Wildfire at Midnight Read Online Free PDF

hastily—"that it's not lovely to see you, too, but you look a bit Londonish, if I may say so. What's happened to the schoolgirl complexion? Nick been beating you?"

    I stared at him, but he appeared to notice nothing odd in my expression. He said, cheerfully: "He never told me you were joining him here, the scurvy devil."
    "Oh Lord," I said. "Alastair, don't tell me you didn't know? We got a divorce."
    He looked startled, even shocked. "Divorced? When?"
    "Over four years ago now. D'you mean to tell me you hadn't heard?"
    He shook his head. "Not a word. Of course, I've been abroad all the time, and I'm the world's lousiest letter writer, and Nick's the next worst, so you can see—" He broke off and whistled a little phrase between his teeth. "Ah, well. Sorry, Janet. I—well, perhaps I'm not so very surprised, after all. ... You don't mind my saying that?"
    "Don't give it a thought." My voice was light and brittle, and would do credit. I thought, to any of Nicholas's casual London lovelies, "ft was just one of those things that couldn't ever have worked. It was nobody's fault; he just thought I was another kind of person altogether. You see, in my job you tend to look—well, tough and sort of well-varnished, even when you're not."
    "And you're not."
    "Well. I wasn't then.."" I said. I've a better veneer now."
    "Three years of my great friend Nicholas," said Alastair, "would sophisticate a Vestal Virgin. Bad luck, Janet. But, if I may ask, what are you doing here?"
    "Having a holiday like you, and dodging the Coronation crowds. I need hardly say I had no idea Nicholas was going to be here. I was a bit run down, and wanted somewhere restful, and I heard of the hotel through some friends of the family."
    "Somewhere restful." He gave a little bark of laughter. "Oh my ears and whiskers! And you have to run slap into Nick!"
    "Not yet," I told him grimly. "That's a pleasure in store for us both."
    "Lord, Lord," said Alastair ruefully, then began to grin again. "Don't look so scared, my child. Nick won't eat you. It's he should be nervous, not you. Look, Janet, will you let me dine at your table tonight? I'm with a couple who could probably do with having to have a little of one another's society."
    "I'd love you to," I said gratefully. "But how on earth is it that Nicholas didn't tell you about us?"
    "I've really seen very little of him. He's apparently in Skye collecting stuff on folklore and suchlike for a book, and he's been moving from one place to another, with this as a main base. He's out most of the time.
    I did ask after you, of course, and he just said: 'She's fine. She's still with Hugo, you know. They've a show due soon.' I thought nothing of it."
    "When was this?"
    "Oh, when I first got here and found he was staying. May the tenth, or thereabouts."
    "We were getting a show ready then, as it happens. But how on earth did he know?"
    "Search me," said Alastair cheerily, and then turned to greet the couple who were crossing the hall towards us. The woman was slight, dark, and almost nondescript save for a pair of really beautiful brown eyes, long-lidded and flecked with gold. Her dress was indifferently cut, and was a depressing shade of green.
    Her hair had no luster, and her mouth drooped petulantly. The man with her was a startling contrast. He, too, was dark, but his thinness gave the impression of a great wiry strength and vitality. His eyes were blue, dark Irish blue, and he was extraordinarily handsome, though there were lines round the sensitive mouth that spoke of a temper too often given rein.
    I said quickly: "The name's Brooke, Alastair, not Drury. Do remember. I thought it might be awkward—"
    "I couldn't agree more. Ah"—as they came up—"Hart, Alma, this is Gianetta Brooke. Janet, Mr. and Mrs. Corrigan."
    We murmured politely. I saw Mrs. Corrigan eyeing my frock; her husband's blue eyes flicked over me once, with a kind of casual interest, then they sought the lounge door, as if he were waiting for