Assassins at Ospreys by R. T. Raichev Read Free Book Online

sparks flew upwards. Her eyes were open wide. She had the innocent look Antonia remembered – untouched by experience, absurdly virginal. She brought to mind a little girl who was about to receive a long-awaited present.
    ‘Here they are,’ Beatrice’s husband announced, having opened the door with something of a theatrical flourish.
    Antonia glanced nervously about but there was no sign of Ingrid.
    Beatrice started hoisting herself up, but Colville raised his hand. She assumed an expression of comic deprecation as though to say, fuss , fuss , then, leaning back, she silently held her hands out towards Antonia who was compelled to bend over and kiss her. Beatrice’s face was flawless like luminous china, her eyelashes were lightly mascara-ed and she wore pendant earrings and a necklace of some Oriental design. She had a fine cashmere shawl around her shoulders. Antonia saw copies of her two books on the small table by Beatrice’s side.
    ‘I can’t tell you how happy I am. I’d given up hope. Honestly,’ Beatrice whispered, clutching at the tips of Antonia’s fingers, and for an emotional moment it looked as though she was going to burst into tears. ‘Is that really you?’
    ‘Yes, it’s me,’ Antonia said, feeling a little foolish.
    ‘I can’t believe it. Antonia Darcy, here, at my house! I thought you were avoiding me. I convinced myself you hated me.’
    ‘Not a bit of it,’ Antonia said in light-hearted tones. ‘I’ve been extremely busy with my new novel. I don’t think it’s turning out at all well.’
    ‘I refuse to believe that,’ Beatrice Ardleigh declared firmly.
    ‘This is my husband Hugh.’
    ‘How do you do. Wonderful meeting you,’ Beatrice Ardleigh breathed, and she proffered her hand in a some-what affected gesture, as though she expected him to raise it to his lips. ‘Have you been married long? Oh dear – do forgive me! Not the done thing, asking questions like that. I have marriage on my mind. Len and I got married only last month.’
    ‘So we heard. Congratulations,’ Antonia said. She didn’t like the way Beatrice was looking at Hugh.
    ‘We haven’t been married long ourselves,’ Payne said.
    ‘ Really? ’ Beatrice Ardleigh tilted her head a little to the left. ‘You too? What a coincidence. Did you hear that, Len? Newly-weds, like us!’
    She was flirting with Hugh, Antonia thought.
    ‘Not exactly newly-weds. For both of us it’s our second.’ ‘I’ve never been married before. Nobody believes me when I tell them. It seems I look the much-married type. Do sit down – please! The sofa – it’s more comfortable than it looks. So cold, isn’t it? Or is it just me?’ Beatrice shivered and pulled the shawl around her shoulders. ‘Len darling – feel my hands!’ She stretched them towards Colville in a helpless gesture.
    He gripped her fingers and frowned. ‘That’s not right.’ He crossed purposefully over to the fireplace. He had given his wife a glance of such ardour and devotion that Antonia wouldn’t have been surprised if, instead of merely fortifying it with an extra log, he had walked straight into the fire and allowed himself to be consumed by flames, burnt as an offering of warmth to his beloved.
    Beatrice Ardleigh gave a blissful sigh. A moment later Colville was sitting on a stool by her side – he brought to mind a friendly, rather civilized sort of bear – and once more they held hands. He was clearly in the throes of post-nuptial euphoria. His face was turned up towards his wife’s and it had become crimson. Marrying Bee, he said, was the best thing that had happened to him. He had known her all his life – he had been secretly in love with her ever since he had been a boy of seventeen and she a girl of fourteen. He had been too shy, too gauche – a great lumbering fool – while she – she had been perfection personified – a young goddess – ‘Stop talking rot!’ Beatrice slapped his cheek playfully. ‘I was nothing of the kind.