Seeds of April

147 Pages·2006·0.84 MB·English

by  Scott Celia

Seeds of April
By
Celia Scott
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN

SEEDS OF APRIL
Getting married to Damon Everett, albeit only as a business
arrangement, wasn't so bad, was it? After all, in return Philippa was getting
a rich and attractive 'husband', a wardrobe full of glamorous new clothes,
and a luxury visit to Crete. There had to be a catch somewhere, though…
First published 1983
Australian copyright 1983
Philippine copyright 1983
This edition 1983
© Celia Scott 1983
ISBN 0 263 74300 4
You'll love me yet!—and I can tarry
Your love's protracted growing;
June reared that bunch of flowers you carry,
From seeds of April's sowing.
Robert Browning, Pippa Passes
CHAPTER ONE
With infinite care Philippa Kenmore filled the fragile interior of the gateau
Saint-Honore with rich cream. Laying the empty pastry-bag aside, she absently
tucked a wandering strand of honey-beige hair behind her ear and gave a sigh of
satisfaction. Without a doubt this gateau was the best she'd ever baked. She
consulted her loose-leaf business diary to check the rest of the menu Damon
Everett had ordered for this evening's dinner party.
'Caviare'—that was easy, he always had jars and jars of it in his fridge, and
he'd phoned earlier to tell her he had bought porterhouse steaks. All she had to
do was pick up some fresh vegetables on her way to Wimbledon, and leave
herself enough time to prepare a soup, in case his guest didn't like caviare. The
next notation read—'Salad'—a simple one, with a tang of lemon. 'Rich dessert'—
well, the Saint-Honore was rich all right. If he doesn't like it, Philippa thought,
there's no pleasing the man. Not that Damon Everett found fault with her
catering, it seemed. He had been hiring her to cook for him regularly for two
months now. And apart from the fact that he didn't seem to like her any more
than she did him, he never voiced any complaints. Indeed, he often paid her
compliments about her culinary skills. But his compliments were delivered with
a hint of mockery that made her wary of him.
She checked the time and realised she was running later than she thought.
Dashing into the bedroom of the ground floor flat she shared with her young
sister Martha, she hastily changed out of blue jeans and pulled on one of her
'working uniforms', a plain brown skirt and cream blouse with a tan belt buckled
around her slim waist.
She tugged her glossy hair back and fastened it with an elastic band, peering
into the mirror that hung above an old desk Martha used as a dressing table. She
had to stoop to do this, because she was a very tall girl. Philippa stood five foot
ten inches in her stockinged feet, and being slender as a reed she appeared taller.
All her life she had towered over her peers, including her diminutive sister. Very
subtly Martha had managed to instil into her older sister the notion that Philippa
was a freak, clumsy, oversized, and graceless. And over the years Philippa had
started to believe this propaganda. She felt like Gulliver among the Lilliputians.