Comparative Strangers (9 page)

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Authors: Sara Craven

BOOK: Comparative Strangers
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Amanda had been left staring in a startled way at the receiver. The newspapers weren’t ready yet to relinquish their grip on the story, it seemed, and this depressed her.

As she drove with Malory to the big country hotel where the dinner dance was being held, she said abruptly, ‘The press have been on to my mother, asking when we’re going to be married.‘

‘They phoned me, too.’ He didn’t seem perturbed, she noted crossly.

‘So, what did you tell them?’

‘That we were making no announcement at present.‘ He paused. ’That seemed to cover a variety of possibilities.‘

‘I suppose so.’ Amanda sighed. ‘I hoped they’d have decided to leave us alone by now’

He said drily, ‘How very optimistic’ He slanted a glance at her. ‘Are you really so desperate to be free of all this?’

‘Of course. I want to find another job—build a new life for myself.’ She knew she sounded defensive. ‘Isn’t that natural?’

‘Perfectly. But I’m afraid, for the time being, you’ll just have to be patient.’ He sounded bored. ‘In fact, we both will.’

Amanda said a subdued, ‘Yes,’ and relapsed into silence.

He was in an odd mood this evening, she thought, stealing a covert, sideways glance at him. He’d adher dress, but courteously, as if his thoughts were elsewhere. Perhaps he was tired, too, of all this pretence, and longing to return to normality, and his civilised, rather solitary existence.

Or perhaps, she thought later, he’d merely been thinking what lay in store for them that evening.

Her mouth ached with smiling, and her fingers were sore from some of the over-enthusiastic handshaking she’d been subjected to as she stood at Malory’s side in the receiving line. And the worst of it was, everyone seemed so genuinely pleased for them both, unstinting in their good wishes.

He has no right to put me through all this, Amanda fulminated silently.

She glanced up and saw him watching her, his gaze ironic, as if he’d guessed what she was thinking. And, of course, he had every right. After all, she had created this entire mess single-handed. She’d involved him in the kind of notoriety he most abhorred. The least she could do was stand by him tonight.

She bit her lip. And for as long as it took…

She could comfort herself with the reflection that she was looking good. She could see it in the eyes of the men she was introduced to. They envied Malory, and the knowledge warmed her. It occurred to her that, when she’d been out with Nigel, she’d been the one who was envied.

And she seemed to be passing muster with the women, too. She’d overheard a snatch of converin the powder-room.

‘It seemed so unlike him,’ someone was saying to a friend. ‘But she’s lovely looking, isn’t she? You can understand him losing his head over her.’

The friend’s reply was indistinguishable, but seemed to be in broad agreement.

If only you knew! Amanda thought.

At dinner, she found herself stationed next to one of Malory’s chief chemists, a pleasant-faced young man with thinning hair and a ready smile. They talked generalities for a while, then she asked him about his work and saw his face brighten.

Among other things, he told her, they were working on a drug called Chromazyn, which they hoped would relieve arthritis sufferers.

‘It’s something I feel strongly about’ he said. ‘I had a grandmother I adored, and she was nearly crippled with arthritis during her last years. I want Chromazyn to work for her sake, I suppose. A few doctors have started to prescribe it already, monitored by us, of course, in case of side-effects. But, so far, it seems to be going well. I’m surprised Malory hasn’t told you about it.’ He grinned at her. ‘But I expect you have other things to discuss.’

Amanda made some non-committal response, and changed the subject. She supposed that, if her engagement to Malory was to continue for any length of time, she would have to take a surface interest at least in what went on at the laboratories.

When dinner was over, she danced with everyone who asked her, responding demurely to some of the heavy-handed gallantry to which she was subjected, particularly by the older men. She began to wish she’d worn something rather less striking. She felt like a bird of paradise who’d fluttered inadinto a dovecote.

It was almost a relief to find herself claimed by Malory.

‘Congratulations,’ he murmured in her ear. ‘You’ve taken them all by storm.’

‘Oh, don’t,’ she said, distressed. ‘I feel such a fraud.’

‘Then, don’t’ he said. ‘You’ve provided them with a far more enjoyable evening than they’ve ever had before—endless food for speculation.’

‘And you don’t mind that?’

‘Not really. You see, they’re my people. There’s very little malice there.’

‘You’re lucky’ she said bitterly. ‘It’s been absolute hell at my office.’ She forced a smile. ‘It’s only when you’ve made a mistake that you find out what people really think of you.’

Malory said drily, ‘That can sometimes be quite comforting.’

She could see that it could be—for him. She’d already discovered through the course of the evening how highly Malory was regarded and respected by his workforce. But then, she thought sourly, he paid their salaries. And immediately castigated herself silently for being a bitch.

He was certainly, she thought, a much better dancer than she would ever have given him credit for.

She said rather challengingly, ‘You must hate this kind of music.’

His brows lifted. ‘What makes you say that?’

‘Well—it’s a long way from Donizetti.’

‘There’s room for both.’ He gave her a long look. ‘One of these days I’ll have to prove to you that I’m not as hidebound as you think.’

She said rather too hurriedly, 'I'll take your word for it,‘ and felt a stab of relief that the dance was coming to an end. But to her surprise, as the tempo of the music slowed and became dreamy, Malory pulled her back into his arms, his hands sliding down round her waist to hold her closer.

‘Don’t make a fuss,’ he directed under his breath. ‘It’s only what they’ll expect of us, after all. Put your arms round my neck.’

Stiffly and reluctantly, she did as she was told. It annoyed her that he could be relaxed and casual about it all. She stole a furtive glance at her wrist-watch. Suddenly, she couldn’t wait for the evening to be over.

But, even when the dancing was finished, there were other formalities to be gone through, and goodbyes to be said. It was ages before she sat beside Malory in his car, speeding quietly through the darkness.

She sighed quietly, and he gave her a swift sideways glance. ‘Did you hate it all very much?’

‘No, I didn’t,’ she discovered to her surprise. ‘Everyone was so kind, and welcoming.’ She added awkwardly, ‘Any problems were all in my own head.’

‘I think that applies to most of us.’

She said stiltedly, ‘It must have been difficult for you, too.’ She thought of Clare, whom Malory had probably hoped to present to his workforce as his future wife at that very party. ‘You must have thought how very—different everything could have been. I keep forgetting I’m not the only injured party.’

‘There’s little point in endlessly going over what might have been,’ he said drily. ‘I’ve learned to resign myself. I advise you to do the same.’

‘Maybe it will be easier with a change of scene.’

‘You’re planning to go away?’ he asked with polite interest. ‘Any particular destination in mind?’

‘Not yet. I can’t make any firm arrangements really, until all this is over.’

‘Well, you shouldn’t have much longer to endure it,’ he said.

‘I hope not.’ She hesitated. ‘I was thinking of going abroad, if I can get the same kind of job.’

‘I might be able to help there. I have various contacts in the pharmaceutical industries, if that appeals to you.’

'I'll bear it in mind.‘ She wouldn’t, of course; the last thing she wanted was to be beholden to Malory Templeton. But at least he wasn’t putting any obstacles in her way, or insisting she serve some minimum term as his fianc, she thought. In fact, he seemed almost anxious to speed her on her way. But even that was understandable after the embarrassment she’d caused him. Playing her part correctly this evening might have made up a little for that, or so she hoped. However, she wanted no more such evenings.

Malory parked outside the cottage and took her weekend case from the boot while Amanda found her door key.

‘Thank you.’ She held out her hand for the case, then hesitated. ‘Would you like a nightcap before you go?’

‘No alcohol,’ he said, ‘but I would appreciate some coffee.’

Amanda was completely taken aback. She’d expected him to make some courteous excuse and be on his way. But she could hardly withdraw the offer now, so, mutely, she allowed him to follow her into the cottage.

She’d half hoped her mother would still be downstairs, but the drawing-room was in darkness, except for the logs smouldering quietly behind the spark-guard.

Amanda gave a small, silent sigh. In the old days, Mrs Conroy would have been up, waiting eagerly for all the details of the evening—what had been worn, eaten, said and done. The fact that she’d gone to bed was a sign of her continuing displeasure.

She switched on the lamps and added another log to the fire, before going to the kitchen to prepare the coffee. She glanced at the percolator, then hunched a shoulder. He could have instant, and like it.

Malory was occupying the armchair, very much at his ease, when Amanda returned.

‘This is very kind of you.’

She wondered if she could detect a note of irony in his voice, and dismissed the idea. She handed him his mug, then seated herself on the sofa in a swirl of silky gold pleats, yawning ostentatiously as she reached for her own coffee.

‘You’d never have made an actress if you’re exhausted after one performance,’ Malory commented.

‘Then it’s lucky I had no such ambition,’ Amanda retorted.

‘So, what did you want from life? Or was your only horizon a secretarial post, followed by a suitable marriage?’

‘Of course not.’ He made it sound so appallingly conventional, she thought vexedly. And who was he to talk, anyway? ‘And I’m not a secretary. I’m a personal assistant,’ she added defensively.

‘Ah,’ he said gravely. That, of course, makes a difference.‘

‘Well, it does to me.’ Amanda set down her mug with a definite thump. ‘It’s all right for you to sit there, being lordly, but we didn’t all have an enormous company handed to us on a plate.’

‘Neither did I. Believe it or not, Amanda, I had to fight tooth and nail for everything I wanted. It was a valuable lesson about life.’

‘Which you are presumably handing on. I’m sure you mean well, but I’m really not in the market for fatherly advice.’ She’d intended to sound crushing, and was totally disconcerted by his shout of laughter. She cast a nervous glance ceiling-wards. ‘Oh, do be quiet, or you’ll wake my mother, and she’ll wonder why you’re still here.’

He was still grinning. ‘And what will she do? Come rushing down to protect your virtue from my fell designs?’

‘Hardly,’ Amanda said crossly. ‘Anyway, you haven’t got any fell designs.’

There was an odd loaded silence, then he said quite gently, ‘Amanda, you can’t possibly be that naive. You’re a beautiful, desirable girl. There wasn’t a man in that room tonight who wasn’t wondering what it would be like to make love to you.’

She cast him an edged, nervous glance. ‘Please— don’t say things like that.’

‘You’d prefer me to pretend it had never crossed my mind?’ He shook his head. That would be dishonest.‘

‘The whole situation’s dishonest.’ She was startled to hear an almost desperate note in her own voice. ‘You’re not in love with me—you know you’re not… And I don’t care for you.’

‘What difference does that make?’ He sounded amused. ‘We’re not talking about a lifetime’s commitment, but a brief interlude of what used to be called dalliance, I think. Quite permissible, even between .’

He rose to his feet, putting down his coffee and, before Amanda could resist, had sat down beside her, lifting her on to his lap with one smooth, forceful movement which totally circumvented any avoiding action on her part.

She said in a small, breathless voice, ‘Let go of me.’

‘In my own good time.’ Malory lifted a finger and stroked an errant tress of hair back from her temple. ‘When you’ve thanked me politely for your pleasant evening.’

‘Not like this.’ Even when they’d danced earlier, they hadn’t been as intimately close as they were now, Amanda realised, her heart jerking at her ribcage. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek—knew that she would only have to turn her head a fraction to taste his mouth against hers.

‘Stop panicking, darling,’ he advised coolly. ‘I’ve never belonged to the school of thought which considers a girl’s body an appropriate repayment for dinner and a bottle of wine.’

‘No?’ She’d never sounded so gauche and unsure of herself in her life, especially now that his thumb was tracing the curve of her averted cheek, the line of her jaw, sending odd little shivers through her body. ‘You—you must be very unusual.’

‘Why? Because I prefer the pleasure of a woman’s company—and the possibility of future delight— to immediate gratification?’ Malory shook his head slowly. ‘I’m not that eccentric. And I don’t believe in instant bliss, either,’ he added drily.

Amanda swallowed. This was the last kind of conversation she’d ever expected to have—wanted to have—with Malory. Oh, why in the world hadn’t she simply said goodnight to him on the doorstep? she wailed silently.

‘No comment?’ he asked, as the silence lengthened.

Amanda rallied her forces. ‘It’s really none of my business,’ she said, trying to sound dismissive. ‘And it’s getting awfully late…’

‘So it is,’ he said. Then I’ll waste no more time.‘ His fingers closed on her chin, turning her face inexorably to his. He was smiling as he kissed her.

His mouth was warm and gentle, but also very determined as it moved on hers. She couldn’t struggle—he was holding her too closely in the circle of his arms for that—but she protested silently by keeping her lips firmly closed against his insistence.

In spite of his apparent assurances, his remark about ‘future delight’ disturbed her, and she wanted in no way to encourage him to think that she might ever be even remotely willing…

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