Free The Last Dance by Fiona McIntosh Page B

attested to the Georgian influences in Tunbridge Wells that she’d heard about from subsequent conversations with Suzanne Farnsworth.
    ‘Miss Myles?’
    She hadn’t seen the man, probably only a few years younger than her father, step forward from the shadows of the station. He was not wearing a uniform but instead was dressed in a neat suit from what she could see beneath a driving coat. ‘Oh yes, hello?’
    ‘I’m John Potter.’ She recognised the name and smiled. ‘Welcome to Kent, Miss Myles. The Ainsworths have sent me to pick you up and take you to Harp’s End, which is not too far from Tunbridge Wells.’
    ‘Thank you, Mr Potter, it’s very kind of you. Do call me Stella.’
    He smiled and Stella couldn’t help but like him immediately for the way his pleasure at her invitation sparkled in his eyes. ‘I’ll do that,’ he said, and then he winked in an avuncular way and she was instantly sold. ‘So you must call me John. Very glad to meet you, Stella.’ He held out a gloved hand and was careful to shake hers gently. ‘Here, let me take all that for you.’
    ‘Oh . . . there’s a box of —’
    ‘I’ll be careful,’ he promised. ‘This way. Just hand your ticket to the man over there.’ He nodded towards him. ‘Morning, George.’
    ‘Hello, Potty. Good morning, Miss. Welcome to Royal Tunbridge Wells.’
    ‘Everyone is so friendly,’ she remarked, showing her ticket that he clipped for her.
    ‘Keep that safe now for your return journey.’
    She smiled thanks. ‘I’m Stella Myles,’ she said, guessing it was appropriate to introduce herself to this friendly stranger.
    George touched his cap.
    ‘Stella’s the new governess for the Ainsworths,’ Potter added.
    ‘Oh well, good for you, Miss Stella. You’ll never want to leave here now, though,’ he warned with warm affection for his town.
    ‘I know I’m going to love it,’ she replied, ‘but I have family in London so you may see me coming and going, George.’
    ‘So long as you always return and bring your beauty back to Kent, I’ll be here to see you safely on and off the train.’
    She chuckled. ‘What a flirt you are!’
    Both men laughed, lifted hands in farewell and John motioned for her to follow him. ‘We have to go up these stairs. Here, let me take that extra bag. Do you know much about Tunbridge Wells, Stella?’
    ‘Too little, I’m afraid.’
    They emerged onto the main street and she looked left, up the steep hill, enchanted by the elegant little shops that lined it and turned into housing, she presumed.
    ‘This is Mount Pleasant Road,’ Potter explained.
    ‘It certainly suits its name,’ she said, revolving to take in the clock tower and the pretty façade of the railway station.
    He could tell she was keen to get her bearings. ‘Well, now, behind us is the Lonsdale Mansions – that’s a private hotel. In the distance that’s Holy Trinity Church. Here we are,’ he said, gesturing to a magnificent silver-grey car. ‘I wasn’t sure if you’d like the hood down. Women do not like their hairstyles being blown too hard, although it’s a perfect day for going topless,’ he said with a wink. ‘But I took the precaution of keeping the hood on.’
    She stared with disbelief that this was all laid on for her. Potter reached for the back door.
    ‘Here, let’s get you settled and then I can load —’
    ‘Do you mind very much if I ride in front with you, John? I’m not used to all this special treatment.’
    He smiled broadly again. ‘Of course. It would be a pleasure.’ He opened the front passenger door and soon enough joined her in the cab, pulling on his driving gloves.
    ‘What a splendid car,’ Stella said, running a hand across the soft crimson leather.
    ‘She’s a beauty, this Daimler. It’s been in the family since before the Great War.’ He gave a honk to someone passing by, who lifted a hand in salutation, and then he gently eased the car down the hill. ‘The Pantiles are over