Free Embrace Me by Roberta Latow Page B

together partying at Sefton Park, her closest and dearest, and in the case of the Buchanans her oldest friends. We knew nothing of the abandoned car until the following day when the postman discovered it, blocking the road to the Park. If she did drive it here why did she abandon it in that odd manner across the road? She must have changed her mind, deciding not to involve us. She might even have left it here as a decoy while she made her getaway.’
    ‘Marguerite, someone in this village has duped you. They have done the deed and until now never revealed what they did to another living soul. Silence was and is Olivia’s only hope. They know that, and anyone who wants to aid and abet her knows it. So do you. Think about it, Marguerite, think about it hard. What sort of life can Olivia hope for, on the run for the rest of her life? We’re after her and mean to get her but the prince’s family are mounting a private search for her and you know what they’ll put her through if they find her before I do. Help me to learn what she’s like so that I can find her and bring her to justice. It’s her only hope.’
    ‘You call that hope? That’s a hope made in hell. And Olivia wasn’t made for hell. She couldn’t stand going to prison. Probably why she fled in the first place. And I’ll tell you something else: tread carefully with us here in this village. You may turn over stones and reveal more than any of us wants to become public knowledge.’
    ‘Why are you so angry with me? Surely not because I’m hunting down your friend for taking a life. I heard you once declare to a TV audience that there was no greater crime than taking a human life. It makes redemption impossible. Or have you changed your mind about that now that it’s your friend Lady Olivia who’s in the dock? You know, my dear, you’re a good thinker and a joy to listen to because you make people contemplate serious issues, but you’re not always honest and certainly not always right. Seventy-five per cent twaddle, ten per cent charm, and the rest fine scholarship and intellect. That’s a back-handed compliment, I know, but it’s meant to tell you I respect who and what you are and are not. I promise to tread carefully on people’s toes but, by god, like it or not, you
will
answer my queries. Now have a taste of this cake, it’s delicious.’
    Marguerite rose from her chair, saying, ‘You’re an insulting bastard.’
    ‘No, an honest officer of the law,’ he told her as he rose to kiss her hand. Then, very softly, whispered: ‘Don’t play games with me. Be my friend, not my enemy, and have dinner with me in the pub this evening?’
    Without answering him, she walked away.

Chapter 6
    Marguerite was angry. The New Scotland Yard man was spot on in his assessment of her. She knew it, many of her critics had said the same things about her and had done so since she first came on the scene fifteen years before. Women listened as much to her now as they had ever done. But she was flawed and so were many of her philosophies. She had allowed her ambition and intelligence to trample on her ability to
love
a man for no other reason than
love
(the weak woman’s anaesthetic to self-development). A deep genuine love that made no demands except to be in it had been for her too demeaning, or at least she’d thought so until she met Olivia, who was love incarnate. Marguerite simply could not bear to give herself up totally and with a generous heart to a man; she had never found one good enough to receive such a gift. Oh, yes, for great sex, orgasmic ecstasy. To soar with a man for a few seconds. She did that well and often. But it was short-lived ecstasy and in constant need of feeding.
    Who was this Harry Graves-Jones? He was someone special with a keen intelligence, a man who didn’t suffer fools easily. Over no more than a cup of coffee he’d had the measure of her, and if he was that quick with her he was bound to be no less so with all concerned with