Tall Poppies Read Online Free PDF Page A

stairs, floating on a glorious cloud of pale gold silk. The apricot satin shoes, topaz earrings and coral necklace were perfect with her glowing skin and tawny mane.
    Monica’s first frown of disapproval at Elizabeth’s rejecting the Laura Ashley melted into a warm smile. Her one aim in life was to get rid of Elizabeth as quickly as possible. Her husband’s discreet nudge pointed out the young Drake of Fairfax, at the door to the Great Hall, gasping like a dying trout. The countess heard wedding bells.
    ‘Happy birthday, darling. I must say you look splendid,’ Tony boomed, moving to grip her elbow firmly as Elizabeth started shaking hands. He felt taken aback. His tomboy daughter looked enchantingly feminine. David Fairfax was interested, and if Love was that blind - well, Elizabeth might bring something besides trouble to the family. He thrust her. forward briskly through the glittering crowd.
    ‘Evening, David. Glad you could make it,’ the earl said genially.
    Elizabeth blushed scarlet. How could he be so obvious! She wanted to pick up her cascading skirts and scamper away. Anything rather than listen to Father suck up to David Fairfax while he showed her off like a prize heifer.
    ‘Good of you to ask me, Lord Caerhaven,’ Fairfax replied. His gaze swept approvingly across Elizabeth’s figure-hugging bodice and lingered on the freckled swell’
     
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    of her breasts. ‘Hullo, ‘Lizbeth. Happy birthday. Smashing dress,’ he added with more spirit.
    Elizabeth looked at him wearily. David had had a crush on her for years. He was ordinary looking, with sandy hair and a strong jaw, graduated from poly with a spurious degree in estate management. In real life, if you were David Fairfax, that consisted of hiring a manager to run your estates. They’d met often at parties and later hunt balls and Tory fundraisers Dad wouldn’t let her duck. He was OK, but pretty boring, and he was twenty four, while she was sixteen today. She secretly thought he was a bit of a perv, chasing after a girl eight years younger.
    Dad had made himself crystal clear. To him, no duke could ever be boring, but David was a young fogey: he actually wore tweeds and he listened to Cole Porter instead of Bowie or T-Rex.
    Granny’s spirit bubbled up mischievously inside her.
    ‘Hiya, Dave. How’s it hangitig?’ Elizabeth asked, grinning.
    Her father stiffened, but when Fairfax laughed he just glared at her and moved off.
    Elizabeth chatted briefly to David and then tried to get away. Her heart sank as she saw Monica swooping down on her.
    ‘What do you think you’re doing? Can’t you see the way David’s looking at you?’ Monica hissed.
    Elizabeth sighed and glanced back to the fireplace. Mother was right, His Grace was gazing after her with a particularly annoying sort of moony-calf expression. Like a spaniel after you refused to give it a bit Of your cheese: all helpless misery and silent pleading.
    ‘I want to dance with Richard Villiers,’ she snapped.
    Richard was the bluff son of Dragon’s finance director, a massive Blackburn Rovers fan. She’d rather talk about
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    football than David Fairfax’s gardeners any day of the
    week.
    ‘For God’s sake, Elizabeth!’ Monica spat.
    Elizabeth pouted. There was no way out of it, if she wanted to avoid a scene. She walked back across the room and watched the moony eyes light up with the enthusiasm of a border terrier spotting a rabbit.
    ‘Smashing dress, smashing,’ David repeated. ‘D’you like a dance?’
    She surrendered sullenly to the inevitable, much to the fury of the gaggle of hopeful debs who’d been hovering in the duke’s vicinity all night.
    ‘Sure, Dave, that’d be cool.’
    David hauled her bodily round the draughty hall, stepping anxiously all over her apricot slippers. Elizabeth was selfishly furious. Why couldn’t the great hulking lout take dancing lessons? He spent his life attending these wretched things!
    ‘I say, Bessie - can I call you