In Search of Love by Helen McCabe

Author:Helen McCabe
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: AudioGO
Published: 2009-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

But they were not man and wife! How keenly Mary felt that every morning she awoke early and listened to the sound of him stirring next door. He had kept his word and stayed out of the bedroom and, after a week or so, she was trusting him with everything.

Sometimes, if he was on very early, he would come into her with a steaming mug of tea. He seemed the most handsome when he was the most dishevelled, in his nightshirt, with the dark stubble on his face, where he had not shaved. She was glad that he did not wear a moustache like Mallon, or a beard like her father. She liked smooth-faced men. She was beginning to find out more about him too. What he liked, what he ate, but not what was his work or where he went.

Only once had his face darkened, when she probed too deeply as to what he did for Mallon. ‘You do your job and I will do mine, Mary. Hopefully, neither of them will last too long.’ Sometimes, she wondered what went on under that dark thatch of hair and those eyes, which could be so very hard sometimes, and then so soft with her.

All she had gleaned of his work was that he was Michael Mallon’s right-hand man, which was strange as he was the least like any man that worked in The Shamrock Tree or any that visited there. The only way in which he resembled his boss was that he wore the same dark suit and a high collar, almost as if he was a gentleman.

But wasn’t he that really, Mary thought as he left her to drink her tea. Nothing improper had taken part between them privately since that last wonderful kiss, but the woman in Mary knew that they were both holding back until the right time. But how long would that be, when she was desperate for him to join her in his bed, but she knew it would be wrong.

Neither of them had spoken recently about going to find out if her Aunt Flynn had perished in the fire. As the days passed, Mary had also felt that she should write to her mother to let her know what was happening, but what would she say about where she was. On the other hand, her mother would be mad for news.

In the end, she sent off the letter feeling very guilty. In it, Mary had written that she had met a female companion on ship, with whom she was staying at present; also that she was doing a decent job and that she would write again soon. She also added the sad news that Aunt Flynn had never come to fetch her and that she may have died in a fire.

Next, she filled up the letter with nonsense about the excitement of being in New York and what a wonderful place it had turned out to be. At least, that was not a lie.

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