Brittle Bondage by Rosalind Brett Page A

over to see him on Sunday?” Stupid to be upset because Natalie had seen Blake since she had.
    “He’s helping me over the purchase of some Frieslands. Most of my cattle are Afrikanders—my father had a liking for them—but now that the farm is mine I intend to vary the stock. Blake has promised to inspect the herd before I buy.” She flicked ash to the stone floor. “You don’t object to my seeking your husband’s advice?”
    “Not a bit.”
    “I’m glad of that. Since I’ve been farming alone it’s been wonderful to have Blake to rely on in my dilemmas.” As she got up her smile included them both. “I have friends waiting, and I daresay you’d rather be two than three. Thanks for the drink, Neil. Good-bye.”
    Neil sat down again and twisted his glass between his hands. His smile was puzzling.
    “Perturbing sort of woman, and she dislikes me—probably realizes that I’ve heard all the tattle and judged her. I’ve met a good many people who are friends of hers.”
    “Natalie hasn’t anything to fear from gossip. Hers is one of the oldest families in Ellisburg.”
    “That makes her a more appetizing subject. Personally, I don’t care for her type—too much backbone.” His eyes moved appreciatively over Venetia’s small, vital face. “I can’t believe that a man who has you for a wife would spare a second thought for Natalie Benham. In fact ...”
    “Neil.” She jerked out his name in a sudden anxiety to hear no more. And a second later she knew that it was too late; you can’t ward off trouble by ostrich tactics. Her heart plunged sickeningly. “What are they saying about Natalie ... and Blake?”
    He leaned forward, really distressed. “Venetia, don’t look like that. She hasn’t a chance, now.”
    “Please answer me.”
    “I don’t see how I can. Hasn’t he ... your husband ... ever talked about her?”
    “Why should he?” Her head was beginning to ache with the control she had imposed upon herself. “Till this moment I regarded her as merely a neighbour and a friend. Blake does, too. I’m sure of it.”
    “Then why so distraught? If she’s still sweet on him that’s her bad luck, not yours. Gosh, I wish I’d kept quiet.”
    “I’d rather be told everything.”
    “Well ... I’ll give it to you as I got it. Natalie’s father died round about the time that Blake came home for good. Before that they were scarcely acquainted. It seems that they got on together, because people began to talk of marriage between them. Then Blake confounded them all by marrying you. They say that Natalie took it fairly well.”
    “Do you think she’s in love with Blake?”
    “Candidly, I do. Not that I’ve ever seen them together, but there’s another side to it, which points that way. You see, before Blake came into the picture my cousin hoped to marry Natalie Benham.”
    “Your cousin?” she echoed dazedly.
    “It’s not so complicated. Mervyn’s forty-two—he was about thirty-eight then, I think, and the business was only just beginning to prosper. He’d always been slow with women, and he waited too long. No one knows what occurred between them, but he retired from the social round to his game sanctuary, and he’s never spoken to Natalie since.”
    “How does that prove she loves Blake?”
    “It doesn’t, completely, but she does stick close to Bondolo—she’s been there while you’re away. Even though he’s happily married, Blake holds more attraction for her than a well-to-do bachelor.” Ruefully, Neil shook his head. “I ought to be kicked hard and shoved behind bars. I’ve spoiled the day for you.”
    “You haven’t.” She dabbed at the spot she had bitten in her lip. “Let’s go and claim our chairs.”
    For two hours she gazed and applauded, her mind a hot and whirling void, but to lunch with Neil would tax her endurance too far. Naturally he protested against her breaking their engagement, but he gave in quite soon. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he