A Man For All Seasons Read Online Free Page B

a deep groan of despair.

Four
    Seraphim galloped down the corridor and bounced down the stairs. She didn't stop running until she entered the morning room. Thankfully it was empty, although tureens of steaming food were waiting in the long bain-marie. A coal fire burned softly in the wide marble fireplace; flames flickering and dancing gaily.
    Above the mantelpiece Seraphim's great-grandmother peered down at her, and her dark slanting eyes seemed to laugh. A great beauty in her time, (Seraphim's great-great-grandmother had been the toast of India). Seraphim liked to pretend that she looked a little like her, especially around the eyes.
    As she poured herself a glass of orange juice her heart began to settle. Sitting down, she tried to regain her composure. Not an easy task. She was disturbed on a number of levels. Firstly, she was furious with Shelley. Honestly, the girl was practically a nympho. Fancy hopping into bed with a near stranger! To say nothing of the fact he was a guest of her employer. Such blatant sexuality was perturbing. Seraphim tried hard to suppress the small twinge of jealously that lurked in her heart.
    But she couldn't. Why on earth should she feel envious of the girl? After all, Shelley was not even a very good maid. She sighed and put down her glass. It seemed to be another day for introspection. Of course, if she were really, really honest, it was because the incident only served as a reminder of her own lacklustre love life.
    And, if she were going to carry on peeking into her psyche, there was the man himself. Chad Cherub. Her throat tightened and she felt heat radiate through her core. She'd never imagined such a body lurked beneath the casual attire he wore. The wide spread of his chest, and the flat, ridged belly. Above the waistband of the cotton boxer shorts a dark line of hair had curled. His legs, long and muscular, added to the overall impression of power and agility. A body honed by hard work, not hours in a gym.
    She leapt guiltily as the door behind her hissed softly over the carpet. It was Nanny Moira, affectionately known as Nanny M. She'd been her father's nanny before she had been her own. “Morning Nan,” she said, keeping her voice as breezy as possible. Sometimes she felt as if the old woman could pick thoughts from her brain at random. This proved to be a particularly alarming prospect right now. Suddenly she felt a wave of guilt. What right had she to disapprove of Shelley? At least the young maid had the honesty to act on her impulses.
    “And how's my darling girl this morning?”
    Seraphim smiled at the elderly woman, warmed by the affectionate tone and genuine concern in her voice. Still as fit and active at seventy-five as she had been at forty, Nanny M seemed as indestructible as the giant Lebanese cedar tree that graced the back lawn. Suddenly Seraphim had an overwhelming desire to rest her head in her old nanny's lap as she had as a child, and tell her all her troubles. But of course, she didn't. She smiled instead. “I'm very well thank you. I'm taking our guest out for a ride this morning.”
    Nanny sniffed. “Is his nibs going too?” There was no denying the disapproval in her soft Welsh accent.
    Seraphim shook her head. “No, he's not really the outdoors type, is he?”
    Another sniff. “Indeed he's not.”
    Seraphim knew that Nanny disapproved heartily of her match with Barry. She'd always assumed it was simply an old lady's natural reaction to losing her charge rather than any personal discord toward her fiancé. After all, Barry was eminently suitable. Everyone said so, especially her mother. But suddenly doubt flooded through her and she felt utterly out of sorts.
    “Did you hear about Julian and Georgia?” Seraphim watched Nanny's face carefully. She noticed how the soft complexion had become webbed with tiny lines, like a piece of ancient porcelain.
    By way of reply Nanny sniffed loudly again, and began banging lids up and down on the bain-marie, making