had an idea,’ he took up. ‘An idea that I’ve had since Tuesday to look at from every angle.’
‘That idea being…?’ she questioned, and waited, barely breathing, to hear whether she had been foolhardy to think he might be meaning what she thought he was so amazingly suggesting, or whether her brain, her instincts, had got it right.
‘That idea being,’ he said, looking at no one but her, his gaze steady, unwavering, ‘to marry you.’
A small sound escaped her. Even though she had thought that might be what he meant, she could not help that small gasp of shock. ‘Thank you for dinner,’ she said, and stood up.
He was, she discovered, not a man to give up easily. He had cynically, no emotion in it, decided he would marry, case closed.
But he was on his feet too. ‘Hear me out, Colly?’ he asked of her. ‘Neither of us wants to marry, so that’s all in our favour.’
‘How on earth do you make that out?’
‘Neither of us is emotionally involved. And it’s not as if we have to live with each other.’
‘We don’t?’ she found herself questioning, even when she was just not interested.
He put a hand under her elbow and guided her from the lounge, waited while she retrieved her cloak, then escorted her out to his car. But instead of driving off once they were in his car, he turned to her and stated, ‘You too have a problem, Colly.’
She half turned to look at him. ‘I’m fully aware of that,’ she answered shortly.
‘And I’m in a position to solve your problems,’ he said. And before she could give him a curt, No, thank you, he was informing her, ‘My grandfather owns a small apartment here in London where he and my grandmother stayed whenever they came up to town. He hasn’t used it since her death, and he’s said he will never again use it. But, because of his very happy memories of times spent there, neither will he part with it. He’s asked me to keep an eye on the place, and I’ve stayed the occasional night there. But you’d be doing me a favour if you’d take it on. The place needs living in.’
Good heavens! ‘You’re offering me the tenancy?’ she exclaimed, guessing in advance that she would never be able to afford the rent.
‘What I’m offering, in return for you giving me a half-hour of your time and standing up in front of some registrar and making the appropriate responses when asked, is somewhere to live. I think you’ll be comfortable there. Further to that, I’ll undertake to fund any training you desire, be it a foundation course followed by university, or whatever you may wish to do.’
This was jaw-dropping stuff! She had come out with him for a job interview and had never expected anything like this! She just had to recap. ‘In return for an “I will” you’re prepared to…’
‘On the day you marry me,’ he replied unhesitatingly, ‘I shall arrange for ten thousand pounds to be paid into your bank, with subsequent top-ups as and when required.’
‘No!’ she said, point-blank, and, nothing to argue about, she turned to face the front.
‘Think about it,’ he returned.
‘I’d like to go home,’ she told him woodenly. She was aware of his hard scrutiny, but was relieved when after some seconds he too faced the front and started up his car.
Neither of them spoke on the way back to her home. What he was thinking about she had no idea, but her head was positively buzzing. ‘Think about it,’ he had said—how could she not?
When she was desperate for somewhere to live he was offering her free accommodation! When she had a need to train for a career—and by twenty-three most women had a toe-hold on several rungs of the career ladder—he was offering to finance her career training!
She should be snatching his hand off. But—marry him! Colly knew that to marry him was something that she could just not do.
Having been silent all the way home, it was as if Silas Livingstone had thought to give her all the space she needed to get used to the idea. Because no sooner had he driven up to her front door than he turned to her.
‘What’s it to be?’ he enquired mildly.
‘I thought I’d given you my answer.’
‘That was instinctive, spur-of-the-moment, an unanalysed reaction.’ He shrugged that away. ‘Marry me,’ he urged.
‘I—don’t even know you!’ she protested.
‘You don’t need to know me,’ he countered. ‘Just a half-hour—we need never see each other again.’
‘No,’ she repeated. ‘I can’t. I’m sorry. I know how very important this is to you, but—’
‘You’re right there,’ he cut in abruptly, causing her to stare at him. But, relenting suddenly, ‘I’ve had since Tuesday to adjust to the notion. Four days in which to weigh everything up, to mull it over and over, to get used to the idea before reaching the decision I have. On reflection, perhaps I’m not being fair, dropping it on you like this and expecting you to come back with the answer I want.’
She was about to reiterate that her answer was no. And that had she had those same four days it would not have made any difference—her answer would still be no—that she just did not need to think about it, or need to get used to the idea either. But Silas was no longer beside her. He was out of the car and had come round to the passenger door.
She stepped out and he stood with her for a moment on the gravel by the front door. He glanced down to where, in the light of the security lamps, her dark hair glowed with red lights. ‘Think about it,’ he said. ‘Think about it and I’ll call you. I’ll phone you Tuesday evening.’
Colly looked up. His expression was telling her nothing. She opened her mouth to again tell him no, that she had no need to think about it, then realised that he was not in any kind of mood to take ‘no’ from her.
‘Goodnight,’ she said, and went indoors.
Saturday and Sunday passed with Colly still trying to believe that the conversation that had taken place on Friday night had actually taken place and was not some figment of her imagination. Had Silas Livingstone really suggested they marry? Had he really told her to think about it and that he would call her for her answer?
Whatever—his astonishing proposal did achieve one thing: her head was so full of it there was small room for her to take much heed of Nanette’s spiteful barbs whenever they were within speaking distance of each other.
Though on Monday morning Nanette was at her most vicious. ‘You still here?’ she snapped when she eventually came down the stairs.
‘I’m making plans,’ Colly returned, without a plan in her head.
‘You’d better make them pretty quick, then,’ Nanette retorted, going on to inform her nastily, ‘If you’re not out of this house by the end of the week I’m having all the locks changed!’
‘You can’t do that!’ Colly gasped.
‘Who’s going
