A Wicked Persuasion (5 page)

Secretly euphoric that he had no intention of cancelling, she smiled brightly. ‘Thank you for the invitation—I’d love to come.’

James drove off deep in thought. His motive in hiring River House had been simple. It had been a heaven-sent opportunity to pay the Wildes back for their treatment of him all those years ago. His original intention, once the party was over, had been to make sure Aubrey Wilde knew exactly who’d paid him good money to hire his house, and then get the hell out of the place and never look back. But meeting up with Harriet again had changed all that. All buttoned up in her accountant persona she’d affected him enough, but the moment he’d seen her today in shirt and jeans, hair loose and looking like the girl he’d once adored, his mind was made up. With Moira living so close to hand it would be easy to come and go on Harriet’s territory and see what developed.

N
ICK
C
ORBETT
was relatively new to the town. Since the day he had taken over from Aubrey Wilde at the bank, he’d also adopted a proprietorial attitude towards Harriet, who found it rather amusing, and made no objection to spending the occasional evening in his company. His fair hair and bright blue eyes gave him a deceptive look of youth which, coupled with his easy manner and single status, had soon made him a great favourite socially. Harriet saw that tonight, as usual, she was the object of more than one envious look as he ushered her into the bar of the King’s Head.

‘This is good,’ he said, after the waiter brought their drinks. ‘I always feel so relaxed in your company, Harriet. Which I suppose isn’t surprising. I inherited your father’s job, so you could say I’m almost part of the family.’

‘A bit of a stretch,’ said Harriet, laughing.

‘You look amazingly different with your hair like that,’ he said, leaning closer. ‘You should let it loose more often.’

She shrugged. ‘Wouldn’t jibe with my accountant persona.’

He laughed, and moved closer to study the menu with her. ‘What do you fancy tonight?’

‘Practically anything—other than organs!’

His crack of laughter brought heads swivelling in their direction. ‘I’m with you there! And don’t look now, but
there’s some chap at the bar looking our way. Friend of yours?’

Harriet’s spirits plummeted when she saw James at the bar with Claudia. He nodded coolly as their eyes met and slid an arm round his companion’s waist to lead her away.

‘You know him?’ asked Nick.

‘He’s an acquaintance, yes.’

The arrival of a waiter distracted Nick from any further speculation until they were in the dining room, where the entire Graveney family was dining with James. Lily alerted Moira and Marcus, who both waved, smiling. Harriet waved back, and Claudia moved closer to James, her smile a mere flash of teeth.

‘Just an acquaintance?’ murmured Nick.

‘Actually he’s a sort of client,’ said Harriet, resigned, and explained the connection. The takeover of River House for a party would soon be breaking news in the town anyway.

‘So
he’s
James Crawford,’ said Nick, impressed. ‘I’ve read quite a bit about him recently—quite a success story. But why is he using your house for his party?’

‘A client of mine suggested it to him as a venue with a difference.’

‘And your father actually agreed to it?’

‘Only after much persuasion.’ Harriet smiled brightly. ‘Here comes our dinner.’

For the third time that week Harriet failed to enjoy a meal she would normally have eaten with pleasure. It was James’s fault, she thought morosely, and summoned a bright smile when the Graveneys stopped at the table with James on their way out. Harriet looked on in amusement as Nick flirted with Claudia and Lily, shook hands with the Graveneys, and finally, inevitably, with James Crawford, who spoke to Nick for a moment before turning to Harriet.

‘I’m leaving tomorrow, Miss Wilde. I’ll be back in good
time for the big day. You have my numbers, so don’t hesitate to call if you have questions.’

‘Of course.’ Harriet gave him her bland professional smile, but infused more warmth as she turned to Moira. ‘Will you be at the party?’

‘Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Harriet.’

‘We’ll all be there,’ interrupted Claudia with a triumphant smile.

‘Wild horses couldn’t keep
you
away!’ scoffed Lily.

‘Come on, girls,’ said their brother. ‘Good to see you again, Harriet.’

‘Please come to see us again soon,’ said Moira warmly.

‘You’re very kind, I’ll take you up on that one day,’ Harriet promised, avoiding James’s cynical eye.

Alone again, Nick regarded Harriet with interest. ‘How long have you actually known Crawford?’

‘I met him briefly years ago, when I was a student.’

‘The hot blonde with him was pretty cold towards you!’

‘Was she? I didn’t notice.’ Harriet stood up swiftly. ‘Thanks for the meal, Nick. If you’ll walk me out to the car I’ll be on my way.’

He sprang to his feet, crestfallen. ‘It’s early yet, Harriet. I hoped you’d come back to my place for coffee.’

‘Not tonight.’ Harriet smiled up at him as he saw her to the door. ‘Thanks again.’

‘Let’s do this again soon.’

‘Of course. Ring me. Goodnight.’

Harriet drove home in thoughtful mood. Running into James again tonight had put a definite damper on her evening, and Nick had been very much aware of it. Not that she would have gone back to his place even if she hadn’t seen James. Nick had been in an odd mood from the moment he’d seen her tonight. It had been a bad idea to wear her hair loose. She sighed as she turned into the carport
alongside the Lodge. She’d be tempted to have it cut if she didn’t know exactly what would happen. She’d tried that at her lowest ebb after the break up with James, and the result had been a halo of unruly curls which would look even more ludicrous now that she was ten years older.

As the date of the party grew nearer Harriet was surprised to find that her father was relishing the idea, rather than objecting to it. And when Charlotte Brewster came up with a list of further money-making possibilities he was actually delighted with the idea of a television cookery programme taking place in his own kitchen.

‘Hard to believe,’ said Harriet, reporting to Julia, ‘but he’s all for it.’

‘And are you happy about people using Mother’s beloved kitchen?’

‘Why not? She’d be delighted if it shored up our finances.’

‘You’re right. By the way, what’s Miriam’s take on the new venture?’ Julia asked.

‘She’s not back from her cruise yet.’

Julia laughed. ‘I bet there’ll be hell to pay when she is. By the way, if you’re going to this party, what are you wearing?’

‘The dress I wore when you saw me last.’

‘It’s not a party dress, Harriet. For heaven’s sake buy something new.’

‘Can’t stretch to it right now.’

There was a pause. ‘I assume extra wages were necessary to get the house and garden in trim. Have they come out of your own pocket?’

Harriet sighed. ‘Guilty as charged, Julia. I need this event to be a success to advertise our wares to other customers.
And a house and garden in perfect shape was part of the deal.’

‘Have you organised press coverage?’

‘Charlotte saw to that.’

In addition to the local press, a reporter from one of the nationals would be on hand on the day, information which gave such pleasure to Aubrey Wilde it was hard to remember his original opposition to the project.

Later that evening James rang to say that the marquee people would be turning up first thing in the morning.

‘Fine. I won’t be here, but I’ll tell Father. Are you coming with them?’

‘No. I’m tied up tomorrow, but my assistant will oversee things. How’s the garden looking? I gather you’ve had some rain in the locality lately.’

‘Just enough to perk up the flowers and green the grass a bit. Will Haines cut it again for me yesterday,’ she said.

‘Who’s he?’

‘Gardener. He comes one day a week.’

‘Just
one
day?’ he exclaimed.

‘He’s been doing extra lately.’

‘He must have done a hell of a lot extra to get the place looking so good.’ James paused. ‘Your father’s not into gardening, I take it.’

‘No. He prefers golf.’ It was Harriet who rode the sit-on lawnmower at weekends to free Will for other work.

There was silence for a moment. ‘Don’t change your mind about turning up on Saturday.’

Or what? ‘I said I’ll be there,’ she said tartly, ‘if only to make sure nothing goes wrong.’

‘I’ll have security people there for that, so you can just relax and enjoy the evening. By the way, shall I send an invitation to the little friend you were dining with last week? I’m afraid I’ve forgotten his name.’

Harriet rolled her eyes. ‘That won’t be necessary. Was there anything else?’

‘Not at the moment. I’ll be in touch.’

Harriet disconnected and shook her head in wonder. How strange that it was now possible to hold a perfectly ordinary conversation with the man she’d been so madly in love with all those years ago. Though his remark about Nick Corbett had been a pejorative. It was Nick’s misfortune that James Crawford put him in the shade by sheer force of personality as well as size. But at least Nick was unattached, which James was not, if Claudia’s behaviour was anything to go by. Harriet sighed, wishing now she hadn’t promised her father to put in an appearance on Saturday. Maybe she could dash out in her lunch hour tomorrow and buy a dress. She shook her head firmly. No. She would not spend money on something so unnecessary. It was hardly the school prom. And no one would care what she wore, anyway.

The following morning Margaret rang Harriet at the office, an event so rare Harriet went cold, fearing the worst.

‘What’s wrong, Margaret?’

‘Nothing at all, dear. I’m just letting you know that a courier brought a parcel up here to the house when he couldn’t get an answer at the Lodge. He needed a signature. Shall I tell John to run it down to you at the office?’

‘No need to bother him. I haven’t ordered anything, so it isn’t urgent. Could you just pop it down to the Lodge on your way home?’

‘Of course. The marquee firm is here, by the way. Your father’s down on the main lawn, directing operations.’

‘He’ll enjoy that.’

‘I hope all goes well tomorrow, Harriet.’

‘Me too, Margaret. I can’t tell you how grateful I am for all the work you and John have put in over this.’

‘We were glad to do it. You just enjoy the party,’ the other woman urged.

Harriet very much doubted that she would. Watching James host a party at River House was daunting on several different levels. His motive for inviting her was plain enough. He wanted Harriet Wilde and her father to witness his success in the one location guaranteed to make the celebration doubly triumphant for him. But she couldn’t rid herself of the worry that he intended to use the occasion to humiliate the Wildes in some way. Harriet deliberately worked late that evening to make sure her father would be out when she got home, in case he felt the need to show her the marquee. But when she turned up the drive to the Lodge at last it was James who was waiting to do that.

‘Come and make sure everything is to your satisfaction now the marquee is up,’ he said as she got out of her car.

‘Shouldn’t that be to your satisfaction?’ she said wryly. ‘It’s your party, and your money—’

‘But your house.’ He looked at his watch. ‘You’re very late, Harriet.’

‘I had things to clear up before I left the office,’ she lied.

James eyed her sternly. ‘You look tired.’

Harriet glared. ‘I wish you wouldn’t keep saying that. Of course I’m tired. I work hard. And I’m ten years older than I was back then.’

‘When you let your hair down you don’t look it—’ He stopped, eyes narrowed. ‘What have I said to put that look on your face?’

‘There’s more to me than just hair,’ she snapped. ‘Now, let’s inspect this marquee so I can get on with my evening.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of keeping you,’ he said coldly. ‘Inspect it yourself in the morning. Goodnight.’ He strode
off to the marquee, wondering why he couldn’t get the damn woman out of his mind now he’d met up with her again. He had been so sure that if they met up again she would mean nothing more to him than a mistake he’d made in the past. But one look at her in the bank that day had turned the clock back to the time when he’d wanted nothing more in life than to share it with Harriet Wilde. And now he found himself seeking opportunities to see her again, just like the lovesick idiot he had once been. Once the party was over that would definitely have to stop.

Cursing herself for losing her temper, Harriet let herself into the Lodge as James strode off, dumped down her briefcase and with a sigh pulled the pins out of her hair and ran her fingers through it as she always did the moment she was through the door. A tempting little savoury tart was waiting in the kitchen, courtesy of Margaret, a thoughtful touch which brought tears to Harriet’s eyes as she made coffee. She was more tired than she thought. But when she took her mug into the other room the tears dried like magic. The mysterious parcel was waiting on the sofa.

Suddenly as excited as a child, Harriet put the mug down and carefully slit open the parcel wrapping to reveal a very smart box with a note from Julia tucked into the swathes of tissue paper inside:

Harriet took out the dress and laid it reverently over the back of the sofa. It was a slip of a dress, scoop necked and sleeveless in tawny red pure silk satin. She ran up the short
flight of stairs to her bedroom, stripped off her clothes and stepped into the dress. It skimmed her knees and fitted so exactly it could have been made for her. She stared, delighted, at her reflection, and then rang Julia.

‘You just caught me, Harriet. I’m on my way out. You received the parcel?’

‘I certainly did; it was a marvellous surprise. Thanks a lot. Is the dress very expensive?’

‘Not to you, Cinderella. Regard it as an early birthday present. Does it fit?’

‘Perfectly.’

‘Then look on it as my contribution to the general cause. Fly the Wilde flag with pride tomorrow and have fun.’

This was a bigger ask than Julia knew. ‘I will. Thanks again. I owe you.’

Harriet removed the dress with great care, then got into jeans and a sweater to toss some salad to eat with her tart. Before she could make a start on it, the doorbell rang. With a sigh she opened the door to her godmother, who pushed past her, bristling with indignation.

‘What on earth is going on, Harriet? Why is there a marquee?’ demanded Miriam Cairns indignantly. ‘If Aubrey is throwing a party why haven’t I been invited?’

‘It’s not Father’s party, Miriam. Did you enjoy your cruise? When did you get back? Can I make you a sandwich or something? I was just about to eat my supper.’