The Flower Girls (4 page)

“I hope it’s not that bad!”

She tried another smile. “No, not quite.”

“I used to travel a good deal. Now I like to stay home. Selfish of me, I suppose.”

“It would only be selfish if you hadn’t let Jasmine know in the first place.”

He crested a dark, silky brow at her. “She knew. But some women think they can change the way a man is.”

“And vice-versa. I found that out to my cost.”

“Really. The man you followed to the States?”

“I didn’t
follow
exactly.” She bristled a little. “It was something we talked about. He had a good job there; it seemed the more sensible thing to do.”

“And he thought he could change you.”

“Somewhat.”

Thankfully Seth Sanderson didn’t ask her in what way. That would have been difficult to answer. The man she’d imagined was the love of her life wanted a glamorous girl on his arm, someone who would be eye candy. She wasn’t into being a glamour puss twenty-four seven, there were days when she liked to be just her. Hair in a ponytail, jeans and a blouse, sneakers and long walks with the sun and wind on her face. Maybe he, like Seth Sanderson with Jasmine, had had the wrong impression of her.

“I have a few calls to make today—would you like to come? At least you’ll see a little of the county and I have to finish in York, we could eat at a place I know.”

“I’d love to.”

As eager as a puppy,
she admonished herself,
leaping at the chance to spend time with him.
No, no,
she argued. It was the possibility of getting away from the house, from the dark looks that Mrs. Carrington gave to her, and that leaden sky.

“Fine. I’ll have to leave in fifteen minutes, is that time enough for you?”

“Sure, I’ve only to fetch my jacket and bag.”

“I’ll see you on the forecourt. I’m taking the Range Rover.”

* * * *

It was warm and comfortable in the car. She snuggled down enjoying the blast of warmth from the heater. The rain came and went with dizzying fastness. A splatter and then a weak sun, odd weather. When the sun shone the countryside fairly glowed. They went by snug villages of pale stone, by inviting country inns. Over hills and down dale, climbing easily in the Range Rover. The hills had a different shade of green in the mellow sunlight, no longer drab-looking. The whole place had a definite sparkle.

The rain was eventually beaten by the sun. A rainbow looped over the hills and she pointed it out as if it was a new phenomenon to her.

“It’s really not so bad when the sun shines,” she clarified.

“I love it whatever the weather. But then I was born here. I loved the hills as a boy but then I tired of it. I wanted something far more adventurous and I left.”

“What made you come back?”

“It didn’t pull me back, or anything as romantic. My mother left years ago, Dad was on his own and he had a stroke. I had to come back. I could have afforded to buy care but my conscience wouldn’t allow it. He died within eighteen months. At first I did resent my decision and then…” He gave her a quick glance. “The old place worked its magic and I decided to stay.”

“What did you do? When you left here, I mean.”

He gave her a wry look. “I was a foreign correspondent for a posh paper.”

“Really. How exciting.”

“Yes, I suppose it was.”

“But you don’t seem like the tough cynical journalistic type.”

“Believe me, I am.”

The road straightened out. Through the windscreen she could see the beginnings of a small town. “I have to stop here. I’ll be about an hour. You might like to look around at the market. It can be interesting.”

“That would be fun, I like markets.”

A journalist
.

If Poppy had been forced to guess his profession, a foreign correspondent would have been so far down her list as to fall off it. He didn’t seem the type at all. Not that she knew any journalists but she had a hazy idea of what they would be like. Generally, she admitted, her opinion was formed by the movies. But it did seem odd that someone who’d been at the very center of so many exciting events would settle for
this!
Of course his profession would be an attraction for Jasmine. Not only was he very attractive physically, he had a job that, in Jasmine’s view of the world, would make him exciting. What a prospect he must have seemed. But it also made him a man of the world; how come he didn’t see through Jasmine? She was a clever little manipulator but he wouldn’t be an easy victim. Far from it.

He was prompt coming back for her. She hadn’t bought anything but had enjoyed browsing. She chatted amiably about what she’d seen and then allowed the silence to take over. Seth concentrated on the road and seemed somehow locked in himself. It wasn’t exactly an uncomfortable silence yet she would have preferred some kind of noise.

When they reached York he dropped her close to the cathedral. She’d mentioned she’d like to see it.

“I’ll be gone till about four; you’ll be all right?” he asked.

“Of course.”

“We can eat at a pub I know but if you’re hungry before then I know this lovely little café where—”

“I don’t need anything. I’m fine really, please don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried,” he said with a smile.

He
is
odd
, she thought.

And just whom was he seeing? He’d not even given her a hint. He was hardly dressed for business, or maybe he didn’t have to care about that. He was comfortable in his own skin and would do things his way. That much she knew about him. He exuded a quiet confidence that was very attractive.

* * * *

It was dark when they arrived back. There was no traffic once they hit the back roads. The countryside was now and again illuminated by his headlights as he rounded a bend, sparse and mysterious.

Dinner had been fun. Seth could be an engaging character; she was surprised that he could be such a charming man. He had a good sense of humor, something—she had to admit—that Jasmine often lacked. She wanted to ask him about Jasmine, about how they’d met, why they’d married. They were so different, but she felt it wasn’t her place to pry. When Jasmine eventually arrived doubtless she’d tell the whole story. One thing was certain. Seth didn’t seem the ogre that Jasmine had painted.

Mrs. Carrington barged into the hall the moment they stepped inside. She had to have heard the SUV pull up.

“He came to see Miss Lord,” she announced. Not to Poppy but to Seth Sanderson.

“Oh really?” Seth’s smile was cynical. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“Someone came to see me?” Poppy queried.

“Edward Donnington.”

Ah, he’d known immediately who
he
was. Odd that.

Poppy stared first at Seth then at Mrs. Carrington and then back to Seth. “Why should that be?” she asked at last.

“He likes pretty girls,” Seth said.

So you think I’m pretty.

That was what toppled immediately into Poppy’s mind, and balanced precariously on her tongue, but she said nothing.

“He’ll call again, I daresay.” Mrs. Carrington gave Poppy a dark look. Her brows met in a frown, disapproval seeping from every pore.

“Well he needn’t bother on my account,” Poppy said, not really wanting Mrs. Carrington’s approval but not liking her disapproval either.

There was no satisfaction. The woman merely shrugged and then swung away from them.

“I need a drink,” Seth announced. “Care to join me?”

She had a glass of wine with her dinner but she nodded and as he sauntered away followed behind him. At the door to the parlor he stopped, pushed the door open and stood back to let her precede him. It was hard not to sashay and yet she had no idea why she felt the sudden need to do that.

“He’s your sister’s husband,”
a little voice whispered but, the part of her free from conscience, murmured,
“she doesn’t want to be with him!”

“No excuse!”
The two words roared through her and those two words she couldn’t shake off.

“I don’t think I’ll bother,” she answered, and she whirled around. He was so close their bodies collided. She stepped back, running a nervous hand through her hair. “I really think I should go to bed.”

“No problem,” he said and she saw he’d shut off the warm friendliness he’d been displaying all day. He became the coolly distant man she’d thought him to be.

Chapter 4

Poppy decided to let Edward Donnington take her to dinner. It had nothing to do with the confusion she felt about Seth Sanderson—at least that was what she was telling herself.

Surely the reason was that she intended to glean some information about where Jasmine might be. Edward Donnington, she was sure, knew more than he said.

Call it female intuition,
she thought, but something was niggling away at the back of her mind.

Seth hadn’t been around and, not being inclined to tell Mrs. Carrington where or who she was going out with, Poppy asked Edward to phone her when he reached the end of the drive. Telling Mrs. Carrington she would be out for dinner, she decided, was more than enough information to give to the surly housekeeper.

Dressing carefully in a pale lemon cashmere sweater and gray worsted pants, she slung a woolen jacket over the top. Her mobile beeped—Edward telling her he’d arrived. Swinging out of the bedroom, she made a quick departure down the stairs and was out in the cold, chilling but dry air before she could even think what she was doing.

“Why the mystery?” Edward asked as she slid into his low-slung car.

“I just don’t see why I have to tell Mrs. Carrington my life story,” she answered pertly, giving him a quick smile.

She’s an old bat,” he said. “Always has been. I don’t know why Seth puts up with her. She was always the same. Trouble was Seth’s father was the only person she respected.”

“I don’t know about that but she seems to like Seth.”

“Really? Must be because Jasmine isn’t around.”

“She didn’t approve of Jasmine?”

“Jasmine—young, beautiful, carefree—what would you expect?”

Changing the subject, a little uncomfortable with the way the conversation was going, she asked conversationally, “And Seth’s your cousin, right?”

“Yes. Our mothers were sisters.”

“I see.”

“I thought we’d go to a nice pub I know, they do excellent meals.”

“Why don’t you take me somewhere that Jasmine liked?” It was daring but she couldn’t resist. There was a long silence but Edward didn’t take his eyes off the road.

“Why’d you say that?” he said at last.

“I don’t know. I just thought you might know the kind of things Jasmine liked.”

“And you like the same things.”

“Of course. We’re sisters.”

“You don’t seem the same kind of person as Jasmine.”

“You don’t know me well enough to make that kind of judgment.”

“All right. She actually
did
like the pub we’re going to. Of course she liked nightclubs too, more so I would say but I wasn’t involved with that.”

“Oh really? You mean she went on her own?”

His answer was sharp. “I wouldn’t know. Look, Poppy, I wasn’t involved with Jasmine if that’s what you think. She was lonely when she first came here. Seth was away from time to time, I just took her to dinner a couple of times.”

“I’m sorry; I just worry about where she is.” She straightened in her seat. “I think we can forget about Jasmine, don’t you?”

Edward relaxed in his seat too, flashing Poppy a quick smile. “That sounds like a plan.”

What did he say
, Poppy mused,
the first time
I met him. In the lane.

He denied knowing Jasmine that well, yet he knew people called her and her sister the flower girls; he’d also called Jasmine, Jas. To get away with that he had to know Jasmine very well—she was very particular about her name. There wasn’t a lot she did know about Jasmine’s life here but one thing she was sure of, Edward Donnington knew a lot more about Jasmine than he was letting on He was a liar and was seeking to deceive her. Did he think that Seth would care if he knew what was going on? Perhaps Jasmine’s husband would, if he loved her, but Poppy wasn’t sure that was the case either. Instantly Poppy regretted agreeing to come out with Edward Donnington. He wasn’t going to tell her anything about Jasmine, or where, if he had a hint, she might be. She was realizing as well that by not saying anything, she’d deceived Seth Sanderson. Instinctively she knew he wouldn’t like it. She didn’t like it either; it lay inside her, a heavy lump of deceit. She wasn’t a deceitful person. This evening wasn’t going to be fun.

However, Edward Donnington was good company. Throughout the meal he was engaging and charming, and in spite of her misgivings Poppy found him easy to talk with. He had a way of drawing her out over the meal. It was something he had in common with his cousin. Seth had that way too. However, Edward said little about himself, and was vague about the something he did in the city. He was only home for a few days.

“If you come to London we could meet up,” he said. “I have to be back on Monday. I hope to be down later in the year. It’s such a damn shame. I don’t suppose you’d like to come for a weekend?”

No way,
but she smiled and made an excuse. It was more than likely that she would be leaving soon, she hadn’t much idea where she’d go but if she did get to London she’d be sure to get in touch.

He gave her a card. It was plain and classy, giving his name, e-mail and phone number. She put it carefully in her bag. Perhaps if she went to London…

What
am I thinking!

She gave him a glance. He was too good-looking. She might seem attractive here in the wilds of Yorkshire, but in London he would have his choice of far more attractive girls than her. Besides, the main thing was that in spite of all the charm and the good looks, he wasn’t her type. He didn’t cause that little frisson of delight someone else had done.

“What do you think of the food here?”