Mills & Boon is proud to present a fabulous collection of fantastic novels by bestselling, much loved author

ANNE MATHER

Anne has a stellar record of achievement within the

publishing industry, having written over one hundred

and sixty books, with worldwide sales of more than

forty-eight MILLION copies in multiple languages.

This amazing collection of classic stories offers a chance

for readers to recapture the pleasure Anne’s powerful,

passionate writing has given.

We are sure you will love them all!

I’ve always wanted to write—which is not to say I’ve always wanted to be a professional writer. On the contrary, for years I only wrote for my own pleasure and it wasn’t until my husband suggested sending one of my stories to a publisher that we put several publishers’ names into a hat and pulled one out. The rest, as they say, is history. And now, one hundred and sixty-two books later, I’m literally—excuse the pun— staggered by what’s happened.

I had written all through my infant and junior years and on into my teens, the stories changing from children’s adventures to torrid gypsy passions. My mother used to gather these manuscripts up from time to time, when my bedroom became too untidy, and dispose of them! In those days, I used not to finish any of the stories and Caroline, my first published novel, was the first I’d ever completed. I was newly married then and my daughter was just a baby, and it was quite a job juggling my household chores and scribbling away in exercise books every chance I got. Not very professional, as you can imagine, but that’s the way it was.

These days, I have a bit more time to devote to my work, but that first love of writing has never changed. I can’t imagine not having a current book on the typewriter—yes, it’s my husband who transcribes everything on to the computer. He’s my partner in both life and work and I depend on his good sense more than I care to admit.

We have two grown-up children, a son and a daughter, and two almost grown-up grandchildren, Abi and Ben. My e-mail address is mystic-am@msn.com and I’d be happy to hear from any of my wonderful readers.

Living with Adam
Anne Mather

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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Table of Contents

Cover

About the Author

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

DR ADAM MASSEY brought his car to a halt outside the tall, narrow Georgian façade of the fashionable Chelsea town house that Loren liked to call her pied-à-terre. Looking thoughtfully up at the windows, Adam wondered how she would take the news he had to impart, and knew without a shadow of a doubt that she would not like it. But then he didn’t particularly care for the idea himself.

He compressed his lips wryly and turning off the engine he put the ignition keys into his pocket. As he slid almost reluctantly out of the car he was conscious that he was simply delaying the inevitable, and with an impatient shrug of his broad shoulders he locked the car door and, turning, ran swiftly up the stone steps of the house. Inserting his key in the lock, he entered the softly carpeted hallway, and encountered Alice, Loren’s invaluable maidservant who had been with her for more years than she cared to remember. Alice smiled, and said:

‘Oh, it’s you, doctor. I thought it was another of those reporters! Cheek of the devil they have.’

Adam frowned and glanced at his watch. ‘Damn,’ he exclaimed. ‘I’d forgotten. It was the press conference this afternoon, wasn’t it? Are Mannering and Edwards still here?’

‘Mr Mannering’s gone, but Mr Edwards is still here,’ Alice informed him. ‘It’s almost finished, anyway. I’m sure Miss Griffiths would be only too pleased to send them away if she knew you were here.’

Adam gave a rather dry smile. ‘You’re very good for my ego, Alice,’ he said, with feeling. ‘However, I really don’t think I ought to interrupt her while she’s working—’

‘Darling!’

The voice came from above, drifting down to them huskily, and both Adam and the housekeeper looked up to see Loren Griffiths poised at the head of the flight of stairs which led down into the hall. Dressed in a clinging gown of some dusky pink material that clung to her small, supple form, her blonde hair swinging silkily to her shoulders, she was quite startlingly beautiful, and Adam thrust his hands patiently into his trousers pockets, quite aware that Loren was about to make an entrance. She came down the stairs with her usual elegance, but there was a certain eagerness in her step which quickened as she neared him and presently she was sliding both her arms possessively about one of his.

‘Darling,’ she said again, ‘you know perfectly well I hate these conferences, but they’re a necessary evil, I’m afraid!’

Adam half smiled. ‘You know you revel in every minute of it,’ he contradicted her gently. ‘What’s happened? Where are your avid critics?’

Loren raised her dark eyebrows. ‘If you meanthe press, and I presume you do when you speak in that sarcastic tone, they’re all having drinks with Terry.’

Terry Edwards was her agent, and Adam suppressed the ready comment he could have made. He and Edwards just didn’t get on, and it was no secret.

‘I see,’ he said, instead. ‘I was just remarking to Alice that I had forgotten you would be busy this afternoon. However, if you’re through…’

‘I am. But, darling, I thought it was your baby clinic this afternoon, or something.’ She wrinkled her nose delicately, and Alice chose this moment to say:

‘Shall I bring you something to the small sitting-room, Miss Griffiths?’

‘Just tea, please, Alice,’ said Adam before Loren could reply, and Alice nodded agreeably and disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.

Loren sighed rather petulantly and then said: ‘Really, Adam, you might consult me before issuing Alice with your orders!’

Adam smiled. ‘Don’t fuss. Come into the sitting-room. I want to talk to you.’

‘Only talk? You disappoint me,’ returned Loren dryly, but she preceded him obediently across the hall and into the small sitting-room which was the least opulently furnished room in the house. Even so, its tapestry-clad walls and Regency-striped couches set on soft Aubusson carpeting were a little stifling for Adam’s taste, but he usually managed to hide his feelings admirably.

Now Loren waited until he had closed the door before twining her arms round his neck and parting his lips with her own, pressing her lissom body close against him, demanding a response. Adam held her closely for a moment, returning her kiss warmly, and then he gently but firmly put her away from him. When she would have protested and slid back into his arms, his grip on her arms tightened perceptibly, and she pouted impatiently.

‘Adam,’ she said reproachfully, ‘I thought you’d come here to see me.’

Adam sighed. ‘So I did, Loren. But not for the reasons you imagine. I have other things on my mind right now.’

Loren pulled out of his grasp. ‘Oh, have you?’

‘I’m afraid so.’ Adam raked a hand through his thick dark hair which persisted in falling across his forehead. ‘I’m sorry, Loren, but I’m not in the mood to play games!’

Loren compressed her lips. ‘You’re a cool devil, Adam,’ she exclaimed angrily. ‘You come here unexpected and unannounced, and then when I try to show you how pleased I am to see you, you treat it all like child’s play!’ She tossed her head. ‘I don’t know why I put up with it!’

Adam’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why do you?’ His tone was hard.

Loren looked at him impatiently, and then she gave a helpless gesture of submission. ‘Oh, Adam, don’t let’s quarrel! You know I don’t mean half of what I say. It’s just that I get so—so jealous—of your time—of everything.’

Adam’s face softened. ‘All right, Loren, we won’t quarrel. I just don’t know how to put what I have to say.’

Loren went and sat on a couch and patted the seat beside her invitingly, but Adam shook his head and paced rather restlessly about the room until Alice appeared with a tray of tea and some hot buttered scones which she placed on a low table in front of Loren. She smiled rather understandingly at him before leaving, and after she had gone, Loren picked up the teapot rather carelessly and began to pour some tea into the wafer-thin cups.

‘What is it about you that makes women feel so protective towards you?’ she asked tersely. ‘Honestly, Alice treats you like a long-lost son, and although she knows I hate tea she persists in making it because you’re here!’ She made a moue with her lips. ‘You don’t look in need of protection to me!’

Adam smiled and came to take the cup she held out for him. ‘Don’t be bitter!’ he commented mockingly, and she lifted her shoulders with some annoyance before squeezing lemon into her own tea and grimacing as she raised the cup to her lips.

‘Well, anyway,’ she went on, after taking several sips of the liquid, ‘why are you here? I’m sure you said it was your baby clinic this afternoon.’

‘It was.’ Adam bent and put one of the tiny scones into his mouth. ‘But Hadley is taking it for me.’

‘But why? You know we had a date for dinner after the play this evening. Can’t you make that?’ There was a taut resigned expression marring her perfect features now.

Adam shrugged. ‘Emergencies aside, I can’t see why not,’ he replied smoothly. ‘But what I have to tell you seemed better said when you’re fresh, and not when you’re tired after the play, as you invariably are.’

Loren frowned. ‘You make me sound like a creaking Madonna!’ she exclaimed. ‘I’m never too tired for you.’

He inclined his head slowly. ‘All right, perhaps I used the wrong expression. In any event, I wanted to talk to you now, while we’re alone, and not in some crowded restaurant.’

‘Well, do go on. I’m avid to hear what it is.’

Adam sighed, and replaced his tea cup on its saucer. ‘Well,’ he began carefully, ‘my mother has written to ask me to look after Maria for six months.’

There was silence for a long moment, and then Loren said, slowly: ‘Who is Maria?’

Adam shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘My stepsister. I’ve mentioned her.’

Loren’s nostrils flared slightly. ‘Your stepsister,’ she repeated tautly.

‘Yes.’

Loren rose to her feet, reaching for a cigarette from the box on the table and accepting the light Adam offered. Inhaling deeply, she looked intently at him. ‘Perhaps I’m slightly dense, Adam, but why have you to look after your stepsister for six months? I thought you told me she was practically grown-up?’

‘She is. At least, she must be. It’s five years since I last saw her. She was twelve or thirteen then, I’m not certain which.’

Loren was obviously controlling her temper with difficulty as she asked: ‘But your stepsister lives with your mother and her father in Ireland. Exactly why are you involved?’

Adam thrust his hands into his pockets. ‘She wants to come to London to take a secretarial course.’

‘A secretarial course?’ echoed Loren faintly. ‘Why can’t she take this course in Dublin or somewhere?’ Her eyes flashed with impatience.

Adam raised his eyebrows. ‘Your guess is as good as mine.’

‘But it’s ludicrous!’ Loren shook her head disbelievingly. ‘Saddling you with a teenage girl! What is your mother thinking of?’ Her eyes narrowed suddenly. ‘She knows about—me—doesn’t she?’

‘My mother? Of course.’

Loren nodded her head vigorously. ‘I thought so. That’s it, of course.’

Adam sighed. ‘What is “it"?’

‘She’s sending this girl here to spy upon us.’

‘Oh, don’t be ridiculous!’ Adam raked a hand through his hair. ‘I’m not a child, Loren. I am over thirty, you know.’

‘I know, darling, but until your mother married again, you were her little ewe-lamb, weren’t you?’

‘Loren, don’t talk such tripe! If she’s sending Maria to London, it must be because Maria wants to come.’

‘But why should she want to come?’

‘How the hell should I know?’ Adam strode across to the window. ‘What would you have me say? I’m sorry, but she can’t come. My—my mistress would object?’

Loren uttered a furious gasp. ‘You—you—’

‘Oh, save it!’ exclaimed Adam, turning round. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Nevertheless, it’s true. She is my stepsister, after all, and I don’t see much of her. As I recall she was a nice kid. At least she didn’t throw any tantrums when her father married my mother, and I know my mother found it easier because of her understanding. Girls of ten can be pretty difficult at times.’

Loren’s lips thinned. ‘And exactly where is she to live?’

Adam frowned. ‘At the house, I guess.’

‘At your house? In Kensington?’

‘I guess so, why?’

‘Isn’t that a little unorthodox?’

‘In this day and age! You must be joking?’

‘Nevertheless, you are—a—bachelor, you live alone—’

‘I have Mrs Lacey. She lives in.’

‘A housekeeper!’ Loren’s voice was scornful.

Adam regarded her broodingly. ‘All right then, marry me and provide a chaperon!’

Loren looked at him impatiently. ‘What? And live in that urban backwater? No, thank you, Adam.’ She drew deeply on her cigarette.

Adam shrugged and after regarding her for several minutes more, walked swiftly towards the door.

‘No! Wait!’ Loren gathered herself and ran after him, grasping his arm and dragging him round to look at her. ‘I’m sorry, Adam, I’m sorry. That was a terrible way to put it. But honestly, we’ve had this out before, I just couldn’t go on like that!’

‘I know.’ Adam’s features were taut.

‘But it’s so unnecessary anyway,’ she cried. ‘You know Matthew Harding would be overjoyed if you joined his staff!’

Adam’s face became sardonic. ‘I’ve told you before, Loren, I don’t practise that kind of medicine!’

‘How many kinds are there?’ she protested.

He lifted his shoulders rather wearily. ‘I prefer my kind,’ he replied dryly.

‘You prefer visiting that ghastly East End clinic to me, I suppose!’ Loren bit furiously at her lips.

‘You know that’s not true,’ he returned quietly, ‘nevertheless, I will not give up my work—even for you. And nor will I join some plushy West End practitioner who spends his time dispensing psychology to over-fed, over-indulged, and over-anxious hypochondriacs!’

Loren thrust herself away from him. ‘Being ill isn’t the prerogative of the poor, you know,’ she said bitterly.

Adam regarded her sombrely. ‘No, I agree,’ he said calmly. ‘I suppose I meet just as many hypochondriacs in my work as anyone else. However, the percentage of my patients who feign illness has to be less when I consider how many patients I see a day compared to old Harding.’

‘Mr Harding is a friend of mine.’

‘I know that.’

‘He thinks he’s a friend of yours, too.’

‘Did I say he wasn’t?’

‘No, but—oh, you’re impossible.’ Loren heaved a sigh. ‘Why couldn’t you be like everybody else? Why couldn’t you put yourself out for me, just for once? You know I love you, you know I want to marry you—’

‘But only on your terms, is that it?’ Adam opened the door. ‘I must go. I’ve got to go to St Michael’s before evening surgery.’

‘Why?’ Loren was curious in spite of herself.

‘There’s a patient there I’ve got to see.’ Adam was cool now.

‘A woman?’ Loren’s tone was guarded.

‘Yes.’

Loren tensed. ‘Is she more important to you than I am?’

‘Right now—yes.’

‘Sometimes I hate you, Adam Massey!’

‘I’m sorry about that.’ Adam gave her a slight smile before going out of the door.

‘Adam—wait—’ Again she flung herself across the room after him, only to find him in the hall talking to Alice. Alice was saying: ‘Did you find out how Mrs Ainsley was?’ and Adam was nodding and telling her that she had had her operation but that she was still very weak.

‘I’m going to see her now, actually,’ he said. ‘She has no one else.’

Alice smoothed her apron. ‘Do you think she would like me—I mean—’

‘I’m sure she would.’ Adam’s voice was gentle, and Loren compressed her lips, a sick feeling rising in her throat. She wanted him so much in that moment, and she knew he was completely indifferent to her right now. Assuming a casual tone, she said, mostly to Alice: ‘Who’s this you’re talking about?’

Alice turned to her. ‘Old Mrs Ainsley,’ she replied, frowning. ‘You know—I told you—she fell down the stairs a few days ago and injured herself internally.’

‘Oh!’ Loren’s lips formed a surprised circle. Then she looked at Adam. His gaze was coolly sardonic, and she cursed herself for her jealousy. Then she said quickly: ‘I—I will see you tonight, won’t I, Adam?’

Adam lifted his shoulders. ‘I suppose so,’ he replied emotionlessly. Then they heard sounds from above and presently several men appeared at the top of the stairs and began coming down, talking and laughing amongst themselves. Adam gave Loren a wry glance, and then said: ‘I’ve got to go. See you later. I’ll tell Mrs Ainsley you might call, shall I, Alice?’

Alice nodded, and accompanied him to the door while Loren was forced to go and meet the members of the press who were about to take their leave. She looked appealingly after Adam, but he did not look back, and with determination she raised a smile and tried to forget the frustration that was tearing her apart.

Outside, Adam slid into his car, not without some relief. Sometimes he wished he had never become involved with Loren Griffiths, but mostly he acknowledged that he enjoyed their association. It was only at times like this when she taunted him about his practice that he realized how differently they viewed life. Fate had chosen that their paths should cross, but, continuing in its pattern, had separated them again. He still recalled with clarity the day her sleek Bentley had collided with his rather practical Rover, and of how apologetic she had been in her attempts to charm and tantalize him out of his reasonable annoyance. She had been at fault, of course, but he was only human after all, and Loren Griffiths was already a household name to theatregoers. He supposed he had been flattered at her attentions, unaware of his own attraction which lay not in the lean strength of his body, or in the rather harsh lines of his face, but rather in the disturbing depths of his eyes which were so dark a grey as to appear black in some lights. In any event, Loren found him extremely attractive, and his brusque manner was at once a change and a pleasure after constant adulation. She had never known a doctor before, at least not a young one, and his lack of deference was refreshing. In no time she had wanted to further his career, seeing herself as Loren Griffiths, the actress, wife of Adam Massey, the famous Harley Street specialist. But unfortunately she had reckoned without Adam’s strength of will, and all her attempts to change him had failed abysmally. He was a realist, and he wanted to use his knowledge where it was most needed, not in the furtherance of his own ambitions, but in helping people whom he considered deserved a better deal from life.

Now he heaved a sigh and set the car in motion. As well as visiting Mrs Ainsley, he had other wheels to set rolling, for although he had not mentioned it to Loren while she was so angry, his mother had really left him little choice in the matter of Maria. He knew, of course, that there might be some truth in what Loren had said regarding his mother’s reactions to their relationship. His mother disliked such an association and considered that her son deserved someone more suited to the position of doctor’s wife than an actress who in her estimation relied as much on her looks as on her talent. But since her marriage to Patrick Sheridan she had had little opportunity to use her influence with her son. And as Patrick’s home was in southern Ireland, she visited London only rarely. Her greatest disappointment, Adam knew, was that he did not visit Kilcarney more often. As he had told Loren, it was five years since he had visited his stepfather’s house, and although his mother had visited London two or three times since she had been alone and unable to stay for more than a few days. Her new husband was a farmer, and owned a large spread some miles from Limerick, and consequently he was seldom able to leave it. Adam smiled as he recalled how different his mother’s life was now from when she had been married to his father, who had owned a garage in Richmond. He thought she had settled down to life in Ireland very well, but eight years ago when she had told him she was accepting Patrick’s proposal, Adam had been immersed in his medical studies and consequently he had not taken the trouble to get to know his stepfather’s family particularly well. So long as his mother was happy, which she obviously was, he had been content, and only now did he wonder whether this was her way of attempting to re-establish a relationship with him. Even so, her letter had been unexpected, and he was still unsure as to how to answer it. He supposed he could refuse outright, but what excuse could he offer? His mother knew Mrs Lacey and trusted her implicitly, so he could not use his bachelor status as a reason for not accepting a teenage girl into his household. And in any case, it was only for six months, which would soon pass, and perhaps Maria herself might tire of the course long before that time was up.

He tried to remember what he knew of her, but five years ago when he had visited Kilcarney he had been newly qualified while she had been a schoolgirl with a rather chunky ponytail and little else to commend her that he could recall.

He drove to St Michael’s Hospital which was situated in a close just off the Embankment. Its stark grey walls revealed its age though its tiled corridors and wards were brightly lit and cheerful. There was talk of its being pulled down and new premises being built, but somehow it continued to survive, and its staff were loyal as well as efficient. Adam had once had the chance of taking a job as houseman here, but he preferred the involvement of general practice.

Mrs Ainsley was still in a side ward, but her pale cheeks warmed a little as she saw who her visitor was. Living alone as she did her only contact was with the doctor, and Adam knew that she regarded him more as a friend than anything else. Now he sat down on the side of her bed and listened patiently as she described in detail everything that had happened to her since she had been brought to the hospital, and of how friendly everyone had been. Adam thought it was easy to be friendly to someone like Mrs Ainsley, and felt his usual regret that her only child, a daughter, should have emigrated to Australia several years ago and never seemed to imagine that her mother might require something more than occasional letters from her. The old lady seemed starved of human contact, and although there were societies or clubs she might have joined, she was reticent and retiring, spending her days knitting or sewing, and looking after Minstrel, her elderly spaniel.

When Adam left the hospital, he drove straight to his house in Kensington. Although his practice was in Islington he had continued to live in the house his mother had acquired soon after his father died, for he knew she liked to come back there sometimes. It was not a large house, it had only four bedrooms, but it had the advantage of being detached, and stood inside a small walled garden where it was still pleasant to sit on hot summer evenings. Of course, all about there was evidence of the continual building programme, skyscraper apartments and office blocks encroaching to the ends of these quiet cul-de-sacs, but the park was not far away and from Adam’s upper windows he could see across the expanse of green lawns to the flower gardens.

Now he drove between the stone posts guarding the drive and brought his car to a halt to the side of the house where rhododendrons brushed the bonnet, burgeoning with spring colour. Sliding out of the car, he walked round the bonnet to the front porch and entered into the panelled hall. He was feeling pleasantly thoughtful, and was looking forward to taking a bath before evening surgery. But even as he closed the front door his eyes were attracted to a brilliant orange anorak that was draped over the banister at the foot of the stairs. And as his eyes travelled further he saw also two suitcases, standing side by side below the anorak.

A feeling of impatience gripped him as several thoughts ran through his mind, and he strode swiftly down the hall to the kitchen from where the murmur of voices could be heard. He flung open the door, startling his housekeeper, Mrs Lacey, who came to greet him excitedly, gesturing at the girl who was perched on one of the tall stools by the breakfast bar.

‘You’ve got a visitor, Mr Adam,’ she said, clasping her hands together agitatedly. ‘An unexpected visitor!’

Adam’s eyes moved from Mrs Lacey’s animated face to that of the girl who was sliding off the stool as his housekeeper spoke, looking towards them with anticipation, and an expression of irritability crossed his lean face. Despite the fact that her chestnut hair was now trimmed to shoulder length, and her tall young body was slimmer than he remembered, those amber eyes trimmed with dark lashes were the same, as was the generous width of her mouth and the capricious tilt of her nose. And because he recognized her, he felt a rising sense of resentment that his mother should have dared to allow her to come here uninvited.

‘Hello, Maria,’ he said formally, without any warmth in his voice, but the girl didn’t seem at all abashed by his coolness. Instead, her eyes sparkled and she ran across the space between them, winding her arms about his neck and kissing him with enthusiasm on his cheek. Adam was flabbergasted, putting up his hands to catch her wrists and press her away from him, while his startled gaze caught Mrs Lacey’s undisguised amusement. But Maria merely stepped backwards, allowing him momentarily to retain his involuntary hold on her wrists, and smiling mischievously, said: ‘Don’t look so disapproving, Adam! Aren’t you pleased to see me?’ Her voice was soft and husky, with a faint brogue that was attractive.

Adam stared at her for a moment, unable to find words to express his feelings, and then he raked a hand through his hair and said: ‘How the hell did you get here?’

Maria shrugged her slim shoulders. ‘By plane, of course.’ She glanced smilingly towards Mrs Lacey. ‘Your housekeeper has been very kind. I arrived about an hour ago.’

Adam heaved a sigh. ‘It was only this morning I received my mother’s letter asking whether you might be allowed to come here,’ he exclaimed sharply. ‘I don’t know why she bothered to write—in the circumstances.’

Maria’s eyes twinkled. ‘Oh, but I do, Adam. You see, she doesn’t know I’ve come.’

‘What!’ Adam was aghast.

Maria raised her dark eyebrows and spread her hands in an eloquent gesture. ‘But don’t you see, Adam, this is why I came! I felt sure that given time to consider the situation you wouldn’t even contemplate such an arrangement, and I so badly wanted to come.’

Adam felt frustrated. ‘But where does my mother—or your father, for that matter—imagine you are?’

‘I told them I was going to stay the week-end with a friend in Dublin. A taxi took me to the station and I took a train to Dublin. But I flew to London as well.’

‘Don’t you realize that was a completely irresponsible thing to do? A girl of your age travelling all that way—alone!’

Maria sighed. ‘I’m not a child, Adam.’

‘No, I can see that. Nevertheless, you’re still not old enough to look after yourself properly.’

‘Oh, Adam!’ Maria pouted, her eyes flashing. ‘Please, I’ve come to London for some freedom, not to be even more confined than I was in Kilcarney!’

Adam looked helplessly at Mrs Lacey, and she said: ‘Don’t you think you ought to telephone your mother, doctor? She may be worried. If they should happen to have tried to contact Miss Maria…’

Adam gathered his thoughts, nodding decisively. ‘Yes, you’re right, Mrs Lacey. I must do that. But as for you, young woman…’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

Maria tossed her head. ‘Don’t say anything, Adam, except that I can stay, and I shan’t be any more trouble.’

Adam opened his mouth to protest and then closed it again. What was the use? She was here now, and after all, a little earlier he had been on the point of writing to tell his mother she could come. Certainly he had not imagined this situation being thrust upon him, or that Maria should look and act so differently from his expectations. Women were always unpredictable, he thought with male arrogance, and yet he had not expected Maria to appear womanly. He wasn’t at all sure exactly what he had expected, maybe an enlargement of that picture he had of her in his mind’s eye with a ponytail and a gymslip, but definitely not this confident creature, this product of her generation, with silky hair that tip-tilted slightly at the ends, and a taste in modern clothes that the inhabitants of Virginia Grove might find startling. Right now she was wearing a calf-length midi dress in a rather attractive shade of lovat, but its simple lines were not enhanced by the long front opening that revealed slender legs in knee-length soft leather boots. Adam shook his head a trifle resignedly. He could imagine with feeling Loren Griffiths’ reactions to Maria Sheridan…

CHAPTER TWO

MARIA awoke with a start, and lay for a while wondering why there were no lace curtains at her windows, and why the coverlet on her bed was not the handwoven one she had always been used to. Then realization of her surroundings came to her, and she moved pleasurably under the soft sheets, a smile curving her lips. Of course, she was no longer in Kilcarney, she was here in London, in Adam’s house.

Her gaze drifted round the room, and she noted with pleasure the lemon striped curtains that matched the lemon bedspread, and the light teak veneer of the furniture. There was a soft, fluffy cream carpet on the floor, into which her toes had curled the night before, which seemed so much more luxurious than the woven carpets they had at home. But then her father was not one for appreciating such things. He was a very practical man in most things, preferring serviceability to artistic merit. Only the advent of Geraldine Massey into their lives had softened his attitudes slightly, and Maria had reason to be grateful to her stepmother for providing her with an ally. Over the years, it had been Geraldine who had interceded with her father on her behalf, and brought some measure of tolerance into their lives. And in this business of Maria coming to England, to take a secretarial course, Geraldine had been the prime mover.

Naturally, Maria had wanted to come. For years she had longed to escape from the confined life in Kilcarney where her father was a pillar of the community, and as such, unable to view any of his daughter’s escapades with forbearance. But until now there had been no opportunity. She had been at the convent school, and surrounded by restrictions of one kind or another. But now she had left school and she was free to do as she wished, at least so long as her father was agreeable.

But it had been hard to convince him that no harm could come to her living with Adam, and she knew that if Adam should have shown any signs of misgivings regarding her proposed visit, her father would have overruled both Geraldine and herself and refused outright to allow her to come. That was why she had taken such a chance and deceived even her stepmother who might have felt it was her duty to inform her husband of what was going on.

Maria sighed and slid out of bed. Thankfully, she was here now, and if her father had sounded distrait on the telephone last evening at least he had not demanded that she should return immediately, and Maria knew that, given time, Geraldine would talk him round.

Now she padded to the window and looked out on to the small cul-de-sac below her windows. Unfastening the catch, she pushed up the window and leaned on the sill. The air was chill, and she shivered, but it was as much with anticipation as with the cold. Suddenly life was immensely exciting, and all sorts of possibilities were presenting themselves.

Suddenly she saw that an elderly woman across the Grove who had been on the point of gathering her milk bottles from her front step was regarding her disapprovingly and Maria glanced down at the scarcity of her attire hastily. She was merely dressed in the shortie nylon pyjamas she had worn to sleep in, and quickly she drew back and dropped the window, chuckling at her reflection in the mirror of the dressing table as she did so. It would never do to scandalize the neighbours on her first morning, and besides, no doubt they were all wondering who she was and why she was staying there. After all, Adam was a very eligible bachelor, and gossip was the breath of life to some people.

Shrugging, she went to wash in the huge bathroom that smelled pleasantly of shaving cream and aftershave lotion and then returned to fling open her suitcases which she had left on the floor the night before. She rummaged through them for something to wear. Later she would unpack, but right now she was hungry. It was after eight o’clock, and at home she was used to breakfasting with her father about seven.

As she dressed she hoped she would have a chance to talk to Adam today. Last night he had been aloof and non-committal, asking the usual polite questions about their parents, but seemingly disinterested in herself. Of course, the call to Kilcarney had annoyed him, but that was only to be expected. Then he had disappeared to take evening surgery at his clinic which Mrs Lacey had told her was in the East End of London, Maria couldn’t remember the name, and later when she had expected him back the housekeeper had informed her that he was dining out. Altogether it had been a most unsatisfactory evening, and she determined to change that today.

Now, dressed in close-fitting denim pants in a rather vivid shade of purple and a cream shirt that reached her hips and was belted at the waist, her straight hair swinging to her shoulders, she descended the staircase to the hall below. She wore no make-up, but her skin was naturally smooth anyway.

She hesitated in the hall, looking about her with interest. The carpet here, as on the stairs, was patterned in blues and greens, while all the doors were panelled in a light wood. There was a polished chest on which reposed a vase of tulips and narcissi, and their pale colours looked well against the darker wood.

As she stood there, speculating as to whether Adam breakfasted in the same room as she had dined the night before, Mrs Lacey emerged from the kitchen to regard her with some trepidation.

‘Oh—you’re up, miss,’ she said unnecessarily. ‘I—er—I was about to bring you up a tray. The doctor said you might be tired after your journey.’

Maria smiled charmingly. ‘I’m not tired, Mrs Lacey,’ she averred firmly, shaking her head. ‘I feel marvellous!’ She stretched her arms unselfconsciously above her head. ‘Tell me, Mrs Lacey, where is Adam?’

Mrs Lacey tried to hide her disapproval. She was obviously very much aware of the purple trousers, and Maria, sensing this, hid a smile. ‘Mr Adam is just finishing his breakfast, miss. In…in here.’

She moved forward to thrust open the door of the dining-room where Maria had eaten her solitary meal the evening before, and Maria nodded her thanks and entered the room quietly.

Adam was engrossed in his morning newspaper, and with his back to the door barely noticed anyone’s entrance. Obviously, he might expect Mrs Lacey to return to ascertain he had everything he needed, but no one else. Dressed in a dark suit, his linen immaculately white against the darker skin of his neck, Maria thought he looked very cool, and very dark and very businesslike, and a feeling of excitement rippled through her. With her usual lack of inhibition, she walked across the carpeted floor to him and bending, slid her arms round his neck from behind, kissing him warmly against the side of his neck as she sometimes did her father.

Adam jerked out of her grasp in a jack-knife movement to get to his feet and stare at her angrily. ‘Maria!’ he snapped shortly, thrusting his paper to one side and raking one hand through his thick hair.

She smiled enchantingly. ‘Good morning, Adam,’ she said, taking the vacant seat to one side of the chair he had been occupying. ‘I’m sorry I’m late for breakfast.’

Adam seemed to gather his composure, and breathing heavily, considered her impatiently. ‘You’re not late,’ he replied bleakly. ‘There’s absolutely no need for you to rise this early. But I have to be away to the surgery by eight-thirty.’

Maria shrugged and reaching for the coffee pot poured herself a cup of coffee with the ease of one used to the practice, and Adam felt the rising sense of frustration he had felt at her attitude the previous evening. ‘But I want to get up this early,’ she said, sipping her coffee. ‘Besides, it will be nice for you having company for a change. Your mother said she always breakfasted with you.’

‘That’s a little different,’ returned Adam dryly, lifting his coffee cup and finishing its contents with a gulp.

Maria raised her eyebrows. ‘I don’t see why it should be. I am your sister, after all.’

‘My stepsister!’ Adam corrected her harshly.

‘That’s splitting hairs!’ she observed lightly. ‘That’s your mother’s expression, by the way.’ She chuckled. ‘Hm, this coffee is quite good, but—ugh—do you eat a fried breakfast?’

Adam controlled his annoyance. ‘That’s my business.’

Maria shrugged. ‘I suppose it is. Do you think Mrs Lacey will expect me to do the same?’

‘Perhaps you should ask her that.’ Adam was abrupt.

Maria sighed and regarded him resignedly. ‘Aren’t you going to sit down again, Adam?’

Adam made a point of looking at his wrist watch. ‘I don’t have time,’ he replied, without any trace of apology in his voice.

Maria sighed again, more pronouncedly, and said: ‘Oh, well, I’ll just have some coffee, and I’ll be with you.’

Adam had turned away to examine some papers in his briefcase, but he turned at her words to regard her uncomprehendingly. ‘What do you mean?’

Maria poured more coffee into her cup. ‘I want to come with you this morning—to your surgery, I mean. I want to see where you work, and I might even be able to help you.’

Adam was astounded. ‘Thank you, but that won’t be necessary, Maria. I have a very adequate receptionist to deal with my affairs. You must entertain yourself as best you can.’

Maria’s cup clattered into its saucer. ‘But I want to come with you, Adam.’

‘Well, you can’t.’ Adam shook his head. ‘And I should change those clothes before you go anywhere, if I were you.’

‘What’s wrong with my clothes?’ Maria got to her feet slowly.

‘If you don’t know then I don’t have the time to tell you,’ retorted Adam, rather cruelly.

Maria clenched her fists. ‘You’re just like my father!’ she exclaimed angrily. She compressed her lips for a moment, and then an unwilling smile lifted their corners. ‘I know you’re only trying to annoy me!’ she said. ‘Maybe you expect me to say I won’t come with you, is that it?’

Adam gave her an exasperated look, and then turned and walked out into the hall, almost bumping into Mrs Lacey as she came to see what Maria wanted to eat. But to her surprise, Maria herself followed Adam into the hall, and lifted the orange anorak from its place in the hall closet.

Adam, who had pulled on a sheepskin car coat over his suit, turned to regard her impatiently. ‘You can’t come, Maria,’ he said firmly, his voice cold. ‘I’m sorry, but my surgery is no place for a—a—girl like you.’ He had been about to say child, but thought better of it.

Maria’s eyes mirrored their hurt, and he studied her for a long moment before saying: ‘I’m sorry,’ again, and turning, he walked to the front door. The door slammed behind him and Maria wrinkled her nose to hide the disappointment she was feeling. Then she tugged off her anorak and threw it back into the closet, not bothering to pick it up when it fell on to the floor, and Mrs Lacey hurried forward and lifted it herself, feeling an unwilling sense of compassion for the girl.

Maria walked moodily back into the dining-room, her hands thrust deep into the hip pockets of her trousers, and wondered with a bleak sense of isolation whether she had done the right thing by coming here.

Then she pushed the thought aside and lifted Adam’s newspaper. Turning it to the first page, she flung herself into his chair and made a brave attempt to read it. Mrs Lacey, coming in a few moments later and encountering her brooding gaze, wondered whether she had been mistaken in thinking she had seen pain in Maria’s amber eyes.

‘What would you like to eat, miss?’ she asked, beginning to clear Adam’s dirty plates on to her tray.

Maria looked up reluctantly. She didn’t feel like talking to anybody right now. ‘Nothing, thank you,’ she replied politely, and Mrs Lacey looked at her doubtfully.

‘Don’t you think you ought to have something, miss?’ she asked. ‘A young girl like you. You must he hungry.’

Maria compressed her lips again. ‘I was,’ she admitted quietly. ‘But not now.’

Mrs Lacey sighed, putting down the tray and folding her arms. ‘Now that’s silly, miss, if you don’t mind me saying so. Saying you don’t want food just because Mr Adam wouldn’t take you with him—’

Maria’s eyes widened. ‘I didn’t mention Adam,’ she said, with an attempt at coolness.

Mrs Lacey shook her head. ‘No, of course you didn’t. But that’s what’s wrong, I can tell. You wanted to help, that’s all, but you can’t, so you might as well make the best of a bad job.’

Maria looked at her distantly, and then her mobile face broke into a grudging smile. It was not in her nature to remain moody for long, and it wasn’t Mrs Lacey’s fault after all. ‘All right,’ she agreed, with a sigh. ‘I did want to go. But I couldn’t, and now I don’t feel very hungry.’

‘Well, what about some cereal? Or perhaps a little bacon.’

Maria looked horrified at this. ‘Oh, no,’ she cried. ‘But maybe some toast.’

Mrs Lacey nodded. ‘All right, miss. Some toast, and perhaps a little of my home-made marmalade.’

Maria smiled. ‘That sounds delicious!’

After breakfast, Maria asked the housekeeper whether there was anything she could do around the house. Mrs Lacey looked surprised, and said: ‘Like what, miss?’

Maria frowned. ‘I could make the beds,’ she volunteered, ‘or perhaps you would like me to do the washing up. I can cook, too.’

Mrs Lacey was obviously taken aback. Guests did not usually offer their services around the house, but the idea was not unpleasant. Even so… ‘That’s very kind of you, miss,’ she replied, rather flustered, ‘but it’s not necessary, you know. This isn’t a large house and caring for one man doesn’t take a lot of doing.’

‘But there’s two of us now,’ pointed out Maria, but Mrs Lacey still shook her head.

‘It’s very kind of you, miss, but I don’t think Mr Adam would approve. In any case, you haven’t been out of doors since you arrived yesterday afternoon. How would you like to go down to the shops in the High Street, and fetch me some things I need?’

‘Shopping?’ Maria hesitated. ‘Oh, yes, I should like that.’

‘Good.’ Mrs Lacey was relieved to have found a solution to Maria’s problem, and in the kitchen she made out a list of her requirements. Later, armed with a shopping basket and Mrs Lacey’s purse, Maria made her way, following the housekeeper’s directions, to the High Street.

It was a beautiful spring morning now that the early chill had dissipated, and Maria’s sense of well-being returned. It was natural that Adam should find it difficult to adapt to having someone else living in his house, particularly as that someone was also related to him, if only by marriage. She must not expect to make too many demands on him all at once. A doctor’s life was not like that of a farmer. He had no set hours, and the responsibilities he carried were bound to make him more serious.

In this happy mood she did her tour of the shops, using her innate country sense of shrewdness when it came to deciding which cuts of meat to buy and which vegetables to choose. She insisted on handling the tomatoes before buying them, much to the dealer’s annoyance, but at least she had the satisfaction at the end of knowing she had not been cheated. In her orange anorak and the purple pants she did not look out of place in the High Street where all manner of attire could be seen, but as she turned again into Virginia Grove she observed several slightly raised eyebrows among the tenants who were out and about. Mrs Lacey was amazed at how little Maria had spent on her purchases, half expecting the girl to come back without half the things she had been sent for. Now she made them some coffee and as they sat companionably at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, chatting, Mrs Lacey found out a little about Maria’s background and of her life in Kilcarney.

After a while Maria skilfully changed the subject and said: ‘What time does Adam come home for lunch?’

Mrs Lacey smiled and slipped off her stool, carrying her empty cup to the sink unit. ‘Oh, about one o’clock,’ she replied. ‘But he doesn’t always come home for lunch.’

‘Oh!’ Maria could scarcely hide her disappointment, and Mrs Lacey went on to say that when he wasn’t coming home he usually telephoned before eleven. ‘And has he phoned today?’ Maria couldn’t help asking.

Mrs Lacey shook her head. ‘No, miss. He’ll be home. After all, afternoons are his only free time until the evening. He has quite a practice, he and Mr Hadley and Mr Vincent.’

‘Who are they?’

‘His partners.’

‘Oh, I see,’ Maria nodded. ‘And the practice is in Islington, is that right?’

‘Yes, miss.’

‘Where is that?’

‘It’s over towards the East End, beyond Camden Town, miss. Not a particularly nice area, but a big population.’

Maria frowned. ‘The East End? My stepmother said there were a lot of slums there.’

‘So there are, and a lot of them are in Islington.’

‘But why don’t they do something about it?’

‘They are. Eventually all those old tenement buildings will be pulled down and there’ll be flats and things, miss. It’s just that it’s easier said than done.’

‘And Adam works there.’ Maria stared at Mrs Lacey. ‘Why?’

Mrs Lacey folded her arms. ‘He knows that’s where he’s most needed, miss. Terrible place for illness, damp houses are. There are a lot of old people there, too. Live alone, a lot of them. Like this Mrs Ainsley, who’s in St Michael’s right now.’

‘Mrs Ainsley?’

‘Yes, she’s an old lady of about seventy. Lives alone, she does. Got this old dog, Minstrel. Anyway, last week she tripped at the top of the stairs and fell right down.’

‘Oh, that’s terrible,’ said Maria, pressing a hand to her throat. ‘Is—is she very badly injured?’

‘Well, she’s alive. But there were internal injuries, you know. Bleeding, she was, when they found her.’

Maria shook her head. ‘And who found her?’

‘The doctor himself. He was used to calling on her, just for a visit. He used to say she needed someone. But anyway, she’s in the hospital now, and God knows when she’ll get out, poor soul.’

Maria bit her lip. ‘Has she no family?’

Mrs Lacey considered. ‘I don’t think so. Not in this country anyway. She did have a daughter, but she emigrated some time ago.’

Maria sighed, cupping her chin on one hand. ‘I think I should like to work with people,’ she said. ‘It must be very rewarding, helping someone like that.’

Mrs Lacey raised her eyebrows in surprise. ‘But I thought you’d come here to England to take a secretarial course at the commercial college?’

Maria smiled. ‘I have. At least, that’s what Geraldine thought I would enjoy doing. But after listening to you, I’m not so sure. There must be hundreds of old people, like this Mrs Ainsley. Perhaps there are opportunities in that kind of social work—’

Mrs Lacey looked anxious. ‘Now don’t you go getting all romantic about caring for people and sorting out their troubles,’ she said. ‘It’s not all that easy. You have to have the patience of Job.’

Maria raised her eyebrows. ‘I suppose you’re right. Back home families are larger and usually someone is only too willing to care for the old folk. My grandmother is still alive, and lives in a cottage not far from my father. He wouldn’t dream of cutting her off by moving away.’

Mrs Lacey sighed. ‘No, well, things are different here. People don’t have time to do everything they should do. They’re too busy trying to better their neighbours. They don’t realize that they’ll be old, too, one day.’

Maria traced the pattern of the formica on the breakfast bar with an idle forefinger. ‘Still, I suppose so far as I’m concerned you’re right. But I can’t help feeling sorry for people.’

Mrs Lacey’s expression softened. ‘Don’t be too vulnerable,’ she advised quietly. ‘There’s always someone ready and willing to take advantage of you.’

Maria smiled, ‘That sounds very cynical.’

‘Perhaps I am, at that.’ Mrs Lacey shrugged. ‘Working here as Mr Adam’s housekeeper, I see quite a lot of hardship, but not everybody deserves the help they’re given. You go and take your office course, like you planned. That way you’ll keep out of mischief.’

Maria looked indignant. ‘I can take care of myself.’

Mrs Lacey looked sceptical. ‘Can you? I’m not so sure. Not here, anyway. London’s not all Changing the Guard and Buckingham Palace, you know.’

‘And I’m not still wet behind the ears,’ replied Maria shortly.

‘Nobody said you were. But just by having you here, Mr Adam’s letting himself in for a lot of extra responsibility, and he works hard enough as it is.’

Maria sighed and slid off her stool. She had had enough of this conversation. She remembered her suitcases, still not unpacked, upstairs. She could go and deal with them before lunch, and possibly find something different to wear. Something Adam might not find so objectionable.

But even as she was about to mention her plans to Mrs Lacey the front door bell rang, and Mrs Lacey sighed in annoyance. ‘Oh, will you go and answer that?’ she asked of Maria. ‘My hands are wet. If it’s someone for the doctor you’ll have to ask them to come back later.’

‘All right.’ Maria nodded and walked out into the hall. Smoothing her hair, she opened the door and stared in some surprise at the woman who was tapping her foot impatiently as she waited outside. Somehow she had not expected to find anyone so decorative on Adam’s door-step, and this woman was most certainly that. Small, and delicately proportioned, with silky golden hair bound into a coronet on top of her head, she was quite beautiful, but her expression as she stared appraisingly at Maria was not pleasant.

‘Yes?’ Maria looked at her expectantly. ‘Can I help you?’

The woman glanced back down Adam’s drive, and now Maria noticed a chauffeur-driven limousine at the gates. The woman looked again at her and said: ‘You must be Maria. Adam’s told me about you.’

Maria managed a faint smile. ‘Oh, yes. Er—won’t you come in?’ She felt obliged to invite the woman in, for she was obviously no ordinary patient of Adam’s.

The woman’s lips parted in a semblance of a smile and she stepped into the hall. Her entry brought Mrs Lacey to the kitchen door and when she saw who the visitor was she wiped her hands on her apron and came through.

‘Oh, it’s you, Miss Griffiths,’ she said politely. ‘I’m afraid you’re too early for Mr Adam.’

Loren drew off her pearl grey gloves. ‘But I didn’t come primarily to see Adam,’ she replied smoothly. ‘I wanted to—meet—Maria.’

‘I see.’ Mrs Lacey glanced doubtfully at the girl. ‘And does Mr Adam know you’re here, miss?’

Loren raised her dark eyebrows. ‘I hardly think so. Does it matter?’ Her voice was cool. ‘I’m sure he won’t object, Mrs Lacey.’ She regarded the older woman challengingly and Mrs Lacey’s gaze fell before Loren’s persistent stare.

‘No, miss,’ Mrs Lacey agreed at last. ‘Er—would you like some coffee?’

Loren shrugged. ‘If it’s not too much trouble, Mrs Lacey.’

Mrs Lacey sniffed and without another word marched back into the kitchen. ‘Ignorant old woman!’ remarked Loren maliciously, and Maria felt her own cheeks burning as she over-heard the comment. Then Loren turned to her and said: ‘As Mrs Lacey has omitted to introduce us, I suppose I had better do it myself. I’m Loren Griffiths!’

She said the name as though she expected it to have some effect on Maria, but Maria merely managed a faint smile and Loren went on: ‘Has Adam mentioned me?’

Maria twisted her hands together. ‘I’m afraid not. But then it’s several years since I last saw him, and I only arrived yesterday afternoon.’

‘Ah, yes.’ Loren smiled rather sardonically. ‘Well, shall we go into the lounge?’

Maria moved forward quickly, apologetically. ‘Oh, yes, of course,’ she said hastily, not altogether sure how to treat this woman who seemed to know her step-brother so intimately, and was quite at home in his house.

Loren preceded her into the low, light lounge that faced the gardens at the back of the house. It was a pleasant room furnished simply and comfortably with black buttoned leather couches and a cream and gold patterned carpet on the floor. Here Adam had a television and a radiogram, and there were bookshelves filled with every kind of literature, as Maria had discovered the night before. French doors opened on to a small patio, where there were tubs of climbing plants and a trellis overgrown with rambling roses.

Loren seated herself comfortably on the couch, opening her coat to reveal a short-skirted woollen dress in an attractive shade of turquoise, and indicated that Maria should take the chair opposite. But in this Maria thwarted her, pretending not to see her gesture. She was somehow loath to sit down to what might well turn out to be a kind of refined catechism. Obviously this woman had come here out of curiosity to see what Adam’s stepsister was really like, and although Maria could understand her curiosity, she couldn’t help feeling this visit was precipitate. However, she did come to stand by the screened fireplace, smiling cautiously at her guest and wondering exactly what her relationship was to Adam.

Loren herself seemed completely at ease, lighting a cigarette which she had extracted from the heavy box on the low table in front of her and drawing on it to her satisfaction. Maria waited patiently for her to speak, and presently Loren said:

‘I suppose Adam was quite surprised to find you here yesterday, wasn’t he?’

Maria smiled and relaxed a little. ‘Oh, yes,’ she agreed, with candour. ‘I don’t think he was particularly pleased about it.’

Loren studied her intently. ‘Perhaps not. Didn’t it occur to you to consider that it would have been more diplomatic to wait until you were actually invited?’

Maria was taken aback. ‘No. I didn’t think it was necessary,’ she replied. ‘Adam is my brother.’

‘He is your stepbrother, which is quite a different thing.’

‘Nevertheless, he is a part of my family.’

‘A part you don’t know very well, I would hazard a guess,’ observed Loren a little dryly.

‘Perhaps so. I intend to remedy that,’ replied Maria, aroused by the other woman’s scornful manner.

Loren inhaled deeply and at that moment Mrs Lacey came in with the tray of coffee. She placed it on the table beside Loren and straightened stiffly. ‘Is there anything else you require, miss?’

Loren glanced at the tray. ‘No, thank you, Mrs Lacey. That looks perfect.’

Mrs Lacey nodded briefly and withdrew, and Maria looked after her rather doubtfully. She wondered whether Mrs Lacey approved of her entertaining this woman in Adam’s house and in his absence. Had she been mistaken in thinking that Loren Griffiths was a friend of Adam’s?

Loren poured out the coffee, but Maria refused to have any. She had already had some with Mrs Lacey, and besides, she had no particular desire to be sociable with this woman. There was something about her manner that she didn’t like, although apart from a few observations Loren had said nothing offensive. Yet she had the feeling she was being thoroughly appraised and she wondered again why she should have wanted to meet her. They seemed to have nothing in common.

‘What course are you planning to take?’ Loren interrupted her train of thought with a question.

Maria shrugged. ‘I’m not sure yet, Miss Griffiths. I’ve made no definite plans.’

‘I see.’ Loren frowned. ‘I should have thought it would have been more convenient for you to take such a course nearer your own home. After all, they do have that sort of thing there, don’t they?’ She said it as though Ireland was inhabited by primitives.

Maria nodded politely, however, and said: ‘Yes, there are courses there, but I wanted to come to London.’

‘I see,’ Loren said again. ‘Even so, you must admit, coming here to live with your stepbrother is rather—how shall I put it?—unconventional.’

Maria felt her cheeks colouring. ‘Is it, Miss Griffiths?’

‘Don’t you think so?’

‘No!’

Loren sighed, pressing out her cigarette impatiently. ‘You’re obviously not a child, Maria. Surely you can see that it would have been far more suitable for you to share a flat with several other girls than living here with Adam?’

Maria stiffened. Such an idea had never entered her head, and besides, she knew her father would never have countenanced such a suggestion. In consequence, her young voice was heated as she retorted: ‘I don’t see what business it is of yours, Miss Griffiths, where I choose to make my home!’

‘Maria!’ The unexpectedly male voice startled both of them, and Maria swung round to find Adam standing in the doorway to the lounge, his face dark and annoyed. They must have been so absorbed in their argument that they had not heard him enter the house.

Loren immediately got to her feet and before Maria could speak she rushed across to him eagerly. ‘Adam! Darling!’ she exclaimed, her voice soft and appealing, much different from the rather harsh tones she had used to Maria. ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’

Adam regarded her sardonically for a moment, restraining with his arm any attempt she might have made to embrace him. Then he looked across at Maria questioningly. Maria twisted her hands behind her back and lifted her shoulders in a defiant shrug. She had no intention of trying to make explanations while Loren Griffiths was there.

As though sensing her withdrawal, Adam looked back at the woman who was clinging to his arm, and his eyes softened. ‘Well, Loren?’ he said challengingly. ‘Exactly why are you here? Or can I guess?’

Loren made an eloquent gesture, and realizing he was not in a mood to be cajoled, decided to be honest. ‘I came to meet Maria,’ she said coolly. ‘After all, I am your fiancée, aren’t I, darling?’

‘Are you?’ Adam was equally as cool, annoyingly so.

Loren sighed. ‘Of course I am.’ She looked across at Maria. ‘Perhaps you ought to explain that to your—er—stepsister!’

Maria controlled herself with difficulty. Loren was being openly insolent now, secure in the knowledge of Adam’s support. Even so, Adam didn’t appear at all amused by the situation, and she could only assume he was still angry with her for speaking to his fiancée as she had done. He should have told her he was engaged. He should have explained that his fiancée might call. He should not have allowed her to be placed in such an embarrassing position.

With a muffled, ‘Excuse me,’ she walked quickly across the room, brushing past them to escape into the hall. Once there, she made a hasty retreat to her bedroom, slamming the door rather harder than was necessary. Then she glared at her reflection in the dressing table mirror. All of a sudden she didn’t like today either…

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