Roses and Champagne. Betty Neels

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Roses and Champagne - Betty Neels


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of women friends—oh, I’m not curious, but people gossip, you know. That makes it so much worse, because Virginia is so young and you’ve known her since she was a baby.’

      His voice was silky. ‘And yet far better able to face the world and its wicked ways than you, Katie. We’ve had pleasant times together, haven’t we? But in future I’ll remember what you’ve said.’ He smiled gently. ‘I’m sure Mr Moffat is dying to talk to you again—such a nice quiet, well brought up young woman—and so correctly dressed.’ The silky voice bit into her. ‘You should change your style, Katrina, you’re not thirty yet.’ He moved aside to make room for Mr Moffat and she watched him go across the room to Mrs Drake. He looked handsome in his dinner jacket and his height and size made him noticeable wherever he was. She smiled politely at her companion and wondered miserably what it would be like to treat Lucius as a mere acquaintance when they met.

      Dinner was a cheerful meal, since everyone there knew everyone else, and afterwards they sat around and talked for an hour or so until old Lady Ryder announced that she must go home, which was the signal for everyone else to do the same.

      Katrina said her goodbyes, kissing the ladies and being kissed by the men, even Lucius, who brushed her cheek lightly and held her hand in an impersonal clasp and made some laughing remark about seeing her soon. And of course he’d been quite right to do it; in a day or two everyone would have heard that he and Virginia had broken up, but until then no one needed to know. She had felt mean listening to kind Mrs Drake’s concern for Virginia’s cold, and then seethed as she caught Lucius’s cynical look as he overheard. The comfortable, dependable man she had known all her life had changed into a remote, mocking stranger with cold eyes.

      Driving back, she debated as to whether he was hiding a broken heart under that deadpan face, and if so what she could do about it.

      Nothing; one didn’t interfere with other people’s lives even with the best of intentions, although she could wheedle Virginia into telling her what had happened. She would have to wait for the right moment, of course.

      Which came a good deal sooner than she had expected. She was in the house, sitting at the kitchen table drinking the hot chocolate Mrs Beecham had left out, when she heard the front door open and close, and a moment later her sister came into the kitchen.

      ‘Hullo,’ said Katrina. ‘Did you lock up?’

      Virginia gave her a dreamy look. ‘No, was I supposed to?’

      Katrina got up. ‘Never mind, I’ll do it. There’s loads of chocolate if you’d like a cup.’

      ‘After two bottles of champagne? You must be joking! Did you have a very dull evening?’

      ‘I enjoyed it.’ Katrina spoke over her shoulder on the way to the hall and the front door. When she got back, Virginia was curled up in Mrs Beecham’s chair by the Aga.

      ‘Was Lucius there?’ she asked.

      ‘Yes, of course.’

      ‘Did you talk to him?’

      ‘Yes—not much, though.’

      ‘No one knew? That he’d jilted me?’

      ‘No, Virginia—did he jilt you? Had he asked you to marry him? And had you said yes?’

      Virginia closed her eyes and yawned. ‘What a lot of questions! Aren’t you being a bit nosey, darling?’ She went on softly: ‘He’s made a fool of me, and he’s going to pay for it.’

      Katrina took her cup to the sink. ‘How can you talk like that when you expected to marry him? You must have loved—still love—him.’

      Her sister got up and strolled to the door. ‘Darling, you’re the wee-est bit behind the times—in fact, it’s the sort of thing Mummy might have said; or even Nanny. I can see I must update you.’ She smiled seraphically. ‘I shall have to think of something.’ She blew a kiss. ‘Goodnight, Katie.’

      Katrina went to bed presently, but not to sleep. Virginia had made a remarkably quick recovery from her broken heart; on the other hand, she was probably hiding her real feelings under a cheerful exterior. It was natural enough that she should be angry with Lucius, especially as he was so annoyingly cheerful about the whole thing. It was to be hoped that when their feelings had cooled, they could settle down again. Virginia was very young, she was bound to fall in love again. Katrina fell into an uneasy sleep and woke late, the remnants of a dream provokingly not to be recalled filling her head. It had been as nasty a dream as possible, of that she was sure.

      It was strange not seeing Lucius. He had been in the habit of strolling in at least once each day, to offer lifts, or go riding, or just to sit for half an hour and talk. He was a good landlord and the estate, although not large, took up a good deal of his day, and twice a week he drove up to London where he was a partner in a large accountants firm. Katrina had got into the habit of giving him little commissions—something special from Fortnum and Mason, an order for the wine merchants, a query on a Harrods account, and besides that, getting a lift whenever she wanted one. She busied herself with her painting, glad she had a deadline to meet and no time for idling. She would take her work up to the publishers at the end of the week and see if she could find a dress for the Hunt Ball.

      Virginia had gone up to London and come back with a ravishing ball gown which had cost a staggering sum of money, and now that important matter had been settled, she spent a good deal of her time with her various friends. Katrina had been surprised that no one had said anything about her sister and Lucius, but then she hadn’t been out very much, giving the excuse that she had to finish her work and was pushed for time. Now she was just about finished, and since Virginia had phoned to say that she was going to stay a night or two with Emily and Patricia, it left her free to do as she wanted. It would do poor little Virginia good to stay with her friends; she had gone over for lunch, and as she had often stopped the night, Katrina had welcomed it. Besides, the roads could be treacherous now that the weather was turning really wintry. The Turners didn’t live all that far away, a matter of ten miles or so, but Virginia was a careless driver.

      Katrina tidied away her paints and brushes and began to wrap up her work. It was still early, so she could drive up to London and hand over her work, have lunch and look for a dress—but that would mean driving back in the evening, not that that worried her, she was a good driver, but suppose Virginia decided to return home earlier? Besides, it left her short of time.

      She was tying the tapes of the portfolio when the door opened and Lucius walked in. She was so surprised to see him that she didn’t say anything at all, but she detected a fine rage under his bland expression. She said good morning in a questioning voice and resisted the urge to back away from him.

      ‘Is it? Where is Virginia, Katrina?’ he asked as he came to a halt in front of her.

      ‘Spending a couple of days with the Turners. Why?’

      ‘Very wise of her.’ His voice was even, but his eyes were grey stones. ‘Do you know what she’s told all our friends and acquaintances? No, I can see you don’t. That I’ve cast her off—her own words—and taken up with you!’

      ‘Me?’ asked Katrina, quite flabbergasted.

      ‘Oh, yes. You see, as she has explained at some length to everyone who would listen, she had no chance against your brains and elegance and—er—knowledge of the world—oh, and I almost forgot—your maturity.’

      Katrina goggled at him. ‘But what nonsense!’ she managed.

      ‘Oh, no, just a clever way of putting things, my dear. When everyone has got over their open-mouthed astonishment and thought about it, they’ll see it for the nonsense it is. In the meantime…’ he managed to smile thinly, ‘I should like to wring her neck!’

      ‘She’s upset,’ said Katrina. ‘She said her heart was broken…’

      ‘And what else, I wonder? That I was an ogre, that I should pay for upsetting her careful plans. You know what she intended to do?’

      ‘No,


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