Brenda Joyce The Third Heiress (uc) (epub) i

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."That isn't a very long time," Lauren said after a pause."It was long enough to fall head over heels in love and to be thinking about." Jill stopped herself short.Lauren removed her eyeglasses again."To be thinking about what?" she demanded.Jill wet her lips.She hesitated.Everything raced through her mind—his ambivalence, her guilt, a woman named Kate.*The future," she whispered.Lauren just stared—as if she had two heads."He should have come home a long time ago," Lauren said finally."He did not belong in New York."Jill did not know how to respond.Hal had not told his sister about the extent of his relationship with her.Why? It hurt.God, it hurt, the way thinking about their last conversation hurt—the way he had hurt her by even having doubts about their future as man and wife.She lay back against the seat, severely exhausted.It hurt almost as much as his death hurt.She needed to find a sanctuary amd bury her head under a {rillow and sleep.But then she would wake up and remember everything and it would be so awful.The Rolls-Royce stoppedInstantly Jill's tension increased.The Sheldon familyhome was now the last place she wished to be, because if Lauren's reception was any indication of the way Hal's family would greet her, then she was not ready to meet them, not now, not ever.They were on a busy, two-way street in the midst of London, Jill realized.The driver was waiting to make a right-hand turn across the lane of oncoming traffic.Tall iron gates were open, but the road they wished to turn onto was barred by a mechanical barricade and a uniformed security guard.Jill wet her hps.Past the barricade, she glimpsed a shady, tree-lined street of huge stone mansions.The Rolls crossed the road, the barrier was lifted without their even slowing, the officer on duty inside of a small security booth waving them on.Jill craned her neck as the Rolls rolled up the asphalt street, viewing palatial home after palatial home.A park seemed to be behind the homes on her right.Jill wanted to ask where they were.She did not.The Rolls mmed into a circular driveway on one of the street's largest mansions and halted in the graveled drive before the house.Jill thought she could feel her blood pressure rocketing."We're here." Lauren stepped out of the car without waiting for the chauffeur to assist her.Jill could not move as quickly.The gentleman opened the door for her and Jill stumbled out.It had started to drizzle.Jill did not move.The fine mist settling on her hair and shoulders, she stared at the house where Hal had been raised as Lauren hurried up the wide and imposing front steps.Two sitting lions, carved in stone, guarded those front steps.For one moment, Jill was completely taken aback.Hal had talked about his family's London home with pride.Hal had mentioned, oh-so-casually, that the house, built around the turn of the century, had about twenty-five rooms and one of London's most spectacular rose gardens.It was not the family's original London home, which had been built in Georgian times and was part of the National Trust.Jill had vaguely gathered that Uxbridge Hall, which was some-where just outside of central London, was open to the public, although the family kept private apartments there as well.Jill stared up at the city dwelling.She had expected opulence, yet she was taken aback now that she was actually confronted with the reality and the extent of it.The house was built of a medium-hued sand-colored stone and was three stories high—but the first two floors clearly had double ceilings.Thick columns supported a temple pediment over the oversized front door, and the numerous arched windows also boasted smaller pediments and intricate stone engravings.There were iron balconies on the second floor and the high, sloping roofs sported a jumble of chimneys.The stonework itself was amazing.Painstaking detail had gone into every cornice and molding.The house was surrounded by manicured lawns and blooming rose gardens; a wrought-iron fence circled the perimeter of the entire property, undoubtedly to keep the public out."God," Jill heard herself say.In spite of all the conversations she'd had with Hal, she could hardly beUeve that he had been raised in this house.And this was just their city home, not even their ancestral home, which Jill suspected was even larger and grander.She was suddenly aware of how small and shabby her own studio in the Village was.She suddenly wished she were not wearing her oldest, favorite, and most faded Levi's.If Lauren heard her, she gave no sign, for she was already pushing open the heavy front door."I shall bring your bags, madam," the driver said behind her.Jill hoped she smiled at him, thought she failed, and slowly followed in Lauren's wake.She found herself in a large entry hall with high ceilings and polished beige-and-white marble floors.Works of art hung on the walls, and the bench, marble-topped table, and mirror were all exquisitely gilded.Jill was grim.She was acutely aware of not belonging there.Jill glanced down at her worn Levi's, and the black blazer she had put on in the air-conditioned car.The jacket wasactually a man's sports jacket, but she had loved it upon sight and had bought it in a thrift store for herself.She was wearing Cole-Haan loaifers, but they were very old, as soft as butter, and severely scuffed.Of course, she could only wear soft, broken-in shoes when she was not dancing because of the pain and damage her profession caused her feet [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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