Things were moving at far too great a pace for her peace of mind. She found it difficult to relax, only picking at the delicious dishes prepared by Vane Oliver’s splendid cook. Later she walked in the garden, glancing frequently towards the gateway, wondering where they were, what they were doing, how long they would be. Liz had no experience of men such as Vane; he could do irreparable harm. Oh, why had she ever allowed herself to be persuaded to come here? She should have stuck to her guns and remained in London. He had probably only been bluffing when he said she would not have the job of designer if she did not go to Hong Kong. At eleven Debra was still on edge. Liz never stayed out this late. Had anything happened? Why hadn’t they left a message as to where they had gone? It was well past midnight when she heard his car. She was in the drawing room, in darkness. Now she got up and switched on a lamp, throwing the delicate room into shadows, disguising the loveliness of the silk-clad walls.
