by Mary Lyons
Silently sipping her champagne, she glanced through her eyelashes at Luke. He and the head waiter were discussing the menu which, like the champagne, he had apparently already ordered in advance. And wasn’t that just typical of his usual totally arrogant assumption that he would always get his own way? she told herself grimly.
It might be Dutch courage, but the heady effect of yet more alcohol—in addition to the amount she’d already consumed at the exhibition—was definitely beginning to make her feel a whole lot better. It was clearly about time that Luke realised he couldn’t keep on pushing her around.
‘So, OK, it’s a beautiful room, and I’m enjoying this champagne,’ she said, deliberately keeping her tone of voice cool and detached. ‘And, since I can leave any time I wish to, maybe you’d care to tell me why I should stay?’
Luke leaned back in his chair, regarding her with an amused grin. ‘That’s what I love about you, Angelica—you may be down, but you’re never out for the count, I might have known that you’d soon be up off the canvas and slugging away at me again—as usual!’
‘You certainly deserve a good punch on the nose,’ she agreed with grim relish. ‘However, I’m still waiting to hear exactly why you’ve brought me here?’
‘Ah, yes…’ He paused for a moment, slowly revolving the slim glass stem of his champagne flute, as if buried deep in thought. ‘One of the things on which I think we can agree is that we first met in very unusual circumstances,’ he said at last.
‘You can say that again!’ she agreed waspishly.
‘And once having got off on the wrong foot, so to speak, our subsequent encounters, while—er— interesting, having not given us an opportunity really to get to know one another.’
‘But you’ve seen my house. And, after inviting yourself into my kitchen, you also know a lot about the problems I’ve been facing. So what else could you want to know about me?’ she asked belligerently.
Luke shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘Yes, I may know something about your surroundings and way of life—but I know nothing about your past, your education, what books you like to read, or your favourite type of music, for instance. And, of course, you know absolutely nothing about me either.’
‘And if I said that I really didn’t want to know anything about you…?’ she replied quickly, determined not to let this man ride roughshod over her yet again.
‘You could say it—but you wouldn’t be telling the truth.’
‘My God, you’re arrogant!’ she ground out savagely, her cheeks flaming under the steady gaze of his hooded grey eyes.
Unfortunately she was prevented from saying any more by the arrival of a waiter, bearing their first course of Parma ham with melon.
After the waiter had eventually left them alone, there was a long silence before Luke reached out to clasp hold of her nervously trembling hand.
‘I want you to listen to me for a moment, Angelica.’ His voice was steely, the hard note of serious intent reflected in the stern expression on his face.
‘There is absolutely no point in playing games with one another. In fact, it’s a complete waste of time. And trying to pretend that there isn’t a very strong sexual attraction between us is equally futile. However,’ he added firmly as she opened her mouth to protest, ‘we are both grown-up, sensible people. We know that this type of impulsive, wild infatuation can be dangerous. And that even the most sensible people can get badly hurt and wounded. So I am merely trying to place our relationship— for want of another word—on a more normal basis.’
He paused, but when she remained silent he continued, ‘I’m sorry if I seem to have taken matters rather forcefully into my own hands tonight. But I would like us to try and begin again. I want you, if you can, to imagine that we hardly know one another, that I have asked you out to dinner simply for the enjoyment of your company, and what might be—who knows?—the start of a long and enduring friendship. But above all, my dear Angelica, I want you to relax and learn to trust me.’ He gave her a warm and engaging smile. ‘To realise that I have no intention of harming even one hair on your beautiful head.’
‘That’s—er—quite a speech,’ she muttered, impressed despite herself by the tone of deep sincerity in his voice. Unfortunately, with his close proximity, and so much alcohol now flowing through her veins, she was finding it difficult to think clearly. Once again, the arguments seemed to be violently see-sawing back and forth in her confused brain.
He’d asked for her trust, but that wasn’t something that could be just handed to someone on a plate. Trust and confidence took time, and had to be earned. Besides, as she knew to her cost, even the most trustworthy-seeming people could and did let you down.
But surely there wouldn’t be any harm in just enjoying a meal with him? After all, it wasn’t likely that she’d ever have the opportunity to dine in such style again, certainly not in the foreseeable frture.
On the other hand, there was no denying the sleepless nights and tortured drearms which could be laid at the door of this man’s dark attraction, nor the fact that she was almost insanely drawn to his overwhelmingly mascurline, sensual appeal. So it would be total folly to remain in his company one moment longer than necessary.
Despite knowing that she was probably being a complete and utter fool, Angelica took a deep breath and proceeded to throw both her hat—and her heart—over a windmill.
‘While I have severe doubts about “a long and enduring friendship”, I suppose I may as w©ell stick around,’ she murmured, her cheeks flushing as she realised her hand was still firmly in the grip of his warm fingers.
‘Does that mean that you’ve decided to have dinner with me?’
She nodded, withdrawing her hand from his. ‘Although I can’t help thinking it will be a miracle if we get through even this first course without coming to blows,’ she told him with a wry laugh.
‘That’s a great deal better,’ he grinned. ‘I’ve hardly ever seen you smile.’
‘I haven’t had a great deal to laugh or smile about lately,’ she said, before quickly deciding to change the subject, since any reference to their past encounters might not be a good idea. ‘If you’re going to relate your life story, don’t you think you’d better start fairly soon? Otherwise we might be here all night.’
He laughed. ‘I can promise you that it’s not going to take that long! In fact, I can give you the salient points very quickly.’
However, as the meal progressed, and she listened to him relating the story of his boyhood, Angelica realised that he’d had very much the same warm and happy, if fairly solitary upbringing that she herself had experienced.
Having grown up in the United States—his mother had divorced his father when he was very young, and married his American stepfather shortly afterwards—Luke wryly confessed to being fairly wild when young. ‘I guess I more or less fooled my way through college, passing the exams more by luck than hard work!’ he grinned. However, it seemed that he’d settled down to doing a Master’s degree in business studies at Harvard, before returning to England, on the death of his father, to take over the family’s ailing engineering company in the Midlands.
‘Yes,’ he agreed when she pressed him on the subject. ‘It took a lot of hard work to eventually make the firm profitable. In fact, it’s probably fair to say that for the last fifteen years I’ve been what could be termed a workaholic’.
‘But where does the bank come into all this? It doesn’t sound to me as though you’re really such a “lowly worm” after all,’ she teased.
‘Well, to be honest—and we are being honest tonight, aren’t we?—I suppose that I ought to confess that I do now own a private merchant bank, as well as many other companies.’
‘Goodness!’ She blinked in surprise. ‘From what you say, it sounds as though you’re definitely a big cheese in the business world.’
He threw back his dark head and roared with laughter, the sound drawing the attention of the other diners at the tables near by.
&
nbsp; ‘Oh, Angelica—you really are priceless!’ His broad shoulders shook with amusement. ‘No one has ever called me that before, although I suppose it is just marginally more flattering than “sunshine"! But, yes, I suppose I have been reasonably successful.’
As the evening wore on, they were so immersed in talking and discovering one another’s likes and dislikes that it was a shock to Angelica to discover that she had, somehow, managed to consume a delicious meal of salmon with hollandaise sauce, fillet of lamb with leek and fennel, and iced pear sabayon, without almost any recollection of having done so!
However, by the time coffee was being served, the atmosphere between them seemed subtly to alter and change. Despite their light and easy conversation, she became gripped by a feeling of strain and tension. A breathless, feverish sensation, in which she was vividly aware of even the slightest movement of Luke’s powerful body, sharply conscious of the shadows thrown by the soft lighting on his high cheekbones, and of a pulse beating strongly in his hard, firm jaw.
‘I think it’s time I took you home,’ he said suddenly, and her eyes flew to his as she registered the harsh note of constraint in his voice. ‘I did, after all, give you my word of honour that I wouldn’t lay a finger on you.’
‘Yes, so you did,’ she agreed quietly.
‘On the other hand’ he paused for a splitsecond ‘—we could always continue this conversation over another cup of coffee—at my apartment. I live virtually around the corner, within easy walking distance of this hotel.’
The air between them was palpably full of tension. And then Angelica was astonished to hear herself saying, ‘Yes, I… I think I’d like that.’
He gazed into the luminous blue eyes, noting the hectic flush on her cheeks and the barely perceptible, nervous tremor of her soft lips.
‘I don’t want there to be any misunderstanding, Angelica,’ he said softly, once more placing his warm hand over her fingers. ‘I don’t make any guarantees for the future. But tonight I gave you my word—so this is a genuine, straight invitation for coffee. OK?’
She nodded quickly, astonished to find that she wasn’t sure whether to be glad or sorry to hear that Luke wasn’t intending to seduce her. It could only be the amount of alcohol she’d consumed, she told herself sternly, knowing that she ought to be thoroughly ashamed of even a moment’s sharp pang of regret.
‘Shall we go?’ he murmured, putting down his napkin and helping her up from her seat.
As they walked slowly out of the restaurant, Angelica realised that her guardian angel must have been working overtime on her behalf. Because, if she had given in to that crazy, feverish desire to be seduced by this man, the outcome could only have been disastrous.
A sophisticated, worldly man like Luke—who must have slept with hundreds of women—would only have been bored and irritated by her lack of expertise. Her only experiment with lovemaking had been with Nigel, and the whole business had been such a fiasco that she’d never had any wish to repeat the experience. So she probably should thank her lucky stars, and be grateful that she’d been spared the humiliation resulting from any deeper involvement with Luke.
Immersed in her thoughts, Angelica was sharply jerked back to reality by a high-pitched voice, hailing Luke across the wide expanse of the foyer.
‘Darling! What on earth are you doing here?’
A moment later a beautifully dressed, slim, dark-haired woman was smiling up at him, before confidently raising her lovely face for his kiss.
‘Mmm… darling, how lovely to see you. I had no idea you’d be here tonight. It’s Aunt Doreen’s birthday—and we’ve been having a little private party. You really should have come and joined us.’
The dark woman’s voice was extraordinarily musical, only sharpening slightly as she turned her large dark eyes on his companion.
‘I don’t think we’ve met before…?’
‘No, Eleanor, I don’t think you have,’ Luke agreed blandly, before formally introducing them to each other.
Angelica barely registered the other woman’s name. She was desperately trying to cope with a totally irrational, deeply instinctive feeling of sharp dislike for someone who was, after all, a complete stranger.
‘Er—how do you do?’ she muttered, almost quailing as the woman—who was wearing a crimson silk outfit which could only have come from a French couturier—raised a delicately arched dark eyebrow as her gaze ran swiftly over Angelica.
‘An original twenties dress? How quaint!’ Eleanor murmured, before turning back to Luke. ‘Darling, do come and meet Aunt Doreen. I’ve told her so much about us that I know she’d love to see you.’
‘Well, I’m afraid that we’re just on our way out…’ Luke began, when the dark-haired woman gave a peal of laughter.’
‘Relax, darling—we’re leaving as well. So please just come over and wish the old dear a happy birthday,’ Eleanor begged, tugging impatiently at his arm.
Luke shrugged and turned to smile at Angelica, before taking her hand and towing her reluctant figure after him as he followed the other girl across the pink-carpeted foyer, with its marble columns and sparkling mirrors, towards a small group of elderly men and women.
‘Look who I’ve brought over to see you!’ Eleanor exclaimed happily to an old woman standing in the middle of the group. ‘You’ve heard all about my friendship with Luke Cunningham, of course.’
‘Ah, yes—how nice to see you at last.’ The elderly lady gave him a brief smile, offering a limp hand heavily encrusted with diamond rings. ‘I understand that you’re a very successful financier?’
Luke’s dark brows came together in a quick frown. But he was given no opportunity to say anything in reply, as she continued in an imperious voice, ‘In which case, I sincerely hope that you’re soon going to make an honest woman of my niece? I don’t at all approve of the way young people carry on these days.’
‘Oh, Aunt Doreen—for heaven’s sake!’ Eleanor exclaimed with a happy, confident laugh. ‘Give the poor man a chance! I’m sure that we’ll both settle down together when we’re good and ready to do so.’
The ‘poor man’ had stiffened during this exchange, his expression hardening into a blank, inscrutable mask. But Angelica had no eyes for Luke. She was staring with a horrified gaze at Eleanor’s Aunt Doreen. Oh, no! Surely it couldn’t really be awful old Lady Marshall…?
Unfortunately, it was.
As their eyes met, Lady Marshall’s expression of shock and stunned disbelief almost matched Angelica’s.
‘Who, may I ask, had both the impertinence and effrontery to bring that girl here?’
As the imperious tones rang out in the foyer, everyone turned to view Angelica’s trembling figure.
‘Miss Lonsdale has been my guest at dinner.’ Luke’s deep voice rose above the hubbub of Eleanor’s startled questions, and her aunt’s explanation of her role as chairman of the Lonsdale Trust.
‘Well! I hope you’ve been explaining to this young girl that money doesn’t grow on trees,’ Lady Marshall told Luke. ‘It’s my opinion that she’s sadly lacking in any financial sense. However, dear Eleanor is intending to go over the accounts of Lonsdale House. I’m sure she’ll be able to make considerable savings all round. Take that old housekeeper, for instance. She’s quite hopeless. The sooner she’s given the sack the better!’
‘What…? Over my dead body! Betty’s worth a hundred times more than you… you stupid old trout!’ Angelica cried, finding her voice at last. ‘Betty worked her fingers to the bone for my grandmother, both in the theatre and later at Lonsdale House. And what have you ever done?’ she demanded furiously. ‘Nothing but flash your skinny legs in the chorus and… and bamboozle a dotty old man into making you Lady Marshall— instead of plain Doreen Summers from East Ham!’
‘Calm down, Angelica…’
‘Take your rotten hands off me!’ she yelled at Luke, who had gripped hold of her arm. ‘You’re just as bad as that wicked old woman—worse, in fact. Because you’re nothin
g but an evil snake in the grass! Chatting me up, just so you could tell your precious Eleanor how badly I’ve arranged Sir T-Tristram’s c-collection!’
‘That’s absolute nonsense!’ he growled.
But Angelica was too wound up to listen. ‘Sneaking your way into my house under false pretences!’ she wailed. ‘How…how could you do such an awful thing…?’
A moment later she’d wriggled out of his grasp and taken to her heels, tears streaming down her face as she ran full pelt down the long foyer towards the main entrance of the hotel.
Angelica picked up the telephone, only listening to the voice on the other end for a moment before slamming it sharply down again.
‘Who was that, dear?’ Betty asked, busily engaged in roiling out some pastry.
‘No one of any importance,’ Angelica told her grimly. ‘Just that rat-fink, still trying to weasel his way back into this house.’
‘Don’t you think that you ought to give him a chance to explain?’ the older woman murmured, despite knowing that she was wasting her breath.
‘Explain what?’ Angelica asked wearily. ‘How many times do I have to tell you that he’s in league with all the rest of them? In fact, Luke Cunningham is just like Nigel Browning!’
‘I really don’t think—’
‘Oh, yes, he is,’ Angelica ground out. ‘Charming his way into this house, munching his oily way through your home-made jam and cake, just so he could report back to old Lady Marshall, and that awful Eleanor. Have I told you that they were clearly having an affair? And that he’s planning to marry her?’
Betty sighed heavily. ‘Yes, dear, you have. Several times.’
‘Well, there you are, then.’
‘I wish I did know where we are;’ Betty sighed again. ‘Because I’m’ sure that you’re wrong. I can’t ‘ believe that nice Mr Cunningham had any interest in anything other than getting to know you. Really smitten, I thought he was, and that’s a fact.’
