One Chance At Love. Carole Mortimer

      One Chance at Love

      Carole Mortimer

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      Table of Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       Copyright

       CHAPTER ONE

      ‘I’M GOING insane! If something doesn’t soon happen to free me from here, they’re going to have to lock me up in a real prison for killing my own uncle!’

      Dizzy held the receiver away from her ear as her friend’s voice rose in desperation. ‘Do I take it, Christi, dear,’ she drawled during a brief respite in the tirade—probably so that Christi could take air into her starved lungs, for she hadn’t stopped bemoaning her fate since Dizzy answered her call five minutes earlier, ‘that this visit with your uncle isn’t working out?’ She again held the receiver away from her poor abused ear, as Christi told her exactly what she thought of her visit to the Lake District. ‘And I didn’t even realise you knew words like that!’ she mocked teasingly.

      ‘I mean it, Dizzy,’ Christi said frantically. ‘I can’t stand it here much longer without breaking out in some way that’s going to totally destroy any chance of my uncle agreeing to my inheriting my money on my twenty-first birthday!’

      Christi always had had a flair for the dramatic, which was perhaps as well, since she had chosen acting as a career, Dizzy acknowledged ruefully. But she very much doubted Christi really would do anything desperate, not when so much depended on her remaining her usually serene self. In fact, this Zachariah Bennett must be a bit of a monster to have ruffled Christi’s feathers at all!

      ‘You only have another month to go,’ she reminded her friend gently.

      ‘Three weeks and five days,’ Christi corrected sharply. ‘I’ve been counting! And I could have murdered him, disposed of the body, and disappeared without trace by then!’

      Dizzy couldn’t help but chuckle at this uncharacteristic violence from a woman who usually avoided stepping on an ant where possible!

      For the last week Christi had been staying with her uncle in his Lake District home, intent on impressing the man who had the guardianship of her inheritance with her maturity and ability to handle the considerable amount of money her parents had left in trust for her on their deaths three years ago. Christi was all too aware that if her uncle decided otherwise she would have to wait until she was twenty-five, when the money would come to her automatically. Dizzy could quite see that murdering her uncle and burying him in an unmarked grave could jeopardise that good impression Christi was trying to make!

      ‘What’s wrong with him?’ She frowned her puzzlement.

      ‘He’s fusty, dusty, spends all day working on history books that no one’s going to read—–’

      ‘Oh I don’t know about that,’ Dizzy objected mildly. ‘I found his book on the Romans very interesting—–’

      ‘I don’t consider you any judge of literature when you can spend half an hour looking at a children’s annual!’ Christi dismissed disgustedly.

      And enjoyed every minute of it, too, Dizzy thought with a mischievous grin. But she knew Christi wouldn’t appreciate hearing about that in her present mood. ‘I was just making sure it was a suitable present for a five-year-old,’ she defended without rancour.

      ‘One of your godchildren, I suppose,’ her friend sighed acknowledgement. ‘How many do you have now?’

      ‘Six,’ she related proudly. ‘And, in case you’re interested, Sarah loved the annual.’

      ‘The only thing I’m interested in at the moment is getting away from here,’ Christi groaned. ‘When my uncle isn’t working, he has his nose stuck in a research book. And Castle Haven is exactly that, Dizzy,’ she added incredulously. ‘A huge monstrosity of a castle, stuck in the middle of all this water and mountains. It’s like being in a giant freezer!’ She sounded distraught. ‘I never thought I’d be able to sympathise with a joint of beef! I ask you, Dizzy, whoever heard of wearing a jumper in the house in June!’

      ‘A castle, hm?’ she repeated interestedly. ‘Is it—–’

      ‘Dizzy, it’s just a draughty old castle!’ Christi cut in impatiently. ‘It’s stuck out in the middle of nowhere, and if my uncle has any friends in the neighbourhood then I haven’t met them. Good grief, Dizzy, I actually went to bed at nine-thirty last night. Nine thirty!’ she repeated, in case Dizzy hadn’t been able to believe it the first time around—as Christi herself obviously hadn’t!

      And she could quite understand why: Christi was a night person, who didn’t usually wake up until ten o’clock in the evening. Things must be more desperate than Dizzy had given Christi credit for!

      ‘How am I going to convince my uncle I’m a responsible adult, perfectly mature enough to handle my own money, if I give in to this craving I have to put my hands around his throat and strangle the life out of him just to relieve the boredom?’ Christi wailed emotionally.

      This time Dizzy held back her chuckle, trying desperately to appreciate the seriousness of the situation. ‘I can see how that might make him have second thoughts,’ she finally said, wryly.

      ‘He already thinks I’m irresponsible because I dropped out of college to go to drama school,’ Christi told her worriedly.

      Dizzy gave a snort of laughter. ‘If he thinks you’re irresponsible, I hate to think what he would make of me! Christi, why don’t you—–’

      ‘Oh, damn, the gong just sounded for dinner,’ her friend muttered frantically. ‘I’ll have to go, my uncle “deplores tardiness”.’ Her change of voice, to stern reproval, over the last two words indicated that it was a direct quote. ‘Try and come up with a believable excuse for me to come back to London, Dizzy,’ she urged desperately. ‘Before I go completely insane…’

      Dizzy rang off more slowly than her friend, her expression thoughtful as she finished preparing the pilchards on toast that was to be her own dinner. She adored the fish, ate them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner if she had the chance, and indulged the addiction to the full whenever she was alone, which wasn’t very often. If having two cats and a dog constantly underfoot could be classed as being alone now! She jealously guarded her dinner as all three animals tried to steal it from her plate as she ate; she really would have to have a word with Christi about the deplorable manners of her pets.

      She looked around the flat appreciatively, loving the mellow décor and comfortable furniture, mentally thanking Christi for inviting her to stay and care for her pets for her while she was away. If only Gladys would stop trying to steal her pilchards, she grumbled under her breath, even as she tapped a sneaking paw away from her plate.

      Feeling