Free They Found Him Dead by Georgette Heyer Page A

lessen its pathos. "It was just a beautiful dream, Trevor," she said, not very originally but with deep feeling.
    "I don't dream," replied Dermott, grasping her arms above the elbows. "Will Clement let you divorce him?"
    "No, never."
    "He'll have to divorce you, then."
    "But, Trevor, you don't understand!" Rosemary said, genuinely distressed. "You must realise how important it is for me to have money! It's no use blinking facts, and there's no doubt—I mean, I know myself so well!—that not having any money was what ruined Clement's and my life together. I've simply got to face it."
    His grip on her arms tightened until it hurt her. He gave an uncertain laugh, his eyes searching hers for the reassurance he needed. "Pretty mercenary, aren't you?"
    "You can call it that, if you like."
    "I don't know what else to call it!"
    "Of course I realise—I always have—that I'm a hateful person," Rosemary said. "I'm not trying to excuse myself; I was just made like that."
    "You talk a lot of damned rubbish!" he said roughly. "Have you thought of what's going to happen if you decide to stay with that dried-up stick of a husband of yours?"
    She made a slight effort to free herself, but his grip did not slacken. She was afraid her arms would be bruised by it, but the sense it gave her of his strength pleased her. "We can still see each other," she offered.
    "Oh no, we can't!" he retorted. "I'm not a lapdog to be whistled up when you please. If you choose Clement and his blasted fortune, it's good-bye, my dear!"
    He let her go as he spoke, so certain of his appeal for her, of what her ultimate decision must be, that he dared to utter this threat. His eyes glowed as they rested on her, but he would not touch her again, though his flesh ached for her. "Think it over!" he said. "I won't go on like this."
    He saw her face troubled; a trick of the light seemed to show the fineness of the bones under the delicate skin. His voice thickened; he said: "Oh, my sweet—my lovely sweet! I'd be good to you. I'd give you everything. You know you love me!"
    A gentle melancholy possessed her. Her eyes filled with tears. She said: "Yes, I do. It hurts me! But I must think of Clement. Please don't be unreasonable, Trevor. You don't know how dreadfully, dreadfully difficult it all is!"
    A sense of frustration crept over him, but he still could not believe that he might lose her. He repeated: "You'll have to make up your mind once and for all. I mean it."
    "Not now, Trevor!" she begged. "I can't. It's no use expecting me to. I just can't."
    "No, not now, but this week. I'm going to London tomorrow. I shall be back on Saturday, and I shall want your answer then."
    He had had no previous intention of returning to town, but he thought his absence might clinch the matter.
    The mere contemplation of four days to be spent without sight of her made his heart faint within him: he could not believe that she might be able to bear them with equanimity.
    Her mouth drooped a little, but she accepted the ultimatum without demurring. She would miss him very much, but she thought perhaps the temporary separation would be a good thing for him. If it could be avoided she did not want to lose him altogether; probably four days spent apart from her would chasten him enough to make him agree to her terms.
    Most of this was told to that most discouraging of confidants, Patricia Allison. ("I can't imagine what it is about me that induces neurotic idiots like Rosemary to tell me their life stories!" Patricia said despairingly to Mr. James Kane.)
    "What I can't bear," said Rosemary intensely, "is the thought that I've got to hurt Trevor. That's what I've got to face."
    Miss Allison was feeling tired. She had left Emily in Ogle's jealous charge and was on the point of going to bed when Rosemary had waylaid her and dragged her off to her own room for a private conference.
    "Well if that's all you've got to face, you're lucky," she said.
    "Ah, but don't you see how much, much worse it