercial on extending the course of lessons. If she could do a cockney accept there was a chance of getting a part in the soap set in London’s East End. And if she could sign a contract for a long-running part then there was no way that her father could make her go back to Australia.

Travelling home on the tube late one afternoon, Red noticed that the line went through Pimlico and, having made her decision, thought that she might as well break off her journey to go to Mrs St Aubyn’s house and book another set of lessons before someone else got there first.

It was a grey, dark day, and there was a light showing in the first-floor window and another through the fanlight over the front door, so Red rang the doorbell, confident that the voice coach was at home.

She waited but no one came, although Red thought that she heard a noise inside. Again she rang, waited, and was about to turn away, thinking that the lights must have been left on as a burglar deterrent, when she heard the noise coming from inside for a second time, and louder now. A strange sound, almost like a baby crying.

Ever curious, Red stooped to the letter box and lifted the flap to peer inside. There was an inner flap obscuring her view; she worked her hand inside, pushed the flap up, and gave a gasp of horror. Mrs St Aubyn was lying at the bottom of the staircase and looked as if she was trying to crawl towards the door. She cried out, the sound now a distinct cry for help.

‘Stay right there,’ Red yelled. ‘I’ll get an ambulance.’

She ran to the next-door house and rang the bell insistently, at the same time hammering with the knocker.

‘What is it? What on earth’s the matter?’ the middle-aged man who came to open the door demanded.

‘It’s Mrs St Aubyn; I think she must have fallen down the stairs. Could you call an ambulance? Oh, and we’ll need the police; they might have to break down the door.’

The man came to look for himself before he would phone, but then was more than helpful. ‘You wait here for the ambulance,’ he instructed once the phone call had been made. ‘I’ll go out the back and see if there’s a window open. We don’t want to have to break the door down unless it’s absolutely necessary.’

A police car was pulling up at the kerb just as the neighbour came hurrying back. ‘There’s a bathroom window partly open at the back,’ he said, panting slightly. ‘Only a small one, though.’

The policemen looked dubiously at the thickness of the solid front door and went through the man’s house to have a look for themselves. Red, impatient at the delay, went with them. It was a very small window, only about eighteen inches by nine, and on the second floor.

‘That’s no good; we can’t get through there,’ one of the policemen said, and went to turn away.

‘I could.’ Red caught his arm.

The policeman looked at her tall, slim figure but he shook his head. ‘I couldn’t let you do it. And anyway, we haven’t got a ladder.’

‘I’ve got one,’ the neighbour offered.

‘Great.’ Red grinned. ‘Let’s go get it.’

‘Now you wait a moment, miss. It’s too dangerous; you might fall.’

‘Off a ladder?’ Red laughed. ‘My dad used to take me mountain climbing back home almost as soon as I could walk. Going up a ladder is nothing. And it’ll be a lot quicker than breaking the door down.’

Overcoming his protests, Red propped the ladder against the wall below the window and climbed it easily. Glancing down at the upturned faces of the men below, she was glad that she was wearing trousers instead of a skirt.

Getting through the window was a little tricky; she had to go in head first and wriggle her hips through the gap, then almost fell inside. But she agilely picked herself up and ran into the house and down the stairs to open the door for the paramedics.

Mrs St Aubyn had broken her ankle. She had also banged her head and wrenched her shoulder as she’d tried to grab for the banister rail during her fall down the stairs. It appeared that she had been lying there for at least a couple of hours, although the paramedic said that she’d probably have passed out for some of the time. She was in pain and tearful, but seemed glad that Red was there, gripping her hand as her leg was put into a kind of splint.

‘Please—win you call Linus for me?’ she begged. ‘Tell him what’s happened and where I am.’

‘Yes, of course I will,’ Red soothed. ‘Just tell me his number.’

‘It’s five, nine, three, six, two, eight—oh, no, I mean it’s six, eight, two... Oh, dear, I—I can’t seem to remember.’ And Mrs St Aubyn again began to weep.

‘It’s the bump on your head. You’re probably a bit concussed,’ the paramedic told her.

‘His number is in the book on my desk.’

‘I’ll find it.’ Red ran into the study and found the book, then realised that she didn’t know Linus’s surname. Carrying the book, she ran into the hall as the paramedics lifted Mrs St Aubyn onto a stretcher. ‘What’s his full name?’

“L-Linus Hunt,’ she gasped, then gave a groan of pain as someone touched her injured shoulder.

‘Are you coming to the hospital with the lady?’ one of the paramedics asked Red.

‘What? Oh, yes, I suppose so. Just a minute while I write down this number.’

Flipping through the book, Red found the name. There were two numbers beside it; hastily she wrote them down on a piece of paper and thrust it into her bag, which a policeman had handed to her.

‘Don’t worry about the house; I’ll look after it,’ the neighbour told her as she went to follow the stretcher, adding, ‘Look, here’s Felicia’s handbag. You’d better take that with you.’

The hospital was overworked and understaffed. Although Mrs St Aubyn was whisked away at once, it was quite a while before Red had given all the details she knew to the clerk. Not that they were many. She had no idea with which doctor the voice coach was registered, or who was her next of kin. Red didn’t even know if she was still married.

It suddenly seemed terrible that Red had spent all those hours alone with her tutor and yet knew so little about her. But maybe Linus Hunt would know. She had to queue to use the public phone, but as soon as she was able called his number.

‘This is Cornucopia Productions,’ a female voice answered. ‘I’m sorry there’s no one here to take your call at the moment, but if you’ll leave your name and number your call will be returned as soon as possible.’

An answering machine. Great. It must be his work number, Red realised, and there would naturally be no one there at this time of night. There was no point in leaving a message. Red fed in some more money and called the second number.

The number rang, but again there was the distinct click as a machine switched itself on. This time she recognised the deep voice of the man she’d met at Mrs St Aubyn’s house over a month ago, but his recorded tone was civilised, sober and laconic. ‘Linus Hunt. Sorry I’m not around. I’ll get back to you when I can.’

Red hesitated, not sure whether or not to leave a message. It suddenly occurred to her that she knew nothing about his marital status, although she presumed that he was single. She decided to try again later in the hope that he would be in and put down the receiver.

She made two more calls: the first to Jenny, telling her what had happened, and the second to her date for that evening, cancelling the plans they’d made to go to see a film and afterwards have supper. He wasn’t too happy about it, but when Red said that he could come and sit with her in the hospital waiting area he hastily declined.

For the next three hours Red waited for Mrs St Aubyn to go to surgery to have her ankle set, reading magazines that were ages old, drinking cups of weak coffee and phoning Linus Hunt every hour, without any luck. Finally Mrs St Aubyn was taken to a ward and Red was allowed to see her for a few minutes.

‘How are you feeling?’ she asked gently.

‘My head aches so much,’ was the fretful reply. ‘Did you call Linus?’

‘I tried several times, but he wasn’t home.’

‘Not home?’ The older woman frowned, obviously still muzzy. ‘Oh, of course, I’d forgotten. He’s been away again. But he should be back soon.’ She lifted strained eyes to Red. ‘Look at this terrible nightdress they’ve given me to wear. It’s dreadful. It rubs me and the tapes are broken.’

‘Would you like me to bring you in some of your own things?’

‘Oh, would you? Yes, please. I feel so uncomfortable.’

‘I’ll bring them in first thing in the morning.’

‘And my face lotions and make-up. And a hairbrush.’

Red smiled at her. ‘You must be feeling better already. Here’s your bag. I’ll need your house keys.’

‘You find them.’

‘OK.’

‘Don’t say OK,’ Mrs St Aubyn automatically reproved her.

A nurse came up. ‘I think the patient had better sleep now.’

Straightening, Red prepared to leave, but Mrs St Aubyn grasped her sleeve. ‘Will you do something for me?’

‘Yes, of course—if I can.’

‘Will you stay at my house tonight? In case Linus calls. He’ll be so worried if I’m not there. Please say you will.’

Red hesitated, not at all keen on the idea, but, looking at her tutor’s drawn and pleading face, knew that she really had no choice. ‘Yes, O—All right, I’ll stay there.’

‘Thank you. You’re so very kind.’ The grip on her sleeve relaxed and almost at once Mrs St Aubyn’s eyes fluttered shut as she drifted into a much needed sleep.

It was dark and late when Red came out of the hospital. Not fancying the idea of waiting around for a bus, she took a taxi back to the house in Pimlico.

She went first to the neighbour’s house, told him about Mrs St Aubyn’s operation and also that she would be spending the night in her house, just in case he saw lights on there and called the police. After the trouble she’d been to in climbing through the window, she didn’t want the police breaking down the door to arrest her for burglary.

Letting herself in the front door, Red stood for several minutes in the hall. It seemed strange to be alone in the house, and even stranger to look at the stairs and realise that just a few hours ago Mrs St Aubyn had been lying there in pain and fear.

What if Red hadn’t happened to drop by? Tomorrow was Saturday, when there wouldn’t have been any students coming to the house, and her boyfriend was away, so the poor woman could have been left lying there for days. Red shivered, dropped her bag on the hall chair and went to look for the kitchen, deciding that what she needed was some good hot food.

She found eggs and cheese and made herself an omelette which she took into the sitting room to eat, turning on the television set for company, watching the latest classic serial and wishing that she was in it.

After she’d eaten she turned off the sound and picked up the phone again. By now she knew Linus Hunt’s number off by heart, but there was still no answer and she didn’t leave a message, seeing no point in doing so at that time of night.

Then she called Jenny to tell her that she wouldn’t be coming home and listened in fascination as Jenny told her all about an incident that had happened that night at the bistro where they both worked as waitresses, when two men had come to blows over a girl and nearly wrecked the place.

‘And I missed it all,’ Red wailed.

‘Will you be OK there alone?’ Jenny asked. ‘I’ll come over, if you like.’

But her voice was already sleepy after her night’s work, so Red said, ‘No, I’ll be fine. See you tomorrow afternoon.’

Going upstairs, Red peeked into the rooms. What was obviously Mrs St Aubyn’s bedroom was furnished in exquisite taste—feminine but not overdone. It also contained a king-sized double bed. There was a bathroom and another, smaller bedroom on the same floor, the bed already made up.

Red found a nightdress that fitted quite well but was too short on her, used the bathroom, and got thankfully into the guest bed. She lay awake for a while, feeling as if she was in some strange hotel where she was the only guest, listening to the unfamiliar noises of the house and the quietness of the road outside, but it had been a long day and she soon fell asleep.

It was almost four hours later when some noise penetrated her sleep, bringing her immediately and joltingly awake, her nerves quivering in primitive alarm. She lay still in the darkness, listening, trying to convince herself that it was nothing. Then she heard the slight creak of a stair. But there was no light showing under the door. Someone was creeping up the stairs in the dark!

Red’s first thought was to find something to defend herself with, but the room was unfamiliar and she would have to turn the light on to search around. And if she turned the light on the intruder would know there was someone there, would be warned.

If she stayed quiet in the dark he might go right by. But that would be a cowardly thing to do; she ought to shout and scream, make all the noise she could so that the burglar would turn and get the hell out of there. Easing herself up in the bed, Red searched for the switch on the bedside lamp.

The footsteps were still coming up the stairs, very quietly but very steadily. It occurred to Red that the burglar must have a torch to walk that confidently, but she could see no light flickering under the door.

The burglar reached the landing and started to cross it. Red slid out of bed, found the light switch and turned it on, just as the door of her room opened. She grabbed up a vase and whirled to face the intruder, a tall, powerful man dressed in black, his hand going up to shield his eyes from the light.

Red screamed at the same moment as the man exclaimed, ‘What the hell?’

He took a step towards her and she threw the vase with all her strength. He ducked and it only hit him on the shoulder, but she had already run to the window and torn the curtains apart, was pushing it open, ready to scream for help at the top of her lungs. But she hadn’t got out more than one syllable when the man came up behind her and put a hand over her mouth, pulling her back into the room.

Red immediately began to kick and struggle, but he pinned her arms against her sides, his grip strong, unbreakable. Red bit the hand that was over her mouth and he swore and took his hand away, but the next second, before she could scream, it was at her throat. A flicker of real fear ran through her and Red knew a moment of panic, but then an exasperated voice said in her ear, ‘For God’s sake stop behaving as if you’re going to be raped and tell me who you are, you little fool!’

The voice was curt and angry, but it was one she recognised. Twisting her head round, Red tried to look at him over her shoulder. The man’s grip eased a little and she was able to turn to face him. The man holding her so closely was Linus Hunt.

Her jaw dropped open in surprise and an overwhelming feeling of relief ran through her, but when she didn’t speak Linus said again, ‘Who the hell are you?’

‘I’m—I’m Red McGee.’

Her name didn’t mean a thing to him and he obviously didn’t recognise her. ‘Are you one of Felicia’s pupils? Did she invite you to stay?’

‘Felicia? Oh, you mean Mrs St Aubyn. Yes, I am, and she did—well, in a way.’

Releasing her, he stepped back. ‘I’m surprised you haven’t woken her, the way you screamed out like a frightened schoolgirl.’

‘I didn’t know who you were,’ Red said indignantly. ‘Why didn’t you turn on some lights instead of creeping around in the dark like—like some rapist?’ she retorted, slinging his own insult back at him.

Glancing down at his bitten hand, Linus gave a snort of derision. ‘A rapist wouldn’t stand a chance against you.’

Red glared at him, but in her heart knew it wasn’t so; his strength had been enough to overpower her if he’d really wanted to. Putting that uncomfortable thought out of her mind, she said, ‘Why didn’t you turn the lights on? And why did you come into this room?’

‘Because I didn’t want to wake Felicia, of course.’ He frowned. ‘I’m surprised she hasn’t woken now; she’s generally a very light sleeper.’

Linus made a move towards the door, but Red put a hand on his arm. ‘She isn’t here. I’m afraid there’s been an accident.’

She felt him stiffen under her hand and his face grew tense. ‘An accident? What are you saying?’

There was alarm in his voice, even fear, and Red frowned; he didn’t sound like a toy boy out for what he could get—unless he was worried about his meal ticket, of course. Her voice hardening a little, Red explained, ‘She fell down the stairs. Her ankle is broken and she wrenched her shoulder, but otherwise she’s OK.’

‘Where is she?’ The question was swift, demanding.

‘In hospital. I stayed there until after her ankle was set and saw her in the ward. She’s all right. Really.’

‘I must go to her.’

‘I doubt if they’ll let you see her. She’s been given something to make her sleep.’

‘Which hospital?’

Red told him and he strode out of the room. She heard him go into the main bedroom and pick up the phone. Finding her jacket, Red put it round her shoulders and stood in the doorway, watching as he called the hospital.

Tonight Linus seemed a different person from the unkempt drunk she’d met that first time. He was clean-shaven, clear-eyed and seemed to be fully alert, which made him look younger than she’d first thought. He was also smartly dressed in a well-cut dark business suit, a crisp white shirt and tie.

And she’d been right about him being good-looking once he’d cleaned himself up; he had high cheekbones in a lean face, with a straight nose, and lips that were just right, neither too full nor too thin. His hair was thick and dark, touching his collar, and with a lock that was apt to fall onto his forehead and be pushed impatiently back, as he was doing now as he talked to the sister in charge of the ward. His level brows, too, were dark, as were the lashes that framed his grey eyes.

‘All right. But if she wakes please tell her that I’ll be there first thing in the morning... Yes... Linus Hunt. Thank you.’ Putting the phone down, he turned to look at Red—really looked at her for the first time, his eyes sweeping over her tall, slim figure and mass of auburn hair. ‘Just how do you come to be involved in this?’ he asked.

She pulled the jacket closer over the silk nightgown. ‘I found her. I called round to see her about some more lessons and I saw her through the letter box, so I called an ambulance and went with her to the hospital.

‘She asked me to telephone you, but I couldn’t get any reply, so then she asked me to spend the night here in case you rang.’ Red gave him an assessing look. ‘She was afraid you’d be worried if you called and she wasn’t here.’

‘I rang a couple of times from Zurich airport but the line was engaged,’ Linus said shortly. ‘So I came straight here.’ He lifted an eyebrow. ‘Did you use the phone?’

Red nodded. ‘I called my flat mate to tell her I wouldn’t be home.’ She said it rather defensively, but why she should feel guilty she didn’t know; how was she supposed to have known that he would call at precisely that time?

His face didn’t soften any but he said, ‘It seems that you’ve been put to a great deal of inconvenience on Felicia’s behalf.’

‘It was nothing,’ Red said in embarrassment. ‘I just happened along.’

‘You’re Australian, aren’t you?’

She gave a rueful groan. ‘You’re not supposed to notice the accent.’

Linus grinned, and suddenly he seemed extremely good-looking. ‘That’s what the lessons are for, are they?’ She nodded, but he was already glancing at his watch. ‘It’s four-thirty, and I’ve been travelling all night. I’m going to get some sleep and I’d advise you to do the same.’

‘I don’t need to be advised to do something that simple,’ Red said shortly, strangely disappointed at his obvious lack of interest.

He glanced at her, his eyebrows rising, but merely said, ‘I’ll use this room. Good night—er—what did you say your name was?’

‘Red. Red McGee.’

His eyebrows rose yet again. ‘That’s what I thought you said. Good night.’

She gave him a look, said, ‘Good night,’ in a cool tone, and went back to the guest room.

This time she didn’t fall asleep so quickly. Quite naturally, she was thinking about Linus Hunt. He seemed so different tonight. But maybe he was the kind of man who went on really drunken binges for a few days and was then able to stay off the booze for a few weeks, until the craving drove him back on the bottle.

She wasn’t unfamiliar with the type; there had been a few men who’d worked on her father’s sheep station who’d been like that. Although they hadn’t worked for him long once he’d found out. He’d been fair, though—given them a warning after the first time and only got rid of them after the second bout.

She realised that she would have to revise her first impression of Linus. He was obviously well trained, creeping up the stairs like that and going to sleep in the guest room so as not to disturb Felicia’s sleep.

That must have been why the guest bed was made up—all ready for him. Although, thinking about it, Red decided that if she had been in Felicia St Aubyn’s place she wouldn’t in the least have minded being wakened by a man like Linus. Because, physically, he certainty was quite a man, for all his faults.

Red gave a sigh, feeling like a frustrated schoolgirl, and wondered if Linus was lying awake thinking about her. Then she laughed at herself for being so stupid; the only definite thing about Linus was that he wasn’t interested in anyone but Felicia. Because that was where the money was? Red stirred uneasily, somehow unhappy with the thought.

At eight Red woke, showered and put on the clothes she’d been wearing yesterday: black jeans, a moss-green sweater and a black belt over it round her twenty-two-inch waist. Luckily she always carried make-up with her in her cavernous bag, so she was able to do her face and brush her long hair into its usual mass of crimped waves around her head. Looking at herself critically in the full-length mirror, she decided that she looked pretty good in the circumstances.

Downstairs in the kitchen she started to prepare breakfast, turning on the radio to a pop programme and whistling along to the tunes. Twenty minutes later Linus came into the room.

‘Hi!’ Red greeted him cheerfully. ‘How do you like your eggs?’

‘In the hen.’ He turned off the radio and frowned. ‘Are you always this bright in the mornings?’

‘What’s wrong with being bright?’ She watched as he went to the fridge and took out a bottle of fresh orange juice. He was wearing different, more casual clothes this morning. ‘Didn’t you sleep very well?’

‘No.’ Linus hesitated, then said, ‘I was thinking about Felicia.’

‘She asked me to take her in some things.’

‘I’ll do that.’

‘I’d like to go too. I promised her I would,’ Red said firmly.

Linus glanced at her as he poured the juice, then shrugged. ‘All right.’

Red sat down at the table to eat her breakfast of cereal followed by scrambled eggs and toast, but all Linus had was the orange juice and coffee. He made the coffee, completely at home in the kitchen, knowing where to find everything he needed.

Curiosity overcoming her, Red said offhandedly, ‘This is a really nice house. It must cost the earth to rent.’

His grey eyes settled on her for a moment. ‘Felicia doesn’t rent it; she owns the place. It was left to her by her husband,’ he said shortly.

‘Oh, she’s a widow, then?’ Linus nodded without speaking. Annoyed by his reticence, Red decided to goad him and so went on, ‘Women on their own like that must have to be so careful—not to be taken advantage of, I mean. There are lots of unscrupulous men who’d happily live off older, richer women.’

His eyes again met hers, and she thought that his mouth tightened a little, but Linus didn’t rise to the bait. Instead he set down his empty cup and said in a sardonic tone, ‘If you’re quite sure you’ve had enough, we’d better get the things Felicia asked for.’

He came up to Felicia’s room with her and found a weekend case in which Red carefully put two or three nightdresses, a lacy kind of bed-jacket, and the stuff out of the bathroom that she thought the invalid might need. Linus wasn’t so much at home in the bathroom opening off Felicia’s room; when Red asked him which lotions she ought to take, he didn’t know. ‘Take them all,’ he said impatiently.

Linus called a taxi, and by the time Red had collected her jacket and bag it was at the door. It was another dull grey London day; the streets were crowded with traffic and it took a while to get to the hospital.

Linus drummed his fingers on his knee, and it was plain that he needed to see Felicia and assess her injuries for himself. When they reached the hospital he sprang out, thrusting money into the driver’s hand and striding through the entrance without waiting for Red. She caught him up inside. ‘Which ward?’ he said impatiently.

‘Queen’s. It’s on the second floor.’

They went up in the lift and Red led the way down the corridor, but once in the ward their way was blocked by a buxom senior nurse who looked as if the frown she was wearing was etched into her face. ‘Visiting time is from two till eight,’ she said shortly.

‘We’ve come to see Mrs St Aubyn. She was brought in as an accident case last night.’

‘We’ve brought some things for her,’ Red added.

‘I’ll give them to her. Come again this afternoon.’

‘I’m very worried about her and I insist on seeing her now,’ Linus said stubbornly, his face and voice sharp, determined not to take any denial.

Looking at him, the nurse knew that she’d met her match, but still said belligerently, ‘Only close family members are allowed to come out of visiting hours.’

‘I couldn’t be any closer,’ Linus said shortly. ‘She’s my mother.’

The nurse heard Red’s involuntary gasp of surprise and raised her eyebrows. ‘Your name?’

‘Linus Hunt. My mother married twice,’ he added, before the woman could point out the difference in surnames.

Grudgingly, the nurse said, ‘Very well, you can see her for a few minutes. She’s down there on the right.’ Linus started down the ward and Red went to follow, but the nurse said in a voice of evident disbelief, ‘And who are you—her daughter?’

Taken aback, Red said, ‘Well, no, I...’

At the same time Linus said, ‘Yes,’ adding smoothly as her voice petered off, ‘She’s Mrs St Aubyn’s daughter-in-law—my wife.’ And, taking Red’s arm, he strode down the ward.

Red giggled as the nurse stared after them. ‘Nice one. That was a great idea, to say you were her son. She’d never have let you in if you’d admitted you were only a boyfriend.’

Linus stopped and swung round to give her an incredulous look. ‘What did you say?’

‘That you...’ Her voice dried as Red stared up at his amazed face in dawning realisation. ‘You—you mean you really are her son?’ she gasped.

His jaw hardened; his eyes shrivelled her. ‘Of course I am.’

Turning, he strode on ahead, leaving Red to gaze after him. She laughed in incredulous amazement, and suddenly the sun came bursting through the windows and it was a gorgeous day.

CHAPTER TWO

LINUS strode into the sectioned-off part of the ward where his mother lay, and Red tactfully waited outside for several minutes. She guessed that their meeting would be emotional, especially on Felicia St Aubyn’s part, and didn’t want to intrude. Not only that, she was glad of a few minutes alone in which to reassess her opinion of Linus—an opinion that, with just a few words, had been turned completely upside down.

So he wasn’t a toy boy after all. Red felt strangely pleased about that, and wondered if her first impression of him as a drunk might also have been wrong. He seemed so self-confident today, so completely in control that the first image she’d had of Linus was almost impossible to recognise as the same man. But they were one and the same, which made him something of an enigma—and Red’s big failing had always been her inability to contain her avid curiosity.

When she judged it would be OK to join them, she walked into the side-ward and was pleased to see that Mrs St Aubyn was sitting up and smiling, her hand held in her son’s. She let go when she saw Red and beckoned her over. ‘Linus, find a chair for Red,’ she ordered, and held out her hand for Red to take.

‘How are you feeling, Mrs St Aubyn?’

‘Much better, thank you. And so pleased to see you.’

Linus placed a chair on the other side of the bed for her and Red sat down.

‘Linus tells me you gave each other quite a fright last night.’

‘I’m afraid I threw a vase at him. I’m sorry about that.’

‘Nonsense. I’ve often felt like throwing things at him,’ his mother lied fondly.

‘Oh, I didn’t mean I was sorry for throwing it—just for breaking the vase.’

‘Thank you so much,’ Linus said sardonically.

Mrs St Aubyn glanced at them both with some amusement. ‘It was very kind of you to spend the night at the house. I really appreciate it,’ she said to Red.

‘It was no trouble. Will you be able to go home soon?’ she asked, to change the subject.

‘The doctor hasn’t been round yet, but I feel so much better that I’m sure it will be very soon. Perhaps even today,’ she added hopefully.

‘You had a nasty fall and you’re not leaving until you’re fully recovered,’ Linus stated categorically.

Recognising the masterful edge in his voice, Red and Mrs St Aubyn exchanged a glance and each gave the briefest of knowing smiles, both of them aware that the invalid was going to be out of that hospital just as fast as she could, whether Linus objected or not.

‘I’ve brought the things you wanted,’ Red told her.

‘Oh, that’s marvellous. I can’t wait to change out of this horrid nightdress.’

‘It certainly isn’t your usual style,’ Linus said with a grin.

The senior nurse came bustling up to them. ‘The doctors are beginning their rounds. We can’t have visitors here now.’

Linus gave her a frowning look, but leaned forward to kiss Mrs St Aubyn on the cheek. ‘We’ll leave you, then, Felicia. I’ll come back this afternoon.’

‘Goodbye, darling.’

‘Goodbye, Mrs St Aubyn. I’m glad you’re feeling better.’

‘Oh, please, my dear, call me Felicia, won’t you? And will you come back and see me this afternoon too?’

‘Well, I...’ Red gave Linus an uncertain glance, but he looked away, deliberately unhelpful.

‘Please do. There’s something I’d like you to do for me, but there isn’t time to discuss it now.’

‘In that case, I’ll certainly come.’

‘Thank you, my dear.’

The nurse shepherded them out, almost physically pushing them in her anxiety to be rid of them.

‘That officious, domineering female,’ Linus fumed when they were outside the hospital. ‘Give that kind of woman an inch of power and they think they own not only the hospital and the patients but you as well.’

‘I imagine men are much the same, if not worse,’ Red pointed out tartly.

Linus glanced at her, then gave a crooked grin. ‘I’m sure you’re right, but somehow it seems much worse when it’s a woman.’

‘Only because you’re a man.’

‘Of course,’ he said smoothly, and held up an arm to a cruising taxi. ‘Where are you going now?’

‘Oh, Home, I suppose. In Fulham,’ she explained.

‘Give the driver the address.’ She did so and got in the cab, but Linus didn’t join her, instead asking the cabbie what the fare would be and passing over some notes. Leaning in the open door, he said, ‘I suppose Felicia has your telephone number?’ Red nodded, but he didn’t immediately draw back, instead giving her a speculative look before saying, ‘Did you really think I was Felicia’s boyfriend?’

Red pushed her hair off her face and, brazening it out, said, ‘Of course not. I knew who you were all the time.’

But Linus didn’t believe her. Giving her a look, he said with sardonic over-politeness, ‘Well, goodbye, then—and thanks once again for all your help.’ Then he shut the door and the taxi immediately pulled away.

When Red looked back Linus was already calling up another cab.

Apart from once again telling Jenny about last night’s adventure there wasn’t much to do back at the flat. Jenny was keenly interested, but Red found herself playing down the part that Linus had played in it, merely saying that Felicia’s son had turned up and had gone with her to the hospital.

‘What’s he like?’ Jenny enquired.

Red shrugged. ‘OK, I suppose. Quite tall.’

Jenny lost interest, as Red had hoped she would, and went on to chat about the bistro. After lunch Red showered, got Jenny to do her hair in its usual mass of crimped, pre-Raphaelite waves, and changed into clean jeans and sweater.

She was about to leave for the hospital when last night’s date rang and she had to spend some time on the phone, placating him and promising to go out with him on her next free evening. Finally managing to get away, Red made a detour to a flower stall to buy a large bunch of daisies for Felicia, then had to wait ages for a bus, so it was almost three when she arrived at the hospital.

Linus was already there, leaning forward in his seat and speaking vehemently, while Felicia had a stubborn set to her mouth. Their voices weren’t raised, but Red got the distinct impression that they were arguing.

She coughed, making Linus glance round at her. Frowning, he sat back. Felicia, wearing her own nightdress and lace bed-jacket, her face made-up and looking elegant even in those harsh surroundings, smiled a welcome, making up for his silence. ‘Are those for me? How perfectly lovely. Linus, go and find a vase.’

‘A nurse will get one later.’ He finally gave Red a reluctant nod of greeting.

‘But they’ll wilt in this heat. Go and find one now, please.’

He didn’t seem at all willing to go, and Red would have offered to get one herself except that she caught a definite message not to from Felicia. So she went round the bed and sat in the spare chair. Still frowning, Linus got to his feet and went in search of a vase.

As soon as he was out of earshot Felicia leaned forward and said in a lowered voice, ‘Please stay until after Linus leaves; I want to talk to you.’

‘All right,’ Red agreed at once, full of curiosity. Raising her tone to a normal level, she said, ‘Has your doctor told you when you can go home yet?’

‘Yes; he said tomorrow.’

‘That’s wonderful!’ Red exclaimed just as Linus returned.

‘Yes, isn’t it? They only kept me in because I hit my head, but the X-ray showed that I haven’t fractured my skull and the concussion has cleared up, so they want me out of the way to make room for someone who’s really ill.’

This last was said on a note of defiance, making Red wonder if that was what their argument had been about. But surely if the surgeon had said that she was well enough to leave Linus wouldn’t want Felicia to stay in this alien place a minute longer than necessary? That would be cruel, and not the act of a man who had crept up the stairs in the dark rather than risk waking his mother.

Linus said nothing, merely handing Red the water-filled vase so that she could arrange the flowers, which she did by simply thrusting the whole bunch into it. Felicia blinked in surprise but said nothing as Red put them on the bedside cabinet alongside the exquisite spray of orchids that already sat there.

Did Linus buy all his women orchids, Red wondered, or just his mother? It occurred to her that she still didn’t know whether or not he was married or living with someone, but if that was the case why hadn’t the woman shown up with him this afternoon? And why had he gone to his mother’s house to sleep last night? No, Red decided, he must be a free agent.

They chatted a little, Felicia telling Linus that Red was an actress.

His eyes went over her and grew disparaging. ‘I’d never have guessed,’ he said sarcastically, meaning exactly the opposite.

Red found herself growing angry; what right had he to be so damned cynical? ‘Have you got something against actresses?’ she demanded stiffly.

‘I have nothing against them—when they’re good, when they behave in a professional manner.’

Red opened her mouth to ask him what he meant but Felicia held up a hand to stop her. ‘Please, you’ve both come here to cheer me up and I don’t find such a discussion amusing. Linus, if you can’t behave better you might as well go away.’

‘Which means that you want to get rid of me, I take it.’ He got to his feet. ‘Very well. But remember what I said and don’t go making any plans behind my back. Will you promise?’

‘No, Linus, I won’t. I shall do exactly as I please, the same as I have always done. You ought to know that by now.’

He gave an exasperated sigh. ‘What am I going to do with you?’

‘Kiss me and say goodbye.’

He obeyed her and for a moment she held him tightly. Red quickly looked away, but lifted her head when Linus said goodbye to her too.

Both women watched him walk away, so tall and good-looking, drawing the eyes of that ward of sick women, making them feel wistful in many different ways.

‘One has to be very tough and determined where Linus is concerned,’ his mother remarked.

Red smiled. ‘But you always get your own way, I imagine.’

‘Oh, I let him win occasionally; that’s good policy, you know. But I think I’m going to have a battle on my hands this time.’

‘And you want me to help,’ Red stated.

Felicia smiled. ‘That’s what I like about you Australians. And Americans too. You’re so direct, don’t lead up to things as a British person would. Yes, I do want your help—but you might not be willing to give it when you hear what I want you to do.’

‘You’d better tell me, then.’

‘Well, because of this silly ankle and my shoulder, I’m going to find it rather hard to look after myself for a while. And Linus, of course, has to work, and he may have to go away again. So he wants to hire a live-in nurse to look after me.’ She paused as the senior nurse, the dragon of the morning, walked by. When she was gone, Felicia said, ‘Somehow I don’t think I could stand a nurse.’

‘They’re not all like her.’

‘Oh, I’m sure they’re not. But experienced nurses do tend to be very bossy, don’t you think? I expect it comes from having to deal with children and difficult patients or people who are very ill; they have to be firm with them.’

‘And you don’t feel like being treated like a child.’

‘Exactly,’ Felicia agreed with feeling. ‘I want someone who will just help me as I need it, not wrap me in cotton wool or cosset me so much that it drives me mad. I want someone who’s sensible but willing. And I want someone I already know.’ She came to a stop and gave Red a sideways glance.

It didn’t take much figuring out, although it surprised Red that Felicia should want her help. ‘You want me to come and look after you?’

‘Indeed I do.’

‘But I have a job and—’

‘I’d pay you a wage, of course. As much as I would have paid a nurse.’

‘But if I give up my job I might not be able to get another when you’re better and don’t need me any more,’ Red objected.

‘You could have as many free voice-training lessons as you like,’ Felicia wheedled, making Red smile.

‘Bribery too, huh? But what if I got a part?’

‘Oh, in that case you would take it, of course, and you’d be free to go to as many auditions as you like. Heaven forbid that you should miss a chance on my account,’ Felicia said, meaning it. ‘But you don’t have anything lined up at the moment, do you? And I wouldn’t want you to be on hand twenty-four hours a day, just to help me when I need it.’

‘But you’d want me to live at your house?’

‘Yes. Please.’

‘Why me?’ Red asked bluntly. ‘You must have loads of friends who’d be happy to help you.’

‘Possibly,’ Felicia admitted. ‘But ii would be too much of a strain for someone my own age—and besides, they would feel they had to entertain me, or be entertained, the whole time, which I’m afraid I’d soon find extremely irksome. I’m used to being on my own, you see.

‘But you’re of a different generation, and I think of a more open outlook. If I told you to go away and leave me on my own, you wouldn’t be offended, you’d just go. Wouldn’t you?’

‘Well, yeah, sure. But—’

‘Don’t say yeah.’ Felicia assumed her tutor’s hat to interrupt.

Red gazed at her, a slight frown between her brows, not sure if she liked this proposition or not. Her nature was basically kind and prompted her to help, but she was happy in the life she already had, and could see it changing. She would very much miss Jenny, for instance. And there was another factor to take into account. Bluntly she said, ‘Have you already suggested this to Linus? Is that what you were arguing about earlier?’

‘You noticed, did you? Yes, I have, and yes, he was against the idea.’

‘I can see why.’

‘Well, as I said, he did think that I ought to have a registered nurse,’ Felicia admitted.

Glancing at her, Red was pretty sure that she was holding something back, that Linus had objected on far more grounds than just that. She shook her head. ‘I don’t know.’

‘I do need you, Red,’ Felicia said earnestly.

Red didn’t altogether believe that. There must have been lots of other, more suitable people whom Felicia could have asked for help, so she must be pretty sure that with Red she could get away with doing exactly as she wanted. Although she might be wrong about that, because Red could be firm if the occasion demanded it, the same as any nurse. But again she shook her head. ‘I have a friend I share my flat with.’

‘A man?’

Red gave a surprised laugh. ‘No, a girlfriend.’

‘Couldn’t you find someone else to take your place for a couple of months? I should be able to look after myself by then.’

‘I don’t know,’ Red repeated.

‘Well... Will you promise me that you’ll think about it?’

Red stood up. ‘OK—I mean, yes, all right. I’ll let you know later today. Is there a phone here? Can I call you?’

‘Yes; this is the number.’ Felicia wrote it down for her. Red went to give her the key of her front door, but Felicia wouldn’t take it. ‘No, you keep it until you make up your mind. I do hope you’ll decide to come and help me, Red. I like you, and I’m sure we’d get on very well together.’

It was said in the most charming way, making Red smile. ‘I can see why you always get your own way,’ she remarked, and lifted a hand in farewell.

The entrance area of the hospital was separate from the casualty department; it had a lobby with a drinks-vending machine and uncomfortable-looking seats for people to use while they waited for whatever reason.

Linus was sitting in one and reading a newspaper, which he folded when he saw her. Getting to his feet, he put a firm hand under Red’s elbow and said, ‘Let’s go and find somewhere to have a decent coffee.’

She supposed that she ought to have realised that he wouldn’t be dismissed so easily. There was a determined set to his jaw, and Red wondered if it wasn’t the other way round: that sometimes Linus allowed Felicia to win.

There was an up-market hotel a couple of hundred yards away, and they went into the lounge, sat in a quiet corner and Linus ordered coffee. Glancing at Red’s slim figure, he added, ‘And a selection of cakes.’

‘Do you think I don’t get enough to eat?’ Red asked in some amusement, thinking of the delicious meals that she and Jenny consumed as part of their wages at the bistro.

He gave a small shrug. ‘I suppose you’re forever slimming; most actresses seem to think of little else but their figure and their diet.’

Linus spoke disparagingly, making Red wonder again what he’d got against actresses. Some bad experience in the past, perhaps? She was both intrigued and a little annoyed at his attitude; she was an individual, and didn’t like being bunched with others under such general disapproval. But she said nothing, instead leaning back in her seat to look round the room.

It was Edwardian in decor, very restrained, very expensive. The weather was better this afternoon and the guests had gone out to explore London, so they had the lounge almost to themselves.

Red expected Linus to start on her straight away, but he waited until the coffee and some absolutely gorgeous cream cakes had been served. And then he only led up to the subject in a roundabout way; English subtlety, Red presumed.

‘Have you been in England long?’ he asked.

‘About eight months.’ Red stirred her coffee then took one of the cakes, her taste buds drooling.

‘And how long are you planning on staying?’

Her green eyes flicked up to glance at him. Deciding that she could play cat and mouse too, she answered offhandedly, ‘As long as it takes.’

‘To do what?’

‘Become rich and famous,’ she replied calmly.

He blinked and said drily, ‘That’s your sole ambition in life, is it?’

‘At the moment. Why, what’s yours?’

A taken-aback look came into his grey eyes for a second, but then Linus changed tactics and said, ‘Did Felicia ask you to go and live with her, look after her?’

‘Yes.’

‘And I suppose you agreed,’ he said on a sneering note.

‘What makes you so sure?’

‘You’re hardly likely to pass up such an opportunity.’ The cynical twist to his mouth deepened. ‘You’ve just openly admitted that you’re very ambitious, and I’m quite sure you think that by ingratiating yourself with Felicia, and therefore with me, that you’ll be going a long way towards furthering those ambitions..’

Red frowned in puzzlement. ‘Felicia did offer me free voice coaching,’ she admitted.

‘And auditions?’

‘She said that I’d be free to go to any that cropped up, yes.’

‘And I suppose you expect me to provide the opportunities.’

‘You?’ Red looked at him blankly, completely mystified.

Linus eyed her searchingly for a moment; then gave a small, thin-lipped smile. ‘Perhaps you’re a better actress than I thought. But there’s really no point in going on pretending, and this sham innocence certainly isn’t doing you any good—the opposite in fact.’

‘Just what are you talking about?’

His tone had a definite edge of anger to it as he said, ‘You know perfectly well who I am.’

Leaning forward, Red placed her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her hands as she contemplated him. She was getting rather tired of his disparaging remarks, especially as she had no idea what he was talking about.

‘I feel as if I’m in the wrong conversation. Maybe I missed something somewhere along the line. All I know about you is that you’re Felicia’s son—and I didn’t find that out until this morning. Before that I thought you were her toy boy,’ she added with intentional insult.

Linus glared at her, said curtly, ‘Rubbish! It’s no secret that Felicia is my mother, and she’s often been plagued by would-be actors and actresses trying to get to know me through her, through the lessons she gives.’

‘And just why should getting to know you be such a big deal?’

Again his eyes flicked searchingly to her face, but for only the briefest moment before he said, ‘You admitted that you called my business number yesterday; if you didn’t know who I was before, you must certainly have found out then.’

She frowned, trying to think back. ‘When I called that number all I got was an answer-phone.’

‘But you heard that it was a production company.’

Her eyes widened. ‘Are you saying that it’s a theatrical production company?’

Linus sighed. ‘Must you keep up this act? As I’m sure you must very well know, Cornucopia Productions is responsible for a great many cinema films and television programmes.’

So that was what all this was about; he was afraid that she would try to take advantage of knowing him to get a part in one of his company’s productions. And the only reason he didn’t want her to help Felicia was that he didn’t want to be under any kind of obligation to her.

His arrogant assumption that she was the kind of person who would take advantage of such a situation brought an immediate spurt of anger. Red was only amazed that he hadn’t accused her of pushing Felicia down the stairs as part of some deep-laid plan to bring all this about.

Not bothering to hide her feelings, she said with as much sarcasm as he had shown earlier, ‘And what are you—the office boy?’

Linus had his cup to his mouth, taking a drink, but was so surprised that the liquid went down the wrong way, making him cough. Recovering, he eyed her narrowly. ‘Not quite.’ His mouth was so grim that Red thought that he was going to have another go at her, but he said, ‘I’m not going to allow you to look after Felicia.’

‘Isn’t that up to her?’

‘She needs a trained nurse, not a bumbling amateur.’

‘Felicia doesn’t seem to think so. She’s afraid of being bossed around and losing her independence.’

‘It will only be for a couple of months.’

Putting her head on one side, Red gave him a contemplative look. ‘Don’t you love your mother?’

‘That goes without saying,’ Linus answered shortly.

‘Not necessarily. But if you do then why don’t you let her live her own life? Why do you want her to be miserable?’

‘She won’t be,’ he answered curtly. ‘She only wants you because she knows she’ll be able to do as she likes—which will be far too much and too soon. She needs plenty of rest with her leg up so that her ankle can heal properly. With you she won’t get that; with a trained nurse she will.’

‘And the fact that a nurse wouldn’t have any acting ambitions doesn’t come into it, I suppose?’

‘Possibly,’ he admitted with a grim laugh.

Red finished her cake and licked the cream from her lips with the tip of her tongue, as delicately as a cat. She stood up. ‘Will you excuse me for a few minutes?’

Going into the lobby of the hotel, she found the public phone booth and dialled the number that Felicia had given her, then waited while the phone trolley was wheeled to the invalid’s bedside. ‘It’s Red. I’ve been thinking about your offer and I’ve decided to accept.’

Felicia exclaimed with pleasure and they arranged for Red to move in the next day.

Strolling back into the lounge, Red went up to the table where Linus was waiting, but she didn’t sit down again. ‘I’ve got to shoot through. Thanks for the coffee.’

He looked amused at the colloquialism but then frowned as he got to his feet. ‘Look, I’m grateful that you found Felicia, and for your concern. I’m sure she’ll repay you by giving you some free lessons, but you must understand that—’

‘Sure, I understand,’ Red cut in, again angry that he should think that she wanted some kind of reward. ‘Tell me: that’s your experience of women, is it—that they’re all out for what they can get?’

His face hardened. ‘Would-be actresses tend to get obsessive—and desperate. You’d be surprised at the things they do, the lengths they go to to get themselves noticed.’ He laughed shortly. ‘But no, I’m sure it wouldn’t surprise you; you’re sure to know it all already.’

Red smiled. ‘You know something? You really sound as if you have a chip on your shoulder about actresses. What happened? Did one of them throw you over for some other boyfriend?’

The question was both personal and rude, making his eyes narrow. But that was all; his face gave nothing away, and his voice was silky as he said, ‘That’s the third time today you’ve called me a boy. I assure you I’m not.’

Red felt a small flutter of awareness but firmly ignored it. Boy or man, physically attractive as he was, Linus Hunt wasn’t the type she went for.

She gave him a sweet smile and said, ‘Well, one thing’s for sure: you sure as hell don’t know any Australian girls.’ And with that she turned and walked away with a long-legged stride, leaving him looking after her with a puzzled frown.

Red wasn’t working at the bistro that evening, so she spent the time in packing and trying to explain to Jenny why she was doing this when she didn’t really know herself. It wasn’t just sympathy and liking for Felicia, that was for sure; in some ways Red thought that she would probably be better off with a nurse.

Originally she had intended to turn down the offer, but Linus’s arrogance had sent her, angry and defiant, headlong in the other direction. So now she was committed, and whether she would live to regret her hasty decision was yet to be seen. Although Red doubted it; she seldom regretted any decisions she took in her life; even though some turned out to be wrong they were always interesting.

The next morning she took a cab to the house and let herself in, first ringing the doorbell to make sure that Linus wasn’t there. But he must have spent the night at his own place, wherever that was.

After some argument from Jenny, they had decided to let an out-of-work actress they knew have Red’s room in the flat for two months at a low rent. Which was OK, but meant that Red had had to bring all her stuff with her. And she didn’t travel light; she’d bought a load of irresistible clothes since she’d been in London.

She spent some time downstairs before lugging her cases up to the guest room she’d used before. There were some of Linus’s clothes in the wardrobe and dresser, so she put them into a suitcase that was also in the wardrobe.

Afterwards Red set about unpacking, and was still at the task when she heard the front door open and Felicia’s and Linus’s voices in the hall. Girding up her loins to face him—if women actually had loins—Red ran down the stairs to meet them.

The thunder-cloud frown on Linus’s face told her exactly what he thought of the situation, but Red ignored him; Felicia was on crutches and looked tired and strained from the journey. Deftly Red helped her off with her coat, saying, ‘If you’ll make yourself comfortable in the sitting room, I’ll get you a coffee.’

She didn’t try to help Felicia physically and didn’t fuss, instead going straight into the kitchen, but she noticed that Linus put a strong hand under Felicia’s elbow. A few minutes later he followed her into the kitchen.

‘I thought I told you I didn’t want you here,’ he said furiously. ‘When I got to the hospital with the nurse I’d engaged Felicia refused point-blank to have anything to do with her—because you’d gone behind my back and accepted her offer.’

‘I was pushed into it,’ Red admitted, pouring milk into a jug.

‘“Pushed into it”? What do you mean? Who by?’

‘By you, of course. I felt so sorry for Felicia, being bossed around by you, that I decided she didn’t need a nurse to boss her around as well. So I called her yesterday—from the hotel where we were having coffee,’ she added, enjoying herself.

Linus’s face set like granite. ‘I suppose you think you’re very clever’

She gave him a look but merely said, ‘What happened to the nurse?’

‘I had to let her go—for now. But I’m quite sure she’ll be back when Felicia realises how inadequate you are,’ he said nastily.

Picking up the tray, Red gave a small smile as she carried it through to the sitting room, Linus following her closely.

‘Linus, I won’t have you bullying Red,’ Felicia said querulously. ‘Leave her alone.’

‘That’s OK; I’m tough enough to fight my own battles,’ Red said calmly.

‘Thick-skinned more like,’ Linus cut in as he sat in a chair near the ornate fire-surround.

‘Possibly,’ she admitted, putting just a dash of cream into a cup of coffee and handing it to Felicia.

‘You know how I like it,’ the older woman said in surprise.

‘I’ve watched you make it during my lessons.’

‘You’re very observant,’ Felicia said with gratitude.

Red had brought three cups; she poured one for herself and then sat down. If Linus wanted one he could help himself; she wasn’t his servant. Recognising this small defiance for what it was, Linus gave a grim smile as he rose to pour himself a cup.

For his mother’s sake, he controlled his anger, while Felicia chatted to Red, saying that they must make out a shopping list and let her students know that she wouldn’t be available for a couple of days.

‘You need to rest for longer than that,’ Linus cut in, adding, ‘Please, Mother, promise me that you’ll take at least a week off.’

‘Oh dear, if you call me Mother, you must be serious. I’ll see.’

Linus looked as if he was about to argue, then closed his mouth firmly.

Red got to her feet, putting her cup on the tray and taking Felicia’s from her. ‘Have you practised going up and down stairs with your crutches yet? Maybe it might be an idea to try now while Linus is here, so that he can supply some muscle if you need it.’

‘Catch me if I fall, you mean.’ Felicia smiled. ‘Yes, I suppose it might be an idea; they wheeled me out to the taxi in a wheelchair at the hospital. I felt perfectly ridiculous!’

But she let Linus help her up from the chair and, though she tried to hide it, was obviously quite glad to have him there while she made her slow way up the stairs using only one crutch and the banister rail. Red followed with the other crutch and the small case that Felicia had brought home with her.

‘Where are all the rugs?’ Linus asked, glancing at the landing and then down at the hall.

‘I was afraid Felicia might trip on them so I moved them out of the way.’

Linus’s eyebrows rose a little but he merely gave a brief nod.

Climbing the stairs had exhausted her, and Felicia made only a token protest when Red said, ‘How about a rest till lunchtime?’

She got to her room under her own steam but then was glad to let Red help her undress and get into bed. Red closed the curtains against the morning sunlight and went out, quietly closing the door behind her.

Linus was pacing the hall downstairs. Turning, he walked into the kitchen so that their voices wouldn’t carry upstairs. ‘She’s worn out,’ he said roughly.

‘I’m not surprised, if you’ve been arguing with her all morning.’

He gave her a glare, but said, ‘When she wouldn’t have the nurse I tried to get her to go into a convalescent home for a while, but she wouldn’t have that either. I know she’ll try and do too much too soon. I want you to call each of her students and tell them that she won’t be available for at least a couple of weeks.’

‘I already did.’

‘What?’

‘Well, I told them she wouldn’t be available for a week at least. I didn’t think she’d let me get away with two weeks.’

A glint of surprised approval came into his grey eyes for a moment, but his voice was still curt when he said, ‘Have you any nursing experience?’

‘I haven’t had any training, if that’s what you mean. But I helped to look after my mother when she was ill.’

‘How long for?’

She dug her fingers into her palms, not wanting to remember that terrible time when her mother had fought so hard against the cancer that had eventually killed her, and managed to say matter-of-factly, ‘Several months’

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