CHAPTER THREEFor Tamina, the next day passed in a haze of misery.
She stayed in her room, informing her staff that she had a bad headache and was definitely not at home to anyone, including Mr Newson.
Flowers arrived from Edmund. One delicate posy of violets and tiny white rosebuds at noon and later in the afternoon, a huge bunch of lilies and gardenias bound with yards of pink ribbon.
A fulsome note, expressing his warmest love and deep regret that she was ill, accompanied each offering; hoping upon hope that she would soon recover.
Tamina read the hand-written lines, the declarations of never-ending love and felt a surge of anger mixed with despair.
How dare Edmund write such words when he was engaged to another woman?
It was diabolical behaviour.
Twenty-four long hours passed.
T
