City Cinderella

‘They’re perfect,’ he said, tasting them. ‘Now, entertain me while I eat. I can tell you’re not a Londoner. Where do you come from?’

‘Chastlecombe, in Gloucestershire.’

‘Snap—same county,’ he informed her with a grin. ‘We’re both country bumpkins, then.’

Anything less like a country bumpkin than Lucas Tennent was hard to imagine. Even lying in bed, haggard and feverish. ‘Speak for yourself,’ she said pertly, then bit her lip.

‘What now?’ he demanded.

‘I keep forgetting.’

‘Forgetting what?’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Oh, right. Me boss, you slave.’

Emily glared at him. ‘I wouldn’t put it quite like that!’

‘I should bloody well hope not,’ he said forcibly, and eyed his empty plate in surprise. ‘That was good. Thank you.’

Emily took his plate to the kitchen, then returned shortly afterwards with two mugs of coffee. She handed one to Lucas, then resumed her place in the chair. ‘You look a little better now,’ she said with approval.

‘I feel it.’ He drank with relish, then settled back against his pillows. ‘So tell me more, Emily. What course are you doing?’

She winced. ‘I lied about that.’

‘Did you now?’ he said, eyeing her flushed face with amusement. ‘So what exactly are you doing on that laptop of yours? Hacking into state secrets?’

‘Nothing so exciting. I’m trying my hand at a novel. I make a sort of rough draft of the next bit in my head while I’m cleaning, then get it down on my laptop later. But if I hadn’t been stupid enough to lie to you when you caught me,’ she added bluntly, ‘I wouldn’t be telling you this. No one else knows, not even my family.’

‘My lips are sealed,’ he assured her, hand on heart. ‘But why the secrecy?’

Her chin jutted. ‘I experienced a pretty humiliating form of rejection recently. If—or more likely when—the manuscript’s rejected, too, I’d rather no one knew about it.’

CHAPTER THREE

LUCAS eyed her with respect as she got up to refill his coffee cup. ‘You’re a lady of surprises, Emily.’

She shook her head. ‘Not really. All my life, until recently, I did everything by the book.’

‘What happened then?’

‘Miles Denny happened.’ Emily sat down again. ‘My family disapproved. They don’t like him.’

‘I don’t either.’

She laughed. ‘You haven’t met him.’

‘I don’t have to.’ He frowned. ‘Emily, I’ve got a name, but you haven’t used it yet. I thought we’d sorted that out.’

She gave him a fulminating look, and jumped to her feet. ‘Right—Lucas! I’m going to clear up now.’

‘Don’t go yet! Please?’ His eyes met hers with a persuasion she found impossible to resist.

‘I’m still going to clear away and so on,’ she said firmly, picking up the coffee tray. ‘But I’ll come back afterwards for a few minutes. Then you should try to sleep.’

‘I can do that when I’m alone,’ he said testily.

While Emily loaded the dishwasher later she fought a losing battle with her common sense. She’d achieved her aim in coming here to check on Lucas Tennent, feed him, and make sure he wasn’t any worse. So she should go home once she’d finished her usual routine. But it was such balm to her dented ego to have a man like Lucas Tennent pleading for her company. Besides, she thought, brightening, it was all an aid to research. The more she saw of him, the more her fictional hero would take shape.

She paid the living-room some attention, made sure the kitchen was immaculate, then cleaned the bathroom in the hall to complete at least part of her usual routine for Mondays. Afterwards she brushed her hair, used a lipstick, then went to rejoin Lucas, who regarded her with bloodshot, accusing eyes.

‘I thought you’d gone,’ he said, his jutting lip so much like young Tom Sedley in a strop that Emily bit back a smile.

‘What’s so funny?’ he demanded.

‘You reminded me of someone.’

He scowled. ‘Not the much-disliked Miles?’

‘No. I’m very fond of this someone.’

‘Who is he?’

‘Son of my landlord.’

‘One of the twins?’

‘You remembered,’ she said, surprised, and sat down in the armchair.

‘I remember everything you’ve told me so far,’ Lucas assured her. ‘I’ve felt too lousy to read, or watch television, so I lie here and think about you.’

‘Time I was going,’ she said hastily, and got up, but he lunged swiftly and caught her hand.

‘I was not coming on to you. I meant that you interest me.’

Her eyebrows rose. ‘Is that a compliment?’

‘It’s the truth,’ he said simply, and released her hand.

Appeased, Emily resumed her seat. ‘By the way, Lucas, the new number I left for you is unlisted. My family have it, of course, and my closest friend, but—’

‘Not Miles,’ he said, nodding.

‘That’s the problem. He’s got hold of it somehow. He rang me last night.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Did you speak to him?’

‘No. I just listened while he left a message. He tracked the number down somehow. Now I’m afraid he’ll find out where I’m living.’ She shivered at the thought.

Lucas frowned. ‘Emily, are you afraid of this guy?’

‘Certainly not. I just don’t want to see him again.’

‘Why did you leave him?’

Her lips tightened. ‘The usual reason.’

‘Another woman?’

‘One that I know of personally, but probably a lot more that I don’t.’ She shrugged. ‘A boring little tale.’

He settled more comfortably against the pillows. ‘Tell me about your family instead.’

Preparing to lie about some fictitious appointment, Emily hesitated. Lucas Tennent was enjoying her company. And she was enjoying his. But she had no illusions. Without his dose of flu none of this would be happening.

His heavy eyes narrowed as he watched her face. ‘You’re about to say you can’t stay. Are you due at the Donaldsons’?’

‘No, not today. But I should be going home.’

‘Don’t tell me we’re back to this “upstairs, downstairs” garbage again?’ he demanded irritably.

‘You should be resting.’

‘I can do that after you’re gone.’ He gave her a cunning look. ‘I could pay you overtime.’

‘Certainly not,’ she snapped, bristling.

He grinned. ‘Thought that would do it. Right, then. Stay for a while. Talk to me.’

Disarmed by the grin, Emily gave in, and at his prompting provided Lucas with a brief résumé of her background—father a retired clergyman, mother a leading light in the local history society and devourer of crime novels. ‘A combination with drawbacks,’ she said wryly. ‘Mother wasn’t keen on my move to Spitalfields because it was once a favourite haunt of Jack the Ripper, though she’s interested in the Roman skeletons found there. I also have a brother,’ she went on. ‘Andrew is head of the physical education department in the school he once graced himself in company with my landlord, Nat Sedley. They’ve been close friends ever since, which is why Nat offered me a room in his house when I left Miles.’

‘And is your landlord married to the mother of his twins?’ Lucas asked casually.

‘Yes. But there’s a rift. Thea lives with the children in their house near Chastlecombe and Nat lives alone up here. But he desperately wants his life with Thea back. He gets the twins on alternate weekends but it cuts him to pieces to part with them every time. He’s a colleague of Liz Donaldson, your neighbour, by the way.’ She smiled a little. ‘He interrogated her pretty thoroughly about you before I was permitted to take the job.’

Lucas gave her a cynical look. ‘Are you sure this man still loves his wife?’

‘Nat was merely acting on Andy’s behalf to make sure you were a suitable employer for the little sister.’ She smiled demurely. ‘Happily, you passed muster.’

He laughed, then put a hand to his head, wincing. ‘I’m pleased I made the grade.’

‘Is your head bad?’ she said with sympathy.

‘Only when I laugh.’

‘I’ll give you some more pills, then you really should try to sleep.’

‘If I do, you’ll disappear.’ He gave her a cajoling look. ‘If I promise to sleep for a while will you stay this afternoon, and have tea with me later? In the meantime, put your feet up, watch television, or read. Take anything you like from my shelves. Another time,’ he added slyly, ‘you can bring your laptop and work here.’

‘There won’t be another time. You’ll be better soon.’

‘No, I won’t,’ he said promptly. ‘I’m very ill.’

‘In that case, you’d better call a doctor.’

‘I don’t want a doctor. I just want you to stay for a while. Though God knows I don’t blame you for wanting to run,’ he added with sudden self-disgust.

Emily eyed him in silence for a moment, then nodded reluctantly. ‘Oh, very well. I’ll stay until six, but then I really must get back, otherwise there’ll be no point in going. I’m due at the Donaldsons’ in the morning. They come back tomorrow.’

‘Don’t go back. Stay the night in my spare room. I meant it just now,’ he added quickly. ‘I’ll happily pay the overtime.’

She gave him a scornful look, took two pills from his bedside drawer, poured bottled water into a glass and handed it to him. ‘Every drop, please.’

He obeyed, then gave her a smile which unglued her knees. ‘Thank you, Emily. I promise I won’t mention money again.’

In contrast to the stark, minimalist effect preferred by the Donaldsons, Lucas Tennent’s taste ran to uncluttered comfort. Because the converted loft gave maximum living space but presented a problem with storage, he’d solved it by investing in a collection of chests, some of them modern, others brassbound and antique. In places the old honey-coloured brick of the walls had been left exposed, in others plastered and painted amber, the few pictures hung on them modern, bright slashes of colour. And in the short time she’d been working there Emily had come to love every inch of it.

Her only time spent in the vast, split-level living area had been to put it in perfect order as part of her cleaning routine. But now, while the washing-machine was on its dry cycle, Emily settled down on one of the deep, tempting sofas and began to read. Before long the words started to run into each other and at last she gave up, tugged off her shoes and curled up, her head on one of the cushions. She set a mental alarm clock to wake up after half an hour, so she could check on the invalid, but woke with a start to find Lucas Tennent looking down at her.

‘I’m terribly sorry,’ she said penitently, scrambling to her feet to put her shoes on.

‘It was so quiet I thought you’d gone home after all, so I came to investigate.’

‘You shouldn’t be out of bed,’ she scolded, and took his arm to shepherd him back, then dropped it again in alarm when she felt the heat of his skin scorch through the clothes.

‘Do that again,’ he said, grinning. ‘I like it.’

Emily gave him an exasperated glare. ‘If you’ll go back to bed, I’ll make tea.’

‘Tea for two,’ he said firmly, then turned away to cough.

‘You see? Go back to bed—Lucas, please,’ she begged, and flushed at the look he gave her.

‘For you, Emily, anything,’ he assured her and, still coughing, went off towards his bedroom.

She went to the kitchen to make tea and toast the crumpets she’d included in her shopping. When she took the tray into the bedroom Lucas was waiting, bolt upright against neatly stacked pillows in his newly tidied bed. His ashen face sported streaks of hectic colour, which worried Emily very much, but she smiled at him as she put the tray down.

‘Feeling better?’

‘Not a lot,’ he admitted, and gave a rueful look at the dish of crumpets. ‘I hate to be ungrateful, Emily, but I’m not hungry.’

‘OK,’ she said without fuss. ‘Just the tea, then.’

He downed the tea thirstily, then lay back against the pillows as though the mere exertion of drinking had exhausted him. ‘I feel so bloody feeble. Were you like this?’

‘Yes. But my mother called the doctor, who gave me antibiotics for my chest infection. So I soon got better,’ she added significantly. ‘Look, Lucas, your temperature’s up and I can hear you wheezing from here. You need a doctor. Do you have one I can ring?’

‘It’s just flu,’ he said testily. ‘I don’t need a doctor—’ He broke off to cough again and Emily handed him a box of tissues, then looked at him in question as the phone rang.

‘Answer it, please,’ he gasped.

Emily picked up the receiver and said a cautious hello.

‘Alice Tennent here,’ said an attractive voice. ‘Is Lucas there?’

Emily gave the receiver to Lucas, who lay with sweat beading his forehead as he battled to control his cough. He croaked a hoarse greeting, then went off into another paroxysm of coughing and handed the receiver back. ‘My sister—explain,’ he gasped.

‘I’m afraid your brother’s feeling very unwell, Miss Tennent,’ said Emily.

‘Sounds as though he’s dying! Has he seen a doctor?’

‘He refuses to call one,’ she said, defiant as she met the glare in the invalid’s eyes. ‘And I’m pretty sure he’s got a chest infection.’

‘Right. Hand him over, please.’

Emily thrust the phone at Lucas, then watched in some amusement when he disagreed in violent protest with his sister before handing the phone back. ‘She wants to speak to you,’ he growled.

‘Who, exactly, am I speaking to?’ asked Alice Tennent pleasantly.

‘Emily Warner, your brother’s cleaner,’ she said baldly, ignoring the look of impotent wrath on the invalid’s face. ‘I stayed on this afternoon because I was worried about your brother.’

‘That’s extraordinarily kind of you! Look, Mrs Warner—’

‘Miss, actually.’

‘Right. I’ve just told Lucas that if he won’t behave I’ll send Mother up to look after him. In which case she will certainly catch the bug herself. Naturally Lucas won’t hear of that. I’d come myself but I’m ringing from Italy. Can you contact a doctor and stay with Lucas until he arrives?’

Emily had no hesitation. ‘Of course, Miss Tennent. If the doctor thinks it necessary I can even stay the night.’

‘How very kind. Thank you. That’s a load off my mind. Now, put Lucas back on and I’ll read the riot act.’

But this time Lucas was surprisingly acquiescent as he listened, eyes fixed on Emily. ‘Did you mean it about staying the night?’ he demanded as he handed the phone back.

‘Of course I did.’ She picked up the tray. ‘Where will I find your doctor’s number?’

‘In the address book on my desk up in the gallery.’ He mopped at the perspiration standing out on his forehead. ‘I’ve only seen him once. Maybe he doesn’t do house calls.’

‘He’d better,’ said Emily darkly.

She stated Lucas’s problem to a receptionist, gave directions to the flat, then went back to Lucas, who by this time was looking ghastly.

‘A doctor’s coming shortly,’ she told him.

‘Dr Barnett?’ he croaked.

‘They didn’t say. Probably whoever’s on call.’ Emily eyed him with misgiving. ‘How do you feel?’

‘Not great. It hurts to breathe,’ he said hoarsely. ‘I don’t get it. I felt so much better earlier.’

Emily went into his bathroom, collected a towel, dampened a washcloth and went back to the invalid. ‘I’ll just wipe your forehead,’ she said briskly.

‘You don’t have to do this,’ he protested.

‘No,’ she agreed. ‘But you’ll feel better if I do.’ She mopped him up, dried him off with the towel, poured water into a glass and handed it to him. ‘Down the hatch.’

‘I might be sick again,’ he protested wildly.

‘You’re sweating so much you’ll get dehydrated if you don’t drink.’

He gave in and took a few sips of water, then gave her a wry, twisted smile. ‘I bet you’re sorry as hell you stayed behind on Friday.’

‘Certainly not. I’m glad to help.’ She looked him in the eye. ‘How would you have managed otherwise?’

He smiled ruefully. ‘A question I’ve been asking myself all day, Emily Warner.’

‘I’m not sure how long the doctor will be,’ she said. ‘Otherwise I’d say another change of bedclothes was a good idea. But maybe it’s best if you stay the way you are.’

‘So he can see how poorly I am?’ he mocked.

‘Exactly.’ Her tone was casual, but underneath Emily was worried. Lucas’s forehead had been so hot the washcloth had steamed as she mopped him with it, reinforcing her fears about pneumonia. So far she’d functioned on common sense and her own experience, but committed to an overnight stay she felt in urgent need of professional advice.

‘Lucas,’ she said apologetically. ‘I’m probably the only person you’ve met who doesn’t own a cellphone. May I make a phone call?’

‘Of course. Use this phone, if you like, or one of the others out there if you want privacy,’ he said, his breath rasping in his chest.

She smiled her thanks, and stayed where she was to contact Nat.

‘Hi, Emily here. I’m just letting you know I couldn’t make it this afternoon, and I won’t be back home tonight.’

‘No need to clock in and out, Em,’ Nat assured her.

‘I know that,’ she said, colouring under the sardonic gaze trained on her face. ‘But I thought I’d better explain.’

‘Much appreciated,’ he said warmly. ‘I’ll see you when I see you, then.’

‘Right. Apologise to Mark for me.’ Emily put the phone down, her eyes defiant. ‘My landlord,’ she said shortly.

‘Are you sure there’s nothing going on between you—?’ Lucas broke off, coughing, and flapped his hand at her in apology. ‘Sorry. None of my business.’

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