HIGH TIDE AT MIDNIGHT by Sara Craven, Mineko Yamada Page A

would be more than capable
    of that. The typing of the manuscript is immaterial at the moment. If and
    when the book is finished it can go to a woman in Port Vennor who does
    typing at home. Now, what do you say?' He saw her hesitation, and added,
    'My dear, you would be helping me so much. Not just in a practical way. But
    don't you see, I could begin to put right the wrong I did Laura all those years
    ago. Be generous, Morwenna. Help me to live at peace with myself, after all
    these years.' He paused again, and when she was still silent, added, 'Perhaps
    it still isn't too late—even now—to put things right, and find out the truth.'
    It was blackmail, and she knew it, but blackmail of the most potent kind. If it
    could only be possible, she found herself thinking, to clear her mother's
    name and see the Trevennons grovel in apology when the truth came out. Or
    one Trevennon at least, if she was totally honest with herself.
    She said quietly, 'Very well, Nick, I'll stay. But only until the chronicles are
    finished. Then I must go, whether the truth has emerged or not.'
    'Agreed.' He extended his left hand and she put hers into it.
    After a moment he said gruffly, 'Don't imagine this is going to be a sinecure,
    child. I don't take kindly to being almost helpless, as you'll find. This is one
    of my better days. You'll find me a hard taskmaster.' He cleared his throat.
    'Now send Inez to me, so that I can tell her the change in arrangements. I
    shall rest until lunchtime, but come here to me once you've had your meal
    and I'll start you off on some background reading.'
    She was halfway down the stairs when she suddenly thought, 'My God, what
    have I done?'
    And as if to lend emphasis to her misgivings, Dominic Trevennon came out
    of his study and stood at the foot of the stairs, looking up at her.
    'As soon as you're ready, Miss Kerslake,' he said, "I'll drive you to
    Penzance.'
    'I'm not leaving,' she said, and was amazed to hear how steady her voice
    sounded. Thank heavens he would never know that her insides were
    churning and her legs felt like jelly.
    'I beg your pardon?' His tone was blank, but his brows were already drawing
    together in one of those thunderous frowns.
    'Your uncle has asked me to work for him—in a temporary capacity,' she
    said. 'He needs someone to get his notes on the family history into proper
    shape for the typist. So I shan't be leaving just yet.'
    'My God,' he muttered, his voice sinking almost to a whisper. 'You
    scheming, conniving little bitch!'
    She shrugged with an insouciance she was far from feeling. 'Sticks and
    stones, Mr Trevennon,' she said. 'After all, this interview with your uncle
    was your idea, don't forget.'
    'I'm not likely to forget—anything,' he said. His eyes skimmed over her
    contemptuously. 'Well, you've seen the house, Miss Kerslake, and no doubt
    in the next few weeks you'll see what's left of the estate and the boatyard. I'm
    afraid you won't find the pickings quite as good this time around. I can't
    think of anything you'll be able to take with you when you leave.'
    There was her mother's good name, she thought, and the reflection brought a
    confident smile to her lips.
    'Can't you, Mr Trevennon? I can.'
    He looked at her incredulously for a moment, then his head went back and
    his brows lifted in the sneer she detested so much.
    'So that's it? You're like a chameleon, Miss Kerslake. I can't keep up with all
    these changes of role. From waif to old man's darling in a few easy lessons.'
    For a moment she looked at him uncomprehendingly, then his voice went
    remorselessly on. 'You really mean to begin where your mother left off,
    don't you? An elderly man's loneliness—sentiment for the past—anything's
    grist to your mill, isn't it? Tell me, Miss Kerslake, will you too jib at the
    actual wedding ceremony, or don't you have any qualms about selling your
    body to a man old enough to be your father?'
    She took two shaking steps down the stairs and her hand lashed out