The Runaway Visitors Read Online Free Page A

all together, but Sebastien and Amanda had long since raced away from her, and she had been content to let them go, to have herself to herself for a while.
    She became aware of a rustling and of cracking twigs on the hillside behind her, and turned her head to see that a tall, broad man was walking towards her. She remembered him at once. Although it was so long since she had seen him at her parents’ house, he did not seem to have changed much. Older, but not so much older: certainly not grey-haired, as she had thought he might be. She realised that he was much younger than her parents, something she had not been able to tell when she was nine years old. In his thirties still, she thought. The brown hair still seemed rough and unmanageable, but perhaps he did not bother about such things. There was a look of power and confidence about him.
    He was watching her as he came closer.
    ‘Buon giorno, ’ he said, and the voice at once confirmed that this was indeed Charles Duncan: that rich, not quite smooth voice, deep, most satisfyingly cultivated.
    ‘Good morning,’ she replied.
    He paused beside her, his glance taking in the cool, slim beauty, the burnished hair.
    ‘You are English?’ he asked, seeming surprised; and Victoria suddenly realised that he had not yet placed her.
    ‘English, yes,’ she said, and did not smile at him but regarded him with an appraising look. The fact that they were both English seemed naturally to give them the right to speak to each other on this foreign hillside.
    ‘Enjoying the beauties of Florence?’ he asked, nodding at the pale beauty of the city seen through the trees.
    ‘Hoping to,’ she rejoined.
    ‘There are many of them to enjoy. But perhaps you know it well?’
    ‘No, I’ve never been here before.’
    ‘Then a real treasure trove lies before you. But only if you’re interested in the arts, that is. ... Are you?’
    ‘Interested but dreadfully ignorant,’ said Victoria. She was not allowing warmth to creep into her voice. She was speaking politely, as to a stranger, but was keeping him at arm's length. ‘That’s a fairly happy position to be in,’ Charles Duncan
    commented. ‘As long as you have a good teacher. You need somebody to show you all the worth-while things. ‘But I expect you have somebody?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘No? That hardly seems possible.’ The remark was meant to be flattering, but still she did not smile.
    ‘I’m sure I shall be able to find my way around, she said. ‘There will be printed guides, I can ask for advice.’
    He looked at her again, so cool, so reserved, that she represented a challenge.
    ‘I would be happy to give you some advice myself,’ he said.
    ‘I should never presume to take up your time,’ she replied.
    ‘Oh, a little time here and there,’ he said casually. ‘ Nobody can work all the time. I would be happy to show you a few of the many wonderful things here.’
    ‘I shouldn’t dream of allowing you to,’ she said.
    ‘Oh.’ There was amusement and perhaps a touch of sarcasm in his voice as he went on: ‘We haven’t been properly introduced. Is that it? Do such things matter anymore? Then let me remedy it at once. I’m Charles Duncan. I own and live in that large stone-walled house down there.’
    ‘I’ve heard about you,’ said Victoria.
    ‘Then you’ve probably heard that I’m eminently respectable.’ ‘No, that didn’t happen to be one of the things I heard. ’
    ‘Nothing too bad, I hope?’ He still sounded amused.
    ‘Nothing but good, in fact. Largely concerned with your genius.’
    ‘Oh, that’s going too far,’ he said mildly.
    ‘And your passion for work,’ she said. ‘Which I certainly have no intention of interrupting. So I’ll say goodbye to you now, Mr. Duncan. ’
    ‘You haven’t reciprocated,’ he reminded her.
    ‘In what way?’ she asked.
    ‘You haven’t told me your name. ’
    ‘I don’t think it’s necessary. I’m quite sure we shall meet again.’
    ‘Good news