Dark inheritance (14 page)
But in spite of her misgivings Mark proved himself
an amusing companion, and as if sensing that she was
distrait set out. to divert her as they swam and sun
bathed. Afterwards they drank iced coffee on the terrace
and Barbara saw that unlike his cousin, Mark's skin did not tan easily but took on a painful-looking red, and this, together with his sandy-coloured hair, made him look like a small boy at. the seaside.
"You've been studying me for at least five minutes^" his voice broke in upon her thoughts. "Have you reached any interesting conclusions?"
She laughed. "Only that you look like a rather overgrown Peter Pan."
"If you're implying that I've refused to grow up I can
assure you that as far as you're concerned my reactions are quite adult." He reached across the table and laid his hand over hers. "I could prove it if you'd let me."
"I'm quite prepared to believe you without any demonstration," she said lightly.
He shrugged. "Let me know if you change your mind. We could have a lot of fun together, Barbara."
"Perhaps one day when I'm old and very bored I might hold you to that."
He laughed. "That's a bargain."
As they resumed their tea her thoughts reverted to
Dominic and she wondered where he had taken his aunt
and whether he was missing her own companionship.
Suddenly she drew a sharp breath and Mark looked up. "Someone you know?" He followed her gaze to where a slender woman with pale blonde hair was threading her way through the tables on the terrace. "Why, it's Gina!" He looked back at Barbara in surprise. "Do you know her?"
"No, but I saw her last night at the Casino."
She had no chance to say more, for the woman had caught sight of the big, fair-haired man and came up
with a delighted smile. Dressed today in a violet linen
trouscr suit—the colour of her eyes—she looked even
more beautiful in the sunlight than she had in the smoky
atmosphere of the gaming room the night before.
"Why, Mark dear—how lovely to sec you" She stretched out both her hands and the man rose and took them in his own.
"Gina, my love." He kissed the smooth check. "How are you? But first let me introduce you to a friend of
mine—Miss Mansfield—Mrs. Gilderstein. By the way,
Gina, how's Charles?"
The woman sank into one of the wicker chairs. "Very well. As busy as ever, of course."
"But not too busy to come away for a holiday, eh?"
She shrugged. "There was a little French artist he
wanted to see, and you know Charles—if he thinks he's
found someone he can use in his next production he'll follow them to the ends of the earth."
They chattered with the easy familiarity of people with the same social background, and Barbara was content to listen, studying the woman covertly and wondering why her face was vaguely familiar.
"Are you here for long, Miss Mansfield?" Unexpect
edly Mrs. Gilderstein turned towards her.
"No, we're just passing through."
The woman looked from her to Mark. "You're together?"
Mark grinned. "Unfortunately not. Barbara's travelling with my aunt and my very worthy cousin."
The woman's face betrayed an indifference too stu
died to be spontaneous, and Barbara was more than ever convinced that there was some connection between her
arrival and Dominic's hurried departure from the Casino the night before.
"Dominic here? What a small world! Then he must have been at the Casino last night. I thought there couldn't be two red manes like that. Do you know him very well, Miss Mansfield?"
"He's my employer—I'm his aunt's companion."
The woman's demeanor underwent a subtle change. "Oh, really? How interesting! Is he easy to work for?"
"Very," Barbara replied shortly.
"Then he must have changed since I knew him." She
turned to Mark. "Are you travelling with them too?"
"Can you imagine me stuck with Dominic on a cruise, Gina? No, I've been staying in Monte on my own."
"Still enjoying yourself as the perennial bachelor?"
"At the moment I'm considering trying to lose that
enviable status," he said easily, "but so far without much
success."
The violet eyes flickered questioningly over Barbara, but the woman said nothing.
"Is Charles with you?" Mark went on conversationally.
"He's somewhere around, I can never manage to lose him for long."
"Still the loving wife, I see."
"Of course." The light voice was bland. "I'm starring in his next show."
"Ah, so Charles couldn't keep you away from the theatre after all."
"Did you expect him to?" the woman replied smoothly as she opened her large white-handbag and took a cigarette from an ornate gold case. "Charles and I understand each other pretty well." She leant forward o her elbow for Mark to light her cigarette and blew a cloud of smoke into the air. "For the first few years of our marriage he helped make my name, then to please him I gave it up for a while—but now I'm going back."
"Does he mind?"
She shrugged. "I humoured him, now it's his turn to humour me."
"Do you really like the theatre so much, or is it just the adulation and glamour?" There was a hint of mockery in the man's voice.
The slim shoulders lifted. "It isn't the glamour, Mark—you should know that. As for the adulation— what woman doesn't like to be admired by more than one man? No, I've made up my mind and now it's just a question of finding the right musical." She stubbed out her half-smoked cigarette. "Perhaps you'll join Charles and me for a drink tonight?"
" 'Fraid I can't—I've got a previous engagement,"
"What a pity. I thought we might have made up a little party and gone to the Casino again. One gets so bored always being with the same people." She turned to Barbara. "Give my regards to Mr. Rockwood and tell him I'd love to see him again. Is he in London often or does he still prefer the fastnesses of Wales?"
"I'm afraid I don't know what Mr. Rockwood does with his time when he's away from Crags' Height,"
The woman looked at her levelly. "Never mind, I'll get in touch with him myself one day."
With a languid wave of her hand she drifted away, and Mark looked at Barbara in amusement. "I take it Gina didn't go down too well with you."
"Mrs. Gilderstein doesn't strike me as the type to worry whether she goes down well with another woman or not,"
"Meow"
"Not at all. It's just that she doesn't appeal to me."
"You know who she is, don't you?"
"Her face is familiar," she confessed, "but I can't place her. If she hasn't appeared on the stage for four years, though, I probably didn't sec her in her heyday and couldn't expect to remember her."
Mark laughed uproariously. "Good God, I wouldn't like to get the wrong side of you. Heyday, indeed! Gina's only thirty-five at the most—or does that seem ancient to you, my little spring chicken?"
It was Barbara's turn to laugh. "I did sound a bit catty, didn't I? What I really meant was that when she was popular I was busy slogging away at a typewriter in a dreary Midlands town, far away from glamour and everything else Mrs. Gilderstein stands for. What was her stage name?"
"Gina de Courcey."
Barbara looked suitably impressed. "Of course I remember her now! I once came down from the Midlands on a day excursion and queued for hours to get in.
But you can't blame me for not recognizing her—she's
matured a great deal since then."
"I think her husband would rather put it down to grooming than maturity.' Mark signalled to the waiter and ordered more iced coffee. "She's a very clever woman, our Gina, and even years ago knew what she wanted. The best thing she ever did for herself was to marry Charles. He made her a success, and even though she's been out of the theatre for several years she's still one of the most photographed women in Britain."
"I didn't know you were connected with the stage,
"I'm
not."
'Then how do you know so much about her?"
'Through Dominic, of course. Didn't you know about them?"
"Dominic and Mrs. Gilderstein?"
"Yes. He was engaged to her once."
Barbara put down her spoon with a clatter "Engaged to Dominic?"
Mark regarded her curiously. "Why are you so surprised? My cousin wasn't always quite such a bear with a sore head, you know. I never found him particularly easy to get on with, but it wasn't until his engagement
was broken that he became such a cynic. I think he put all his eggs in one basket as far as she was concerned and he never got over it."
"Then that explains his dislike of the stage," Barbara murmured half to herself.
"Yes. I suppose he felt it had robbed him of the one woman he wanted."
She took up the spoon again and stirred her coffee. "Somehow I can't imagine him in love with Gina de Courcey. They seem so unsuited to each other.
"You didn't know Dominic then. He was quite good-looking in an intense sort of way—that dark red hair of his and all that arrogance. He had a reputation for wild-ness, too—always off with the old and on with the new —and it was quite a feather in Gina's cap when he asked her to marry him. I don't know who was the more surprised—Gina or Dominic himself."
"But if they were so much in love why did the engagement break up?"
"Thereby hangs a tale, young lady. Although my worthy cousin loved Gina just as she was, veneer and all, I'm afraid she loved him for what he could give her. The only fly in her ointment was that he realized it before it was too late—he's not inclined to be over-generous at the best of times, you know."
"I don't see how you can say that." Although still smarting from Dominic's treatment of her, she defended him automatically. "I think he's extremely generous."
Mark flushed. "Has he been talking about me?"
"Of course not. Dominic doesn't discuss his family. I was only referring to his generosity to me."
"I see. Sorry, old girl. Didn't mean to jump to conclusions, but I'm rather touchy where he's concerned."
"So I've noticed," she said quietly. "You seem to be touchy with each other."
A bitter look passed across Mark's face. "It's not
much fun being the younger son of a younger son, you
know."
She glanced down at her watch to cover her embarrassment. "Good heavens, it's nearly six o'clock! I'd n
lo
idea we'd been here so long. We'd better get back or we
shall be late for dinner."
"I won't be able to go on board with you, I'm afraid. I shall have to leave you on the quay."
"That's all right, I can find my own way if you're in a hurry."
"Not at all. I could kick myself for not being free
this evening. I've enjoyed being with you, Barbara—it's a pity the boat isn't staying here longer. You leave tomorrow, don't you?"
"Yes, about midday."
"Then perhaps I'll come on board and see you before you sail."
She smiled. "That would be lovely."
Walking beside him through the hotel she looked up at the profile so like Dominic's and yet so utterly unlike —the nose not quite so pronounced, the firmness of the chin
softened by a slight puffiness—and thought how
much she preferred the older, sterner man in spite of his imperviousness.
Mark waited until she was safely in the tender before
leaving, and as the little craft bobbed away she waved until he was a tiny speck on the quayside. Skimming
over the blue water towards the white ship she pondered
on all she had learned that afternoon, surprised that Dominic could have fallen in love with so studied a
woman as Mrs. Gilderstein, and full of burning jealousy
towards the beautiful actress who had let him "down.
With a gentle thud the craft bumped the side of the ship and Barbara hastily stood up and climbed the narrow creaky ladder to the deck. To her surprise Dominic was pacing backwards and forwards between the deck chairs and came towards her as soon as she appeared,
"I've been looking for you for the last half hour," he said abruptly.
"Why? The boat isn't leaving unexpectedly, is it? Or have I stopped it from sailing again?"
He seemed somewhat nonplussed by her quick sar
casm, but said nothing as he followed her down the
companionway.
