Marriage By Arrangement

He glanced at her, his eyebrows rising, but merely said, ‘I’ll use this room. Good night—er—what did you say your name was?’

‘Red. Red McGee.’

His eyebrows rose yet again. ‘That’s what I thought you said. Good night.’

She gave him a look, said, ‘Good night,’ in a cool tone, and went back to the guest room.

This time she didn’t fall asleep so quickly. Quite naturally, she was thinking about Linus Hunt. He seemed so different tonight. But maybe he was the kind of man who went on really drunken binges for a few days and was then able to stay off the booze for a few weeks, until the craving drove him back on the bottle.

She wasn’t unfamiliar with the type; there had been a few men who’d worked on her father’s sheep station who’d been like that. Although they hadn’t worked for him long once he’d found out. He’d been fair, though—given them a warning after the first time and only got rid of them after the second bout.

She realised that she would have to revise her first impression of Linus. He was obviously well trained, creeping up the stairs like that and going to sleep in the guest room so as not to disturb Felicia’s sleep.

That must have been why the guest bed was made up—all ready for him. Although, thinking about it, Red decided that if she had been in Felicia St Aubyn’s place she wouldn’t in the least have minded being wakened by a man like Linus. Because, physically, he certainty was quite a man, for all his faults.

Red gave a sigh, feeling like a frustrated schoolgirl, and wondered if Linus was lying awake thinking about her. Then she laughed at herself for being so stupid; the only definite thing about Linus was that he wasn’t interested in anyone but Felicia. Because that was where the money was? Red stirred uneasily, somehow unhappy with the thought.

At eight Red woke, showered and put on the clothes she’d been wearing yesterday: black jeans, a moss-green sweater and a black belt over it round her twenty-two-inch waist. Luckily she always carried make-up with her in her cavernous bag, so she was able to do her face and brush her long hair into its usual mass of crimped waves around her head. Looking at herself critically in the full-length mirror, she decided that she looked pretty good in the circumstances.

Downstairs in the kitchen she started to prepare breakfast, turning on the radio to a pop programme and whistling along to the tunes. Twenty minutes later Linus came into the room.

‘Hi!’ Red greeted him cheerfully. ‘How do you like your eggs?’

‘In the hen.’ He turned off the radio and frowned. ‘Are you always this bright in the mornings?’

‘What’s wrong with being bright?’ She watched as he went to the fridge and took out a bottle of fresh orange juice. He was wearing different, more casual clothes this morning. ‘Didn’t you sleep very well?’

‘No.’ Linus hesitated, then said, ‘I was thinking about Felicia.’

‘She asked me to take her in some things.’

‘I’ll do that.’

‘I’d like to go too. I promised her I would,’ Red said firmly.

Linus glanced at her as he poured the juice, then shrugged. ‘All right.’

Red sat down at the table to eat her breakfast of cereal followed by scrambled eggs and toast, but all Linus had was the orange juice and coffee. He made the coffee, completely at home in the kitchen, knowing where to find everything he needed.

Curiosity overcoming her, Red said offhandedly, ‘This is a really nice house. It must cost the earth to rent.’

His grey eyes settled on her for a moment. ‘Felicia doesn’t rent it; she owns the place. It was left to her by her husband,’ he said shortly.

‘Oh, she’s a widow, then?’ Linus nodded without speaking. Annoyed by his reticence, Red decided to goad him and so went on, ‘Women on their own like that must have to be so careful—not to be taken advantage of, I mean. There are lots of unscrupulous men who’d happily live off older, richer women.’

His eyes again met hers, and she thought that his mouth tightened a little, but Linus didn’t rise to the bait. Instead he set down his empty cup and said in a sardonic tone, ‘If you’re quite sure you’ve had enough, we’d better get the things Felicia asked for.’

He came up to Felicia’s room with her and found a weekend case in which Red carefully put two or three nightdresses, a lacy kind of bed-jacket, and the stuff out of the bathroom that she thought the invalid might need. Linus wasn’t so much at home in the bathroom opening off Felicia’s room; when Red asked him which lotions she ought to take, he didn’t know. ‘Take them all,’ he said impatiently.

Linus called a taxi, and by the time Red had collected her jacket and bag it was at the door. It was another dull grey London day; the streets were crowded with traffic and it took a while to get to the hospital.

Linus drummed his fingers on his knee, and it was plain that he needed to see Felicia and assess her injuries for himself. When they reached the hospital he sprang out, thrusting money into the driver’s hand and striding through the entrance without waiting for Red. She caught him up inside. ‘Which ward?’ he said impatiently.

‘Queen’s. It’s on the second floor.’

They went up in the lift and Red led the way down the corridor, but once in the ward their way was blocked by a buxom senior nurse who looked as if the frown she was wearing was etched into her face. ‘Visiting time is from two till eight,’ she said shortly.

‘We’ve come to see Mrs St Aubyn. She was brought in as an accident case last night.’

‘We’ve brought some things for her,’ Red added.

‘I’ll give them to her. Come again this afternoon.’

‘I’m very worried about her and I insist on seeing her now,’ Linus said stubbornly, his face and voice sharp, determined not to take any denial.

Looking at him, the nurse knew that she’d met her match, but still said belligerently, ‘Only close family members are allowed to come out of visiting hours.’

‘I couldn’t be any closer,’ Linus said shortly. ‘She’s my mother.’

The nurse heard Red’s involuntary gasp of surprise and raised her eyebrows. ‘Your name?’

‘Linus Hunt. My mother married twice,’ he added, before the woman could point out the difference in surnames.

Grudgingly, the nurse said, ‘Very well, you can see her for a few minutes. She’s down there on the right.’ Linus started down the ward and Red went to follow, but the nurse said in a voice of evident disbelief, ‘And who are you—her daughter?’

Taken aback, Red said, ‘Well, no, I...’

At the same time Linus said, ‘Yes,’ adding smoothly as her voice petered off, ‘She’s Mrs St Aubyn’s daughter-in-law—my wife.’ And, taking Red’s arm, he strode down the ward.

Red giggled as the nurse stared after them. ‘Nice one. That was a great idea, to say you were her son. She’d never have let you in if you’d admitted you were only a boyfriend.’

Linus stopped and swung round to give her an incredulous look. ‘What did you say?’

‘That you...’ Her voice dried as Red stared up at his amazed face in dawning realisation. ‘You—you mean you really are her son?’ she gasped.

His jaw hardened; his eyes shrivelled her. ‘Of course I am.’

Turning, he strode on ahead, leaving Red to gaze after him. She laughed in incredulous amazement, and suddenly the sun came bursting through the windows and it was a gorgeous day.

CHAPTER TWO

LINUS strode into the sectioned-off part of the ward where his mother lay, and Red tactfully waited outside for several minutes. She guessed that their meeting would be emotional, especially on Felicia St Aubyn’s part, and didn’t want to intrude. Not only that, she was glad of a few minutes alone in which to reassess her opinion of Linus—an opinion that, with just a few words, had been turned completely upside down.

So he wasn’t a toy boy after all. Red felt strangely pleased about that, and wondered if her first impression of him as a drunk might also have been wrong. He seemed so self-confident today, so completely in control that the first image she’d had of Linus was almost impossible to recognise as the same man. But they were one and the same, which made him something of an enigma—and Red’s big failing had always been her inability to contain her avid curiosity.

When she judged it would be OK to join them, she walked into the side-ward and was pleased to see that Mrs St Aubyn was sitting up and smiling, her hand held in her son’s. She let go when she saw Red and beckoned her over. ‘Linus, find a chair for Red,’ she ordered, and held out her hand for Red to take.

‘How are you feeling, Mrs St Aubyn?’