How to Murder the Man of Your Dreams
“My husband leapt out of bed before I had added the finishing touches to my explanation of the situation. Ben is rarely at his best at two in the morning, but even so there was no need for him to pace up and down in front of the bedroom fireplace, his eyes blazing, his black hair tousled from repeatedly raking his fingers through it. Any minute now he would be demanding to know who was the master of Merlin’s Court! Meanwhile the pheasants on the wallpaper were all aflutter.
“Darling, you’re bein...g unreasonable!” I trotted around him as he circled the hearth rug. “We agreed …”
“We did indeed!” Ben stopped dead in his tracks. In turning to face me, he almost tripped over his pajama legs, which were a couple of inches taller than he and which, having perversely refused to shrink in the wash, needed hemming. Yanking on the cord, he tied it into a ferocious knot. “I told you, Ellie, in no uncertain terms this evening that I am not prepared to provide a home for Miss Bunch’s orphan dog!”MoreLess
“Darling, you’re bein...g unreasonable!” I trotted around him as he circled the hearth rug. “We agreed …”
“We did indeed!” Ben stopped dead in his tracks. In turning to face me, he almost tripped over his pajama legs, which were a couple of inches taller than he and which, having perversely refused to shrink in the wash, needed hemming. Yanking on the cord, he tied it into a ferocious knot. “I told you, Ellie, in no uncertain terms this evening that I am not prepared to provide a home for Miss Bunch’s orphan dog!”MoreLess
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