Love Can Wait by Betty Neels

Author:Betty Neels
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 1997-08-23T04:00:00+00:00

Kate hadn’t expected sympathy from Lady Cowder and she received none. ‘So very inconvenient,’ said that lady as Kate presented herself the following morning. ‘You have no idea of the severity of my headache, and all the excitement about the accident… It was most generous of my nephew to give up his room for your use, though really quite unnecessary. However, he has always done as he wishes.’

Kate, perceiving that she was expected to answer this, said quietly, ‘Mr Tait-Bouverie was very kind and considerate. I’m very grateful. I hope I shall have the opportunity of thanking him.’

‘He wouldn’t expect thanks from you,’ said Lady Cowder rudely. ‘Besides, he left early this morning for Tromsö. He will be back in England before us.’

Kate felt a pang of disappointment. Perhaps she would see him in England but on rather a different footing—the accident in the tunnel would have faded into the past, obliterated by a busy present. Thanking him would sound silly. She wondered if she should write him a polite note—but where would she send it? Lady Cowder could tell her, but she was the last person to ask. It was an unsatisfactory ending to what had been, for her, a very pleasant interlude, despite the fright and horror of the accident in the tunnel.

At least, Kate reflected, she had behaved sensibly even while her insides had heaved and she had been terrified that fire would break out or, worse, that the tunnel would fall apart above their heads and they would all be drowned. A flight of imagination, she knew. The tunnel was safe, and help had been prompt and more than efficient. It had been an experience—not a nice one, she had to admit—and despite her fright she had felt quite safe because Mr Tait-Bouverie had been there.

Waiting for Lady Cowder that afternoon, she wrote a long letter to her mother, making light of Lady Cowder’s ill humour, describing the hotel and the town, the food and the people she had spoken to, enlarging on the beautiful scenery but saying little about Mr Tait-Bouverie’s company. She wrote about the tunnel accident too, not dwelling on the horror of it, merely observing that it had been most fortunate that Mr Tait-Bouverie had been there to help.

She wrote nothing about her own part in the affair, hoping that her mother would picture her sitting safely in the car out of harm’s way.

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