Nurse Ann Wood by Valerie K. Nelson Read Free Book Online Page B

remember later that Burrows said, with a more pronounced inflection of familiarity than he had used previously, “I’ll say good evening now, miss. And maybe I’ll be able to take you on another tour of exploration some evening soon?” At the moment, she scarcely noticed him.
    “Good evening, Mr. Sherrarde, sir,” he continued, with a marked change of voice. “I’ve just been showing the young lady a bit of the garden.”
    “Good evening, Burrows.” The tone was dismissive and the chauffeur did not linger. He sketched a salute to Ann and went off in the direction of the garage.
    Ann managed to get some control over her racing pulses. But her voice was slightly breathless when she said, “Good evening, Mr. Sherrarde. I thought ... I understood you were in America.”
    “I arrived back this afternoon.” In the dusk it was difficult to read his expression, but the coldness of his voice struck her like a blow. “So you’re out of hospital, Miss Woods. How are you?”
    Ann realized that she was shivering, that her shoulder had begun to ache, and that all at once she felt faint. When she did not speak, he went on, still without any trace of warmth in his voice, “We’d better go inside. If I may say so, wandering about in the damp of an English spring evening is not really sensible in one who has only just come out of hospital.”
    “But I’m quite well now,” Ann responded in a small voice. Something inside her shrank at his coldness. He spoke as if he were a stranger, or even something worse — a man who felt bored or indifferent about meeting her. But perhaps she was being fanciful. She had been living in a state of blissful anticipation of seeing him again, and perhaps she had been expecting too much. After all, they had to get to know each other again.
    They went up the steps together, and then he stepped back for her to precede him into the hall, but she paused, saying nervously, “I’m afraid I don’t know where the switches are.”
    He replied impatiently, “Where is everybody? Surely it’s Burrows’ job to put on the lights and see to the windows and curtains.”
    “I don’t know,” Ann replied, still in that very small voice. “I ... I ... only arrived here this afternoon.”
    “So I understand,” he replied frostily. “Allow me, then.” Perhaps he had been in touch with the hospital to enquire about her. The thought warmed Ann’s chilled heart slightly.
    The hall had now sprung into light and he went forward into a room on the right. It was a sitting-room — a drawing-room no doubt it had once been called — and unlike most of the house, it was decorated and furnished with the soft elegance of the Edwardian era.
    “This was my grandmother’s favorite room,” he remarked as he went to the windows to draw the pale rose curtains. “I asked that it should be left as it was when the rest of the house was redecorated.”
    “It’s ...” Ann looked round and altered the beginning of her sentence. “It could be lovely.”
    They looked at each other for a moment and then he moved over to the fireplace, bending to a switch.
    Ann sat down abruptly. Those memories of hers from their two other meetings had not prepared her for this encounter when she was no longer ill. She hadn’t realized that he was so good-looking, with fine light grey eyes and a handsome profile. She wasn’t prepared for his masculinity, for the vitality which emanated from him as he began to stroll round the room.
    No wonder Mrs. Woods, having by some diabolical instinct guessed how attracted she had been to her benefactor, had shown a certain amount of malicious amusement. This was a man who would obviously have a wide choice when he contemplated marriage.
    He looked angry and impatient. Perhaps it was because of the neglected appearance of this room. She forced herself to ask, “You wanted to see...” She could not bring herself to say “my mother,” so she did not finish the sentence.
    “I came to see the