Free Playing with Fire by Sandra Heath Page B

clear I wanted no cats!”
    “This is my house, not yours, and it pleases me to keep Ozymandias with me. Now then, what brings you here, Sanderby?”
    Randal had been on the point of advancing to a more dominant position in the center of the room, but now he kept well back by the door. “It is a while since our beeting at Chelworth, so I thought I would pay you a friendly call.”
    “Only a fool would believe that; so get to the real point, whatever it is.”
    “In good tibe, Richardson, in good tibe. A few social niceties first, eh?” Ozzy bestowed a baleful look on the visitor and growled low in his throat. Randal eyed the tomcat uneasily, then blew his nose again and continued stoically. “Have you heard when Abanda will reach England?” he asked Sir Julian.
    “If she has any sense, she’ll still follow her father to Australia.”
    “Ah, how droll you are, to be sure,” Randal murmured, watching Ozzy, whose amber eyes did not waver from him.
    “Drollness has nothing to do with it, Sanderby, for I mean every word.”
    “I ab sure you do, but your opinion bakes no difference to be. What does bake a difference, however, is the knowledge that as a child I cabe within an inch of being deserted in favor of you.”
    That isn’t really what matters to you now, Sir Julian thought, in his mind’s eye seeing Felice’s all-important letter in the statue’s secret compartment at Chelworth. Ozzy was acutely conscious of the atmosphere between the two men, and he ventured to the edge of the table closest to Randal, then spat as threateningly as he could. Sir Julian could barely conceal his admiration for his pet’s noble efforts. Ozymandias was past master of delivering feline invective. There would definitely be another plate of bacon after this, as deliciously light and crisp as the cook could manage.
    Admiration was the very last thing Randal felt for the bristling ginger quadruped. He furiously regarded Ozzy, and then sneezed again. Handkerchief flapping at his nose, he spoke again. “Sir Julian, I suggest we stop beating about the bush. Your affair with by dear baba is really neither here nor there, is it? What really batters is what happened five years before you and she exchanged so much as a glance, let alone stole a clandestine kiss.”
    Sir Julian contrived to look puzzled. “What in God’s own name are you getting at?” he demanded. “I know nothing of anything that might have gone on five years before I met her.”
    “You are playing with fire again, Sir Julian. I know frob by father’s diary that she wrote you a long and exceedingly delicate letter.”
    Sir Julian’s heart missed a beat. Until this moment, Randal’s knowledge of the letter had just been guesswork, unconfirmed and therefore not to be entirely believed. Now it was confirmed.
    Randal went on. “She detailed her exact reasons for not seeing you anybore. Naturally enough, given the circubstances, by father tried to prevent the letter frob reaching you. He failed, but then you already know that, because you have the letter. Don’t you.” The last two words were a statement, not a question.
    “I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sir Julian replied, determined to protect the letter at all costs, but he could see by Randal’s eyes that the denial failed to convince.
    “Oh, I think we both know there was a letter, Sir Julian.” Randal blew his nose. “That’s why you’re here in London, isn’t it? To see how great a ripple you can cause in the pool?”
    So that was what had prompted the visit. “You’re wrong…about everything. I’m here in London to attend to the sale of this house and to visit the British Museum in order to examine a papyrus. And I tell you again that I know nothing of any letter from your mother.”
    “Why do you persist in speaking to be as if I were a boron? The letter is fact, you know it and I know it, so will you please stop this dabbed pretence?” Randal’s eyes were now very red