In Name Only (5 page)

"Satisfied as to my credentials?" he asked in a cold voice meant for her ears only.

"Perhaps," Jill answered equally coldly. Passports could be forged, but she wouldn't back away. If it were a game, she was prepared to play it to the end. She had nothing, absolutely nothing, to lose.

It was late noon when they finished. Wilhelm directed the chauffeur to drive them to Perigord, a restaurant Jill knew to be the most expensive in Chicago. It was on a side street, off State, its exterior unprepossessing, the restaurant seeming to hide shyly behind the chaste white curtains that covered the window and glass door.

They were seated at once in a small room, red velvet banquettes against mahogany walls, the white linen tablecloths set with bone china and polished silver. Small bouquets of deep red roses and baby's breath in crystal vases decorated each table in the restaurant, which, though crowded, wore a quiet, subdued air. There was a vague, pleasant clinking of cutlery and dishes, and faintly, as if coming from a long distance away, was the sound of music, some classical piece which seemed to tie the entire scene together. Jill was enchanted, but she was the heiress now. There was no way she could act as awed as she felt.

"I took the liberty of ordering for us all," Wilhelm said, "knowing your tight schedule."

Simon nodded. "Fine, fine."

Several waiters hovered about, filling water glasses, placing small elegant trays of bread and butter in front of them. A sommelier appeared, his great keys and bottle opener strung on a silver chain about his neck. Jill tried to look as if it were something she had dealt with every day of her life.

A cooler with a bottle of champagne was brought to the table. "I left the choice of wines to you," said Wilhelm, "but first I want to toast the bride and groom."

Jill felt her face grow hot as the sommelier uncorked the champagne. Simon reached over and took her hand in his as Wilhelm toasted them.

"A long, healthy, happy life."

Their glasses were filled with champagne and Simon, still holding her hand, raised his. "To my bride," he said, downing the champagne quickly. Jill, knowing her face to be suffused with an embarrassed red, raised her glass. "To my groom," she said in a whisper, sipping the drink, her eyes locked with his, yet realizing with a shock that she saw a warning light in them. A warning that told her they were playing games, and that she must keep to the rules.

"Well," said Wilhelm, rubbing his hands happily, "I've never seen two people more suited to one another."

Simon silently placed his glass on the table, and turned to discuss ordering the wines with the sommelier.

Wilhelm smiled attentively at Jill. "Well, I suppose you're all ready for your trip. Are you looking forward to it?"

"Oh yes," Jill said, forcing a smile. She did not know how much Wilhelm had been told concerning their plans, but something about Simon's manner warned her to say as little as possible.

"Very pretty place," Wilhelm went on. "Still, a small, sleepy backwater compared to Chicago."

"I've had quite enough of Chicago," she told him. "I'm looking forward to something small, sleepy and out of the way."

"Speak Portuguese?"

"Yes."

"Well, then, you'll get along." He smiled and picked up a small roll and began to butter it. "You'll get along."

Jill realized that she had no appetite, none at all. She preferred the champagne, quite content to drain her glass and have the waiter refill it instantly.

Simon, finished with the ordering of the wine, turned to her. "You didn't have any breakfast, I suppose," he stated. "You'd better eat something." His manner, perfunctory, even bossy, had an overtone of condescension to it, as if he were talking to a child and expected to be obeyed.

The first course was served, a small square of pate, a black truffle like a baleful eye, decorating the center.

White wine appeared and her glass was filled at once. Jill, the heiress, she thought, as she tried the pate and found it delicious. The heiress in an old coat and knit cap and boots that had seen better days, with a huge diamond ring upon her finger.

Simon, deep in conversation with Wilhelm, turned to her occasionally and gave her hand a pat of reassurance, as if she were quite welcome to join in. There was something so superior in his manner, however, so cold and even calculating, that she felt suddenly frightened, and isolated. There was no one, she realized, absolutely no one upon whom she could count for disinterested advice. Mrs. Hughes, by her smiles and nods, had given unqualified approval. Apart from her landlady, there was her college roommate, whom she saw only infrequently for visits to museums or shopping expeditions. No one, because for the past half year, she had all but cut herself off from her friends, with the exception of Derek Fairchild. She had been waiting, waiting, waiting to hear from Daniel Carteret.

And now she had.

Before dessert was served, Jay Wilhelm stood up. "Well, I've work to do," he said with a wide smile. "Ought to leave you two lovebirds alone. I've been in your way long enough." He shook Jill's hand and pressed his business card on her, telling her to call him for anything, anything at all.

After he was gone, a dessert tray was wheeled up, filled with an immense assortment of pastries. The lunch had been light, but Jill had scarcely touched her food. The sight of the confections was not tempting, however. She shook her head.

"You're way too thin," Simon said. "What kind of food have you been living on?" He turned to the waiter. "The young lady will have that." He pointed to an éclair, small but bellied out with crème, blanketed with mocha.

Jill tried to voice her refusal, but was ignored by both the waiter and Simon. "Plump you out a bit," he said with an attractive and ingratiating grin, as the plate, like a peace offering, was solemnly laid before her.

"I really don't want to be plumped out," Jill said. "I'm happy the way I am, thank you." She toyed with her fork and then made a curious stab at the éclair. It seemed to burst open at a touch, the crème oozing out. She took a taste.

"There, you see," Simon said affably, "it won't hurt at all." His lunch had been even more Spartan than hers. As coffee was poured, he lit a cigarette, and stared at her through the blue smoke. She finished the last bit of éclair, almost angry that she had enjoyed it.

"Jay is going to take care of everything," he said. "You just let him know what you want to send down, and he'll take care of the rest. I don't want you worrying about anything. I'll be back on Friday morning at around nine-thirty."

She laughed. "Can I count on it?"

His expression turned serious. "I want you to understand something right now, Jill. You can count on me, on
me
, no matter what happens." He reached out and took her hand. "Do you understand what I'm saying? You'll have to take everything I say and do on trust. I know that. But never underestimate the affection in which I held your uncle, and by osmosis if you want to call it that, I am transferring to you."

His hand, warm and strong, sent ripples of pleasure through her. She thought, surprising herself with the clarity of it, that she might have no trouble at all falling in love with Simon Todd. No trouble at all. Her uncle must have understood that when he added the codicil to his will. Still, there was something too remote, too enigmatic about the man. Something she could not quite understand. There was something kept hidden, but which she was afraid could be read in his eyes, if she dared look too close.

He released her hand and sat back in his chair. "About your clothes. I didn't mean to upset you. I just thought you'd like to be prepared. The women in Brazil are extremely chic. They take pride in their bodies. They carry themselves like queens. You'll be entering a world of great sophistication, great elegance, even in Manaus. Think you can handle it?"

Jill was perplexed. He seemed to have peeled away her armor, layer by layer and exposed her innocence, her naiveté. He was, in a way, prepared to be ashamed of her, and he was warning her ahead. She summoned up her most correct Portuguese. "If you're sorry you've started this, we can call a halt to the proceedings right now."

He stared at her, the cigarette sending up a lazy blue smoke signal. "No, senhorita," he answered, in equally correct Portuguese, "I just think you should be prepared for a world you've never known before."

Jill laughed. "You've told me about the beautiful women of Brazil, with whom I suppose you're quite experienced. You've told me nothing about the men."

He did not respond. In his eyes she detected a look of both curiosity and anger, as if he recognized suddenly that he really knew nothing about her, that she might not, after all, be merely a too thin child in need of lessons in sophistication and plumping out.

"As my wife," he said in a controlled voice, "you'll live the life I prescribe for you. There's nothing you need to know about anyone."

"And those holidays in Rio you offered me earlier?" she asked sarcastically.

"Oh, you'll have them all right," he said. He paused for a few seconds. "You'll like Senhora Cordero," he added.

"Senhora Cordero? What are you talking about?"

Without responding, he turned and signaled for the check.

"Who are you?" Jill asked, the words tumbling out of their own accord. "Where do you come from really?"

He gave a brief laugh. "What you see is what you get."

"Perhaps I don't like what I see."

"You'll have to. You have no other choice." The waiter came over and informed him quietly that Wilhelm had taken care of the check. Jill stood up and headed for the cloakroom. As he helped her into her coat, Simon whispered. "There's more, my love."

The cold air seemed like a punishment, even as they walked the short distance to the waiting limousine.

"However you feel about me," Simon said, once they were settled in the back of the limousine, "however I may feel about you, that's between us. As far as anyone in Manaus is concerned, there was no codicil. We met, fell in love, married." He turned and looked deep into her eyes. Jill felt, for an instant, quite afraid.

"As far as anyone is concerned, for that matter, you're madly in love with me, do you understand? And," he paused, but for only a moment, "I'm madly in love with you."

As far as anyone is concerned
. Those were the key words, Jill told herself. Love is reciprocal. He had informed her in a few words that he did not love her, that he could never love her. "
As far as anyone is concerned, you're madly in love with me
," pause. She could count the seconds of that pause. One, two, three, four. She had memorized the seconds just as she had memorized the words. "
And I'm madly in love with you
." The words, final and cold as ice, as clear and cold as the diamond upon her finger.

She had gone to the airport with him, as would any fiancée. The trip had been made in silence, Jill at the right window, Simon at the left, so deep in thought, she did not dare to speak. At the airport, he had jumped out after kissing her briefly, for the sake of the chauffeur she was certain, the kiss leaving her shaky and speechless.