The Riverboat Mystery (Jenny Starling #3)(18)

‘Damn that man!’ he suddenly burst out, slamming one fist into the palm of his other hand, and feeling the shock of it tingle all the way up his arm.

Dorothy jumped back instinctively at the hard ‘whack,’ and her lower lip began to tremble. She moved around to stand in front of him, needing to see his face.

‘It’s all about him, isn’t it?’ she said, her voice tiny. ‘Gabriel Olney.’

For just over a month now, David had stiffened whenever the other man’s name was mentioned. And she couldn’t understand why. Olney had been a client of her husband’s firm of solicitors for years, and David hadn’t seemed to mind before.

At those quiet, almost whispered words, David shot a quick look up at her that thoroughly alarmed his wife.

Dorothy stared down at him for a moment in utter amazement, which quickly turned to a sickly kind of fear. For a moment, she thought, dazed, David had looked, well, almost afraid.

But why? Unless . . . She crouched down in front of him with a quick, subtle agility that took her husband’s breath away. In spite of her ethereal appearance, Dorothy Leigh was, in fact, a very fit young woman. She’d been a walker for all her life, and still enjoyed taking Josie, their collie, for five-mile rambles. She’d always had a hearty appetite, and she was, as her doctor had robustly reassured her, absolutely in top shape. No need to cut out the walks — in fact, the GP had told her, exercise was good for her in her condition. When told that she was going on a cruise and would like to take the opportunity for a long swim, he’d happily agreed that it was a good idea, just so long as she didn’t strain herself.

Now, Dorothy bent lithely down by her husband’s side, anxiously reaching out for his hands that were fluttering in a rather distressing and aimless sort of way in his lap.

‘David,’ she said firmly, but her lower lip was still trembling. ‘Darling, it’s all right. That ridiculous old man means nothing to me — nothing at all. Just because he keeps ogling me all the time, and dropping his awful hints and things, it doesn’t mean that I find him in the least little bit attractive!’

She dropped her pretty silver head onto her husband’s lap, just missing the half-astounded, half-impatient look he gave her.

David stared down at her bent head thoughtfully and then absently began to stroke her hair. Of course he didn’t believe for one instant that Dotty, his loyal, devoted Dotty, felt anything at all for that odious bastard. Once again, she had misinterpreted his feelings. But this time, he didn’t disabuse her of the fact.

If she thought it was all down to simple jealousy, so much the better. It would keep her safe. She must never learn the truth, for if she did, and suspected something after it was all over, that he had actually . . . He shuddered suddenly, causing Dorothy to clasp his hand so hard it turned his fingers numb. No, ignorance was the best thing for her, David reasoned to himself.

So he sighed, and tried to ignore the piece of paper burning a hole in his chest, and turned his feverish mind once more to working out a plan.

A really good, first-class plan.

‘I just can’t stand to see him touch you, that’s all,’ he murmured absently. His voice lent a certain, convincing hardness, since he also happened to be speaking the truth. David hated everything Olney did. He hated the way he walked. The way he talked. The way he stroked that moustache of his.

He hated the way he continued to breathe.

Dorothy lifted her head, and her lovely green eyes were misty now. ‘Oh, David, you know I love you more than anyone or anything else in the world. More than my own life, in fact. Even . . .’ She touched her still-flat belly tentatively. ‘Even more than our baby.’

David looked down into her trusting, adoring eyes, and groaned. ‘Oh, Dot! I couldn’t bear to lose you,’ he said, and meant it. Dotty was the only thing that had been keeping him sane.

Ever since that research he’d done for General Wainwright. Ever since he’d learned what Olney had done.

‘I think I’d die if you left me,’ he added, but his mind was once again on the piece of paper in his pocket. And the plan. He simply had to think of a really good plan. And he didn’t have much more time in which to do it, either.

*

Jasmine Olney lost the game of quoits with such skill that neither Lucas nor her husband could possibly have guessed at it. She had changed into a pair of white shorts that showed off her tanned legs to perfection, and wore a scarlet top that contrasted wonderfully with her short cap of dark hair.

Lucas could see why old Olney had married her. Not too young to make him look ridiculous, but stylish enough to grace any man’s life. Pity she was such a little man-eater. He watched her with unambiguous lasciviousness as she laughed and stood with her hands on her hips. She was panting a little too hard for it to be genuine, which of course drew attention to her firm breasts, and she waved a hand in front of her face.

‘Phew, it’s warm. I think I’ll leave you two men to battle it out,’ she said, reaching for a long glass of the cook’s homemade, delicious lemonade and rattling the ice cubes thoughtfully. It could do with a drop of gin, Jasmine mused, but knew better than to indulge.

Gabby could be such an old-fashioned sod when it came to drinking in the mornings.

‘Are you up for it then, Lucas?’ Gabriel asked, and eyed the deck thoughtfully. ‘I suppose you could set up quite a few things out here. Bowls, even?’ He was rather partial to bowls.