Dominic Lyall straightened, one long brown hand massaging his hip. “Do you think I’m not entitled to any privacy simply because for a time I lived in the public eye, Miss James?”
Helen didn’t know how to answer him. “I wouldn’t presume to make judgements, Mr. Lyall. All I’m saying is that it seems a pity that a talent such as yours should be denied to other aspiring drivers.”
His lips twisted. “So much and no more.” He ran his fingers over the light hair at the nape of his neck. “You wouldn’t begin to understand, Miss James.”
Helen held up her head. “You underestimate me, Mr. Lyall.”
His smile held a kind of self-mockery. “Perhaps I do, at that. However …” He drew a deep breath. “However, it’s unfortunate that your memory serves you so well. I should have thought a child of sixteen would have been more interested in popular music and its idols.”
“I’ve told you – my father went to racing events. Sometimes I went with him.”
“Oh, yes, your father.” His eyes narrowed broodingly. “A curious anomaly.”
“What do you mean?” His words troubled her a little.
Dominic Lyall moved his powerful shoulders in a deprecative gesture. “I should have thought it would have been obvious, Miss James.”
“What would have been obvious?”
He regarded her with that denegrating unblinking stare. “Why, your recognising me, Miss James. A most – unfortunate occurrence. I’m afraid it means that you will not be leaving here in the morning, after all.”
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