Wanted: Mail-Order Mistress by Deborah Hale Page A

to share some of his memories about her mother, then she recalled his abrupt refusal to speak of his late wife.
    Lifting Rosalia down the embankment on to the sandy beach, she inhaled a bracing draught of sea air. “I love the sound of the waves, don’t you? Look at all the ships anchored out there. I wonder where they’ve all come from and what sort of goods they’ve brought to trade.”
    “They’re too far away to see very well,” said Rosalia. “Our old house was on the river beside Papa’s godown. I used to watch all the tongkangs loading and unloading. Sometimes the lightermen would wave and call out to me. I wish we still lived there. It wasn’t big and quiet like the new house, but there was always something exciting to watch. Uncle Hadrian lived with us at the old house. Ah-Sam and Ah-Ming are very happy to hear he found a wife. I wonder where he found her. Do you think he had to look very hard?”
    “I don’t think he found his wife quite that way.” Bethan pulled off her shoes and stockings and wriggledher toes in the warm sand. “You make it sound like they were playing a game of hidey. ”
    “Uncle Hadrian used to play that game with me sometimes. He brought me treats, too—custard apples and mangosteens.” The tip of Rosalia’s tongue flicked over her lips.
    The way she spoke of Mr Northmore reminded Bethan of the happiest years of her childhood. “Does your father play with you often?”
    Rosalia shook her head, making the loops of her braids slap against her cheeks. “Papa can’t play. His sore leg makes it hard for him to run.”
    Bethan understood how Simon’s old injury might make it difficult for him to romp about with his small daughter. But surely he could find some other ways to provide Rosalia with the attention she clearly craved.
    “There’s nothing wrong with my legs.” She lifted the hem of her skirts to give the child a peek. “And I can think of all sorts of games to play on the beach. We could race each other along the shore, jump the waves as they come in, build a sandcastle…”
    Rosalia’s face lit up more brightly at each suggestion. Then she looked down at her shoes and skirts with a dispirited grimace. “We might get dirty and I don’t think I’m allowed to go barefoot like the Malay children.”
    “You most certainly are.” Bethan planted her hands on her hips. “I’m allowing it and if we get dirty I’ll take all the blame. Come on, now, we’ve only got an hour, remember?”
    “All right.” Rosalia balanced against a large, weathered rock to remove her shoes and stockings. “Uncle Hadrian used to let me do things I wasn’t allowed. Ah-Sam grumbled sometimes, but she couldn’t scold him.”
    “Let’s go.” Bethan hoisted up her skirts with one hand while holding her hat with the other. “See if you can catch me.”
    As they played together on the beach, Bethan mulled over what Rosalia had said about her father. Thinking back over the days since she had come to Singapore, she realised Simon had spent hardly any time with his daughter.
    He was a very busy man, she reminded herself. She hoped he did not feel obliged to spend time courting her that he might otherwise have devoted to his daughter. She would have to speak to him about it.
    Perhaps his answer would help her reach a decision about whether to marry him.
    The night after Ah-Sam left for Macau, Simon entered his house and immediately headed for the nursery. As he approached, peals of merry laughter floated through the villa like a cool sea breeze on a stifling day. Stopping by the open door, he peered in to find Bethan sitting opposite Rosalia at a small table.
    “My tiger eats your leopard,” cried Rosalia with a ring of gleeful triumph that surprised Simon.
    He’d always found her a rather subdued child.
    “My poor leopard!” Bethan gave an exaggerated sob that ended in a giggle. “I was very fond of him. In that case, I’m afraid my wolf will have to eat your dog.”
    “He