‘Yes,’ Chelsea laughed softly. ‘I was born here. Have I lost my accent so completely?’
Mrs Harvey’s expression softened a little. ‘Well, no, I suppose not, not now I think about it. But Mr McAdams said an American guest…’
‘I suppose I am now,’ she shrugged. ‘But when I lived here seven years ago I knew London quite well.’
‘We’re slow-moving over here; you’ll find it hasn’t changed much!’
‘That’s what I’m hoping,’ Chelsea smiled.
The frown returned to the older woman’s brow. ‘I’m sure Mr McAdams would rather you stayed here today, in fact I’m sure he assumed that you would.’
‘Don’t worry.’ She stood up. ‘I’ll tell Lucas it was all my own idea.’
‘That isn’t the point——’
‘The point is, Mrs Harvey,’ cool determination entered her voice, ‘that if I don’t soon get out of here I shall go quietly insane!’
Compassion entered the light blue eyes. ‘Maybe you should just rest today,’ her voice had softened noticeably. ‘You must be very tired.’
And suddenly Chelsea knew that the housekeeper was well aware of the reason for her visit. No doubt Lucas had asked the other woman to keep a friendly eye on her. And she just wished everyone would stop treating her like a child who couldn’t accept the truth!
‘I’m fully rested,’ she stated stubbornly. ‘And now I intend going out.’ She turned and left the room, sure that the housekeeper would instantly telephone Lucas. But she would already have left by the time he was able to stop her.
The black silk pyjama jacket caught her gaze as she pulled on her thick sheepskin coat, frowning as she debated whether or not she should return it to Lucas’s room or leave it here. She didn’t doubt that despite having made the bed and tidied the bedroom that Mrs Harvey would come in later and clean in here. And Lucas’s pyjama jacket in her room looked very suggestive, too suggestive to just leave there.
She picked up the sensuous-feeling garment and crossed the hall to Lucas’s room, entering quietly, the decor in here as she had imagined it would be, stark and masculine in brown and white, not warm and inviting as the room Camilla had decorated was.
There was little in this room to actually say it was occupied, just a leather jewellery box on the dressing-table and a picture of Camilla next to it, several paperbacks on the bedside table; with no sign of the bottom part of the black pyjamas! The double bed with its brown quilt was already made, the adjoining bathroom that could be seen through the open door was meticulously clean and tidy. Her own untidyness was likely to drive Lucas to drink in a week!
A week? How long was she going to be here? No time had been set for her visit, but she didn’t intend imposing on Lucas for too long.
She blushed guiltily as she turned to find Mrs Harvey watching her from the doorway. ‘I—er—I came to return this,’ she indicated the jacket she had left on the chair, her blush deepening as she realised how that must sound. ‘Lucas lent it to me when I realised that in my haste I had forgotten to pack a nightgown,’ she excused lamely, not wanting to have to admit the real reason she had been in possession of half Lucas’s pyjama set, although she knew the explanation she was giving now was even more damning than the truth, giving the impression of an intimacy that just wasn’t there.
Blue eyes were sceptical, although Mrs Harvey didn’t dispute or question the explanation. ‘I’ve just spoken to Mr McAdams, and he is coming home to lunch after all, so he would like you to be here.’
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