Free Dear Tiberius; (aka Nurse Nolan) by Susan Barrie Page B

week Ketterings provided a high standard of comfort and entertainment for its guests, and during that time Lucy saw comparatively little of any of them. She devoted half an hour each day to Miss Harling ’ s ankle, and she occasionally walked in the park with Mrs. Harling, and chatted once or twice with Francis Burke. The latter fitted in even less well with his surroundings than the ballerina ’ s mother, who never ceased to feel overawed by the style in which her host lived. But the reason for Burke ’ s inability to feel at home at Ketterings was entirely different, for he knew himself to be the odd man out. He was in love with Lynette—had been in love with her for years, for he was considerably older than she was—but it was a love that was doomed to be unrewarded.
    Sometimes, when she watched him strolling restlessly up and down the length of the terrace, gazing unhappily at the lake, with his hands thrust deep in the pockets of his always meticulously tailored jackets, Lucy wondered why he had allowed himself to be included in this house party. And she wondered also why Sir John, who was favorite No. 1 with Lynette Harling, had permitted him to be included, when every glance he sent in the lovely redhead ’ s direction gave away the extent and depth of his feelings.
    Lucy saw little of Sir John. He did occasionally make his appearance when she and Miranda were together, but he obviously preferred to visit Miranda when she was alone, and at such times he sometimes devoted half an hour to sitting with her. Miranda admitted almost in surprise that she no longer felt badly in awe of him when he came near to her—in the past the mere threat of a visit from him had made her want to cling to Fiske, or have someone else near to share the embarrassment with her—but now she even enjoyed it when he picked up one of her books and read to her, and she was aware that he studied her more attentively during his visits.
    One morning Lucy got up early to take a stroll in the gardens before breakfast—a thing she had delighted to do often before the arrival of the visitors—and she met him taking the short cut through the rose garden to the house. He had plainly been riding. He looked astonishingly well in riding clothes—so astonishingly well that her heart gave a queer little jolt of pleasure when she saw him running lightly up the time-worn steps that led from the shrubberies, and came to a surprised halt in front of her. It might have been the clear, primrose yellow of his polo-necked sweater, or the fact that his eyes were sparkling—sparkling and alive under the sooty black eyelashes that shadowed them—but he seemed at least several years younger to her this morning, and he was actually smiling. It was a gay, inquiring smile.
    “ Why, Miss Nolan— ” for some reason lately he had dropped calling her nurse “ —what are you doing up at this early hour? ”
    Lucy was taken aback by the suddenness of his appearance, but the friendliness of his greeting made it easy for her to reply naturally. Because it was a warm and sunny morning she was wearing a gay print dress—one that she had bought in Italy when she was on holiday there the previous year—with a white cardigan over it, and there were white, rubber-soled shoes on her feet.
    When she had explained that she liked to snatch these early morning moments in the fresh air whenever possible, and had waved a hand to indicate how marvelously fresh she thought everything was, with the dew sparkling on the roses that were still blooming away in profusion, and the green lichens overhanging the rosy red walls hemming them in, a poem in color in the sunshine, he looked at her keenly and said, “ You like the country, don ’ t you? ”
    “ I adore it. I ’ d never live anywhere else but in the country if I could have my way. ”
    Suddenly she remembered his own preference for the town, and a delicate color invaded her cheeks. He saw it, and his eyes smiled at her