It was all of that, plus a touch of heaven, Tessa decided, turning an enraptured gaze over flower-hung villas, olive groves,' and blue, oh, so blue sea, the next day. She had flown over the Channel, eaten a cold lunch served by a
Devereux-uniformed steward, gazed down with wonder at the lake of Geneva and the Swiss Alps, and held her breath as the plane had skimmed to earth at Nice airport.
Now they were sitting in the car, just off a winding road that overlooked the bay. Barry, looking more relaxed than she recalled seeing him, was flopped back with one foot hanging over the door in his usual position, his blue eyes smiling up at the sky. He seemed at peace with the world today. It was some time before he stirred himself to say with lazy contentment, 'We'll be at the Villa Valrose in about an hour.' He brought his gaze down to Tessa's to tack on, 'I've told them about you… about us, I mean.' - 'I'm glad.' Tessa wanted to curl up against him, but his sprawled-out position didn't somehow seem to invite it.
He went on looking at her with a preoccupied air, and then perhaps because he realised he knew so little about her, he asked, 'You been with the firm long?'
'Just about six months,' Tessa smiled.
'Like it?'
'I'd like it a lot more if they'd let me do something else besides stack the shelves and polish the bottles.'
'All the green kids have to go through it,' Barry grinned.
'I'm not so green.' Tessa eyed him spiritedly. 'I'm turned nineteen.'
'You'll need another five years before they let you come into contact with the Devereux clientele,' he replied.
Would have needed, Tessa corrected happily to herself. It wouldn't apply to her now if she was getting married, would it?
Barry spread himself and said expansively, 'Our perfume factories are in Grasse. I might take you round them one day.'
'Mmm!' Tessa nodded happily. 'I'd like that.' There was a silence in which she felt the boyish blue gaze on her again, and then, chin cupped in the palm of his hand, Barry said musingly, 'You know, names can be deceiving. I always see a Tessa as a tall swinging chick with flying light-coloured hair and the sort of looks that knock you sideways.'
'Which isn't me at all,' Tessa replied quietly, experiencing a sudden sharp hurt.
'No, it isn't.' He looked teasing and went on unfeelingly, 'You're strictly the wallflower type. Big thoughtful eyes, proud little chin, and you don't know it, but you move with a kind of… well, what would they call it?…' He searched his mind. 'A sort of old-fashioned grace.'
'Well, thanks for the picturesque description,' Tessa said lightly, trying to sound flattered but not succeeding very well. She added after a moment or two on a dejected note, 'Perhaps she's around somewhere. The real Tessa.'
'Who cares?' Barry shrugged up cheerfully from his splayed-out position and jerked the car into life. He slid a grin over her as he spun the wheel to curve out on to the road and then as they started to climb quirked half to himself, 'You're just the girl for me.'
Tessa's heart singing at its sweetest again, she asked happily above the breeze, 'Who lives there? At the villa, I mean?'
'There's only my grandmother.' Barry shrugged. 'She's been there ever since old Devereux started with his one field of flowers.'
'And look what he left behind.' Tessa sighed, thinking of the magnificence of the London salon, and the international reputation of Devereux perfumes.
It wasn't until some time later when they were travelling in the direction of pine-sloped granite-strewn mountains that she realised that Barry had only mentioned his grandmother, and yet hadn't his words been earlier, 'I've told them about us?'
She pondered over this for a while and then shrugged it away. It had probably been just a slip of the tongue.
The sea was cupped between distant hills when the tangerine sports car swung up a steep winding road flanked by lush vegetation, tangled hedges and gardens dripping with colour. The orange-roofed villas were older here and steeped in a dated charm that hadn't had time to settle over the newer ones at the coast. Flower-hung creepers hung over their walls emanating a heavy fragrance, and here and there a palm tree sprouted dark green fronds.
The Villa Valrose was set back on its own imposing shelf of land hugging the hillside. Coming on to it after turning in at wrought iron gates and along a curving tree-lined drive, Tessa was struck by its shabby beauty.
Tall worn shutters lined its pink-washed walls, and flower pots were dotted carelessly along balustraded balconies and ledges. The smooth well-worn terrace shone a dull red, and wrought iron lamps lining its low bordering wall looked down over gardens patched with shade and colour.
The car swung to a stop on the terrace, which seemed to go round three sides of the house, and not far away the heavy double front doors were open to show a patch of chequered hall and a dim interior.
Still soaking up the scene, Tessa was in no hurry to stir herself, but Barry was over the top of his door in a second. He came round to her side, saying with a touch of smiling impatience, 'Well, come on I We're here.'
He pushed her into the high-ceilinged hall where she had a vague impression of a curving staircase in the distance, and then she was being jerked towards an open doorway just off the side; and because Barry was holding her hand, something he had never done before, Tessa entered laughing gaily.
She stopped as her eyes met a masculine gaze across the room, and then a small, fragile-looking woman was rising from a high armchair and hurrying to take Barry in her embrace.
'Grand'mere!' he grinned, bending to take her kiss on his cheek and putting one in return on hers.
They walked back to her chair, the younger Devereux conversing boyishly in French, his grandmother nodding and watching him with a happy smile. She looked to be somewhere in her late seventies, Tessa thought, but there was nothing declining about her. Her white hair was beautifully styled, and she had that serene expression of someone who has successfully cleared all the hurdles in life, and is content to enjoy what was left of it.
She turned her smile towards Tessa now as Barry tugged her forward and made the introductions. The look in the light blue eyes was, for a moment, one of kindly curiosity and then she put her hand out to say warmly, 'Taysa! A girl of my grandson's choosing is more than welcome at the Villa Valrose.'
Her softly spoken English was attractively accented. Tessa was preparing to make a shy reply, when Barry dragged her over to the figure standing at the other side of the room and announced jauntily all over again, as though the man hadn't already heard, 'This is Tessa Browning,' and then humorously to her, 'Tess, meet Neil Stanton, the drive behind the firm.'
Neil Stanton! Barry's old and terrible guardian! Tessa had to bite back her surprise. Well, he wasn't old.
With a fidgety smile Barry turned alongside to view her, as though he wanted to make sure that the other man had got her clearly in his sights.
Seeing the two of them together was rather like looking at beauty and the beast, Tessa mused; Barry with his golden- haired good looks and slender boyish frame, and Neil Stanton, big and thick-set, with a head of brown hair, and a face that looked as though it had lived every second of its thirty- odd years.
The impudence of her thoughts stealing into her smile, she stepped forward to say hello. She was held back by a steely light in the sea-green eyes. As they toured the length of her disparagingly, they seemed to be taking in the inexpensive cut of her coat and dress, the well-worn look of her small neat shoes.
He didn't like her. Tessa felt it almost like a blow. Well, the feeling was more than mutual, she told herself with slightly quivering insides. She hadn't liked what she had heard of him and she certainly didn't like what she saw!
CHAPTER TWO
There was a moment in which her chin lifted defiantly and then Neil Stanton drawled deeply, 'Glad to know you, Tessa.'
I bet! Tessa thought wryly. Outwardly she put on a taut smile and twittered politely, 'I'm pleased to meet you, Mr. Stanton.'
'Call me Neil.' His smil
e had about as much warmth as hers. 'I expect to be around for a while.'
'Neil's here to make a tour of the factories,' Barry grinned, making a show of taking her hand and swinging it, 'He thinks they need modernising.'
Well, bully for him! Tessa turned a vivid smile Barry's way, and clung a little to his outstretched arm. If the guardian wanted to go on looking her over, he could do it from this angle.
'Your little friend must be fatigued after the journey.' Madame Devereux smiled across the room. 'I'll ask Nicolette to bring us all some tea.' She rose and pressed a bell on the wall.
A small, severe woman in stiff black dress and white apron came into the room. Her face lit up with an acquiescent smile at her mistress's request, and then lapsed back into sober correctness as she left the room. She returned a few minutes later with a tray as big as herself, the elegant silverware reaching up to her nose.
Tessa watched shyly from where Barry had tugged her down on to a silken settee opposite his grandmother. Besides the silver on the tray that was being set down between them, there was delicately flowered china, a plate of wafer-thin sandwiches and another one of star-shaped cakes.
Madame Devereux poured with a steady hand and Neil Stanton moved over to drape down in a chair not far from the low table. Tessa noticed briefly the razor-edged crease in the trousers, the deep blood-red shine of the expensive leather shoes, and then she swung her attention airily over the room, forcing herself to notice its mellow spaciousness, the rich dark furniture.
Barry was thrusting tea at her and sandwiches, and in between filling his own mouth he carried on a cheerful conversation with his grandmother and herself about the flight over, and the drive from the airport. Sometimes the older woman would smile puzzled at his English slang words and then he would lapse into French and the two of them would chatter on for a while. During these occasions, Neil Stanton put himself at Tessa's disposal, lazily handing her whatever he thought she might want from the tray. Later he lay back in his chair, pulling on his cigarette and eyeing her speculatively beneath a hooded gaze.
When Barry had talked himself up he rose as though eager to be off somewhere. Tessa expecting to be included, smiled her thanks to his grandmother for the refreshments, and rose too, but it was only to hear him say, 'I'll get the bags from the car and then I want to make a phone call.' He followed his guardian's gaze, who had also risen lazily from his chair, to the heavy white telephone on a wallside table and added with an offhand shrug, 'It's okay. I'll do it from my room. I want to talk to my… er… tailor in Cannes, about a new suit. It might take some time.'
'No rush.' Tessa felt a firm hand on her elbow, and heard Neil Stanton continuing, 'It will give me an opportunity to show the girl-friend something of the countryside.' She was brought up briskly to the door and then he added pleasantly, 'Take her upstairs to freshen up, Barry. I'll get my car.'
Tessa barely had time to throw off her coat, and wash her hands and face, in the room overlooking the front terrace, before a car engine was throbbing pointedly beneath her window. She dived for a comb in her handbag and rummaged for a tissue to rub up her shoes, tossing things right and left to get downstairs again. Already the man had her doing something that she had vowed she would never do— jump around at his command, and the worst of it was, she couldn't help herself.
She deliberately made an effort to slow down on the way down again, thinking fumingly of his icy reception earlier, and the nerve of him now practically ordering her to go with him. She would like to step out there and tell him where he could go with his precious car, only she didn't have the courage. His open-topped Renault, she noticed when she stepped out into the sun, had more sober lines than Barry's racy tangerine sports, but the colour was toned down only slightly to a rich amber, and if anything it looked the more powerful of the two. The seats were impeccably upholstered in cream leather, and nodding her in to the one next to the driving wheel, Neil Stanton closed the door with the briefest of slams and strode round to take his own place.
She was mildly surprised not to be jerked, shaken and rattled in her seat as the car moved forward. She had got so used to Barry's spasmodic driving that it was a completely new experience to feel herself being transported smoothly and silently away.
From the leafy archway of trees along the drive, the car turned up the road and round the bend. As it cruised along the rim of the hill Tessa could feel its stable steadiness beneath her. She found her gaze straying to the two very capable-looking hands on the wheel.
The gentle hum of the tyres was a pleasant sound. Nicer, she thought, than Barry's constantly squealing brakes. She even had time to look at the view. And what a view! Her breath was snatched away at the beauty of it. Stepped down the valley all around in terraced fields were masses and masses of flowers and blossoming fruit trees. The colour scheme was out of this world, the perfume circling up on the breeze indescribably fragrant.
'All Devereux flower fields,' Neil Stanton said as they cruised. 'We produce several hundred tons of jasmine, roses and carnations a year. Violets, primroses, freesias, etc, cover these fields around January, and wild mimosa, which is quite a sight, blooms a few weeks later. That's orange blossom they're picking now,' he nodded to where floppy-hatted women were working in the valley. 'It loses its scent quickly, | so there's no time to be lost in getting it to the distillers.'
Tessa had a feeling he was rattling it off as though he was taking someone on a conducted tour. Though she nearly fell out of the car with enchantment, his eyes never lost their cynical glint. His answer to her pent-up gasps of awe and admiration was a tightly curling smile.
When they had travelled in a wide bend on the road hugging the hillside, he backed on to a narrow track cutting in to the cleft of the hill and clamped on the brakes with an air of finality. Tessa gazed out over the valley wondering why they had stopped. He had shown her the countryside, hadn't hep Just as he had planned to. So now why weren't they going back to the villa?
By the look of it the man had no intention of going anywhere for some time. He pulled out the ignition key and dropped it pointedly in his pocket and then crossing one immaculately trousered leg over the other he flexed his big shoulders back against the seat.
Hmm! Now what? Surely he didn't think she was going to try and make conversation with him ? As they sat there in silence she tilted her eyebrows in a gesture of bored surprise and shrugged a look of cool indifference over the hillside. She was conscious of a certain clamping of a jaw. After inhaling deeply, Neil Stanton drawled, 'I heard about the whirlwind romance.'
Something in his tone put her back up. If it wasn't up already with what she had seen of the man. He seemed to bring out the worst in her, a side she never knew she had until she had come face to face with that steely-eyed smile.
She found herself turning to him now and crinkling a smile to say sweetly, 'Exciting, isn't it?'
He looked through her to comment, 'Barry's talking about getting married.'
'We have arranged something like that,' she said lightly, smiling her false smile into his eyes.
'Bit sudden, isn't it?'
'Oh, we don't hang about these days, you know,' she shrugged gaily.
His narrowed gaze boring through her again, he nodded. 'So I've noticed.'
Well, whatever that was supposed to mean it was a dead end as far- as Tessa was concerned. She couldn't think of anything to combat a remark in the dark.
He took his time in altering his position and then delivered, 'You seem to have made quite an impression on the boy.'
'I do, don't I?' They were off again.
'You must have worked hard on him.' She saw the green gaze trail derogatorily over her auburn hair and simple harebell blue dress. 'You're not exactly his type.'
Tessa lowered her eyes momentarily. That blow as a little too close to her heart. She knew that she didn't come up to the glamour that Barry was noted for going around with.
'His tastes can change, you know.' She lifted her gaze and he
r chin.
'Or they can be changed for him.'
There he was again, losing her with one of his peculiar thrusts in the dark ! She might as well give up.
With an obvious sigh she tugged her mouth down at the corners and stared airily at the windscreen. He could talk to himself for all she cared.
Apparently he didn't feel inclined, for they sat in silence for some time and then making a great show of relaxing in his seat he said slowly, 'You're a salesgirl in the London store, aren't you?'
'Yes, I am,' Tessa nodded.
'The pay's not all that good for trainees, is it?'
'I manage.' The reply was non-committal.
'But not to buy lush holidays in the South of France, I suppose?'
Tessa turned. She had a feeling they were coming to the crux of the conversation. This last lazily delivered remark was the most enlightening yet. And if it meant what she thought it meant…
Forcing herself to meet his gaze, she reiterated in sweet tones, 'No. Not lush holidays in the South of France.'
He nodded as though he had proved something and still pleased with himself, he smiled thinly. 'Barry told me about the meeting. You bumped into him on the stairs, I believe?'
'He bumped into me, as a matter of fact,' Tessa returned, keeping a tight hold on the angry breath fluttering in her throat.
'But you made the most of it.'
Before she could fire anything back he drew away and reached lazily into his pocket. A few seconds later he was offering suavely, 'Cigarette?'
Tessa shook her head. She looked up to see a dark eyebrow arrowed quizzically and because the open cigarette case wasn't immediately withdrawn she asked irritably, 'Well, am I supposed to want one or something?'
The big shoulders shrugged and a curled smile said, why not? as he took a cigarette for himself and lit it slowly. He drew deeply and drawled through the smoke, 'You're out for all you can get, aren't you?'
Roumelia Lane - The Scented Hills Page 3
