Under the Southern Cross--3 Book Box Set by Barbara Hannay

Author:Barbara Hannay
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mills & Boon Special Release
Published: 2013-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

The minute Annie and Theo arrived at the faculty cocktail party, she realised that enjoying herself was going to be a bigger challenge than she’d feared. For starters, she’d made a terrible mistake. Her dress was totally wrong.

She should have paid attention this morning when Theo assured her that the dark red dress she’d worn to the play last night would be fine for this evening’s function. She certainly shouldn’t have gone back to the shop where she’d bought the pink jeans and she most definitely should not have gone anywhere near the racks of glittery party wear that Victoria had warned her against.

But they’ d been calling to her.

And she’d fallen head over heels in love with the most divine little dress, covered with tawny pink pearls and softly shimmering sequins.

When she’d tried it on she’d been blown away by the transformation. It was as if she’d been touched by a magic wand and turned into a film star. She loved it. From the fine spaghetti straps to the scalloped knee-length hem, the dress was gorgeous. It clung softly to her shape, but was tastefully demure and its understated colour toned fabulously with her complexion.

But it was fabulously wrong.

She realised that now as she stood, frozen in horror, in the doorway of the university’s Staff and Graduates Club. Her spirits sank through the soles of her sequinned sandals.

She turned to Theo. ‘Why didn’t you warn me?’

‘What about?’

‘My dress. It’s all wrong.’

‘It isn’t, Annie. It’s wonderful.’

‘But everyone else is in black.’

‘Not everyone.’

Her eyes skirted the room. ‘Just about.’

In the far corner, surrounded by a little forest of potted palms, earnest, black-clad musicians were playing a string quartet. Everywhere else, people with drinks in their hands were standing and talking quietly in dignified groups.

The men were wearing dinner suits, but apart from a very arty looking woman draped in an exotic profusion of scarves, the women were wearing elegant, conservative dresses in subdued hues like black, dark smoky-blue or deep claret. Even brown.

Nothing pink—tawny or otherwise. And certainly nothing sparkly. Unless you counted the occasional head of silver hair.

If only she could run away and hide.

These people belonged together. They were an exclusive club. And for Annie they spelled other. Not her crowd.

But Theo placed a protective hand at the small of her back and ushered her forward.

And a woman who looked a well-preserved, supremely confident, sixty years of age, hurried towards them. ‘Theo, dear, I’m so pleased you could come.’ She had one of those deep, mellifluous, cultured voices that made Annie instantly nervous. She smiled at Annie. ‘How do you do, my dear? I’m Harriet Fletcher.’

‘Hello, Harriet.’ At least Annie’s hand wasn’t trembling visibly as she held it out.

Shaking hands, Harriet said, ‘You haven’t been to one of these evenings before, have you?’

‘No.’

To Annie’s surprise, Harriet took her arm as if they’d been friends for years. ‘Then let me prise you away from Theo so you can meet everyone. Theo, you can look after Annie’s drink.’

‘Champagne?’ he called to her as she was led away.

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