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thought she could hear faint
    amusement in his voice. 'Because I'll be back.'
    She was still trying to work out whether that was a promise or a threat
    when she heard the distant thud of the front door closing.
    And, suddenly and uncontrollably, she began to tremble.

CHAPTER THREE
    IT was a very long evening. Alison made herself have a meal,
    although she could not afterwards have stated with any accuracy just
    what she had eaten. All she could think of was Nicholas Bristow, and
    the amazing—the incredible offer he had made her.
    At first, she told herself that it was all some weird dream from which,
    at any moment, she would awaken.
    But the card with his telephone numbers printed on it was no figment
    of her imagination, even though she couldn't envisage herself ever
    dialling either of them.
    She tried to look at his proposition in the same dispassionate way as
    he had made it, but it was impossible. Even if, as he'd promised, all
    they were to share was a roof and a name, the prospect was still a
    disturbing one, fraught with obvious pitfalls.
    On the other hand, the chance of being able to achieve some kind of
    security for Mel and her mother was a tantalising one, which was
    why, she thought wryly, he had mentioned that aspect first. He knew
    her priorities, as well as he apparently knew., his own.
    Yet that didn't mean she was prepared to sell herself—for Ladymead,
    and the place in the sun it represented, she thought, staring sightlessly
    into the fire. Yet now it was back within her grasp, could" she bear to
    let it go?
    She moved restlessly. It was the sheer impersonality of the offer that
    chilled her, she had to admit, as she recalled the cool indifference of
    the blue eyes as they had glanced at her. Not that she wanted him to
    fancy her, she made haste to remind herself. But at the same time, it
    was hurtful to recognise the image he had of her as some boring,
    submissive, domesticated doormat. A born spinster, she thought

    savagely, only too eager to grab at any matrimonial opportunity to
    come her way, however unlikely or unrewarding.
    Well, what a shock he'd get when she turned him down!
    'I'm off now, miss.' Mrs Horner popped her head round the door. 'And
    madam's awake, and asking for you.'
    'I'll go up right away.' Alison stirred guiltily. 'Did she have any
    dinner?'
    'Cook did her a nice piece of steamed fish, and a little egg custard.
    She managed most of it,' Mrs Horner assured her. 'Good night, Miss
    Alison.'
    Mrs Mortimer was propped up by pillows, her face set in lines of
    strain.
    'That man was here,' she greeted Alison, as her daughter came
    through the door. 'What did he want?'
    'Just to talk.' Alison sat down on the edge of the bed and took her
    mother's hand. 'How are you this evening? You were asleep when I
    peeped in earlier.'
    Mrs Mortimer dismissed this with an irritated shake of her head.
    'What does he have to talk to us about?' she demanded agitatedly.
    'God knows we're at his mercy. I suppose he wants us to leave here.
    Well, I'll die first!' She began to cry again. 'This is my home, and it's
    too cruel for him to turn me out like this. Too cruel!' She began to
    thrash round on her pillows, making little moaning noises.
    'Darling, don't,' Alison said gently. 'He didn't come here for that at all.
    In fact . ..' She stopped.

    'What?' Her mother's fingers tightened almost convulsively round
    hers, hurting her. 'What did he want, Alison? Has he changed his
    mind about living here, after all? Is he going to leave us in peace?'
    Alison shook her head reluctantly. 'He can't do that.' She paused.
    'Mummy, Simon told me about this cottage today. It's at High Foxton,
    so you could still stay in touch with all your friends. It sounds really
    quite nice, and we could just about afford it. Would you like to see it?'
    'No!' Mrs Mortimer's eyes were alarmingly wild and bright suddenly.
    'I'll never leave here—never! This is my home, not some squalid
    cottage. We must buy Ladymead back. Your