“Well, you see, I wouldn’t marry you for your money,” Arabella said.
“No, no, I’m sure you wouldn’t.” Doctor Teverner spoke gravely; she didn’t see the gleam of amusement in his eyes.
She got up. “Thank you for letting me talk and for giving me advice. I hope I haven’t made you late for anything.”
He assured her that she hadn’t, bade her a cheerful good-night and took himself off home where Mrs. Turner met him by saying, “Time you were married, Doctor. And if I’ve said that once, I’ve said it a hundred times!”
“One day I’ll surprise you,” he promised her.
About the Author
Romance readers around the world were sad to note the passing of BETTY NEELS in June 2001. Her career spanned thirty years, and she continued to write into her ninetieth year. To her millions of fans, Betty epitomized the romance writer, and yet she began writing almost by accident. She had retired from nursing, but her inquiring mind still sought stimulation. Her new career was born when she heard a lady in her local library bemoaning the lack of good romance novels. Betty’s first book, Sister Peters in Amsterdam, was published in 1969, and she eventually completed 134 books. Her novels offer a reassuring warmth that was very much a part of her own personality. She was a wonderful writer, and she will be greatly missed. Her spirit and genuine talent will live on in all her stories.
Dearest Love
Betty Neels
MILLS & BOON
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CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER ONE
DEAR Sir,
With reference to your advertisement in this week’s Lady magazine, I wish to apply for the post of Caretaker/Housekeeper.
I am twenty-seven years of age, single with no dependants, and have several years’ experience in household management including washing, ironing, cleaning and cooking. I am a cordon bleu cook. I have a working knowledge of minor electrical and plumbing faults. I am able to take messages and answer the telephone.
I would wish to bring my cat with me.
Yours faithfully,
Arabella Lorimer
IT WAS the last letter to be read by the elderly man sitting at his desk in his consulting-room, a large apartment on the ground floor of a Regency house, one of a terrace, in Wigmore Street, London. He read it for a second time, gave a rumble of laughter, and added it to the pile before him. There were twelve applicants in all and Arabella Lorimer was the only one to enclose references—the only one to write legibly, too, neatly setting down all the relevant facts. It was a pity that she wasn’t a man…
He began to read the letters again and was interrupted halfway through by the entry of his partner. Dr Titus Tavener came unhurriedly into the room, a very tall man with broad shoulders and a massive person. He was handsome with a high-bridged nose, a firm mouth and rather cold blue eyes. His hair, once fair, was pepper and salt, despite which he looked younger than his forty years.
Dr James Marshall, short and stout and almost bald, greeted him with pleasure. ‘Just the man I want. The applications for the caretaker’s post—I have them here; I’ve spent the last hour reading them. I’ve decided which one I shall accept. Do read them, Titus, and give me your opinion. Not that it will make any difference to my choice.’ He chortled as Dr Tavener sat himself down and picked up the little pile of letters. He read them through, one after the other, and then gathered them neatly together.
‘There are one or two possibles: the ex-bus driver—although he admits to asthma attacks—then this Mrs Butler.’ He glanced at the letter in his hand. ‘But is she quite the type to open the door? Of course the joker in the pack is Miss Arabella Lorimer and her cat. Most unsuitable.’
‘Why?’
‘Obviously a maiden lady down on her luck. I don’t think I believe her skills are quite what she claims them to be. I’d hesitate to leave a stopped-up drain-pipe or a blown fuse to her ladylike hands.’
His partner laughed. ‘Titus, I can only hope that one day before it’s too late you will meet a woman who will turn you sides to middle and then tramp all over you.’
Dr Tavener smiled. ‘Unlikely. Perhaps I have been rather hard on the lady. There is always the possibility that she is an Amazon with a tool-kit.’
‘Well, you will soon know. I’ve decided that she might do.’
Dr Tavener got up and strolled to the window and stood looking out on to the quiet street. ‘And why not? Mrs Lane will be glad to leave. Her arthritis isn’t getting any better and she’s probably longing to go and live with her daughter. She’ll take her furniture with her, I suppose? Do we furnish the place?’
‘It depends—Miss Lorimer may have her own stuff.’ Dr Marshall pushed back his chair. ‘We’ve a busy day tomorrow; I’ll see if your Amazon can come for an interview at five o’clock. Will you be back by then?’
‘Unlikely—the clinic is overbooked as it is. In any case, I’m dining out.’ He turned to look at his partner. ‘I dare say you’ve made a good choice, James.’ He strolled to the door. ‘I’ve some paperwork to deal with. Shall I send Miss Baird home? You’re going yourself? I shall be here for another hour yet—see you in the morning.’
He went to his own consulting-room, going through the elegant waiting-room with a smile
