Lost heritage (11 page)

did you propose concealing the letter in that file you had in your hands?" he asked.

Charlotte flushed, instinctively putting her hands together in front of her and wishing she could feel more sure of herself and less as if she had been caught out. It was discomfiting to remember that he had once accused her of working for one of their competitors, and being found there with that file of papers in her hands must have seemed like proof positive to him.

*I—^I accidentally knocked it on to the floor when I put the photograph back,' she explained, then immediately realised that by making that her excuse she had let herself in for another kind of suspicion.

*A photograph?' Raoul asked, and his voice was deceptively soft, bringing an involuntary shiver from her responsive senses. He noticed the group picture lying on its face then and reached over to right it, replacing it carefully. *So it was a photograph that had your interest,' he said. 'Who is it there that catches your eye, Miss Kennedy?'

'No one in particular.' But her eye was drawn irresistibly to the two Raouls standing there together and she could not help herself. 'You knew the other Raoul Menais,' she said, obviously intrigued by the fact. 'I hadn't realised that.'

Raoul's eyes narrowed and fixed themselves inescapably on her flushed face for a moment, then he glanced briefly at his namesake's handsome smiling features and frowned. *You know him?' He dismissed the likelihood of that with an impatient wave of his hand. 'But of course you cannot have known him; he died when you were no more than a baby! How is it then that you know of him?'

'I saw his photograph in Madame Menais's bedroom,' Charlotte told him, 'and she told me who he was.'

He looked down at her for a moment, narrow-eyed and still suspicious, although she thought slightiy less so than he had been to begin with. 'Ah, Grand'm^re,' he said with

a touch of iraay. *You have her confidence, eh?'

'Not exactly,' Charlotte denied uneasily; it was so difficult to be as cool and confident as she wanted to be with those disturbing eyes on her. 'I noticed the picture by accident, and Madame Menais told me who he was. Then I saw him again in that photograph and I was—curious.'

*0f that I have no doubt,' Raoul said sardonically. *I believe you are possessed of a great deal of curiosity. Miss Kennedy, but I still do not trust you. Grand'mere may confide in you and Lizette depend upon you, but I still do not completely trust you. Not while you continue to harbour diat—that secret that you so skilfully conceal.'

Charlotte searched his strong, adamant face warily, wishing this eternal suspicion of his need not always be there, making a barrier between them. 'You have no reason to

suspect me of ' She gestured helplessly towards the file

with its pile of scattered papers and shook her head. She felt an incredible need to convince him, to have him on her side, and it troubled her that he did not respond to her obvious appeal. 'I'm not here to—to steal your secrets, whatever they may be, nor am I working for one of your rivals as you once suggested. Please believe me, I haven't the slightest desire to harm you, your family or your business interests. Please believe me.'

*You are pleading with me?' He looked momentarily astonished and Charlotte uneasily avoided his eyes. *Would you have me believe that you have no other motive for being here dian looking after Lizette? But you forget, Charlotte, you have already confessed to me that your objective is something quite different!'

His use of her first name sent a little flutter of pleasure shivering through her body, even in this situation, and she sought more earnestly than ever to convince him. She had, she recalled, implied that she was looking for someone; an answer made on the spur of the moment and bom of

panic, but Raoul was not a man to forget that. It would have been so much easier if his eyes had the same laughing warmth as his namesake's, instead of regarding her so critically.

*I have nothing to confess, Monsieur Raoul,* she told him, 'because confession implies guilt, and I have no reason to feel guilty.*

*You deny that you told me you were—^hoping to find someone?* he demanded, and was so obviously quoting her that she shook her head uneasily.

*I—^I don't remember what I told you.' She made the admission reluctantly because it was not easy to be evasive with that steely gaze fixed on her. 'I was probably so nervous I didn't know what I was saying! *

As always when Raoul had her feeling cornered, she glanced at the door with escape in mind and, as he had done before, he noticed it. A slow and slighdy menacing smile sent shivering responses trickling up her spine and reminded her uneasily of a sleek cat with a mouse at its mercy, anticipating every move and blocking it.

*I hope you do not depend upon someone coming in,* he said. *My father and Mademoiselle Lebrun will be at the factory for the remainder of the morning, and Michel is giving dictation to Mademoiselle Villeaux. There is very litde chance that anyone will disturb us! *

There was a curious intimacy about the way he said it that did nothing to reassure her, and her heart was rapping urgendy against her ribs. The sheer sensual masculinity of him seemed to reach out to her, making her nerve-tinglingly aware of the man and momentarily heedless of the power he could probably wield to bring her job with Lizette to an end. A charge of prying about among the papers on his father's desk stood more chance of being believed by his family than her own denials.

But it was not the danger of her situation that was pro-

minent in her mind at the moment, but the remembrance of the twice he had held her so tightly in his arms that she could scarcely breathe. And of the way he had kissed her, with the passion of anger in the bruising hardness of his mouth. It was instinctive to step back away from him and she almost tripped over the big swivel chair behind her, catching her breath when he reached out his hands to prevent her falling.

*I have to get bade to Madame Lizette,' she toki hixn, and turned swifdy away from those long brown hands. 'I must go, Monsieur Raoul!'

He did not grip her arm as he had on other occasions, but merely touched her forearm with his long fingers, lighdy and almost caressingly, but it achieved the same end. Charlotte stopped and turned to look at him once more, her eyes wide and wary. *Have you discovered the man you seek, Charlotte?' he asked, steely grey eyes shadowed by black lashes, and she shook her head. *The lover you came to find,' he reminded her.

^Not a lover!' Charlotte insisted huskily, and walked away from the light touch of his fingers on her arm, turning once more in the door. *I told you it wasn't a lover!'

She turned the handle and opened the door just a fraction, ready to escape, but he was not yet ready to let her go. 'Who then, if not a lover?' he demanded relendessly, and Charlotte held the steady gaze for just a second, then shook her head firmly before stepping out into the empty hall. Then she fled without even a backward glance, banging the door closed behind her.

It was with the idea of forestalling any damaging report that Raoul might make to his father that Charlotte went out of her way to see Bernard Menais as soon as he returned from the factory. Mademoiselle Lebrun, his secretary, was with him and looked vaguely surprised when Charlotte called

to him as soon as he set foot inside the door. A short, plump and middle-aged woman, she was unlikely to cause Marie Menais the same kind of problems that troubled Lizette, and she took the briefcase her employer handed her, then disappeared discreetly into the office.

Bernard looked at her curiously but not discouragingly and as she came across the hall towards him Charlotte compared him with his son. Raoul was like him to a degree, she supposed, but Bernard was somewhat shorter in build and he was beginning to put on weight as he approached his middle fifties. He was pleasant and kindly whenever Charlotte came into contact with him, more like Madame Menais in character but less forceful.

'Monsieur Bernard,' Charlotte began after a brief greeting, 'there's something I feel I should tell you.' She glanced automatically over her shoulder at the solid blankness of Raoul's door and hurried on, noticing Bernard's faindy puzzled frown as she did so. 'I brought a letter down to your office this morning, one I must have picked up by mistake with Madame Lizette's mail.'

*Oui, mademoiselle?'

Obviously he had expected much more than that, and Charlotte hastened to enlighten him, still casting swift and slighdy wary glances at that closed door. 'I'm afraid I was radier clumsy,' she explained. *I propped the letter against a little figurine on your desk and I caught the sleeve of my dress on some of the papers on your desk and knocked them on to the floor.' She indicated the wide, three-quarter length sleeves of her dress, then fluttered her hands vaguely in apology. 'I'm sorry about it. Monsieur Bernard. I made rather a mess and Monsieur Raoul caught me—^I mean,' she amended hastily, *he came in while I was there and—^well, he suspected me of prying into things that don't concern

me.*

Just for a moment his eyes narrowed slighdy in much the

same way that Raoul's so often did, and Charlotte felt the thudding beat of her heart while she waited for a verbal reacticm. Then once more he shook his head, a half-smile making him look a lot more like Madame Menais and much less like Raoul. It was no doubt an accident, mademoiselle^' he allowed, and Charlotte hastened to assure him of the fact.

*Oh, but of course it was, monsieur, only ' She

hesitated, wondering if Raoul would include the cause of her clumsiness in his report too. *I was—^I noticed a photograph on your desk, Monsieur Bernard; a family group taken quite a long time ago, and—well, I was looking at it and that's how I came to catch my sleeve. I was being inquisitive and Fm sorry, I really am sorry.'

Bernard pulled a wry face and the faint twinkle in his eyes once more emphasised his likeness to his mother. *There is such chaos on my desk always^ ma chere mademoiselle,* he told her, *that I doubt very much if I would have even noticed that anything had been disturbed. My secretary despairs of my untidiness. It is even possible,' he added as if to exonerate her from blame entirely, *that my desk is tidier than it has ever been, thanks to your ministrations!'

*It probably is,' Charlotte told him, not without irony. *I was putting things straight when Monsieur Raoul came in, and he took over.'

jiist for a moment a gleam of amusement showed in Bernard's eyes and he shook his head. Then we need not fear that all is not in perfect order,' he told her. *There is no need to concern yourself further, Miss Kennedy— Charlotte, is it not?' He was seeking to put her at her ease just as Madame Menais would have done in similar circumstances, and Charlotte thanked heaven that Raoul seemed to be the only member of the family who suspected her motives. *So, ma chere mademoiselle, please forget that it

happened, yes? And diank you for bringing me die letter.'

*Thank you, monsieur !'

Once more she used her hands to express her relief in a faindy helpless gesture that had always been one of her mannerisms, and she saw Bernard frown at her for a second.

*Is it possible that ' He frowned more deeply for a

second, then shrugged and shook his head. *But no! We have much to do, mademoiselle^ and Mademoiselle Lebrun will be impatient to begin,' he told her. 'Concern yourself no further with the matter, there is no damage done, eh?'

*You're very imderstanding, monsieur^ thank you.'

Bernard smiled, his eyes sweeping slowly over her face for a second before he turned away. *And you are very pretty, mademoiselle^ he told her with unexpected gallantry, one eyelid briefly lowered to give point to his meaning. *Maybe my son should exchange you permanendy for Mademoiselle Duclair, eh?'

He went off chuckling to himself, striding across the hall in a way that reminded Charlotte discomfitingly of his son. She could ignore Bernard's hint that Raoul should employ her permanendy; she could not at the moment imagine a more uneasy post. But at least she had spiked Raoul's guns should he report the incident to his father, although she wondered why the knowledge did not give her the satisfaction she felt it should.

Quite often after she had eaten her evening meal and seen Lizette setded, Qiarlotte took«a stroll in the chateau grounds. Always providing she was not seeing Jean, of course, or had letters to write for herself. She found the lush expanse of grassland incredibly peaceful in the evenings, and the nights were drawing out now, it was light for much longer.

The chesmut trees that surrounded the chateau and also gave it its name were beautiful still, even though the tall

candles of blossom had died in the month she had been there. The trees stood plump and serene in the sunshine fluttering their palmate leaves in gende appeal as the evening deepened.

Apart from the main driveway to the house and the side paths, the chateau was surrounded by grassland and trees, deep soft turf that put a spring into even the most laggardly step, and the quiet of the evening was as soothing as a soft hand on the brow. Sometimes she convinced herself that the faindy luminous glow in the evening sky was the lights of Paris coming on; bringing the capital to life as the countryside drifted into relaxation and sleep. Maybe it was simply her imagination, but it was a nice thought and she mused on it as she walked.

The chestnuts whispered in the light wind and there was no other sound until her ears caught the immistakable crunch of gravel as if someone was coming along the driveway she had left behind. The sudden cessation of the sound suggested that whoever the walker was had either stopped in his or her tracks, or else had moved over on to the sound-deadening softness of the turf.

Something in Charlotte's brain tingled a warning and she turned as she stood imder a cluster of trees, almost in darkness since the sun was sinking rapidly and the branches were so thick that they doused whatever light was left. The figure that came striding across the grass towards her was unmistakable and she clenched her hands involuntarily into tight litde fists as she tried to think of reasons why Raoul should be coming in her direction with such urgency in his stride.