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‘Well, Megan,’ he said softly, his breath stirring her hair, ‘it appears that you now have oil on your face too.’
‘I do?’ she breathed, completely mesmerised.
‘You do.’ He took the handkerchief out of her hand and gently wiped her cheek. ‘Have di
‘I—I beg your pardon?’
‘Have di
‘I—I can’t,’ she refused reluctantly. She wanted to go out with him, very much, but she could hardly leave her mother on her own when she wasn’t well.
He straightened, his hands falling away from her hair, those beautiful brown eyes narrowing. ‘Boy-friend?’
She blinked her bewilderment. ‘Boy—–? Oh no,’ she smiled. ‘My mother, actually.’
‘Your mother?’ He raised dark eyebrows. ‘Aren’t you old enough to choose for yourself who you go out with?’
Megan laughed. ‘Of course I am. That wasn’t what I meant. My mother isn’t feeling well. Just a cold, I think—–’
‘In your expert opinion,’ he cut in mockingly.
She flushed. ‘A year’s training hardly qualifies me for anything.’ Unwittingly her bitterness showed. She had been a good nurse, had enjoyed her work and it had all been taken away from her by Roddy Meyers. If she ever met him again …! But that wasn’t likely to happen, he had already left the hospital on his way home before Megan herself had left. ‘But I think I can diagnose a cold,’ she added dryly.
‘How about later in the week?’
‘Well, I—I don’t know,’ she said reluctantly. ‘I’ll be working up at The Towers this week and—–’
‘You will?’ he frowned darkly.
‘Mm. Mum works in the kitchen, you see. And—well, we need the money. So if I’m working up at the house perhaps we could have lunch together one day. I think Mum usually finishes about one.’
He seemed to withdraw from her, moving to shut the hood of the tractor. ‘Maybe we could,’ he agreed noncommittally. ‘I think your brother will have to get someone out to look at this. I can’t pinpoint the trouble. He can borrow one of The Towers’ tractors until this one is on the go again.’ He turned to leave.
Megan watched him go, a frown on her face. ‘Jeff?’ she called after him, watching as he slowly turned, his hair appearing almost black in the strong sunlight. ‘I can call you Jeff, can’t I?’ she asked uncertainly.
He shrugged. ‘Why not?’
Why not, indeed? From his suddenly cold ma
He nodded. ‘Next week, perhaps.’
‘Or lunch …’ she trailed off as he strode away without turning.
What on earth was the matter with the man? He couldn’t just walk out of her life like this, not when he had suddenly become so important to her. And yet he was walking away, was even now turning the corner at the end of their dirt driveway. He’d gone!
And she would have to go too if she was to get to The Towers in time for work. They could have walked down together if he hadn’t disappeared so quickly. Oh well, perhaps he was just the moody type. She just hoped he was in a more friendly mood the next time she saw him.
She took her mother another cup of tea before leaving, assuring her that all the jobs around the farm had been taken care of.
‘No one told me how good-looking Jeff is.’ She plumped her mother’s pillows for her.
Her mother frowned. ‘Jeff Robbins?’
‘Mm. He’s really gorgeous!’
‘If you like that type. Has he just been down, then?’
‘Mm. He says the tractor needs expert attention. And tell Brian he said he could have one of The Towers’ tractors. Although what Snooty Mr Towers will say to that I don’t know.’
Her mother gave her a disapproving look. ‘I hope you didn’t talk about him like that to Jeff. He’s very loyal to Mr Towers.’
‘Mm,’ Megan sighed. ‘He didn’t seem to like it when I made a comment about his employer.’
‘What sort of comment?’ her mother asked worriedly. ‘You didn’t say anything insulting, did you, Megan? Jeff’s a friend of Brian’s, and—–’
‘Don’t worry so, Mum,’ she soothed. ‘Whatever I said it didn’t seem to bother him. He asked me out to di
‘Jeff did? But I thought he was taking out Rachel Saunders.’
That wouldn’t surprise her; he looked the sort of man who would already have a girl-friend, and Rachel Saunders was very beautiful. She and Megan had been at school together, although the two of them had never been friends, as Rachel was three years her senior. Megan remembered she had had a crush on Trevor Du
‘Well, I’m not going, so it doesn’t really matter. Now I’m off to The Towers. Don’t forget to tell Brian about the tractor.’
‘I won’t, dear. And tell Mrs Reece I’ll try and be in tomorrow.’
‘I’ll tell her no such thing,’ Megan said firmly. ‘You’re going to stay right here until you’re completely better. I don’t mind going to The Towers.’ Especially if she got the chance of seeing Jeff Robbins again.
The Towers was a grey stone building, a massive place with at least fifteen bedrooms. It had belonged to Henry Towers until his death last year, and now it belonged to his nephew Jerome. Old Squire Towers, as Henry had been called, had run into debt over the estate, refusing to ask his nephew for help, claiming he was a pompous snob who would gloat over his uncle’s misfortune, and instead the Squire had resorted to selling off parts of the estate.
Of course the nephew had bought back all these smallholdings—except theirs!—and so old Squire Towers might just as well have asked him for the help in the first place. But at least this way he had been spared the humiliation of approaching his nephew with a begging bowl. The fact that Jerome Towers was a millionaire, and his uncle was scraping together every pe
Megan walked up the long gravel driveway, admiring the rambling beauty of the house and accompanying stables, and walked around the back of the house to knock nervously on the kitchen door. It wouldn’t do for her to knock on the front door, not when she was just hired help!
A short, plump, red-faced woman opened the door, her ample frame covered by a paisley patterned overall. This just had to be Freda, the cook.
‘Yes, love?’ she smiled.
Megan smiled back shyly, and explained about her mother’s illness and the fact that she had come as her replacement.
Freda was suitably sympathetic about Emily Finch’s illness, although she looked rather harassed. ‘Thank goodness you’re here, love, that’s all I can say,’ she sighed. ‘Patsy’s not come in today either, and I’ve just cooked Mr Towers’ brother’s breakfast and there’s no one to take it up but me. I don’t like showing myself in the main part of the house. I’m a cook,’ she smiled happily, her three chins wobbling, ‘and a cook’s place is in the kitchen.’
And if this woman was any advert for the success of her own cooking it must indeed be first class!
‘Isn’t it a bit late for breakfast?’ Megan asked, hanging her jacket up behind the door. She had changed into a tan wool blouse and deep brown skirt, as her denims were hardly suitable for working here. Especially if she had to run all over the house with breakfast trays!
‘That it is. But he’s been having a bit of a rest. He only arrived yesterday.’
‘Well, so had she, but that didn’t mean she could laze about in bed all morning. In fact, she had been up earlier this morning than she usually was. ‘I didn’t know Mr Towers had a brother,’ she said interestedly, having thought him an only child.
‘Neither did we.’ Freda put a rack of toast on the tray with the plate of sausages, eggs and tomatoes. ‘Not until he arrived.’