Free House of Storms by Violet Winspear Page B

scene which had taken place down in the hall. 'Stuart and the señor were snarling at each other like a pair of angry hounds,' she sighed, 'and there I was in the middle of them. Then Zandra appeared and things got bitchy. I took to my heels and scampered upstairs, for the last thing I want is arguments over whether or not I go to this party Zandra has arranged. If she had wanted me there I would have been asked. It was Stuart's fault I got dragged into the argument, and Rodare Salvador obviously felt obliged to issue an invitation . . . along with a strong hint that Stuart behave himself because he thinks I'm too naive to be able to take care of myself.'
    Debra broke off in exasperation. 'You'd think I was about sixteen years old and had no experience of life to hear that man issue commands! He made such an issue of it, and it was as if he deliberately enjoyed baiting Stuart.'
    'Not going soft over that young American, are you?' Nanny Rose regarded Debra with a frown. 'He's a bit too good-looking and he knows it, flashing those blue eyes of his at every creature in a skirt. He even comes in here with his charm turned on, and I'm old enough to be his mother!'
    'Does he often come to the nursery?' Debra looked intrigued. 'I can't picture him being fond of children, least of all a year-old infant such as Dean.'
    'You can't always tell about people, as I've learnt over the years.' Nanny Rose went and lifted Dean out of his bath and, wrapping him in a towel, brought him wriggling to her chair, where she sat rubbing him dry.
    Debra sat and watched, thinking to herself that Dean's blue eyes were as bright and daring as Stuart Coltan's, and because he had the dark Salvador hair and eye-lashes he was a most appealing child to look at.
    'Are Jack and Rodare alike in looks and ways?' she casually asked.
    Nanny Rose considered her question, then in a thoughtful way she shook her head. 'I wouldn't say so, Debra. Mr Rodare is of his mother's people, not only in the way he looks but in the way he thinks. Mr Jack takes after his mother, but that isn't to say he isn't a very nice man—perhaps a mite too nice, if you get my meaning? The sort of chap to be snapped up by a showgirl on the lookout for a meal-ticket that would put caviar on her bread.'
    'Was Pauline that kind of a girl?' For some reason Debra felt disappointed; she had hoped that Lenora Salvador was in the wrong when she implied that the young dancer had married Jack in order to gain money and status. Debra had romantically hoped that it had been one of those breathless love affairs which had ended tragically because it had been fated to do so.
    She gave a crooked little smile. 'I suppose I read too many books, Nanny Rose, and real life isn't like fiction, is it? Real people are very complex, almost frighteningly so.'
    'That may be the case, my ducky, but don't you turn into one of those women who won't dare to love because the very dangers of the involvement are too much for them to face. That's what some people lose sight of when they tend to deride ''old maids", as they sourly call them. If I know anything about single women it's that they're a mite too romantic in their ideas, and a mite too ready to be self-sacrificing when it comes to family or career.'
    'So in your heart, Nanny Rose, you do regret a little that you never married and had a family of your own to raise?'
    'Now and again it crosses my mind.' Nanny Rose had put the sleepy Dean into his pyjamas, and she carried him to bed where he snuggled down with his floppy-eared teddy-bear. Debra gazed down at him and wondered how Jack Salvador could stay away from this affectionate little boy who needed him. Even if he blamed himself for the failure of his marriage he shouldn't allow that blame to include his son.
    She bent down and kissed the rosy cheek. 'Sleep tight, little boy, and may the angels guard you.' It was a little prayer her mother always murmured to her when she was an infant.
    She stayed a while longer with