His Convenient Marriage (19 page)

She said, 'I've brought the mail.'

'Leave it on the table.' He didn't look round. 'I'll deal with it later.'

She hesitated. 'You haven't forgotten it's the party at the Court tonight.'

Say you can't go, she willed him silently. Tell me you've still got too much work on the manuscript.

`On the contrary.' He dashed her hopes. `I wouldn't miss it for the world either. And I have something for you.' He bent awkwardly, retrieving a large flat box that had been hidden behind his table.

'For me?' Chessie received it, startled. 'Do I open it?'

'Only if you want to see what's inside.'

Biting her lip, Chessie complied. Hidden inside the folds of tissue was a drift of creamy silk. She shook it free, and held it up, gasping a little. It was a dress, with narrow shoulder straps supporting a straight-cut bodice, which mowed down into a full-length gracefully fluted skirt. There was a matching jacket too, slender and reaching to her hips.

Miles said, 'It is your size. I checked with Jenny.'

For a long moment, she stared at the lovely thing, feeling her throat tighten uncontrollably, then quietly she replaced it in its sheltering tissue.

'You don't like it?'

She said in a low voice, 'It's beautiful—but I can't accept it.'

'Why not? Your notice hasn't run out yet, so we're still officially engaged, and we're making a very public ap¬pearance together tonight.' He shrugged. `I thought your courage might need a boost. Or regard it as a uniform if that makes it easier.' His voice hardened. 'But you will wear it for me, Francesca, even if I have to dress you with my own hands, and that's an order.'

Her eyes snapped to his dark face in outrage—and sud¬den pleading. But there was no softening in the blue eyes.

'An order,' he repeated softly.

She replaced the lid on the box, and stepped back, tuck¬ing it under her arm.

'Very well—' her voice bit '—sir.' She paused. 'May I go now, please?'

He said grimly, `I think you'd better—before you make me really angry. In fact, take the rest of the day off.'

He limped to his table, and sat down. 'But be ready in the hall at eight, please,' he flung over his shoulder. 'And smile, darling, this evening. After all, you won't have many more of them to endure in my company.'

'No.' Chessie lifted her chin defiantly, hurting and want¬ing to hurt in return. 'And the sure and certain knowledge of that is all that makes—any of this—remotely bearable. Believe me, I'm counting the days.'

And she whirled, and almost ran from the study, banging the door behind her as she went.

CHAPTER TEN

To Chessie's frustration, the dress looked even better when she was wearing it. She'd half-hoped it would either swim on her slender body, or be tight enough to rip, but it fitted perfectly, the skirt rippling round her ankles as she moved.

The only drawback was that its design forbade her to wear a bra, and, while this wasn't obvious, the cling of the bodice to her bare breasts made her feel absurdly self-conscious, and glad of the concealing jacket.

Earlier in the day, she'd rung the hairdresser in Hurstleigh where she went for her monthly trim, and ar¬ranged to have her hair highlighted, courtesy of a last-minute cancellation. She'd recklessly plunged on some new cosmetics too.

No one would think she looked like a robot tonight, she thought. She was all living, breathing woman. Although the wisdom of that was questionable.

She lingered for a moment in front of the mirror. The pale dress made her look almost bridal. And she fitted the old rhyme too. Her sandals were something old, and the dress something new. Blue, for the aquamarine on her fin¬ger. And borrowed—well, that was her remaining time with Miles.

But I'm going to a party, she reminded herself, shaking off the sudden feeling of bleakness that had assailed her. Probably my first and last for some time. And I intend to enjoy myself tonight—whatever the ultimate cost...

She gave herself a final, resolute smile, then left her room.

Jenny's door was ajar, but the room was empty, and a selection of her clothes, books and tapes was also missing.

It seemed she'd meant what she'd said, Chessie thought, biting her lip.

Her first impulse had been to take a taxi to Linda's house and insist that Jenny come home, but on second thoughts she'd decided it was best to let the situation calm down a little.

She would have to talk to Linda's mother, of course, if only to make sure that Jenny was really there, she thought, an unwanted image of Zak Woods imprinting itself on her mind. But, principally, she needed to know if the other woman was prepared to house Jenny for the time being, and, if so, offer to pay for her sister's keep until the packing job materialised. If it ever did.

It wasn't eight o'clock, yet Miles was already waiting, immaculate in dinner jacket and black tie. She'd never seen him in this kind of formal attire before, and her heart missed a beat.

She stood mutely, her face warming as his blue eyes performed a leisurely and detailed assessment of her in turn, from the glowing lights in her hair to the fluted hem of the skirt drifting round her ankles. Lingering, she was sure, on the thrust of her untrammelled breasts.

He said, quietly, 'You look—very lovely.'

The faint huskiness in his voice betrayed him, and her body responded with the swift flutter of her pulses, and the burgeoning, deep within her, of a soft, trembling ache.

For an endless moment, they stood, locked together in shaken, unacknowledged urgency. The space that separated them charged and tingling.

It was Miles who broke the spell.

He said, almost grimly, 'We'd better go.'

'Yes.' Her voice was barely a whisper. He'd remembered just in time, she thought as she followed him out of the house into the evening sunlight, why all connection be-tween them had to be severed.

But she could understand why he'd insisted on maintaining the charade of their engagement. It was excellent camouflage while Sandie was obtaining her divorce.

It was all so simple when you worked it out. And Chessie had expended a lot of time and unhappiness in doing pre¬cisely that.

She sat beside him, in silence, her hands tightly clenched round her bag, telling herself it would be better—easier— when there were more people around them. That it was being alone with him that inflicted the lasting damage.

The lights in the huge marquee were already lit, and the sound of music drifted across the lawns as they approached.

Chessie found she was already bracing herself for her first encounter with Linnet, who was waiting at the entrance of the marquee to greet her arriving guests, handing out smiles like over-sweet bon-bons.

Tonight, she was sinuous in a strapless black satin cre¬ation that barely covered her full breasts, and flowed over every other inch of her like a second skin.

Chessie felt her eyes widening, and was needled to see that her companion was surveying his hostess with frank and totally male appreciation.

'Miles, darling, you're here at last,' she cooed. 'And Chessie Still looking so virginal after all this time. How very sweet—and unexpected.'

Miles took Chessie's arm firmly and drew her away while she was still struggling to frame a suitable response.

'Yes, she's the arch bitch of the western world,' he said softly. 'But you don't have to join her in a slanging match. Regard what she said as a compliment. After all, I doubt if it's ever been used as an adjective about her.'

'Not in that dress at any rate,' Chessie, still smarting, said with something of snap. 'Not just no bra. No anything else, by the look of it.'

'And just how much more are you wearing, darling?' Miles murmured, his hand sliding down from her hip in a lightning exploration that forced a stunned gasp of outrage from her. 'A few inches of lace doesn't confer any moral superiority. In fact it can be even more enticing—under the right circumstances.' He smiled into her shocked eyes. 'Now come and have some champagne.'

'I bet no one ever applied "virgin" to you either,' Chessie said between her teeth as they walked to the bar set up along one side of the tent.

'Certainly not after the age of fifteen anyway,' he agreed without shame. 'Besides, wouldn't you rather go to bed with someone who knew what he was doing?'

Whatever she replied to that, she was on unsafe ground, and she knew it.

She said coldly, 'May we change the subject, please?'

'For now,' Miles told her pleasantly. 'But not for ever.'

Why? she thought. Why did he say things like that to her when he knew he didn't mean it? Why couldn't he limit the pretence to when other people were with them?

The chilled champagne felt wonderful against the dry¬ness of her mouth, and she drank it far too quickly. Miles had her glass refilled, but chose mineral water for himself this time around.

'Don't you like champagne?' Chessie sipped the second glass with determined circumspection.

'Very much,' he said. 'But I'm driving.'

'We could always walk home,' she pointed out.

`I also want to keep a clear head.' He frowned slightly. 'I scent trouble.'

'You mean a fight?' Chessie tried for lightness, looking around her and shaking her head. `I hardly think so. A lot of the top people in the county are here tonight.'

'Not that kind of trouble. I used to get bad vibes before certain assignments, always for good reason, warning me that something was wrong. And I have them now.'

Chessie stared into her glass. 'Did you get them before— that last one?'

He said softly, 'Oh, yes.'

'But you still went ahead with it?'

'Of course.'

'That,' Chessie said, 'was either extremely brave, or totally mad.'

'One doesn't necessarily rule out the other.' He paused. `Someone's trying to catch your eye.'

Chessie glanced in the direction indicated, and stiffened. Heavens—Mrs. Rankin. `But she hasn't spoken to me since—well—in years...'

'Well, she seems determined to speak to you now,' Miles commented. 'She's coming over.'

And Mrs. Rankin and her meek husband were only the first of many. Everyone suddenly wished to remember themselves to Chessie, and to meet her future husband, and, to her embarrassment, she found she was the centre of at¬tention.

Although it was Miles they actually wanted to talk to, rather than herself, she reminded herself with cool realism. When word went round that she was no longer engaged to him, she would be consigned to oblivion again. Especially when it was discovered that she was waitressing at The White Hart.

When the disco started, there was almost a queue of men eager to ask her to dance. For a moment, she was hesitant, glancing at Miles, wondering how he would feel about her joining in an activity in which he could have no part.

But he only smiled and said lightly, 'Go for it, Chessie.'

She loved to dance, feeling the rhythm of the music in her bones. As she moved she was aware of Miles watching her from the edge of the floor, felt the intensity of his blue gaze like a hand on her bare skin. And she looked back at him, unable to disguise her longing for him, her lips trem¬bling into a pantomime of a kiss. Only to see him turn away, and disappear into the crowd.

Her impulse was to run after him, but she managed to check herself. Why expose herself to further rejection? she thought bitterly. Far better to go on dancing with men who did want her company. And she smiled, and flirted, and let her body move seductively in the pale silk dress, and looked as if she didn't have a care in the world.

Her last partner, however, was more energetic than skilled, jigging around, red-faced as she swayed in front of him.

'Sorry, Greg.' Alastair appeared from nowhere. 'I'm cut¬ting in, old man.'

Chessie did not return the masterful smile he gave her as Greg disappeared ruefully. 'That was rude,' she com¬mented.

'Well, how else was I supposed to get near you?' he countered. 'You seem to be the belle of the ball, my sweet.' His smiling scrutiny made her feel oddly uncomfortable. 'That's an amazing dress.'

'Thank you,' Chessie said politely. 'Miles bought it for me.'

'Did he now?' His smile widened as the music changed, slowing romantically, and he put his arms round her, draw¬ing her much closer than she wished. 'How very generous of him. But are you equally liberal in return, my sweet? Because you never used to be.'

She said coldly, 'I think that's entirely my own business.' She tried to extricate herself unobtrusively from his tight embrace, but failed. She tried another tack. 'How is your father this evening? I feel I've neglected him this week, but Miles has almost finished the book, and I've been really busy.'

'He's safely tucked up in his corner, I imagine, with Wonder Woman.' His face was suddenly moody. 'She says he's regaining more movement in his right hand every day.'

'Miles told me he's learning to write his name again.'

'Yes,' he said. 'At the most inconvenient possible mo¬ment, too.'

She stared at him in disbelief. 'Because he can prevent you selling the Court? Is that it?' He nodded. 'Among other things.'

'Sometimes,' she said, quietly, `I feel as if I've never really known you at all.'

'I thought you of all people would understand. After all, you know what it's like to have everything you want—only to see it snatched away from you.'

'Yes,' she said bleakly. 'I know about that all right.' She paused. 'But the Court will belong to you—one day. You just have to be patient.'

'I don't do patience very well. And I'm a bad loser. Besides, seeing you with Hunter drives me crazy.' He looked at her with narrowed eyes. 'I keep wondering how it might have been if I'd come back even a week earlier. Or if my father hadn't made me go to the States in the first place.'

What do I say to that? thought Chessie. Should I be brutally honest, and say it wouldn't have made an atom of difference? That I've known for a long time that we were wrong for each other, and tonight has confirmed it.

She said stiltedly, `I hope we'll always be friends.' And wasn't even sure that was true any more.