A Mortal Sin by Margaret Tanner Read Free Book Online

Several men gave her bold, speculative stares, but Kitty’s eyes burned with hostility.
    Glancing up Paul saw Daphne sitting alone, as out of place as a rose in the desert. He cursed himself for bringing her to a turn like this. He should have known that a compassionate person like her would have nothing in common with these selfish artificial people.
    “You’re English, what do you think of the Munich Accord?” a man asked Paul as he was about to escape from Kitty’s clutches. “If France and England aren’t prepared to fight the Germans over Czechoslovakia, what about….
    “I’m not into politics,” Paul cut him off. “Excuse me. I should be getting back to Daphne.”
    “She’s a pretty little thing, old boy, not your type though. Start anything with her and Daddy would insist on marriage.”
    Paul gave Ralph Hughes a look of utter distaste. Without replying, he turned on his heel and strode off.
    After Angie waylaid him, it took another five minutes before he could extricate himself, by then Daphne had disappeared.
    “Excuse me, the young lady in pink, did you see where she went?” he asked a hovering waiter.
    “Through the French doors, Sir.”
    It felt cool in the garden. Daphne hurried to a section well away from the house and rested her hot cheek against the smooth trunk of a weeping willow tree. Paul was right in saying the property backed on to the YarraRiver. She had acted like an idiot by rushing off, but couldn’t stand to be near such selfish people.
    “Daphne, where are you?”
    “Over by the big willow.”
    “Is anything wrong?” he asked when he came up to her.
    “No. Well, yes, I didn’t like the party over much, sorry.”
    “I shouldn’t have brought you here. They aren’t your type of people.”
    “But they are yours,” she whispered sadly. “I’d like to go home please.”
    “Let’s go for a walk along the river first.”
    She hesitated.
    “Please, darling,” he pressed.
    The pain of his constant, careless use of the endearment became unbearable. “Don't call me that.”
    “Why?”
    “Because you don't mean it.”
    “How do you know?”
    “You’ve said it to at least five different women tonight.”
    “It’s merely a figure of speech.”
    “Not to me it isn’t. It’s special, I’d only use it for someone I love.”
    He slapped his forehead with an open hand. “You don’t like parties. You don’t drink or smoke. Are you a Quaker or something?”
    “No, a Methodist.”
    “Hell, I don’t want to talk.” He pulled her into his arms, and his mouth closed over hers. It was a gentle, restrained kiss at first, but as she shyly responded he molded her closer, his lips hungry, demanding. He coaxed her mouth open and excitement fluttered around in the pit of her stomach.
    When his hand cupped her breast Daphne realized she had let him go too far. “Stop it, Paul.” She shoved him away. “I’m not a call girl.”
    “I didn’t think you were?”
    “Or a cheap pick up?”
    “Of course not. I only wanted a few kisses.”
    “Take me home please.”
    He escorted her to the Rolls Royce. “I’ll let Angie know we’re leaving.”
    “Comfortable Miss?” the chauffer asked after helping her into the back seat.
    “Yes, thank you.” She wondered if he detected the huskiness in her voice. If he did, he gave no sign, and simply made his way to the driver’s side of the car and silently waited.
    Even on such a warm night she felt icy cold. When Paul joined her he did not speak, and they drove along in a fraught, angry silence. On arrival at the boarding house, he saw her to the door, waiting without speaking until she stepped inside.
    “Goodbye, Daphne.”
    The darkness swallowed him up and she knew she would never see him again. It’s for the best she told herself fiercely. You’re not into casual affairs, and that’s all a wealthy, sophisticated man would ever want from an ordinary working girl.
     
     

 
     
     
    Chapter Four
     
    Sunday dawned, a