A Well Kept Secret by A. B. King Read Free Book Online Page A

certainly not older than her early thirties was his mentally revised estimation. She had regular features and a good bone structure to her rather heart-shaped face, and her complexion was clear. He noticed when she opened her mouth to speak that she appeared to have a perfect set of teeth. Whether she was also possessed of a reasonably feminine figure or otherwise was impossible to tell from the style of clothing she wore, although the jeans appeared to indicate that she was slim, with longish legs.

    “You wanted to speak to me,” she said without preamble as she put the tray down on the table. “I can give you ten or fifteen minutes; then I have to leave to go to work.”

    “You have a job then?” he asked in surprise.

    “Of course,” she answered acidly. “I do not choose to live on state charity.”

    She was, he observed, just as prickly and defensive as ever. What was it, he wondered, that made her so unapproachable? In the brief time that he had had acquaintance with her, she had not shown one speck of normal human feeling; never a smile, no trace of a sense of humour, just the same constant aura of resentment. She might just as well have been a talking robot!   Either she was just naturally a very sour woman, which somehow he found difficult to believe, or there was something in her background that had made her that way.

    “Please sit down, Mrs Brent,” he said, gesturing to the chair opposite the one he was using. “I do not wish to detain you for more than a few minutes.”

    He had the impression that she was reluctant to comply with his request, for she hesitated for a moment before finally taking the seat. She instantly occupied herself by pouring from the coffee pot that had accompanied his meal on the tray.

    “You will note that I took the liberty of bringing an extra cup,” she remarked in a tone that suggested that if he didn’t like the fact he knew what he could do about it. “I normally have one cup of coffee before leaving for work.”

    “That is perfectly all right,” he assured her lightly, trying to gently breech the stone wall of her defences, “and I do appreciate that you must be a busy person. I merely wished to clarify a few matters to our mutual benefit. As I expect you have already been told, I am the late Dr Marston’s nephew, and heir to his property. All I know about your situation here is that you are acting as caretaker whilst the property is empty?”

    “That is correct.”

    “As I understand it, you are paid a small retainer to keep an eye on the house, yet I notice that you appear to be fulfilling all of your old duties?”

    “That is also correct.”

    “Then I trust that there has been some sort of additional financial provision made for you in return for this?”

    “Certainly not; you can check with the Doctor’s solicitors if you wish. I’m paid a small retainer until the house is either sold or taken over as a residence. Anything I do in the house is done because I choose to do it, not because I am paid to. I have a part-time position in Wellworthy to make sufficient money to live on.”

    “I see,” he answered calmly, trying to soothe her hostile attitude by refusing to react to it, “and am I right in believing that Dr Marston’s employed you full time as his housekeeper?”

    “Yes.”   Her tone seemingly defying him to comment adversely upon the fact.

    “Then I imagine he came to rely heavily upon your help after he lost his wife?”

    She glared at him with narrowed eyes, her expression suggesting she was suspicious that he was covertly suggesting something improper in the relationship. “In the circumstances I wouldn’t have expected him to do otherwise,” she responded tartly.

    “Of course not,” he agreed. “Were you fond of him?” He saw her eyes flare up as he spoke, his words obviously adding fuel to her existing suspicions, and he added swiftly; “Please understand, I am not for one second implying anything