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‘I like boots,’ Lysander purred in lazy addition while the solicitor looked between the bewilderh’

That wicked coed and discomfited Ophelia, who didn’t kno to handle it Her face hot enough to fry eggs on, she finally tore her eyes fro to look back at him or respond

‘Let’s get started,’ Lysander urged the solicitor

Ophelia discovered that she was hoping that whatever was in the will that related to Lysander Metaxis would hae dent in his boundless self-assurance How dared he poke fun at her appearance? He was a barefaced wo him to annoy her? Since when had she cared how she looked? She recalled her late mother’s obsession with her appearance! Money needed for food and rent had often been squandered All Ophelia’s clothes were extremely practical

‘There are certain points I should make clear in advance,’ Donald Morton said tautly ‘The as drawn up four o when Mrs Stewart realised that her illness was terrounds for having the terms of the will set aside by a court To that end she underwent a medical and psychiatric evaluation, which pronounced her fully mentally fit and able’

Ophelia’s tension grew, as it seemed obvious to her that the as a peculiar one She hoped she wasn’t about to be eine no circuise to a Metaxis for anything to do with her family

‘“I leave Madrigal Court and its contents in equal shares to hter, Ophelia Carter, and to Lysander Metaxis, provided that they marry—’”

‘Marry?’ Lysander Metaxis cut in in an abrasive tone of disbelief

Shock welded Ophelia’s slim hands to the arms of the seat Her pale blue eyes had floide ‘But that’s absolutely ridiculous!’

‘I’ing Some effort was made to dissuade Mrs Stewart but the lady knew her own e takes place certain conditions will have to be e must last for a year or more and this property ular basis’

It was the craziest list of dee! With their coestionsince moved on, Gladys Stewart had remained stuck in the bitterness of the distant past Evidently the as her grande thirty-odd years after the day that Aristide Metaxis had jilted Ophelia’s mother, Cathy, at the altar

The big society wedding of which Gladys Stewart had been so proud had turned into an instrument of family hu her snobbish ahter off to a rich, well-connected room had defected at the eleventh hour with the aristocratic and iatehouse at the foot of Madrigal Court’s drive Unhappily all too loried in Gladys’s discomfiture, for she had never been popular, and the older wo resentment had turned inward like a canker

‘Marriage is naturally not an option’ The insane suggestion that it could be gave Lysander’s voice a sardonic edge of disdain

Ophelia bridled at the soft note of silken derision that laced his accented drawl and threw her head high ‘Not if I was dragged kicking and screa to the altar—he’s a Metaxis!’ she vented

The solicitor gaped at her

‘Try to restrain your taste for al niceties have been dealt with,’ Lysander advised with lethal scorn

Ophelia honestly didn’t kno sheas blue as a flame in the heart of a fire, she looked at him ‘I didn’t like your tone of voice—’

‘I’ bronze eyes struck sparks off hers in cold challenge ‘Keep quiet and let the grown-ups deal with business’