by Betty Neels
She left the place feeling depressed and a little frightened and to cheer herself up, telephoned Louisa’s flat. But her sister, although she sounded pleased to hear her, didn’t suggest that they might meet—indeed, Louisa didn’t ask what Emily was doing or where she was living. Emily stood with the receiver in her hand after Louisa’s hurried goodbye, staring at nothing in particular, until a man with a cross face banged on the door, frowning impatiently. He brushed past her, ignoring her apologies, and she wandered along aimlessly, trying to decide what she should do.
She had several weeks in which to find work, of course, but she didn’t want to stay in Highgate for longer than necessary; a room in the nurses’ home at one of the big hospitals was infinitely preferable. She paused at a bookstall and bought the Nursing Times and the Nursing Mirror and got on a bus and walking the last street or two, she bought a bag of apples and a bottle of milk. She wasn’t hungry, but she would have to have a meal. Later on, she would go out and get herself some supper, something in a tin which she could warm up on the gas ring. It began to rain as she turned into the road where she had her room; cold, heavy rain so that by the time she reached the door her face was wet and her hair sleeked under her woolly cap. She went slowly upstairs, clutching the apples and the milk bottle, unlocked her door and went in.
There was only one comfortable chair in the room, and Renier was sitting in it. Emily made a funny little sound, half sob, half laugh, dumped the milk on a chair, allowed the apples to fall to the floor and said in a whisper: ‘How did you get in?’ She took a breath and added: ‘Mrs Twigg doesn’t like visitors, or—or rowdiness…’
He had got out of the chair and was standing in the middle of the room, making it look much smaller than it was. ‘Now when have I ever been rowdy?’ he asked mildly.
Emily wasn’t going to be sidetracked. ‘How did you know?’ She took off her wet cap and threw it down beside the milk. ‘I asked Dolly not to tell.’
He nodded. ‘And Dolly, bless her, told me that she had asked you to give Mary your address—so I rang Mary.’
She was unbuttoning her coat with cold fingers and he crossed the room and pushed her hands gently away and took off her coat. ‘Why?’ she asked.
The coat followed the cap. Renier’s arms encircled her. ‘I love you,’ he said quietly. ‘I’ve loved you for a long time now—weeks and weeks, and I was beginning to think that you would never love me, always flinging Heleen in my teeth and going on for ever and ever about your career.’ He bent his head and kissed her lengthily and would have gone on even longer if she hadn’t wriggled a little away from him so that she could see his face.
‘Look, it won’t work… Oh, Renier, I love you too, but I’m not right for you—I mean, just think of Heleen…’
She wasn’t allowed to continue; he kissed her again. ‘I have no wish to think of Heleen or anyone else, only you, my darling Emily. I wanted to make you jealous, and surely you wouldn’t deny a man the right to choose his own wife.’
‘You let me come back to England.’
‘What else could I do? Kidnap you? Lock you in the cellars? And if I had asked you to marry me you would have refused out of hand, under the impression, I suppose, that you were doing me and Heleen, or any other girl for that matter, a good turn.’
‘Well—yes, perhaps. You see, I didn’t know you loved me, Renier.’
‘You never gave me the chance to tell you, my darling.’ He stretched up and pulled her down on to his knee. ‘I’ll do it now, before we throw your things into your case and go back to my flat.’
Emily sat up, but he pushed her head gently against his shoulder. ‘We must make a few plans, my love; we’ll marry just as soon as I can arrange it.’
‘But what about Mary and George—and the twins…?’
‘If you think that I am prepared to wait until the twins are old enough to be your bridal attendants, then you are grossly mistaken, Emily. Now sit still, dearest, while I tell you what a beautiful girl you are.’
Emily sighed blissfully into his shoulder. It seemed likely that she was going to be rushed down the nearest aisle without so much as a new hat on her head, but somehow it didn’t matter at all. She said in a happy voice: ‘I’m listening, Renier.’
ISBN: 978-1-4592-3911-1
A BETTY NEELS CHRISTMAS
Copyright © 2002 by Harlequin Books S.A.
The publisher acknowledges the copyright holder of the individual works as follows:
A CHRISTMAS PROPOSAL
Copyright © 1996 by Betty Neels
WINTER WEDDING
Copyright © 1979 by Betty Neels
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