Free Winterwood by Dorothy Eden Page A

are you enjoying your new position, Miss Hurst?”
    “Very well, thank you.”
    “Splendid. I’m glad to hear it. I will look forward to renewing our acquaintance at Winterwood.”
    “At Winterwood!”
    “Don’t look so surprised, Miss Hurst. Or is it alarm I see in your face? It’s too dark in here to see much at all. Why don’t you have a shutter open?” He crossed to one of the windows and threw open a shutter. The light streaming on his face seemed to heighten his ruddy color. “There, now I can see you. You really are quite extraordinarily like that other lady.”
    “What an odd coincidence,” Lavinia said coldly.
    “It certainly is. And don’t admire my good memory. One simply doesn’t forget quickly your kind of looks. And hers, of course. But I’m scarcely flattering you by confusing you with her. She wasn’t exactly in enviable circumstances.” He laughed softly as he added, “Cousin Charlotte has invited me to spend some time at Winterwood. I believe I shall enjoy that.” He wrinkled his nose. “I say, these Venetian smells aren’t exactly lavender water. I’ll have to close this again. Stuffiness is the better of two evils. You will have to try to survive, Miss Hurst. I’m sure my young relative Flora would be most upset if you didn’t.”
    Was that a threat? Why would he threaten her?
    When he had gone, shutting the door with a bang and calling in his loud jovial voice for the gondolier, Lavinia tried to reassure herself. She was feeling a little sick. She couldn’t be certain that Jonathon Peate knew who she was. He might have been only guessing. He must have seen her on one of the days of that interminable two weeks of the trial. She knew there had been a great number of sightseers, particularly men. Surely it wasn’t her bad fortune to meet one of them so quickly. But she did remember the strange searching look he had given her in the hotel yesterday. Some memory had nagged at him then. Later he must have remembered what it was.
    So now he was either certain, of his knowledge, or bluffing.
    But why? Did he think that, scared of his betraying her secret, she would allow him to put her to some future use?
    Rather than that, she would let him tell the whole truth.
    But it would hurt Flora, who had conceived this sudden ardent affection for her, dreadfully. She didn’t yet return Flora’s affection, but she was extremely reluctant to have that tragic little figure in her wheelchair hurt.
    And Daniel? How would he accept such news? Lavinia clenched her hands, feeling them gritty with dust, and beginning to shudder with revulsion and despair. Daniel mustn’t know. She couldn’t bear him to know. Her chin lifted and hardened. Perhaps Mr. Jonathon Peate would get a surprise himself when he found that she was not so easy to manipulate after all. He forgot that she had come through an experience not designed to make her easily frightened or to rely on tears. When lies were of value, she would tell them without compunction. Let him find out how little she could be terrorized.
    But what exactly was he up to?
    It seemed that Jonathon had scarcely gone before the doorbell clanged.
    That would be Charlotte coming back to see if her work was finished, and to pay her second visit of the day to Aunt Tameson.
    Fernanda flapped across the sala in her loose espadrilles.
    The door opened. Daniel’s voice said, “I have come for Miss Hurst, Fernanda,” and Lavinia was hurriedly wiping the moisture off her cheeks.
    “Have you finished, Miss Hurst?” Daniel was in the doorway. “My wife has a bad headache, so I have come for you. I’ll just go upstairs and pay my respects to the Contessa. We plan to leave Venice next Monday. I have been making all the bookings.”
    The old house was suddenly alive again. Lavinia sat on a trunk until Daniel came downstairs. She knew in that brief passage of time that nothing could ever make her confess her past. She desired so ardently that he think well of