In Want of a Wife? (11 page)

A well-matched pair, in other words.

She was barely aware of Freddy, who had moved on from talking about his last girlfriend to a speculative conversation about Leigh—who had returned to the drawing room with an even more impressive entourage in tow. She appeared to be regaling them with tales of university life.

Lizzy suddenly felt exhausted. She wanted to go home and then she wanted to return to London. She wanted to feel the familiarity of her friends around her. Louis had challenged every inch of her comfort zone and she needed to return to a place where everything made sense.

Abruptly, she stood up and carefully placed her empty glass on the table, along with her plate. She vaguely noticed that Freddy seemed not in the least disconcerted by the fact that she had cut him off in mid-sentence and was preparing to go. His bright-blue eyes were focused elsewhere.

She left the room quickly, sidestepping her sisters, because Maisie had now joined Leigh and was triumphantly waving a bottle of champagne in the air to great cheers and laughter.

She didn’t know where Louis had gone; he was no longer in the room. She wondered whether he was in another part of the house, getting close to the blonde—and thanking his lucky stars that he hadn’t been foolish enough to lower himself into sleeping with a member of the grasping Sharp family, for whom he had nothing but disdain.

Hot, bothered and wrapped up in a hornet’s nest of unpleasant, uninvited thoughts, she didn’t see Louis. She should have because this time he hadn’t stolen up on her from behind; he was right there in front of her. But her head was down and she was hurrying, and she crashed into him with such vigour that he had to reach out and steady her. His hands stayed in a vice-like grip on her arms until she was staring up at him, incapable of going anywhere.

H
ARD
on the heels of Louis, appearing like a rabbit from a magician’s hat, her mother materialised next to him. Lizzy hadn’t spotted her mother all evening. From the looks of it, she had been having a grand time. Someone had stuck a hat on her head, which she was now sporting in a jaunty fashion, and she was beaming like a Cheshire cat—although the smile fell away when she spotted her daughter.

Lizzy firmly pushed Louis away and steadied herself.

‘Where’s Dad?’ she asked in an accusing voice.

‘He’s helping himself to seconds. Fantastic food!’ She turned her smile to Louis, who smiled back in polite acknowledgment of the compliment. ‘Have you been drinking, Lizzy? You look a little green round the gills.’

Which provided her with the perfect excuse. ‘I
do
feel a little under par, Mum …’ She threw her mother a wan smile and ignored Louis who was standing on the sidelines, his arms folded, his eyebrows raised. ‘And I don’t want to drag anyone away from a good time, so I thought I might just take the car and head home. I’m sure you’ll be able to cadge a lift back with the Robinsons, and Maisie and Leigh can fend for themselves; there are a hundred boys here who look like they would jump at the chance.’

‘You’re not leaving
already,
are you?’ Her mother sounded as horrified as if she had just jumped on a table and begun a striptease. ‘It’s not even
midnight
yet!’

‘There’s no need for you to worry, Mrs Sharp.’ Louis inserted himself smoothly into the conversation. ‘If Lizzy isn’t feeling well, then of course she must go home.’

Lizzy looked at him narrowly, torn between healthy suspicion and gratitude for getting her off the hook.

‘And I would be delighted to deliver her back to your house in one piece. Or, of course,’ he mused thoughtfully, turning to her, ‘you
could
always stay here overnight. You’re familiar with the layout of the house and I can make sure that you have the same room as you had last time. Naturally, it won’t be quite as peaceful. There are a considerable number of people staying over.’

‘I’m fine driving back.’

‘Are you? You’ve been drinking.’

‘So have you.’

‘I’ve spent a lot of time nursing two drinks, interspersed with gallons of water.’ He turned to Grace. ‘I’m more than capable of driving your daughter home, leaving you all here to enjoy yourselves.’

Lizzy plastered a stiff smile on her face while she made her excuses to Rose and Nicholas. She was the first guest to leave; she could feel Jessica’s eyes stonily watching her as she and Louis disappeared from the party.

‘There was no need.’ She turned to him as soon as they were outside. Even with her cape wrapped cosily around her, she could still feel the bitter, crisp cold.

She wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know. Louis knew that he was acting wildly out of character, but for the first time in living memory something other than pure, cold reason had motivated his behaviour.

Lizzy Sharp made no sense on every count. He had descended on Crossfeld with the aim of firstly checking out his investment—even though the detailed reports sent to him already guaranteed a successful venture, even with the
money that needed to be poured into it. Secondly, and more importantly, on checking out Rose Sharp.

He had checked out Rose Sharp. He had checked out her family background and their financial situation. He had watched, and his conclusions were right. Rose Sharp, as per the entire family, was primarily motivated by the considerable advancement to her status that marriage to Nicholas would entail. Even if there was something about the girl that was so genuine that it beggared belief.

Why would Lizzy Sharp be anything else? She was stubborn and mouthy—which he normally wouldn’t have associated with someone who wanted to worm her way towards anyone’s bank balance—but the fact remained that she was part of the Sharp family. He should have cornered her with his suspicions and then left it alone. But he hadn’t been able to. For reasons he couldn’t begin to deduce, she had got under his skin, even though it was a distraction he really didn’t need.

Lord, it wasn’t as though there weren’t enough women who would have been more than happy to fill his bed if he wanted.

But his mind, for once, was at odds with his body. He had done very little but watch her during the course of the evening, and when he had found himself alone with her in the conservatory he had been unable to control the impulse to kiss her. The fact that she had responded had fired up something in him that had not seen the light of day for a long time.

‘I really don’t want you driving me home,’ Lizzy persisted in the face of his silence.

‘No, you would have happily taken to the unlit roads in the depths of winter whilst over the limit. It’s the same reckless selfishness that made you take to the road in blizzard conditions on a motorbike.’

Lizzy’s nerves at having to sit alongside him in the close confines of a car, disappeared at this blatant insult, although a little voice in her head was telling her that he was absolutely
right: there was no defence against his argument. So she pressed her lips together and stared fixedly ahead in silence, her pulses thrumming with tension as his silent Range Rover ate up the miles between Crossfeld and her parents’ house.

‘I take it you have a key to get in?’ Her moody silence had been a tonic for Louis. An expert at reading other people, he could only deduce that she was finding it difficult to deal with his presence. So difficult, in fact, that she had temporarily lost her will to argue with him. He liked the thought of that. He liked the fact that he was getting to her, because she was getting to him—big time.

‘Key?’

‘House key.’

‘Damn it. No; doesn’t matter. You can leave me here. I can still get in, because we always keep a key under a flower pot at the side of the house.’

Louis had no intention of doing any such thing. ‘Leave you here? I was brought up to always see a woman to the door.’

‘Fine. You can stay in the car and watch me walk to the door.’

‘You can take this as a compliment when I tell you that your sense of humour is growing on me.’ He followed her to the front door, waiting and watching with amusement as she fumbled under a flower pot and retrieved a little bag containing the house key.

‘Thank you for the lift, Louis.’ Lizzy forced herself to smile, although her mind was in slow rewind, remembering the feel of his mouth against hers and the way his hand had confidently found the soft swell of her breast. ‘There’s really no need to see me in.’

‘But what if there’s an intruder inside waiting for you?’ He pushed the door and held it open with his hand, allowing her just enough room to slide past him, and then stepping into the blessedly warm hallway.

The house bore evidence of robust family life. Shoes
adorned the bottom of the wide staircase. The Oriental rug, like the solid wooden floor underneath it, was worn with use, but not unattractive for that. From where he was, he could glimpse the end of the long pine table in the kitchen and the old-fashioned tiles on the floor which were now back in fashion. This was the house that the family would find themselves losing, thanks to Adrian Sharp’s overspending and poor investments. Little wonder they were desperate to hang on to it by hook or by crook.

Lizzy left him standing in the hallway and headed towards the kitchen. More than anything else, she wanted a cup of coffee. She would have to offer him one. He didn’t look as though he was in any hurry to leave and she couldn’t see how she could push him out. He was bigger, taller and stronger than she was.

‘I can see why your parents are so keen on a match with Nicholas and his bank balance,’ Louis drawled, startling her, because she hadn’t heard him follow her into the kitchen. ‘I suspect the last thing they want is to lose the family home.’

‘Would you like a cup of coffee? I’m making one for myself, so it’s no bother.’ There was no way that she was going to be drawn into this familiar argument, although when she looked at him he was smiling at her with no sign of that cold hostility in his eyes. It was disconcerting. Somewhere between hall and kitchen, he had shed his coat and he looked rakishly, sinfully sexy. What would he look like under those expensive, tailored clothes? Lizzy squashed the thought and looked away hurriedly but her hand was shaking a little as she handed him the mug of coffee: black, no sugar. She had seen him drink coffee once, and already her brain had stored the insignificant detail of how he took it.

‘I saw you whispering with Freddy.’ Louis sat on one of the kitchen chairs and sipped his coffee. He hadn’t liked it. For the first time he admitted that he had been jealous, had had
to restrain himself from marching over like a feudal master and breaking up the little confab.

‘We were chatting, yes. I happen to like him.’

‘Chatting about what?’

‘None of your business.’

‘If you’re thinking about getting involved with him, then I’m warning you not to bother. Freddy is only interested in women who have sufficient money to keep him in the style to which he thinks he’s entitled.’

‘How did I know you’d say that? You always see the worst in everyone!’

‘And, if he’s interested in one of your sisters, then I would pass the warning on if I were you. He might have fun with them for a while, but he’ll walk away without a backward glance the minute it suits him.’

‘Because they’re broke students without a family pile and an inheritance?’

Louis shrugged. Her cheeks were pink and she was leaning forward, glaring at him. His eyes drifted to her full mouth, currently compressed with anger.

‘He likes women with money and plenty of it.’

‘Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?’ Lizzy snapped and was gratified when his face darkened.

‘Where are you going with that?’

‘Where do you think?’ Lizzy muttered under her breath. She was aware that she might have pushed the boundaries a little too far this time but she wasn’t going to back down. Quite.

‘To use an old-fashioned term, Freddy is a cad.’

‘Funny, but that’s exactly what he said about you.’ She gave a little squeak of dismay as the words shot out of her mouth and hung tensely between them.

‘So that’s what your cosy
tête à tête
was all about,’ Louis murmured. ‘You were in a huddle talking about me. I didn’t think I was that fascinating a topic of conversation.’

‘You’re not.’

‘What did he have to say about me? I expect he spun you the story of the money he was due that never came his way because I’m the big, bad, greedy wolf?’

Lizzy had never been a gossip, yet here she was—mortified—because, not only had she gossiped madly about Louis, she had enjoyed it. What would he think of her? she wondered. Of course, it didn’t matter
what
he thought of her, but still.

‘I don’t normally talk about people behind their back,’ she said by way of grudging apology, and was surprised when his eyes lingered on her flushed face thoughtfully.

‘No, I don’t suppose you do.’

‘I. I was annoyed with you and Freddy was there.’

The jealousy that had gripped Louis was fading fast;
this
he could deal with.

‘And, yes, he did say something about being done out of money that was due to him.’

‘Interested in hearing the other side of the story? Or would that risk you having to see my point of view for a change?’ He caught her eye, held it and then watched in some fascination as she pensively chewed her lower lip.

‘I’ll interpret that silence as a yes,’ Louis said drily, draining the last of his coffee and standing up. ‘Freddy’s father was a very good, very loyal and very faithful family retainer.’ He held up one hand, as though she had said something. ‘And let’s not get sidetracked by the rights and wrongs of families who have retainers. I agree that it’s an outdated custom, but spare a thought for the fact that it also provides an extremely comfortable job for life. The families of retainers being looked after is also a handy perk for them.

‘Samuel always worried about his son. The older Freddy got, the wilder he became, and my father promised that whatever happened he would be financially looked after. I think he hoped that somewhere along the line between puberty and
manhood Freddy would straighten himself out, but he never did. When my father died, he left a codicil in his will that Freddy be taken care of financially at such time that it became necessary, and that any money handed over would be at my discretion. When Samuel died three years later, it was my duty to decide what to do.’

Louis raked restless fingers through his hair and shot her a dark, brooding look from under his lashes.

He had been prowling around the kitchen, absentmindedly taking in the bottle-green double-fronted aga and all the paraphernalia of a well-used kitchen. Now he paused to stand in front of her and Lizzy looked up at him, guiltily aware that she had been eager to hear one side of a story, and would have left it there because it suited her ends to clutch on to something that placed Louis squarely in a poor light. He was so tall that she had to lean back into her chair to look at him. His hands were in his pockets and he looked absolutely and completely at ease, although she could
sense
the angry tension radiating out of him in silent, invisible waves.

‘Freddy was right—there was no way I could give him a wad of money and then let him loose to get on with it. He was dabbling in recreational drugs at the time. I took the view that handing him over any money at all might encourage a habit. Instead, I stuck him in rehab and then offered him a job at one of my companies. Needless to say, he was never that thankful for the opportunity to earn an honest crust. Not when he had always expected to be given a lump sum to squander.’

Lizzy flushed and lowered her eyes. Now, instead of looking at the beautiful, hard angles of his face, she was confronted by his black, polished shoes and his trouser legs. The tailored cloth outlined his muscular thighs to perfection and was almost as disconcerting.

‘He goes to the office on an occasional basis,’ Louis continued. Lizzy thought that he was remarkably phlegmatic about the situation, all things considered. ‘I keep a check on him
through my people there. I wasn’t surprised when he showed up at the restaurant in search of a handout.’