by Shales, Mia
Kate locked the apartment and when they reached the street John gestured toward the gleaming jaguar.
“Sit in front,” she said to Emma as she slid into the back seat. The leather seats were comfortable and she sank back, feeling a serenity that cloaked her like a gentle cloud. Classical music streamed out of the speakers. John and Emma were engaged in a lively conversation but their voices were remote and muted and did not interfere with her pleasure in the soft notes surrounding her. She didn't want this journey to end. Kate didn’t consider herself materialistic but she could appreciate the comforts afforded by wealth.
I am going to enjoy myself this evening, she thought contentedly. If she could successfully avoid an encounter with that irritating Matthew Camedon everything would be perfect. Lillian Bruton! She was a perfect partner for that haughty man. No. She refused to think about him any more. He was beginning to take up too much of her thoughts.
Costly cars and limousines were lined up bumper to bumper on the asphalt driveway. John opened the doors while helping Kate and Emma alight. Entering the building they handed their coats to the attendant. John gallantly offered an arm to each woman and they traversied several galleries that led them to a lofty hall where the party had already begun. Kate was momentarily dazzled by the opulence and splendor of her surroundings.
The room was enormous. The Italian marble floor had a pinkish-gray hue and the walls, decorated with paintings depicting the lives of the classical Greek deities, were in shades of gold, pink, blue and silver, colors that added to the brilliance and glitter of the room. Chandeliers hung from the high ceiling and sparks of light from the shimmering crystals illuminated the room. Kate looked about, transported into another century, as though the picture she had contemplated in the bookstore had sprung to life. The women wore elegant evening gowns and dazzling jewelry and all the men were in black tie. Speechless, Kate's eyes widened as she glanced at Emma, trying to convey what she felt.
Emma smiled. “Would you like to live in a place like this?” she asked Kate as John went off to bring them drinks.
Kate's regained her voice. “No, it's not for me. But still, it's... wow! I've often visited palaces that were open to the public. But everything looks different at night; it all appears more alive, special."
Matthew Camedon stood by the wall. Lillian Bruton was at his side, talking nonstop, occasionally touching him possessively and flicking invisible dust from his jacket. He made a heroic effort to pay attention but felt he was falling asleep while on his feet. This was far worse than he had anticipated.
The room was filled with beautiful women, a fact that had not escaped him. He was also aware that, as usual and as at every function he attended, many of the women, and not only the unmarried ones, tried to attract his attention. He stubbornly refused to meet their eyes, not to speak of returning a smile or making any movement that might be interpreted as inviting. They were beautiful, but each looked like the hollow reflection of the other. What a bore, he thought. Where the hell was John?
And then he saw her. She stood tall and straight as she took a glass of bubbling champagne from John.
She was breathtaking.
She wore a long sleeveless evening dress with a square decolletage in the style of the great couturiers of the sixties. With every movement the golden-brown tones of the rich material shone with a subdued glimmer. He couldn't help but stare at her above Lillian's head. She was the consummate ideal of a woman. By her side the colorful and fancy dresses of the other women looked loud and vulgar. Her hair was gathered at the nape, forming a thick braid that revealed a long, slender neck. She wore no jewelry except for a gold bracelet. He saw her throw her head backwards as she laughed at something John said. He felt a stab in his chest, an unaccustomed sensation of pain. He smiled coldly at Lillian and murmured regrets. He had no intention of wasting the evening listening to her nonsense.
The seven-piece band on the small stage broke into a traditional Strauss waltz and many couples whirled about them. Kate, Emma and John moved back, freeing some room on the dance floor. John bowed at Emma who hesitated, reluctant to leave Kate alone.
“I want to talk to Sir Bruton,” said Kate swiftly and Emma bestowed a dazzling smile on John as she took his proffered arm and accompanied him to the dance.
And if I don't find Sir Bruton she thought, amused, I can always find the Marquis Camedon and try to make conversation. Even the idea is hilarious. He'll probably look at me with contempt and turn his back. He's quite capable of doing that.
“Kate.”
Kate could identify that formal tone anywhere. She turned her head slowly, and focused her eyes on him. Hard as it was, she had to admit that despite his habitually bored expression the tiger eyes were always alert and shone with a light that threw off yellow-green sparks. Even that morning in the bookstore she had felt the power and allure of his gaze. Even then she had been surprised that his eyes lacked the emptiness she had expected to find there. But now she perceived something else in the depths of his eyes. She was transfixed.
The yellow in his eyes burst into flames of, no, it could not possibly be desire!
She stepped back but instead of turning on his heel he took another step in her direction, almost completely closing the space between them.
“Can I have this dance?”
She almost stumbled. The man had undergone a metamorphosis. “What do you mean?” she managed to blurt out.
“I mean exactly what you heard. Would you accept my invitation to dance?”
Kate revived, “No.” She thought she caught a glimmer of surprise in his eyes although his expression remained impassive.
“And why not, if I may ask?”
“Why yes?” she countered with a question and continued without pause and with undisguised sarcasm, “I've no doubt that I'm the last woman here that you really want to dance with. I find it hard to believe that a barely tolerable woman such as I could hold any interest whatsoever for you.”
He took a deep breath and drew his lips together, causing the sexy dimple at the corner of his mouth to deepen. Kate's heart skipped a beat. She was suddenly very aware of the closeness of his body to hers. She couldn't escape. The wall was at her back and Matthew Camedon just inches in front of her. He still had not spoken when he lowered his dark lashes and looked at her mouth. She almost bit her lips from the strain. Didn't he care what the other guests might think? There must be so many who were following his every move.
“I've changed my mind,” he said quietly and deliberately, his eyes roving from her lips to her brown eyes. “I don’t think you’re of no interest whatsoever to me.” He was too well-bred to give undue emphasis to his words, but Kate divined his meaning and the significance hidden behind the words. His voice was soft and low, almost seductive. She felt her dislike returning. He had a nerve to speak to her like that. But despite the repulsion she felt she couldn't bring herself to laugh at him as he deserved, or to move, or even to think clearly. She stood rooted to the spot, intensely aware of the ever-widening ripples of heat that spread through her body. Why, in God's name, did he have to look so spectacular? All this wouldn't be happening if he looked ordinary. She could only gawk helplessly at his sensual face, at his tantalizing mouth, at his provocative eyes.
She didn't know how long they stood there until she tore her gaze away.
At that moment Matthew knew she would do battle. He had gotten off on the wrong foot with her, but in the end he would triumph. She was, after all, just another woman.
“Matthew, darling.”
He heard Lillian's voice as she placed her hand on his sleeve. He turned around.
“Yes, Lillian,” he responded in a tone lacking all warmth and looked coldly at the hand on his arm.
She removed it. “Father is looking for you. Hello, Kate,” she added. “Where did you pick up that… sweet dress? Do you still frequent the second-hand shops in London? Isn't it a bit weird to wear clothes somebody else has worn before?” She laughed a
micably.
“I think your dress is very beautiful,” said Matthew Camedon, looking again at Kate.
Against her will she was grateful to him. This was a noble gesture on his part. He couldn't be all bad if he displayed such sensitivity to her feelings. Then she remembered. Of course he would try to flatter her now. If he was interested in seducing her, as he had hinted just a short while ago, he would be sure to defend her. Every novice Don Juan knew there was nothing like a compliment to break a woman's resistance.
“If you'll excuse me, I've stolen enough of your time, Lord Camedon.” She turned her back on them and left. She didn't know exactly where she was headed but she had to get as far away from him as possible, to calm down and analyze the scene between them of a few minutes ago. She didn't recognize herself anymore. What had Matthew Camedon done to her?
“Kate, here you are. I've been looking all over for you.”
Kate breathed in relief. Her sister's gentle and cheerful companionship was exactly what she needed at this moment.
“Emma, do you really think I look alright in this dress?”
“You look like a princess, Kate. You know that!”
Kate doubted any resemblance to royalty but she also thought the dress suited her. It might be from the early sixties and it might be second-hand, but even so it had cost her a pretty penny. The dress was an original haute couture creation of Coco Chanel that Kate had bought after scouring the London shops for a dress that would suit tonight's party. Leonora, the owner of the boutique, was a friend of hers but despite the big discount, the purchase left an appreciable hole in Kate's pocket.
“This dress is a rare specimen,” Leonora explained. “A dress like that goes for ten thousand pounds today. I got it from Lady Sheldon who swore she hadn't worn it more than three times. The dress hung in her closet all these years because she simply did not have the heart to give away such a beautiful creation. If you saw Lady Sheldon you would understand why she couldn't wear it - she looks like a round cream puff. When she bought the dress in Paris she was thin as a rail. She married and nine months later gave birth to her first child. Her figure has never been the same and you, Kate, are going to be her beneficiary.”
This rather lengthy explanation, delivered in a dramatic tone, left Kate little choice and she finally, and quite readily, gave in. Admittedly, the dress was elegant and sexy - just what an evening gown should be. Kate made an instantaneous decision to forget Lillian and her nasty remarks.
“Where is John?” she asked Emma.
“He went over to talk to Matthew and Sir Bruton.”
“Excuse me for interrupting, but aren't you Professor Evans' daughters?”
Kate and Emma turned at the sound of the stranger's voice and it was Emma who spoke first, “That's right, we are his daughters. I'm Emma and this is my sister Kate.”
“Allow me to introduce myself. Richard Lindsay. Eight years ago I was a student of your father at Magdalene College and I'm a great admirer of his. How is he doing?”
“He's fine,” Kate answered. She looked at him. He was good looking although his features were too soft and childish for Kate's taste. His skin and hair were fair, his lips and cheeks pinkish and his eyes blue. He radiated amiability and seemed eager to engage them in conversation.
“Does your father still teach?” he asked interestedly.
“No. He retired a few years ago and spends most of his time at home in his library.”
Kate and Emma continued their conversation with Lindsay. He was extremely pleasant, outgoing and amusing. Just the opposite of Matthew Camedon, Kate couldn't help comparing.
As though divining her thoughts, she saw him and John advancing in their direction. Emma introduced Richard Lindsay to the two men. “Richard Lindsay was our father's student at Magdalene and introduced himself to Kate and me just a few minutes ago.”
John Bayhem shook Richard Lindsay's hand but Matthew Camedon only gave a slight nod. Kate was amazed to notice the change in the two men's expression. Two bright purple spots appeared on Lindsay's cheeks and his eyes raced in their sockets, he pulled at his nose and looked uneasy, even agitated. Not a muscle moved in Matthew Camedon' face but he drew his lips into a straight line, the sparks in his eyes turned to smoldering embers and his face was transformed into a glacial mask.
The two men obviously loathed each other, but why? Under what circumstances had they met before? Kate wondered.
Matthew Camedon looked at Lindsay and a merciless chill radiated from his eyes. “Excuse me,” he said, “there are guests who are expecting my attention.” He turned on his heel and left.
John and Emma, who had paid no heed to the small drama taking place in front of them, were sunk in conversation and Richard Lindsay, who quickly recovered his composure, invited Kate to dance. She accepted with alacrity. Anything that would annoy Matthew Camedon suited her. On the dance floor Richard Lindsay proved himself to be a light-footed and experienced dancer. Kate was extremely curious to hear more details of his acquaintance with Matthew Camedon but she didn't want to ask him a direct question. He might misinterpret her question as idle meddling and a tendency toward cheap gossip. To her delight, her curiosity was satisfied from an unexpected quarter. Richard Lindsay himself broached the subject.
“Is your acquaintance with Lord Camedon a long one?”
“Not at all,” Kate answered, “I only met him this morning.”
“And what is your opinion of him?” asked Lindsay.
Kate hesitated. While she was not fond of Matthew Camedon, Lindsay himself was a stranger.
“From our short acquaintance he seems conceited and overbearing. Not my favorite kind of person.”
A broad smile spread on Richard Lindsay's face. He tightened his hold on her waist as he said, “You're a woman of great discernment. You have given a very accurate analysis of his character. The traits you mentioned are those that best describe him.”
The dance ended and Richard led Kate to an empty chair by the wall. He waited until she was seated and then settled in beside her.
“You sound as though you know him very well.”
“I know Matthew inside out, and the Camedon family secrets are an open book to me.” He laughed when he saw her expression. “My father served as the administrator of Bellewoodplain for more than fifty years and I, in effect, grew up with Matthew. I'm thirty and he's three years older. When we were children we would ride, play and do all the things children do together. Matthew's parents died many years ago and he was brought up at Bellewoodplain by his grandparents. The deceased Marquis, his grandfather, was a wonderful person. I've never encountered such dignity and graciousness. He was very fond of me and over the years we developed a special closeness. I venture to guess that Matthew was always jealous of me because of his grandfather's high regard for me and when we grew up he distanced himself, acting brusque and rude whenever we met.”
A snob, Kate thought, but didn't say the words aloud. She welcomed Richard Lindsay's lack of reticence and listened quietly as he continued his tale.
“My father lost all his savings in several unwise investments and died without much money to his name a short while before the death of the Marquis. When the Marquis' will was opened, it appeared that he had left his entire estate to Matthew. The will instructed Matthew to pay my tuition and expenses at the faculty of law at Oxford or Cambridge, according to my choice, and also charged that I be employed at the London law firm that takes care of all the legal affairs of the Camedon family. The old Marquis knew I wanted to study law and his good nature and generosity led him to include me in his will. Although Matthew was annoyed at his dead grandfather's instructions he informed me that he would follow his orders. I was accepted at Magdalene College and Matthew did indeed pay my tuition, bed and board and incidental expenses. I was a good law student and made many friends. Towards the end of my second year Matthew announced, without prior cause or warning, that he was going back on his word and had no intention of fulfilling his gra
ndfather's wishes. Thunderstruck, I went to Bellewoodplain, where I received a very chilly reception. Matthew made it clear that from that minute I was on my own. You can imagine how terrible I felt. My pleas and threats were to no avail. I was forced to leave the university and look for work. But what job could someone without money, without a title and without a degree possibly find? There, now you know who the Marquis Camedon is! It's really a shame. His grandfather was a wonderful man. Too bad his grandson didn't follow in his footsteps.”
“Why didn't you sue him? I am sure that if matters are as you describe them the courts would have given you redress.”
“The wording of the will concerning my future was not entirely formal which made any address to the court impossible. No honorable man could have possibly entertained the slightest doubt as to the will's intention but Matthew chose to regard the instructions as mere recommendations.” His cheeks reddened again.
Kate said soothingly, “you must have succeeded quite well on your own if you managed to get invited to a party like this.”
He appeared a bit taken aback and hesitated a minute before answering. “No, I haven't done so badly. I'm in import and export but tonight I'm here as the escort of Dominique Lauren.”
Kate looked at him in surprise. The owner of a chic art and antiques gallery in London, Dominique Lauren was around forty and as far as Kate knew, married.
Lindsay must have read her thoughts because he hastened to add, “at the moment Dominique is separated from her husband and the two of us have some dealings together.”
“I see,” Kate responded, although she had the feeling that she was very far from seeing the whole picture. But after all, that was Lindsay's private business. She returned to the subject that interested her most of all, the Marquis.
“Matthew can't be all that terrible,” she said. “I know he contributes a great deal of money to Trinity College.”
“Let's put it this way, he's generous but only where and when it coincides with his self-interest and dovetails with his obsessive need for recognition and praise. He's very rich as you must be aware. His family has myriad business interests and the immense treasures in the family's possession are rare and invaluable. He worships power and prestige, and his charitable gestures are all aimed at building his reputation. I was small fry for him so he felt free to ignore the terms of his grandfather's will and treat me contemptibly, without pity or decency.”
