All the Long Summer Read online

  It was debatable who was most surprised, Isa or Chris, but while she recovered enough to smile after a moment or two, his gauntly good-looking face showed frank dislike at seeing her with Toby, and that suggestively possessive hand on her arm, and he frowned. "Good morning, Isa," he said, and managed to convey his dislike in the cool greeting.

  Isa had mentioned her shopping trip to him, but said nothing about Toby driving her there and back and .she could imagine that he saw her silence as a deliberate deception. "I've left Lady Carmichael's lunch on the table beside her chair, Chris," she informed him quietly, seeking to keep everything matter-of-fact. "You're coming in to see her during the day, aren't you?"

  "That's right." He looked from Isa to Toby's blandly unconcerned expression and his frown deepened. "I didn't know you were going out for the day." he said. "At least I didn't realise just what you were doing." Again he looked at Toby and his

  feelings were obvious in the look of frank dislike. "I hope you have a good time," he said.

  Isa felt the colour in her face and it was partly due to the interested gaze that Toby fixed her with, watching to see how she explained things to Chris's satisfaction, she thought. If only they had been a moment or two sooner leaving the house then she need not have been forced into this uneasy confrontation.

  "I'm only shopping," she told him, trying to ease her arm from Toby's hold without appearing too obvious about it. "Nothing very exciting, but it's a long time since I bought new clothes."

  "I see!"

  Toby's fingers tightened on her arm and she tried hard to think of something to say that did not sound as if she was making excuses for herself. Chris Burrows really had no right to object to her going out for the day, even if she had been going with Toby, but she hated to have him think she was spending the day with the man he disliked so much, and had kept deliberately quiet about it.

  Her eyes searched his face for some sign of encouragement and she ventured a smile. "I'll see you tomorrow, I expect, Chris," she said, and he nodded.

  "I expect so," he said, and strode off across the hall. He had not, she realised as she watched him go, even spoken a civil good morning to his employer and she wondered if he hated Toby as much as he seemed to.

  "O.K.?" Toby asked, close to her ear, and Isa brought herself swiftly back to earth.

  "Yes," she said, "I'm O.K.

  Having spent most of her life in London, Isa found the more easy-going pace of the country town quite a change, and she enjoyed looking round what few dress shops there were and making up her mind what to buy. She could afford two at least, perhaps three if she was very extravagant, but she took her time making up her mind.

  It was something of a distraction from the job in hand to know that she was having lunch with Toby, and she tried to put it to the back of her mind as she looked at dresses, not always successfully. It was becoming increasingly disturbing, the effect that Toby could have on her, and she was unsure whether she liked the sensation or not.

  There was no doubt he was a very attractive man, but he was also fully aware of the fact, and even Lady Carmichael had implied that he had a fondness for women that was more generous than discreet. There would be no future for a girl so much younger than he was and also his employee, except in the obvious way that she was not prepared to accept.

  She sighed deeply and audibly, then hastily looked at the elderly woman who was showing her a selection of dresses and smiled. A green tricel one with soft pleats was tempting, but she was very undecided between that and a deep blue one that lent colour to her eyes.

  "I'll take the green one, please," she decided on impulse, and the woman nodded her satisfaction,

  then went away to wrap it for her.

  While she was gone, Isa walked down the rows of dresses again and passed the time by looking again at dresses she had looked at already a dozen times or more. It was while she was so occupied, out of sight of the main part of the shop, that she heard a vaguely familiar voice and frowned curiously trying to think where she had heard it before.

  It was a quiet, almost sulky voice, but it had a distinctive husky tone, and Isa remembered suddenly where she had heard it before. After sitting in the outer office of Toby Carmichael's chambers on the day of her interview, listening to a woman berating him bitterly, he had emerged suddenly, accompanied by the woman. Only by then she was pleading with him about something, in the same slightly sulky, husky-toned voice Isa was hearing now.

  Curiosity had to be satisfied, and without hesitation Isa parted the hanging dresses and peered between them at the owner of the voice. There was no mistaking it was the same woman—the slim figure and long slender legs, the same dark-haired Sylvia that Toby had so abruptly dismissed from his office because he had an appointment to see Isa.

  Isa turned hastily and concealed the peephole she had made for herself when the assistant returned with her purchase, smiling her thanks and holding out her hand for her change to be counted into it. Above the sound of the assistant's voice counting, she heard the dark woman's voice again, informing

  the girl who was serving her that she had to hurry because she had a luncheon appointment, and the amount of satisfaction she put into the statement made it obvious that it was one she had no intention of breaking.

  Whether recognition would be mutual was doubtful, but Isa preferred not to be seen by the other woman and she breathed a sigh of relief when she managed to leave the shop without being noticed, wondering who it was that the elegant and emotional Sylvia was so looking forward to meeting this time.

  A glance at her wristwatch told her that it was only a very short time . to her appointment with Toby for lunch, and she made her way to the restaurant they had agreed on with that odd little curling sensation in her stomach again at the prospect. She really must do something about her all too impressionable heart, or Toby Carmichael would cause her more pain than she could cope with.

  It was a much grander restaurant than she would have chosen herself, but no doubt Toby was accustomed to lunching in such style and she could haftlly object in the circumstances. She smiled at the head waiter when he came towards her and asked for Mr. Carmichael's table, as Toby had told her to, looking at the man with wide, puzzled eyes when he shook his head.

  "I'm sorry, madame," he told her, "but Mr. Carmichael rang to say that he's been delayed with an unexpected client and will you excuse him this time. He hopes you'll lunch alone here at the table he's reserved."

  Isa looked around at the expensive decor and the smooth, confident faces of business men and secretaries and shook her head. She felt small, vulnerable and very let down and she had the most awful feeling that she was going to burst into tears, which was quite ridiculous in the circumstances.

  Then she remembered the husky confident voice of the woman called Sylvia, announcing to the assistant in the dress shop that she had a luncheon appointment, and she was quite sure in her own mind suddenly who was Toby's important and unexpected client. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but she had absolutely no doubt that her guess was right. Toby had preferred to choose his own luncheon partner, rather than be inveigled into taking his grandmother's companion, and he had discreetly cried off.

  She realised suddenly that the waiter was watching her, waiting for her to make up her mind to follow him to the table Toby had suggested she should use, but she shook her head. Nothing would induce her to eat there alone, especially, as she believed, Toby was known there.

  "I—I won't stay, thank you," she said in a small tight voice. "I'll—" She bit her lip and turned quickly, hurrying off without another word, out into the sunny street again, her eyes bright with mingled anger and self-pity, and hating Toby Carmichael more than any man in the world at that moment.

  Her cheeks burned brightly pink and she grew more angry as she made her way towards the bus

  station. Nothing was further from her mind than finding another restaurant, nor was she in the mood for any more shopping, so the only thing to do was to retur
n to Trent House and let Toby guess why she did not turn up at the office to drive home with him.

  Never again would she allow Lady Carmichael or anyone else to arrange dates for her, and that way Toby would not be put to the inconvenience of having to invent clients, so that he could take his latest conquest to lunch. For no good reason, as she rode home on the bus, she thought' about Chris suddenly, and his declaration of love for her. If she had any sense at all she would fall in love ·with Chris, and leave men like Toby Carmichael strictly alone, only such a vow would probably prove much easier to make than to keep.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Isa was helpless to do-anything about the nervous thudding of her heart against her ribs when she heard Toby's car draw up outside, although she had already decided that she did not really owe him an apology for what she had done. A brief explanation was all he was entitled to in the circumstances, she felt. A few words to convey the fact that she had not felt inclined to wait around for him would be sufficient, although now that he was actually there the-idea seemed somehow less appealing.

  He was bound to guess that her true reason had to do with his not turning up for their luncheon date, but he would expect her to accept his story of an unexpected client, and her own excuses seemed to sound very flimsy suddenly. Lady Carmichael had shown both surprise and curiosity When she arrived back so early and alone, but she had told her nothing of Toby's ignorance about her change of plan. That Toby himself would enlighten her was in no doubt, and then heaven knew what she would have to say about it.

  Isa, with unexpected time on her hands, had set about preparing a cooked dinner instead of the cold meat and salad she had left. It seemed in some way to salve her conscience, although she stubbornly refused to admit that there was any cause for the

  little niggling sense of guilt she felt. It also gave her something to do instead of spending the time waiting anxiously for Toby to return and tell her exactly what he thought of her idea of revenge.

  She was stirring last-minute seasonings into a casserole when she heard the front door close with a bang that shook the whole house, and she flinched. Listening anxiously she heard the sitting-room door close a few seconds later, only slightly less violently, but at least he had gone in to see his grandmother first as he always did, and she thanked heaven for a few moments' respite.

  Nervously active, she checked on a saucepan of potatoes, and yet again peered into the oven at the simmering casserole, then spun round quickly when the kitchen door opened, her heart pounding heavily as she gazed at Toby with wary eyes. He paused for a second in the doorway and his eyes were bright with what must surely be anger in the circumstances, then he closed the door slowly and carefully and came across the kitchen towards her.

  He came to a stop some ten or twelve inches in front of her, his hands turned backwards on his hips, pushing back his jacket in his favourite stance. Standing like that, with his feet slightly apart and his head thrust forward, he looked hostile and aggressive, but also oddly disturbing too, so that Isa hastily turned away and back to the cooker.

  "All right," Toby said quietly, "explain!"

  Isa found it much too difficult to look at him direct, so she kept her eyes on the contents of the

  saucepan, as if she found them too fascinating to leave. "I—I decided to come back early," she said, and was dismayed to hear how feeble her excuse sounded.

  Toby raised his eyes to heaven in silent appeal. "I had gathered that much," he told her sarcastically. "But would it have been too much trouble to let me know what you were up to?" There was simply no answer to that, so Isa just shook her head. "Then why," he insisted in the same quiet voice, "didn't you say something?"

  "I'm sorry." An apology was due, she was ready to admit that now that she looked at it in retrospect and less emotionally, but a simple apology was apparently not enough for Toby. He was shaking his head and rubbing one hand over the back of his hair in a gesture of exasperation that was all too familiar.

  "Oh, I don't doubt you're sorry now," he allowed, "but what I don't get is why you went off like that without saying a word, when you knew damned well that I'd be waiting to drive you home. You can't have forgotten—I won't believe that, so what was your reason?"

  Pink-flushed from the heat of the cooker and feeling rather as if she had been cornered, Isa looked at him at last, but only long enough to register the fact that he looked more angry than she had ever seen him, and it gave his features a dismaying suggestion of cruelty. "I—I did forget," she said, and he gave a harsh snort of disbelief as she turned back to the cooker.

  "I don't believe it !" he declared quietly but firmly, and she cried out, as much in surprise as hurt, when his fingers closed on the upper part of her arm and he swung her right round to face him, his grip strong enough to make her wince. "You're being too cagey by half, my girl," he told her, his eyes searching her face for betraying signs, "and I'm curious to know why. I don't relish being left standing by a little half-pint like you, so give me one good reason why I shouldn't give you a rocket! Leaving me waiting around for three-quarters of an hour!"

  Isa blinked for a moment, a hasty glance at her watch confirming the fact that he was indeed far later than she had realised. "I didn't realise you'd wait for me that long," she told him, 'and he laughed shortly.

  "What did you expect me to do, for heaven's sake?" he demanded. "Just give you a five-minute deadline and then drive back without you? I know what women are when they're shopping, and I gave you plenty of scope—but three-quarters of an hour !" He stook his head, his eyes narrowed as he looked at her steadily. "Do you know," he told her more quietly, "I do believe you're the first female who ever stood me up, and I'm hopping mad, Isa—I don't like the experience!"

  Isa could well imagine how he felt, but her own experience stung her into self-defence and she stuck out her chin, her eyes bright and challenging in her flushed face. "Well, I don't like being left standing either!" she told him shortly, and he looked at her

  narrowly for a moment, as if he was genuinely puzzled.

  "Lunch time?" he asked, and Isa nodded. "But didn't Ernest give you my message when you went to the restaurant?"

  "Yes, he did!"

  "Then you'll know I had an unexpected appointment!"

  "I know what the waiter told me," she said, and managed to convey her opinion by the tone of her voice, so that Toby looked at her again narrow-eyed.

  "Are you by any chance trying to tell me something?" he asked quietly.

  Momentarily at a loss for words now that it came to the opportunity she had expected to relish, Isa hesitated. Somehow the prospect of telling him that she knew all about the identity of his unexpected client was much less satisfying than she had anticipated, and she licked her lips anxiously.

  "I—I was angry," she said, delaying the moment as long as possible, and one dark brow questioned her reasons, but he remained silent. "I was angry because I know—I know who your unexpected client was."

  She waited for him to look taken aback, perhaps even a little guilty, but instead he merely looked curious. His expression suggested that he questioned her source of information, but he looked quite unperturbed otherwise, and that disturbed her. "I can't imagine how you got to know the identity of my client," he told her quietly, "but it really

  doesn't matter whether you know or not, although you seem to think it's significant in some way." The blue eyes studied her for a moment and they were curious but not evasive. "Should I know what you're trying to get at?" he asked.

  It was quite evident to Isa by now that something was wrong with her own conclusions and she felt her heart fluttering anxiously as she tried a last desperate effort to make him admit that the dark woman was the reason he had broken their lunch date. "I—I saw that woman in the dress shop," she

  said, licking her dry lips and unable to meet his eyes. "I heard her!"

  It was plain that her explanation, however garbled and confusing, conveyed some suspicion to him, but he merely looke
d more impatient than ever. "Am, I supposed to show surprise that you saw another woman in a dress shop?" he enquired quietly, and Isa shook her head, convinced now that she had made a complete and utter fool of herself by jumping to conclusions.

  "I'm. sorry," she murmured in confusion, and turned back to the cooker, a move that was brought to an abrupt halt by the grip on her arm.

  His eyes had a bright, glittering look that promised little mercy for her slip and she bit her lip again anxiously as she tried to think of a reasonable cause for her supposition, for he would surely demand one. "That's not good enough," Toby said softly, and his fingers squeezed gently into her soft flesh as if in warning. "You still haven't explained why you walked out on me instead of waiting for

  me to drive you home. I'm not in the habit of waiting around for hours for little girls who simply can't be bothered to tell me when they've changed their minds."

  "I've said I'm sorry," Isa insisted, trying to prise herself free. "Please let go my arm, Mr. Carmichael, you're hurting me!"

  "Any minute now I'm going to get angry enough to shake you," Toby warned quietly. "You're the most exasperating female I've ever had the misfortune to meet, Isabella, but I'll get some sort of sensible explanation out of you even if I have to keep you here all night—do you understand?" Isa nodded cautiously. "Then talk, woman, before I lose my temper!"

  Again Isa's tongue slid nervously over her lips and she glanced up at him through her lashes, wary of making him even more angry with her explanation. "There was a woman in your office the day I came for my interview," she said. "You were arguar—disagreeing about something, and—"

  `Sylvia Newhurst," Toby interrupted quietly, nodding as if he understood at last, although he sounded perfectly matter-of-fact about it. "No one else ever has the cheek to invade my business hours but where does she come into it?"