Hell Hath No Fury
Authors: Rosie Harris
Table of Contents
A Selection of Recent Titles from Rosie Harris
LOVE AGAINST ALL ODDS
SING FOR YOUR SUPPER
WAITING FOR LOVE
LOVE CHANGES EVERYTHING
A DREAM OF LOVE
A LOVE LIKE OURS
THE QUALITY OF LOVE
WHISPERS OF LOVE
AMBITIOUS LOVE
THE PRICE OF LOVE
A BRIGHTER DAWN
Rosie Harris
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author's and publisher's rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
First published in Great Britain and the USA 2013 by
SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD of
9â15 High Street, Sutton, Surrey, England, SM1 1DF.
eBook edition first published in 2013 by Severn House Digital
an imprint of Severn House Publishers Limited
Copyright © 2013 by Rosie Harris.
The right of Rosie Harris to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data
Harris, Rosie, 1925-
Hell hath no fury.
1. MurderâInvestigationâFiction. 2. Romantic suspense novels.
I. Title
823.9'14-dc23
ISBN-13: 978-1-78010-402-7 (epub)
ISBN-13: 978-0-7278-8270-7 (cased)
ISBN-13: 978-1-84751-476-9 (trade paper)
Except where actual historical events and characters are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.
This ebook produced by
Palimpsest Book Production Limited,
Falkirk, Stirlingshire, Scotland.
For Mike O'Neill
With many thanks to Kate Lyall Grant and her wonderful team, especially Rachel Simpson Hutchens, at Severn House for all their help.
Also to my agent Caroline Sheldon and to Robert Harris for keeping my web page up to date.
March, 1993
M
aureen Flynn suddenly felt nervous. She stared down into the liquid darkness of the coffee the waiter had just placed in front of her, and waited uneasily for her companion's next words.
Of average height, she was slim, almost anorexic by some people's standards. Her dark-grey suit and pristine white blouse had an off-the-peg look about them as if they had been chosen for their serviceability rather than style. Her straight, dark-brown hair was drawn back from her face in a French pleat, and this emphasized her high cheekbones and dark eyes. She wore the minimum of make-up, and her only item of jewellery was a gold wristwatch.
She'd been working as a freelance research assistant exclusively for Philip Harmer for the last six months, and with each passing day she had grown increasingly aware of the empathy developing between them. It was a wonderfully satisfying feeling; one that lifted her spirits so that life suddenly had a fresh sense of purpose.
Normally, Maureen ensured that her relationship with clients was on a strictly business basis, but with Philip Harmer it had been different. For her, at any rate.
She'd felt an instant affinity with Professor Harmer the very first time they'd met. He was the sort of man she admired: well-bred, well-mannered, courteous and extremely intellectual. An added bonus was that he seemed to value her opinion.
The friendship that had slowly developed between them was as fragile as fine china, and she was fearful that one of them was about to say or do something that would shatter it into a myriad of tiny pieces.
Philip Harmer was in his early fifties; thin, with aesthetic features and deep-set keen blue eyes. Some would regard him as staid since he was as conservative in his outlook as in his dress. Maureen didn't.
For her, Philip Harmer's analytical mind and powers of discernment were part of his attraction. She found that most men of her generation who held positions of authority were self-opinionated and brash. He didn't need to be pompous or egotistical. He radiated intelligence.
Professor Philip Harmer was an authority on Far East Business Development and was currently engaged in a project for one of the world's leading communication enterprises.
It was a company she had worked for many times as a freelance researcher, and they had advised him to use her services to help collate the data he required.
She had enjoyed every moment of their collaboration. Her quick probing mind complemented his attention to detail. Together they made a formidable team.
They were both workaholics. Once they discovered that neither of them had any family obligations, and very few social commitments, time ceased to exist. When they were involved in a problem they went on working as long as was necessary, until every detail had been dealt with to their complete satisfaction.
Afterwards, he would invite her to go for a drink or a meal, and as they analysed and enthused over what they had achieved she would feel a warm glow of contentment. It was a physical response unlike anything she had experienced prior to meeting him.
She had never before felt so completely at ease, or so perfectly in unison with another person. Her feelings for him deepened as the weeks working together lengthened into months.
Frequently, when they were apart, she found herself thinking about Philip. Emotional fantasies constantly filled her thoughts. There was such a tremendous affinity between them, and she felt so relaxed and safe in his company that eventually she had to admit to herself that she was falling in love with him.
It was an intellectual attraction, not a mere physical one, and this was of paramount importance to her.
She agonized about Philip's feelings for her. Did he feel attracted towards her? Did he see her as a woman, she wondered, or merely as a skilled researcher . . . a human computer?
Her neat but nondescript appearance was a shell to hide her vulnerability. No one would believe it possible that, behind the organized efficiency she displayed in her working life, she was a quivering mass of nerves, or that she was unbearably shy. Meeting new clients filled her with unease until she became so absorbed in the work she was undertaking for them that her brain took over and her inhibitions receded into the back of her mind.
Work was her salvation, the one thing she excelled at. Immersed in the intricacies of research she was able to forget what other people might be thinking of her, forget about her feelings of inferiority, and even forget where she was.
Following up tenuous clues, building up layer upon layer of information, made her oblivious of everything else and gave her such tremendous satisfaction that she was completely fulfilled. Such absorption in her work compensated Maureen for the fact that, by other people's standards, her private life was drab and monotonous. She had few friends or acquaintances. She spent her evenings and weekends alone . . . reading or working. M&S microwaveable dinners-for-one, and shrink-wrapped sandwiches, were her standby, consumed alone.
She had resigned herself to the fact that she would never marry. Leastways, she had until she met Philip Harmer. Now, for the first time in her life, Maureen allowed herself the luxury of dreaming about what it might be like to share a home with a husband and children.
As the initial research for the project they were working on neared completion, Philip confided in her that it was going to be necessary for him to visit the Far East in order to complete his work. She waited expectantly for him to say he would be needing the services of a researcher. The dilemma of whether or not to accept, if he did invite her to accompany him, became uppermost in her mind.
The idea of the coming separation if he didn't ask her to go with him didn't bear thinking about. It was like waiting for a tempting treat which, deep down, you knew you might not get.
The years were winging by at an alarming rate, and she was well aware that because of her introspective ways she not only lacked friends, and was in something of a rut, but was also missing out on what life could offer.
Normally, Maureen was averse to travelling. Although she was thirty-four she had never even been outside the UK. She considered holidays a waste of time. Lying on a beach didn't appeal to her . . . Not on her
own
! A working trip to the Far East though, with Philip Harmer, would be quite a different proposition.
She switched her thoughts back to the present. Philip was speaking, and she hadn't caught what he'd said . . . Leastways, she didn't think she had. For one moment she thought he'd asked her to marry him!
He gave one of his rare smiles. âI thought my proposal might take you by surprise, Maureen!'
She remained silent. She felt both exhilaration and disbelief, and was wondering if the wine she had drunk with her meal had turned her daydreams into reality.
âI recognize that, like me, you are career orientated,' Philip Harmer went on. âThat is why I have found working with you both stimulating and rewarding. And why I thought we were so suitable for each other.'
His keen dark eyes studied her shrewdly, watching her reaction with almost clinical detachment. He had always guarded his bachelor existence, partly in the belief that he could only achieve success in his field through undivided dedication, and partly because, as a Roman Catholic, he saw marriage as a lifetime commitment, and, until now, he had never met a woman who had the necessary qualifications to meet his personal standards.
âSo, what do you say? Will you marry me?'
She wasn't daydreaming. Philip Harmer really had spoken those magic words. He had asked her to marry him. Maureen felt a surge of excitement; no one had ever proposed to her before. She didn't meet many eligible men. And, normally, the ones she did never gave her a second glance.
Why should they, she reflected disparagingly. She was of medium height, with straight dark hair, dark eyes, and a pursed up mouth that rarely relaxed in a smile. Worst of all, she was painfully thin.
Most of the men she came into contact with during the course of her work were high-powered management with either glamorous partners, or wives and young families, and an established lifestyle.
Professor Philip Harmer wasn't all that young, of course. Early fifties; brain rather than brawn, she thought wryly as she studied his thin frame with its narrow shoulders, his handsome features and greying hair.
Now that she had recovered from her initial shock, the idea of becoming Mrs Philip Harmer had tremendous appeal.
âWell . . .' She studied him discreetly, playing for time because she was not quite sure how to word her acceptance.
His face was inscrutable. Like her, he kept his feelings under control. They could have been discussing statistics for all the emotion he displayed.