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.

Witchstone
Anne Mather

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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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

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

THE frosty afternoon sunlight was casting a final mellow glow over the rooftops as Ashley Calder turned into Bewford’s High Street and saw the small hotel ahead of her. Already it signified home, and unconsciously her step quickened as she thought of the glowing fire which would be burning in the grate of her aunt’s living room and the homely smell of baking which always drifted from the kitchen. This was something she had never been used to. She had been too young when her mother died to remember much of what had gone before, and although her father had done his best, their home had lacked a woman’s touch.

The Golden Lion Hotel was a stone-built, attractively weathered building that blended well with the row of tall, somewhat old-fashioned shops of which it was an integral part. It had a history, too. It was said that once some prominent member of an exiled royal family had taken refuge there on his journey north to Scotland and safety, and although much of the building had been renovated it still maintained that aura of the past that was so evident in knotted floors and low oak beams. In the few weeks she had lived there, Ashley had already acquired a sense of attunement with the place. She loved history and she was beginning to find her memories of her life in London less painful to contemplate. Her aunt and uncle had been so kind to her, sharing her grief over the sudden death of her father, and making her feel as much a part of their family as her cousins, Mark and Karen, that the future which had looked so black eight weeks ago was beginning to have possibilities again.

All the same, it had been quite a wrench leaving London, leaving everything and everyone she had ever really known to come north to Yorkshire to live with an aunt and uncle she could scarcely remember. She had met them once before, when she was five years old. But that was twelve years ago now, the time when her mother had died and her sister and her husband had come south for the funeral. She had been too young then to appreciate any family differences, but as she grew older she sensed the antagonism her father felt towards her mother’s sister. In any event, he had not encouraged Ashley to keep in touch with them, and distance had lent detachment. It was only now, after the kindness they had shown her since being informed of her father’s death, that Ashley had begun to wonder why her father had not wanted her to get involved with them. Perhaps he had been afraid they would take her away from him, she mused. Perhaps he had sensed that the quality of their life was so much warmer, and that Ashley might have responded to it, used as she was to a somewhat emotionless existence.

Now Ashley shook her head. Surely her father had not believed that she would leave him alone. She would never have done that. She had loved him too much, even if sometimes she had suspected that she could never take the place of her mother in his affections.

But that was in the past now. Her future was here, in Bewford, and she swung lightly through the arched entrance to the cobbled yard at the back of the small hotel.

Her aunt was in the kitchen and looked up smilingly as Ashley came through the door bringing a chill gust of cold air with her. ‘Hello, love,’ she greeted her. ‘Have a good day?’

‘Hmm.’ Ashley came over to where Mona Sutton was spreading lemon icing over a batch of small cakes. ‘Can I have one of these, Aunt Mona?’

Her aunt raised a resigned eyebrow. ‘I suppose so. Though where you put it all, I don’t know.’ She surveyed her niece’s slender figure with a shake of her head. ‘Aren’t you afraid you’ll get fat? Heavens, Karen only has to look at cakes and pastry and the inches seem to appear by magic!’

Ashley chuckled, swallowing the rest of the lemon sponge with obvious enjoyment. ‘I’m just lucky, I guess.’

‘Yes.’ Her aunt sounded less than convinced. In her opinion Ashley’s slenderness owed more to lack of food than anything else. When she first arrived in Bewford, Mona had been appalled at how thin she was, and only now, after several weeks of good wholesome food, was she beginning to have a bit of flesh on her bones. ‘Did you tell Miss Kincaid about the job at the library?’

Ashley unbuttoned the thick duffel coat she was wearing, throwing back the hood so that the heavy swathe of corn-gold hair tumbled in disorder about her oval face. Then she perched on the edge of one of the draining units and said: ‘Yes, I told her.’

‘And what did she say?’ Mona stopped what she was doing to look at her.

Ashley shrugged. ‘I think she was disappointed.’

‘Oh, Ashley!’

‘Well, I know she hoped I’d go on to university——’

‘So why don’t you?’ Mona stared at her.

Ashley bent her head. ‘Do you want me to?’

‘Love, it’s not for me to say. It’s what you want to do that matters. You know there’s no question of a money problem. The money your father left is more than enough to pay for your education——’

‘I know,’ Ashley sighed.

‘Don’t you want a career?’

‘Being a librarian is a career.’

‘I know that. But, Ashley, you’re only seventeen and already you’ve got three “A” levels. That means something.’

‘It means I swotted harder than everyone else …’

‘No, it doesn’t.’ Mona wiped her hands on her apron. ‘It means that you’ve got a damn good brain. And I know your father would expect you to use it to your best advantage.’

‘Yes, my father would,’ Ashley nodded. Then she looked at her aunt. ‘Aunt Mona, will you tell me something?’

‘If I can.’

‘Why—why did I never see you in—in those years after—after Mummy died?’

Mona sighed. ‘Oh, I don’t know. We lived so far apart, I suppose,’ she said quickly.

‘Was that all it was?’

‘What else could there be?’

‘I’m asking you, Aunt Mona.’

Mona looked uncomfortable now. ‘Ashley, it’s all in the past, and your father’s dead——’

‘So?’

‘Oh, child!’ Mona made a helpless gesture. ‘Your father was a good man. He did his best for you. He did his best for Delia—your mother.’ She paused. ‘But—well, he was a possessive man. At least so far as Delia was concerned. She and I—well, we’d been pretty close before she got married, but afterwards—your father didn’t encourage us to meet. He wanted her all to himself.’ She shook her head. ‘Then they had you. I thought that would make a difference, but it didn’t. Your lives and ours rarely crossed. When Delia died, we did meet. We came to the funeral, as you know. We wanted to help him then—we even offered to have you if it would help at all. But he was furious at the suggestion. He said that you and he would manage, and I’m afraid he became as possessive with you as he had been with Delia.’

‘And yet he never really wanted me around,’ murmured Ashley wonderingly.

‘Selfish people are sometimes like that,’ said Mona quietly.

‘Yes.’ Ashley understood now.

Mona frowned. ‘Ashley, tell me honestly—what do you want to do? About going to university, I mean.’

Ashley looked up. ‘Honestly?’ And at her aunt’s nod, she went on: ‘I want to stay here, with you—with Uncle David—with Mark and Karen. I—I don’t want to go away.’

‘Oh, Ashley!’ Mona came towards her, putting her hands on the girl’s shoulders. ‘Do you mean that?’

‘You’ve all been so kind to me,’ Ashley explained gently. ‘I love being here. I feel—at home.’

‘This is your home.’

‘So I’d rather get a job in Bewford and stay here.’

‘But Bewford County Library isn’t the same as working in some big complex——’

‘It doesn’t matter. I’ve always wanted to do library work, and if it doesn’t work out—well, I can always go to university later, can’t I? There’s plenty of time.’

Mona nodded, her eyes unusually bright. ‘Of course there is, love,’ she agreed, turning away. Then, more briskly: ‘Now, are you going to go and change out of those school clothes before tea?’

Ashley straightened. ‘What time are we eating?’

Mona shook her head. ‘Food again!’ she scolded, good-naturedly. ‘Well, let’s see. It’s half past four at present. I think I should have it on the table for five o’clock. Then your uncle can enjoy his meal before opening up. Mark won’t be in until later. He said he wanted to go up to the Hall before coming home.’

Ashley nodded, moving towards the door into the hall. Mark was employed by the Setons who lived at Bewford Hall. They were the largest landowners in the district. County people, Aunt Mona called them, but she said it with a trace of affection. Like everyone else in Bewford they were concerned with the affairs of the community, a situation which Ashley sometimes found hard to accept, coming as she did from a district in London where it was possible not to know one’s next door neighbour.

The staircase to the upper floor of the Golden Lion was narrow and twisting, and led to a landing from which all the bedroom doors opened. Once the small hotel had catered for an occasional paying guest, but in recent years the Suttons had needed all the rooms for their own use.

Ashley shared Karen’s room. It was the largest of the bedrooms, the only one in fact which could accommodate twin beds. She had at first expected some resentment from her cousin, but fortunately Karen wasn’t like that. She was a gregarious sort of girl, open and friendly, glad of someone of a similar age to talk to, and it was Ashley who sometimes wished that Karen went to bed to sleep instead of to gossip into the small hours.

Karen was a couple of years older than Ashley, but without her academic ability. She had left school at sixteen and now worked in the Post Office. She had a steady stream of boy-friends, most of whom Ashley had only heard about, although she had met Frank Coulter, the man of the moment. He worked in the local garage and had the reputation of being the local Casanova. From the first, Ashley had disliked him, although she had to admit that part of her repugnance towards him was due to the fact that he had once attempted to make a pass at her when Karen was out of the room. She had been quite angry at the time, and she hoped Karen would soon find someone more reliable.

Ashley had friends of her own at school, of both sexes, but no one special. She wasn’t interested in the casual physical relationships indulged in by most of the girls she knew, and found more enjoyment in books and music than petting on some street corner.

In the bedroom she stripped off the navy skirt and cardigan, the white blouse and navy and red striped tie which formed the uniform of Bewford Grammar School before rummaging through a drawer and pulling out a pair of shabby jeans and a scarlet sweater. The jeans accentuated the slenderness of her body, the curving length of her legs, while the ribbed sweater drew attention to the rounded swell of her breasts.

As she brushed her hair, she pulled a face at her reflection in the dressing table mirror. She was used to her appearance and saw no particular virtue in long, slightly slanted green eyes or a warm, beautiful mouth with a full lower lip. She secured the heavy swathe of hair with two elastic bands so that a coil fell over either shoulder and then with a shrug turned towards the door.

Her aunt was in the dining room laying the table for their evening meal, and Ashley automatically took the cutlery from her and began setting the places. Her aunt smiled and took the opportunity to relax for a moment, lighting one of the infrequent cigarettes she smoked throughout the day. She was throwing the match into the grate when her husband came through from the bar.

‘Well, well,’ he remarked mockingly. ‘Is this all you’ve got to do?’

David Sutton was a man in his early fifties, tall and spare-framed, with thinning fair hair and twinkling blue eyes. He was the exact opposite of Mona, in fact, who was inclined to plumpness like her daughter, and whose hair and colouring were definitely dark.

Now Mona regarded her husband with impatience. ‘You’ve got to be joking!’ she retorted, casting a resigned look in Ashley’s direction. ‘You see! I can’t even have a cigarette without being caught out!’

Ashley smiled. This good-natured badinage was something she had not experienced before coming to live with her aunt and uncle. Her father had taken life much more seriously, and when she had first come to Bewford she had been concerned at the apparent constant state of conflict between these two. But as time went by her concern gave way to amusement as she realised that their relationship was based on warmth and understanding and nothing they ever said to one another during these petty little arguments penetrated the strength of their real feelings.

David Sutton turned to Ashley then, saying: ‘Do you think you could come and put some bottles out for me later on? We’re running short on ginger ales and tonics, and I could do with a few bottles of stout in the bar.’

Ashley nodded eagerly. From time to time she re-stocked the shelves when her uncle was busy, although he wouldn’t permit her to serve behind the bar. ‘Of course. Do you want me to do it now?’

‘No, later on will do,’ replied her uncle, reaching for his pipe from his jacket pocket.

‘I should think so, too,’ exclaimed Mona. ‘The lass has just got home from school. She’s hungry, aren’t you, love?’

Ashley wrinkled her nose doubtfully. Obviously her aunt had chosen to forget that not too long ago she had been chiding her for eating too much. Changing the subject completely, she turned to her uncle and said: ‘I’ve decided to take that job at the library after Easter—if they’ll have me.’

David looked up from filling his pipe. ‘Have you?’ He looked pleased. ‘I’m glad.’

‘Are you?’ Ashley felt all warm inside. She lifted her shoulders and let them fall again, spreading her hands in an encompassing gesture. ‘Well, so am I.’

Karen didn’t finish work until five-thirty and by the time she got home Ashley and her aunt had usually finished the main washing up of the evening and the Golden Lion had opened its doors to its patrons. David had a couple of women who helped in the bar in the evenings and they arrived about six. They were two young married women, supplementing their husbands’ income by working in the evenings when their husbands could look after their children. Ashley didn’t know them very well yet, but Mark had told her that the husband of one of them worked for the Setons, too.

Ashley looked forward to Mark coming home. They got along well together. Although he was twenty-eight he had not as yet shown any inclination towards marriage and seemed to find his young cousin quite adequate company. He had taken her to the pictures a couple of times, and once to a horse sale at a nearby estate. But mostly he seemed to find the horses more absorbing, and Ashley, with her own love of solitude and the fascination of academic things, could appreciate this. Perhaps that was why they got along so well – because they each had other interests.

Ashley was coming along the hall later than evening, her arms filled with the small bottles of soda water, dry ginger and tonic her uncle needed, when Mark came through the door which led from the cobbled yard at the side of the hotel. It had begun to snow earlier on and flakes glinted on his fair hair. Ashley started to say: ‘Are you frozen——’ when she saw that her cousin was not alone. Another man had followed him into the hotel, a man as dark as Mark was fair, with the kind of tan impossible to achieve in these northern climes.

Mark grinned. ‘What’s this?’ he queried, indicating the bottles. ‘Secret drinking?’

Ashley’s lips twitched. ‘Hardly. Your father needs them. Excuse me——’

‘Wait!’ Mark glanced round at his companion. ‘This is my cousin, Jake. Ashley, I’d like you to meet Jake Seton.’

Ashley could have wished that Mark had waited until she had shed the load of bottles before introducing her to his friend, but it was too late now to do anything about it. Instead, she was forced to stand there and offer a greeting, her face almost as red as her sweater.

‘Hello, Ashley!’

Jake Seton’s voice was low and deep, his eyes disturbingly intent between the longest lashes she had ever seen on a man. But if his lashes were unusual, they were the only effeminate thing about him. He was tall, taller even than Mark who stood a good five feet eleven in his socks, with a lean, yet powerful body. He was not handsome in the accepted sense of the word, but Ashley thought, even with her small knowledge, that there was little doubt that some women would find the deep-set eyes, the harsh planes of his cheekbones and the somewhat thin lips attractive. Sideburns grew lower than his earlobes, while dark hair lay thick and smooth against his head, brushing the collar of his suede jacket. He appeared to use no hair dressing and consequently it looked glossily healthy. She thought he looked about Mark’s age, but she couldn’t be sure. Either way, it was nothing to do with her.

Realising that she had been staring, she turned away in embarrassment, making some comment about her uncle waiting for the bottles, and she sensed, rather than saw, Mark and his companion go down the hall and enter the private lounge at the back. In the bar, David Sutton regarded her flushed cheeks with some amusement.

‘What’s happened to you?’ he asked, putting the back of his hand against her forehead. ‘You running a fever or something?’

Ashley unloaded the bottles on to the floor behind the bar and began stacking them on the shelves. ‘Of course not,’ she denied swiftly.

David looked down at her bent head. ‘Well, someone’s responsible for that or I’m a Dutchman!’ he declared.

Sighing, Ashley rose to her feet. ‘Mark’s just come home.’

David frowned. ‘So what did he say to you?’

‘Nothing. He—er—he wasn’t alone.’

‘I see. Who was with him? Don’t tell me he’s brought some girl home!’

Ashley moved her shoulders reluctantly. ‘No. It was a man, actually. Someone called – Jake Seton.’

And only as she said the words did realisation of his identity come to her. Seton was the name of the people who lived at Bewford Hall. Sir James Seton was Mark’s employer. Jake Seton had to be some relation.

Her uncle was grinning broadly now. ‘Oh, I’m beginning to see,’ he chuckled, much to her annoyance. ‘It was Jake who spoke to you, was it? Yes—well, the lassies get a bit hot and bothered when he’s around.’

Ashley assumed a defiant stance, her thumbs tucked into the low belt of her jeans. ‘Do they really? Well, I was just embarrassed, that’s all.’

Her uncle nodded thoughtfully. ‘Of course. You won’t have met him yet. But you’ll soon get used to seeing him. He and Mark are good friends in spite of the differences in their backgrounds. I hadn’t heard that he was back.’

In spite of herself, Ashley was curious. ‘Back?’ she echoed.

‘Yes. From Austria. Jake’s been away about six weeks, I guess. Just after Christmas a group of them went on a skiing holiday.’

‘I see.’ That explained the tan, she supposed. ‘Well, do you need any more—bottles, I mean?’

David looked at the neat rows. ‘I don’t think so, love. You go and talk to Mark and Jake. Where’s Karen?’

‘She’s gone out with Frank.’

Her uncle grimaced. He could have wished his daughter was more like Ashley when it came to choosing her friends. ‘All right,’ he said now. ‘I’ll let you know if I need you later.’

Ashley nodded, but when she left the bar she stood rather hesitantly in the hall, wondering whether she dared to go up to her room instead of having to join her aunt and the two men in the lounge. She was hovering near the foot of the stairs when her aunt came out of the lounge closing the door behind her, obviously on her way to the kitchen.

‘Oh, there you are, Ashley,’ she said, when she saw the girl. ‘I’m just going to make some coffee. You go in there and speak to Mark and Mr. Seton.’

Ashley smoothed her fingers over the rounded knob at the end of the banister. ‘I—er—I was just going upstairs, Aunt Mona,’ she murmured.

Mona frowned. ‘Why? What’s wrong with you?’

‘Nothing’s wrong. I—well, I knew Mark had a guest, and I thought I’d go and read——’

‘Oh, get along with you!’ Mona clicked her tongue impatiently. ‘It’s only Jake! Go on into the lounge, and stop talking such nonsense. I shan’t be long.’

Heaving a sigh, Ashley crossed the hall and opened the lounge door. Both Mark and Jake Seton were settled in the easy chairs at either side of the blazing fire. They looked relaxed and comfortable, and Ashley felt as though she was interrupting them when they looked up at her entrance.

Jake Seton got immediately to his feet, indicating his chair. ‘Would you like to sit here?’ he asked.

Ashley closed the door and quickly subsided into a smaller chair quite close by. ‘No, really, thank you. I’m perfectly all right here.’

‘Very well.’

Jake exchanged a glance with Mark and then resumed his earlier position. For a few awkward moments nobody said anything and whatever conversation had been going on before Ashley’s entrance had clearly been broken up. Ashley shifted uncomfortably. She should have insisted upon going upstairs.

But then Jake drew out a slim case of cheroots and offered them to Mark, saying: ‘Mark tells me you’re still at school, Ashley.’

Ashley flashed a quick look in Mark’s direction, but he was leaning forward to light his cheroot from the lighter Jake had proffered and didn’t notice. ‘Yes, I am,’ she replied, rather tersely.

Jake lay back in his chair inhaling deeply on the tobacco. ‘And what do you intend to do afterwards? Go on to university?’

Ashley tugged a strand of her hair. ‘I don’t think so. I—well, I shall probably take up library work. That’s really what I want to do.’

‘Library work,’ considered Jake thoughtfully. ‘Where? In Bewford?’

‘As a matter of fact, yes.’ Ashley didn’t altogether care for this interrogation.

Jake nodded. ‘You like it here, then? You come from London, don’t you?’

‘Mark seems to have told you an awful lot about me, doesn’t he?’ parried Ashley, feeling not unreasonably impatient.

Jake smiled then, a lazy attractive smile that seemed to attack her in that vulnerable region below her ribcage in a curiously disturbing way. ‘Actually, he didn’t tell me that,’ he confessed charmingly. ‘David—your uncle, that is—told me you were coming to live with them before I left for Grüssmatte.’

‘Oh!’

Ashley dug her nails into the moquette upholstery of her chair arm, refusing to look at her cousin who she sensed was annoyed with her now. And as though to prove this point, Mark got to his feet just then and said: ‘As Ashley seems averse to talking about herself for once, shall we have a drink? Jake—your usual?’

Ashley looked up. ‘Your mother’s making coffee!’ she exclaimed.

‘So?’ Mark looked down at her penetratingly, and her eyes dropped before his. ‘Is there any law which says we can’t have both?’

Ashley didn’t bother to reply and Mark opened the lounge door. ‘Shan’t be a minute, Jake.’ He flicked his gaze to Ashley. ‘If you get into difficulties with this monster, just yell.’

After the door had closed behind him, Ashley felt worse than ever. At least when Mark had been present the onus had not been upon her as it was now. Forcing herself to meet Jake Seton’s somewhat amused gaze, she said: ‘Do you like skiing, Mr. Seton?’

‘Very much.’ He inclined his head.

Ashley sighed, looking down at her probing fingers again. ‘And is that all you do?’

‘Ski?’ Jake studied the glowing tip of his cheroot. ‘I wonder what you would say if I said yes.’

Ashley looked up defensively. ‘I shouldn’t say anything. It’s nothing to do with me.’

‘Isn’t it?’ Jake’s eyes were narrowed now and she couldn’t read their expression. ‘But I detected a note of cynicism in your voice.’

Ashley was taken aback. ‘I think you’re mistaken.’

Jake shrugged. ‘Very well. If you choose not to pursue it.’

‘Pursue what?’

He drew deeply on this cheroot again. ‘You asked what else I did. In fact, I believe the question was—if I did anything else.’

Ashley moved uncomfortably, wishing she’d never started this. Changing the subject entirely, she said: ‘It’s very cold this evening, isn’t it? Although I don’t suppose you find it any colder than Austria——’

‘Come and sit by the fire, then. You said you weren’t cold earlier on,’ he remarked.

Ashley shook her head. ‘I—I meant outside.’

‘I see.’ He paused. ‘Tell me, do you know Grüssmatte?’

‘Grüssmatte?’ For a moment she was all at sea.

‘Yes, Grüssmatte. In Austria. You said you didn’t expect I would find this climate any colder than Austria. I wondered how you knew I’d been in Austria.’

Ashley flushed brilliantly. ‘Er—as a matter of fact, Uncle David told me.’

‘Did he indeed?’ Jake’s eyes were intent between the thick lashes. ‘And were you discussing me with your uncle?’

‘I—no—at least, not really.’ Ashley’s nails were almost penetrating the moquette as the pressure increased.

‘But you did listen when he spoke to you, didn’t you?’

Ashley decided the only way open to her was attack. ‘If you’re trying to tie me up in knots by proving that I was discussing you with Uncle David——’

Jake lay back in his chair, his expression mildly indulgent. ‘Now why would I do a thing like that?’ he mocked. ‘You seem perfectly capable of doing it for yourself.’

To Ashley’s relief, Mark chose that moment to re-enter the room. ‘Oh, good,’ he exclaimed. ‘You’re talking to one another. I had visions of a pitched battle being waged in my absence.’

‘Don’t be silly, Mark!’ Ashley was curt. ‘What’s this?’

Mark was handing her a tall glass laced with ice cubes, and he grinned. ‘Taste it! I think you’ll like it. It’s just potent enough to give the lemonade a kick.’

Ashley sipped the liquid experimentally. It was delicious, but she couldn’t recognise the flavour.

‘I think it looks like Advocaat,’ remarked Jake, swallowing a mouthful of the amber liquid Mark had given him.

‘It is,’ agreed Mark, subsiding into his armchair again with a tall glass of lager. ‘A golden drink for a golden girl!’

‘Mark!’

Ashley felt more embarrassed than ever, but as her aunt arrived with the coffee she was saved the need of having to parry any further comments from either of them. Conversation became general and it was not noticeable that Ashley played very little part in it. She was content to sit in her chair and drink her coffee and remain silent, absorbed as she was with her own thoughts.

CHAPTER TWO

ASHLEY was almost asleep when Karen came noisily into the bedroom and switched on her bedside lamp.

‘Ashley?’ she hissed in a stage whisper. ‘Are you awake?’

Ashley sighed. She had thought that for once Karen would see that her eyes were closed and not disturb her, but she should have known better. Rolling on to her back, shading her eyes with her arm, she said: ‘Do you realise it’s almost half past eleven, Karen? I’m tired. What do you want?’

Karen gave an apologetic smile. ‘Sorry, love. I really thought you were awake.’

‘I was,’ admitted Ashley. ‘What is it?’

‘I just wanted to talk to you,’ exclaimed Karen, beginning to get undressed. ‘Guess what? Frank’s got a new car!’

Ashley raised her eyes towards the bedroom ceiling. ‘Super! Is that all?’

‘Don’t you want to know what it is?’ Karen sounded disappointed.

Ashley gave a resigned gesture. ‘All right. What is it?’

‘It’s a Triumph Spitfire. A gorgeous little sports car, and can it move! We went for a run in it this evening, and it was thrilling—really thrilling!’

Ashley blinked. ‘Great. Have you just got back?’

‘Well, I’ve just got in,’ replied Karen insinuatively. ‘We got back about half an hour ago.’

‘Fine.’ Ashley rolled on to her side again. ‘Can I go to sleep now?’

‘I suppose so.’ Karen plumped down on to the side of her bed to take her tights off. ‘What did you do this evening?’

‘Nothing much.’ Ashley’s voice was muffled.

‘Exciting!’ Karen was sarcastic. ‘Honestly, Ash, don’t you ever get sick of staying in all the time? I mean, I’m sure Frank could fix you up with a blind date——’

‘No, thanks!’ Ashley turned so quickly that she pulled the blankets out of the side of the bed, and mumbled irritably as she pushed them in again. ‘I don’t need Frank Coulter to get dates for me. I’m perfectly capable of choosing my own boy-friends.’

Karen pulled on her pyjamas. ‘So why don’t you have any?’

‘I do have friends,’ protested Ashley.

‘But you don’t go out with them—at least, not alone anyway.’

Ashley sighed again. ‘Look, you live your life and I’ll live mine.’

‘I just want you to have a little fun, that’s all.’ Karen climbed into bed. Propping herself on one elbow, she studied her cousin critically. ‘You should, you know. You’re very attractive.’

‘Thank you.’ Ashley wished she would hurry up and turn out the light.

‘Don’t you want to get married?’

‘Oh, Karen, honestly!’ Ashley had to smile. ‘I don’t want to get married for years yet! I’m not eighteen even. I intend to wait until I’m—oh, I don’t know—perhaps thirty, before I tie myself down with a home and children——’

‘You’re forgetting the most important part.’

‘What’s that?’ Ashley frowned.

‘A husband, of course. Or were you planning to have children and bring them up yourself?’

‘Don’t talk rubbish!’ Ashley wrinkled her nose. ‘You know what I mean. Besides, I may never get married.’

‘No. That’s true.’ Karen flopped back and folded her arms behind her head. ‘But I want to. I’ve never been particularly interested in a career.’

Ashley nodded. ‘And do you think this—association with Frank is serious?’

Karen shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Sometimes I think so, and then he does something or says something and—well, I wonder.’ She drew the covers up to her chin, tipping her head on one side to look at her cousin. ‘Mum said that Mark brought Jake Seton home with him this evening.’

Ashley was glad of the rose-shaded lamp to hide her colouring. ‘Yes, that’s right, he did.’

Karen rolled on to her side, facing her. ‘What did you think of him?’

‘Who? Jake Seton?’

‘Who else?’ Karen’s tone was dry.

‘I—er—he seemed very nice——’

‘Nice!’ Karen gasped. ‘Love, a man like Jake Seton could never be described as—nice!’

‘Why? Isn’t he?’

Karen gave an exasperated snort. ‘Ashley! If you mean is he charming—intelligent, friendly, even, then—yes. I suppose in those terms, he is—nice. But that wasn’t what I meant. Didn’t you think he was attractive? Oh, I know he’s a lot older than you, but even so …’

Ashley hunched her shoulders under the bedcovers. ‘Yes, I suppose he is,’ she admitted reluctantly. A slight smile touched her lips. ‘Why don’t you marry him if you find him so devastating?’

Karen grimaced. ‘Chance would be a fine thing! Heavens, you don’t suppose I’d be bothering with someone like Frank if I seriously thought I stood any chance with Jake Seton, do you?’

‘You can’t love Frank, then,’ declared Ashley forcefully. ‘Or you wouldn’t be interested in anyone else.’

‘Yes, but the Setons are something else,’ exclaimed Karen defensively. ‘I mean, they really are different. It’s only that Jake and Mark have known one another since they were at school together, and Jake is always so friendly to Mum and Dad that makes him seem approachable somehow. The rest of the family aren’t like him. Oh, they’re friendly enough, I suppose, but in a different way—a less personal way, if you know what I mean. They’re sort of—oh, you know—aloof—lords of the manor—that sort of thing. They know everyone, of course. They speak to everyone. But you’re always conscious of the gulf between them and us—it’s a social barrier somehow.’

Ashley was intrigued now in spite of her tiredness. ‘And you say—Jake Seton went to the same school as Mark?’

‘Only for a short time,’ answered Karen, rubbing her nose thoughtfully. ‘Jake’s a couple of years older than Mark, but he did attend the County Infants for three years before going on to prep school. I don’t know how they became friends, but they did—and it’s stuck—which says a lot for Jake, actually. I don’t think his family approve. So far as they’re concerned, this is one of the local pubs, and if Jake comes here they put it down to the alcohol on the premises, not the company.’

‘And—and Jake is a son of Mark’s employer, is that right?’

‘Not a son, love, the son! He has two sisters, but no brothers. Sir James Seton is his father. I suppose Jake will inherit the title one day. His name is James, really, but he’s always been called Jake to avoid confusion.’

‘I see.’ Ashley digested this. ‘I’m surprised he’s not married.’

‘He will be soon.’ Karen’s mouth turned down at the corners. ‘The social occasion of the year is planned for the last week in June.’

Ashley frowned. ‘What do you mean? He’s getting married?’

‘Naturally.’ Karen expelled her breath noisily.

Ashley suddenly found the conversation rather boring. ‘Oh, well,’ she said shortly, ‘you’ll just have to make do with Frank, won’t you?’

Karen watched her cousin roll herself in the covers and prepare herself for sleep. ‘I suppose so,’ she agreed slowly. ‘Don’t you want to know who he’s going to marry?’

‘Not particularly.’ Ashley was abrupt. ‘Oh, Karen, for goodness’ sake, put out the light. I’m tired. I want to go to sleep.’

During the next couple of weeks, Ashley thought very little about Jake Seton. The weather was unusually cold for early March with heavy falls of snow blocking the roads, disrupting bus and train services. The moorland farmers who gathered in the Golden Lion on market days talked incessantly of the shortages of animal foodstuffs and the difficulties of lambing in these conditions. Ashley herself seemed to spend her time hurrying from home to school and then home again, and felt no desire to go out in the evenings as Karen did.

One afternoon, when a watery sun was fighting a losing battle with the freezing temperatures, she was walking home from school with a girl-friend when a sleek, dark green sports car slid to a halt beside them. They were scarcely a hundred yards from the school and at first Ashley thought it was someone who wanted directions. But then the nearside window was rolled down and she found herself looking into Jake Seton’s face.

‘Hello, Ashley,’ he said, almost as if he had expected to see her. ‘Can I give you a lift?’

Susan Knight, the girl who had been walking with her, drew back awkwardly, obviously recognising Jake, and Ashley felt embarrassed.

‘I—we don’t have far to go,’ she replied briefly. ‘Thank you all the same.’

Jake’s lips thinned. ‘I’m going that way anyway,’ he said, thrusting open the door. ‘Get in!’

There was such authority in his voice that Ashley found herself responding to it almost automatically, merely giving Susan an apologetic smile before stepping forward and climbing into the luxurious vehicle beside him. He leant across her to close the door with controlled firmness and for an instant she could smell the heat of his body and a faint trace of Havana tobacco, and felt the hardness of his arm against the softness of her breasts. Then the force of unrestrained power beneath the bonnet of the car was pressing her back in her seat as the car swept forward.

She had been in quite a number of cars during her comparatively short life, but never one like this. Everything about it was smooth and expensive, and even without the scrawled identification along its side she would have guessed it belonged to some exclusive stable of custom-built sports cars.

Within seconds they had reached the end of Castle Lane and turned into the High Street, and Ashley’s fingers tightened on her briefcase as he drew up outside the Golden Lion.

‘Thank you,’ she managed, and looked round for the door handle.

Without a word, Jake leant across her again and thrust open the door, and with a nervous smile she swung her legs out and stood up. She turned to close the door and found him sliding across her seat to climb out at her side, tall and disturbing in a black leather battle jacket over black suede trousers.

‘Well?’ he challenged, looking down at her, and she detected impatience in the word. ‘That wasn’t so bad, was it?’

‘No.’ She looked down at the toes of her shiny black boots.

‘But you didn’t want to ride with me, did you?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’ He was clearly perplexed.

‘I—Susan had to go home alone.’

‘That was Tom Knight’s girl, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then, as I recall it, they live along Westbrook Terrace. She was about to turn along Westbrook Gardens, which is not your way at all.’

Ashley looked up at him. ‘How do you know?’

‘Her father used to work for us.’

‘Oh, I see.’ Ashley resumed her contemplation of her toes.

‘So would you like to tell me the real reason why you didn’t want me to give you a lift?’

Ashley looked round. The Golden Lion was in a prominent position in the High Street and standing here beside the unmistakable lines of the sports car they were attracting quite a lot of attention from late afternoon shoppers.

‘Oh, please,’ she began. ‘I—I expect I was surprised to see you there, that’s all. Look, I’m freezing standing here. Are—are you coming in?’

‘Are you inviting me?’ His eyes probed hers with disturbing intensity.

‘Me?’ exclaimed Ashley ungrammatically. She moved her shoulders helplessly. ‘Isn’t it Mark you’ve come to see?’

‘So far as I am aware, Mark is at work,’ replied Jake easily, his thumbs tucked into the low belt of his pants.

Ashley was at a loss to know what to do. She wasn’t used to dealing with men, and particularly not with a man like Jake Seton. She shifted her weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other, not knowing what to say. Then, as though taking pity on her, or perhaps it was simply that he was tired of waiting for her to make a move, Jake suddenly shrugged his broad shoulders and with a slight bow of his head walked round his car and swinging open the door climbed behind the wheel. There was a slight squeal of protest from the tyres as he drove away, but Ashley scarcely registered it. Her heart was pounding so loudly she couldn’t hear anything else.

Her aunt was in the kitchen as usual when she entered the hotel, and gave her niece a surprised look. ‘You’re home early,’ she exclaimed. ‘Is it snowing again?’

Ashley shook her head, turning away to get herself a drink of water from the tap. ‘No. No—I got a lift actually.’

There was silence for a moment as she swallowed half the glass of water; but when she turned back to her aunt she saw she was waiting for further explanations.

‘It was Mr. Seton. He gave me a lift.’

Mona Sutton raised her eyebrows. ‘Jake?’

‘That’s right.’ Ashley unbuttoned her duffel coat. ‘I’ll go and get changed——’

‘Wait a minute!’ Mona bent to take a tray of sausage rolls out of the oven. Putting them down on top of the cooker, she added: ‘What did he say?’

Ashley shrugged. ‘Nothing much.’

Mona sighed. ‘He must have said something. How did he come to give you a lift?’

‘I don’t know.’ Ashley fidgeted with the toggle fastenings of her coat. ‘Susan and I were just walking along when—when he stopped. And offered.’

Mona frowned. ‘And where is he now?’

‘I expect he’s gone home.’ Ashley turned towards the door.

Mona clicked her tongue. ‘I wonder why he didn’t come in. It’s not like Jake to be in the vicinity and not call. Oh, well …’ She began lifting the sausage rolls on to a wire tray to cool. ‘Perhaps he was in a hurry.’

‘Perhaps he was,’ agreed Ashley quickly, and went out of the door before her aunt could say anything else.

But in her room the incident could not be dismissed so lightly. She knew that Jake’s reasons for not coming into the hotel had had to do with her attitude, and she couldn’t help feeling a little guilty. After all, she had absolutely no reason to behave towards him as she had, and she knew that the rest of the family would not be at all pleased if they discovered the way she had reacted to his kindness.

As she changed out of her school clothes into her usual attire of jeans and a sweater she tried to find excuses for herself. He made her feel uneasy, unsure of herself, and the knowledge that everyone else regarded him with what she felt was an unwarranted show of affection irritated her. He was only a man when all was said and done, and just because his name was Seton it did not make him some kind of god in her eyes. Besides, she didn’t want to have to feel grateful to him for anything.

During their meal that evening Mark volunteered the information that Jake had been away for the day. ‘There’s some talk about selling that land where the old sawmill used to be,’ he said. ‘I think Jake went to Leeds to find out about conditions of tenure, development—that sort of thing.’

Mona looked up with interest. ‘Oh, then that’s where he’d been when he picked Ashley up,’ she decided.

‘Picked Ashley up?’ Mark was puzzled. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘He gave your cousin a lift home from school this afternoon,’ explained his father.

Mark looked at Ashley in surprise. ‘Did he? That was kind of him.’

‘Yes, wasn’t it?’ Mona smiled comfortably. ‘But he didn’t come in. I expect he wanted to report back to Sir James.’

‘Yes,’ Mark nodded. ‘Well, Ashley? What did you think of the Ferrari?’

Ashley shrugged, determinedly keeping her eyes on her plate. ‘Is that what it was? I didn’t notice,’ she lied.

Mark chuckled, shaking his head. ‘It’s just as well it was you and not Karen he gave a lift to. She’d have been making some big thing of it by now.’

They all laughed and Ashley forced herself to join them. But she wasn’t at all happy about the situation, and she half hoped Jake would come to the hotel that evening so that she could assure herself that he had not taken offence at her words.

However, Jake did not come to the hotel that evening or indeed for almost a week, and each succeeding day that passed made Ashley more than ever convinced that she was responsible for his absence. She was tempted to ask Mark whether he had spoken to his employer’s son, but she could hardly do that without attracting attention to herself so she had to wait in impatience, hoping for the best.

Then, six days later, she was stretching up to fasten a new bottle of vodka into its place in the wall fitment behind the bar when a voice she was programmed not to forget said: ‘Is the amount of flesh you’re exhibiting designed to increase the thirst of your customers?’

Ashley swung round abruptly, hastily pulling down the short green sweater which had ridden up leaving a smooth expanse of midriff bare. Jake was seated on one of the tall stools at the bar, and she smoothed her hands down over her hips nervously, conscious of a disquieting sense of pleasure in just seeing him there. The bar was quiet at this hour of the evening and her uncle had left her in charge for once while he went down to the cellar to bring up some crates of beer.

‘Good evening, Mr. Seton,’ she greeted him politely.

‘Hello, Ashley.’ He inclined his head. ‘How are you?’

‘Oh—oh, I’m fine.’ Ashley’s fingers gripped the bar very tightly. ‘Can I get you a drink?’

‘I thought your uncle didn’t permit you to serve drinks.’

Ashley flushed. ‘He’s not here right now——’

‘No. I had noticed.’ His tone was dry as he drew out a case of cheroots and put one between his teeth. ‘Leave it. I can wait until David gets back.’

Ashley sighed as he lit the cheroot, pushing her fingers into the hip pockets of her jeans. The fact that he was right, that her uncle did not approve of her attempting to serve customers, irritated her. It was annoying always to be treated as a schoolgirl—even though she still was one. But she would be eighteen in a month, and some girls were already married at that age.

Jake studied her mutinous expression tolerantly. ‘Don’t frown so. I’m not in any hurry.’

Ashley made no reply, turning away to take a cloth and dust the glass shelves behind the bar. She was tempted to ask him why he hadn’t been into the hotel before this, but it was not up to her to question his movements.

‘Tell me,’ he said suddenly, ‘do you have to go to the Grammar every day? I thought Mark told me you’d already passed your exams.’

Ashley straightened, her green eyes mirroring her surprise. ‘I don’t have to go,’ she admitted. ‘But as I’ll be leaving soon …’ She shrugged awkwardly.

‘I see.’ Jake looked down to flick ash into the tray. ‘Do you feel like taking a day off?’

Ashley stifled a gasp. ‘A day off?’ she echoed. ‘W-why?’

Jake continued to take an immense amount of interest in the burning end of his cheroot. ‘I thought you might like to come to a sale with me on Thursday,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s at a country house in Swaledale. As I understand it, they have a particularly good library.’

Ashley put down the cloth she had been holding and stared disbelievingly at his bent head. ‘Why—why are you asking me?’ she got out.

He looked up then, and she saw his eyes were grey, not black as she had at first imagined. ‘Because I thought you’d be interested,’ he replied. ‘Are you?’

Ashley moved awkwardly. ‘I—well, yes—of course I’m interested. But——’

‘But what? I’ll ask your uncle if you want me to. It’s a perfectly harmless invitation. I don’t think he’ll object.’

Ashley glanced over her shoulder. ‘Perhaps not.’

‘Well? Do you want to come or don’t you?’

Ashley shook her head. ‘Who else will be going?’

‘Who else?’ Jake looked impatient. ‘No one else, why?’

Ashley sighed. ‘I don’t understand why you should want to take me.’ She moved her shoulders helplessly. ‘Particularly after—after——’

‘After what?’ Jake’s eyes were intent. ‘After the way you spoke to me the last time we—met?’

‘Well—yes.’

‘I don’t hold grudges.’ He drew deeply on his cheroot. ‘Do you?’

‘I don’t know.’ Ashley was uncomfortable. ‘What—what will people say?’

‘People?’ His lips were drawn in now.

‘Yes, people,’ she insisted, spreading her hands. ‘Look, I know I don’t know Bewford as well as you do, but I have noticed how people talk.’

‘And how will they find out?’

Ashley’s eyes widened. ‘My uncle and aunt will know.’

‘All right.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Don’t tell them.’

Ashley felt the first twinges of alarm. ‘Are you serious?’

‘If you’ve got qualms, don’t tell them.’ Jake sounded bored.

‘But—but I couldn’t not tell them.’

‘That’s up to you, isn’t it?’

‘Don’t you care?’

‘Not particularly.’

Ashley turned away. She felt almost sick with reaction. She had no idea what his real thoughts on the matter were or whether he wanted her to tell anyone or not. And she simply wasn’t the type to lie to her aunt and uncle about something so important. How could she pretend to be going to school as usual when in fact she intended going away for the day with Jake Seton? She drew in a deep breath. He shouldn’t have asked her. He shouldn’t have placed her in such a position. She hadn’t the experience to deal with it.

Taking another breath, she turned back to him just as her uncle came into the bar carrying two crates of light ale.

‘Hello there, Jake,’ he exclaimed warmly, when he saw who was seated at the bar. ‘Long time, no see. Ashley been looking after you, has she?’

Jake nodded. ‘How are you, David?’

Ashley’s uncle pushed the crates of ale beneath the bar with his foot. ‘I’m all right, I suppose,’ he answered with a grin. ‘I’ll be better when this weather improves a bit. Still, at least the snow seems to have disappeared at last.’

Jake stubbed out his cheroot. ‘Yes. Things are getting back to normal.’

‘Have you been away?’ Clearly David Sutton had no qualms about querying Jake’s prolonged absence.

‘As a matter of fact, I have.’ Jake rested his elbows on the bar. ‘There were a couple of functions I had to attend in London, and Barbara had some shopping to do, so we were away three days.’

Barbara! Who was Barbara? Ashley stood slightly behind her uncle wondering whether she could be one of the sisters Karen had mentioned. Or was she his fiancée? After their conversation of a few moments ago, it was all rather unpalatable somehow. How could he sit there and blithely talk about the things he had been doing when only minutes before he had asked her to spend a day with him? Or was she of such little importance that he could dismiss her in much the same way as he would a child?

Her uncle seemed to remember she was still there and turned to her. ‘You can get along now, Ashley,’ he directed with a smile. ‘Thanks for keeping an eye on things while I was away.’

He turned back to add a couple of cubes of ice to a glass containing a generous proportion of whisky which he pushed across the bar to Jake as Ashley moved towards the door which led into the hall at the back of the hotel. Was that all? she thought dully, aware of an intense feeling of disappointment now that it seemed that all chance of spending the day with Jake was slipping out of her grasp. Wasn’t he even going to mention the invitation again?

She glanced back once and her eyes met his over the rim of the glass he had raised to his lips. There was an enigmatic gleam in the grey depths and she thought there was silent mockery there too. She quickened her step and had reached the doorway when he called: ‘Are you coming to Raybury with me on Thursday, Ashley?’

She halted, and swung round, her eyes going to her uncle, who had stopped what he was doing to raise his eyebrows, ‘What’s this?’ he asked, frowning.

Jake swallowed another mouthful of his whisky before saying: ‘I’ve invited Ashley to come to a sale with me on Thursday—in Swaledale. It’s the Fallow House at Raybury.’

Ashley supported herself against the door jamb. ‘I—I don’t know whether I should go, Uncle David,’ she murmured unevenly. ‘Wh-what do you think?’

David Sutton was clearly unprepared for such a question. ‘Well, I don’t know, lass,’ he admitted, his gaze flickering doubtfully towards Jake. ‘You do have your school work to think of …’

Jake finished his whisky and toyed with the glass. ‘One day more or less won’t make a lot of difference, will it?’ he commented. ‘Ashley says she’s leaving soon anyway.’

‘That’s true.’ David looked troubled. ‘All the same, perhaps you should ask your aunt, Ashley. She’s better equipped than me to decide these things.’

Ashley hesitated, aware of the deepening twist to Jake’s mouth. Obviously he considered the whole affair unnecessary and childish. What was he asking, after all? Just a few hours of her time—and for her benefit. She would love the opportunity to wander round the library of some old house.

‘I would like to go, Uncle David,’ she asserted, making a decision. ‘And taking a day from school presents no problems.’

David shook his head. ‘Well, I suppose it’s for you to say,’ he murmured. He looked at Jake. ‘Why do you think this sale will interest Ashley?’

Jake pushed his glass towards the other man, indicating that he would like another. ‘She likes books—libraries. As I understand it, there’s quite a comprehensive library for sale.’

David measured more whisky into Jake’s glass. ‘I see.’ He picked up the ice tongs. ‘And how far is this place—Raybury?’

‘Fifty—maybe sixty miles. It’s near Richmond. I should think Ashley would enjoy seeing something of the countryside around here.’

David handed him his glass again. ‘No doubt,’ he conceded dryly. ‘Well, lass, are you going?’

Ashley nodded. ‘If you don’t mind.’

Her uncle gave her an impatient look before turning back to Jake. ‘What time do you expect to leave?’

‘I thought about nine-thirty, if that’s all right with you.’ He looked towards Ashley, and she nodded, bending her head to avoid the piercing penetration of his eyes. ‘The sale’s not till noon, but we can look round beforehand.’

Ashley felt an unwilling sense of excitement. She couldn’t help it. It was all so totally unexpected, and after the way she had been worrying about Jake Seton this week it was doubly tantalising. But she forced herself to calm down, feeling angry that she should be getting so heated over something which he obviously regarded with little concern. It was just an auction sale, when all was said and done, with a lot of musty old books to browse through, and that was why he was taking her.

Leaving the bar, she made her way to the lounge where her aunt was sitting knitting. Both Mark and Karen were out for the evening and Mona looked up smilingly when Ashley entered the room.

‘Come in, love,’ she greeted her. ‘Has your uncle finished in the cellar?’

‘Yes.’ Ashley subsided into the armchair opposite. ‘It’s cosy in here, isn’t it?’

‘Hmm.’ Her aunt bent to take another ball of wool from her knitting bag. ‘You can put the television on if you’d like to.’

‘No, thanks.’ Ashley crossed her legs, swinging one foot restlessly.

Mona looked at her. ‘You seem distracted. Is something wrong?’

Ashley coloured. ‘No, nothing.’ She reached for a magazine and flicked through its pages without interest. Then, taking the bull by the horns, she said: ‘Would you mind if I took a day off school on Thursday?’

Mona’s busy fingers stilled. ‘Why? What do you want to do?’

‘I—I’ve been invited out for the day,’ said Ashley carefully.

Mona looked surprised. ‘Invited out? Who by?’

‘Actually—Jake Seton.’

There, it was out. Ashley closed the magazine and sat with her hands curled tightly on top of it.

‘With Jake?’ Mona was clearly perplexed. ‘When—that is—how have you spoken to him?’

She didn’t appear angry at the news and Ashley gathered confidence. ‘He was in the bar just now. There—there’s a sale of some old house at Raybury——’

‘Raybury?’

‘Yes. And as there’s a library, he thought I might be interested in going with him.’

Mona began to knit again. ‘Really? And what did you say?’

‘Well, at first I wasn’t sure—but then, after I’d spoken to Uncle David, I said yes.’ Ashley looked anxious. ‘Do you mind?’

Mona shook her head helplessly. ‘Why should I mind?’ She looked up again. ‘I suppose it was kind of him to ask you. Did you—that is—you didn’t insinuate——’

Ashley’s colour deepened again. ‘I knew nothing about it until he mentioned it,’ she denied fiercely. ‘Oh—oh, I wish I’d never said I’d go now!’

‘Why?’ Mona put her knitting aside. ‘Don’t be silly! I’m sure you’ll have a lovely day. Is Miss St. John Forrest going, too?’

‘Miss St. John Forrest?’ Ashley was at a loss. ‘Who’s that?’

‘Jake’s fiancée—Barbara. Barbara St. John Forrest. Haven’t you heard her name mentioned?’

‘I don’t think so.’ Ashley shook her head, but as she did so she remembered a few minutes ago, in the bar, when Jake had mentioned that name and she had wondered whether it might be his sister.

‘But you did know he was engaged?’ Mona was adding. ‘Didn’t you?’

‘Yes. Karen told me.’

Mona seemed satisfied with this news. ‘Good. Well, you’ll have to speak to Miss Kincaid tomorrow and tell her you won’t be in on Thursday, won’t you?’

‘I suppose so.’

Ashley sounded less than enthusiastic and her aunt gave her a little impatient pat on her hand. ‘Stop looking so depressed! Jake will look after you. And at least you can be sure of one thing—he wouldn’t have asked you to go with him without mentioning it to Barbara first. Just go and enjoy yourself.’

Ashley opened the magazine again and tried to concentrate on a feature about making the most of your hair, but her mind wasn’t on it. She was thinking of something her aunt had said—that Jake wouldn’t ask her to go out with him without first discussing it with his fiancée.

This information should have pleased her—it should have reassured her that his invitation was considered and deliberate, and not a spontaneous impulse which might be regretted later. But instead, she felt raw and indignant, reluctant to be the unwilling recipient of his patronising generosity.

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