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‘What?’
‘I want to get out—out of your car, and out of any joint selling agreement. I thought you felt as I do, that you wanted to find the right purchaser for the house, when instead—’
‘I do,’ he interrupted her ruthlessly, ‘but you seemed to be forgetting that our first responsibility isn’t to the house but to Mrs Birtles. It’s obvious that she is having difficulty maintaining the house now that her husband is dead. It’s her sole investment.’
Charlotte blinked at him, suddenly and shamingly aware of how much she had missed. She had seen the house and fallen in love with it, but now he made her remember the small touches of shabbiness she had seen but not really registered.
‘I suppose you’re saying that it will be much easier to find a conglomerate buyer than a private one.’
‘Yes,’ he agreed emotionlessly. ‘But that doesn’t mean that a private buyer isn’t possible. You know, you’d find life much less fraught if you learned to trust people a little, Charlotte. You’re always so ready to believe the worst of others.’
A dark flush stained her skin. His accusation was justified, but that didn’t make hearing it any easier.
‘I’m sorry if I misjudge you,’ she said stiffly.
‘Are you?’The look he gave her made her feel uncomfortable, guilty in some way. ‘I’ve got to go up to London for a couple of days, to finalise things with the buyer of my agency there. While I’m there I’ll have a word with a couple of people I know—see if they know of anyone who might be interested in the house, strictly off the record.’
‘I suppose the best thing will be to auction it,’ Charlotte suggested tiredly.
Oliver had ripped the veils of naïveté from her eyes. Every word he had said to her had been true. They did owe it to their client to get the best possible price for her, but she could not bear to think of the house being destroyed.
‘Possibly,’ Oliver agreed, and then changed the subject, saying, ‘I was wondering if it would be convenient for me to move my things into your place tonight, then I could get an early start for London in the morning.’
There was no real reason for her to object. It was crazy to feel suddenly as though the ground was falling away under her feet, as though she wanted to protest that things were happening far too fast for her, that she needed more time…
‘The men started work on the kitchen today,’ she warned him. ‘Everywhere will be in a bit of a mess.’
‘I only want somewhere to sleep tonight. And I’ll be gone early in the morning.’
They were approaching the town now, and after she had said quietly, ‘Very well, then, if you’re sure you still want to go ahead,’ he gave her a sharp look, but said nothing for a few seconds as he negotiated the traffic.
‘What will you do about your car?’ he asked her as he swung into the empty town square. There was no market today, and plenty of car parking spaces.
‘I’ll ring the garage and see if they can keep it going for me until the new one is delivered,’ she told him wryly.
‘Mmm. Well, you’re perfectly welcome to use this while I’m in London, if you’d care to. My insurance does cover other drivers.’
Use this? Charlotte stared at him, unable to believe her ears, and then said shakily, ‘Good heavens, I couldn’t possibly. What if anything should happen to it?’ She looked in awe at the immaculate upholstery and gleaming bodywork.
Perhaps he had heard the note of regret in her voice because, instead of accepting her refusal, he said easily, ‘It’s only a car, you know—and besides, I’ve every confidence in your driving.’
Charlotte looked at him. Was this all a part of the softening-up process Vanessa had mentioned, the deliberate and ruthless clinical sabotage of her defences?
This afternoon she had been stunned by his generosity, by his business ethics, so very, very different from what she had imagined. He had seemed so honest, so direct, so completely without any ulterior motive… Was she being too gullible, too trusting?
‘Look, I’ll leave you the keys and then it’s up to you,’ she heard him saying.
She protested uncertainly, ‘But won’t you need it…to get to the station?’
‘I’ll use a taxi. Much safer than leaving it in some station car park all day.’
He had stopped now. All she had to do was to get out, thank him for the lift and arrange for him to move in his things, and yet as she opened the car door she felt a sharp reluctance to leave.
Firmly quelling it, she got out. This was ridiculous. Any more of this foolishness and she’d be in danger of falling in love with the man.
