by Shales, Mia
“Matthew Camedon speaking.”
“Matthew, what a surprise, I came home just this minute, how are you?” Hearing the ring from the hallway, Emma had run up the stairs to reach the telephone on time.
“I'm fine and you?”
“Wonderful. We're impatiently waiting for our visit to Bellewoodplain. Has something gone wrong?” Emma asked uneasily.
“No, no, of course not. I'm delighted we'll be seeing each other and am looking forward to your coming. I wanted to talk to Kate. Is she there?”
“Kate? No. She's gone to London for a few days. Can I give you her cell phone number?”
“No. I'll speak to her at Bellewoodplain on Friday.”
After a few polite exchanges he hanged up. She might be in London with a man. The mere notion made him feel a piercing pain - the same pain that shot through his heart at the party when he saw her laughing with John, talking with Lindsay and dancing in the arms of other men. No! He was wise not to get in touch with her. In less than a week he would see her at Bellewoodplain.
Comfortably ensconced in a large armchair in Margaret's apartment in Chelsea, Kate looked out on the Thames through the large windows. Yellow silk taffeta curtains enabled shafts of the sun's rays to light up the tasteful and cheerful room.
Kate was in high spirits and after chatting on unimportant matters the two women got ready for the concert. Margaret led Kate to her bedroom, still holding the half-filled coffee cup she had not yet finished drinking.
“What do you think of this?” Margaret whisked a silk knee legnth skirt and a matching blouse out of the closet.
“Ravishing. Put it on and then I'll give you the benefit of my expert opinion.”
While Margaret took off her bathrobe, Kate removed the dress she intended to wear from her bag. It was very simple and Kate was aware it would not begin to compare to the elegant attire of the other women at the affair. But she had no choice. Aside from the dress she had worn to the commencement party she had no dressy clothes and certainly none that were suitable for a late afternoon private concert.
Margaret pirouetted. Kate lay the dress she held on the back of the chair near the dressing table and scrutinized Margaret carefully.
“It's lovely, Margaret. Really. Jorge Andrade will fall off his chair when he catches sight of you.”
“Thank you, dear. I spent a lot of effort in my choice of clothes for today.” She approached her dressing table and took a jewelry box out of one of the drawers. “This is a pearl choker my parents gave me a long time ago. It should go with the outfit.”
As she struggled with the lock on the box her elbow struck the coffee cup and the contents splashed straight on to Kate's dress, an ugly stain spreading over the top half.
Margaret stared in horror. “What a shame,” she wailed in anguish, “I've ruined your dress."
Kate regained her poise. “Nothing happened. I'll rinse out the stain in a little soap and water and in a few minutes it will be as good as new.”
“No, this dress goes straight to the cleaners. Take one of mine.”
“Really, Margaret, there's no need for all this fuss.”
“Please. I feel terrible. Your figure may be far more curvaceous than mine, but we're both very slim and about the same height. I'm sure you'll find something that suits you. Come on, I'll help you pick one. We have less than half an hour before we have to leave.”
The Axbridge's residence was a Georgian mansion at the city's southern edge and Margaret and Kate arrived there in a cab.
“I don't feel like driving,” Margaret explained. “Maybe Jorge will decide to join us for dinner and drinks and my conscience will rest easier. I never drive when I drink.”
Kate prayed her friend's schemes would work out as planned and Mr. Andrade would not disappoint her.
They entered an immense hall. The compass pattern of the colorful floor tiles evoked the nearby Greenwich meridian while above, attached to the high ceiling, was an enormous gilt bronze and crystal chandelier. Antique white marble sculptures flanked the entrance.
“Margaret has told me so much about you,” said Lady Axbridge graciously to Kate. “I’m a great fan of Jane Austen and I'm looking forward to the publication of your book.”
Other guests approached the baroness and Kate followed Margaret as she greeted several people she knew.
Jorge Andrade arrived alone and after saluting his hosts he, to Margaret's great delight, walked straight up to her. Margaret introduced Kate who took the opportunity to express her profound admiration for his literary works. A few minutes later she excused herself on the pretext of wishing to examine the paintings hanging about the walls. A waiter approached, a variety of drinks on his tray, and Kate happily accepted a glass of white wine.
She stood, gazing out the immense window, when a curious sensation washed over her. Her heartbeats quickened. She drew herself even taller and refused to turn her head. Someone was ruffling her composure. An intense current surged through her, electrifying her, giving rise to pinpricks of excitement throughout her body.
Matthew Camedon saw the woman by the window. I'm beginning to see Fata Morgana. She can't possibly be here, it's a vision. But the woman who stood with her profile towards him resembled her so much. He stared, waiting for her to turn around. She was tall and slim and the expensive dress clung softly to her superb figure. It can't be Kate, he decided, but the unique silken sheen of her brown hair could belong to no one else. She wore her hair loose and it fell in a glorious mane to her shoulders and back. Her long legs with their delicate curves were exposed till above the knee and the high-heeled shoes provided a provocative contrast to the buoyant dress. The woman by the window was a rare flower and he knew only one woman like that in the entire world.
Ultimately she relented and when she turned, she gasped. The Marquis Camedon stood a short distance away, looking at her. For a moment she could think of nothing but his supple, muscular body in the dark suit and of his striking face.
The slow parting of her lips must have hinted at her feelings because his quivered in a slight smile. Only then did she notice he was not alone. A young woman stood at his side. She saw him whisper in the woman's ear and they both advanced toward her.
Despite her negative opinion of him she knew, with a woman's keen intuition, that it would be very difficult to resist if he was determined to get something from her. To her relief, only several steps away from her, their way was blocked by the baroness and her husband who, together with another couple, engaged them in conversation. He glanced as Kate as if to say, you may think you've escaped but I'm warning you, I don't let go of my prey so easily.
She left her place by the window and found Margaret still standing, deep in a tete-a-tete with Jorge Andrade.
“Kate, where did you disappear to? Did you see Lord Camedon? He arrived a few minutes ago.”
“Yes, I saw him.” At Kate's tone Margaret forbore to continue her inquiries and resumed her animated discussion with Andrade, including Kate in the conversation and allowing her to forget, for a few minutes, the presence of Matthew Camedon.
The guests were summoned to the gallery where the performance was to take place. A hundred chairs were set up in a semi-circle on the Persian carpets, facing the entryway to the garden. Kate and Margaret sat in the seventh row and Kate saw Camedon take his place several rows in front of them. He leaned his head toward his companion, listening attentively to what she was saying and then, when she finished, he smiled at her and brushed a lock of hair from her cheek.
Kate felt a dull ache catch at her throat. She chided herself. He was nothing, less than nothing, to her. He was a heartless, ruthless, egocentric and supercilious man. In no way could he possibly interest her. In no way at all!
His companion was about twenty years old with hair the color of honey and dark eyes. She wore an orange-cinnamon dress and looked very appealing. No wonder Matthew Camedon was so engrossed in her.
The music was magnificent. So much so that Kate, for long stretch
es of time, completely forgot Matthew Camedon's presence. As the concert drew to a close Kate and Margaret, along with the other guests enthusiastically applauded the famed opera singer.
From the speed with which Jorge Andrade bore down on them Kate understood that Margaret had made good use of the time she had with him before the concert. Striding side by side, the three made their way to the doorway. Kate refused to look, or even to cast a quick glance, at Matthew Camedon and his partner, who lingered in the room, but she could feel his eyes on her back. In the next room they waited on the reception line until they could approach their hosts and thank them before saying their farewells.
“Kate.”
They all turned and Kate was forced to introduce Margaret and Jorge to Matthew Camedon. He was polite and civil and Margaret smiled at him animatedly. Kate noticed the absence of his companion and a rapid survey of the room revealed her to be talking with one of the guests in a far corner.
“Can I have a word with you?”
He never gives up, she thought. And he knows I won't make a scene in public. “With pleasure, Lord Camedon.” She begged to be excused and Margaret and Jorge looked delighted to excuse her. Matthew led her to the window where he had caught his first glimpse of her that evening.
“I wasn't sure it was you,” he said softly. “I thought my imagination was playing tricks when I saw you standing before the window.” His voice was low and utterly lacking the coldness and bite she had come to expect. She felt unsure of herself. Against her will his words aroused in her a yearning for something as yet vague and indistinct. She struggled with herself not to mellow.
“There hasn't been a moment I haven't thought about you this past week. I must see you. Let me pick you up in an hour and we'll have dinner together.”
“Lord Camedon,” she began.
“Please, my name is Matthew. It will be very disconcerting if you use my title every time you address me.”
“Very well, I'll call you by whatever name you choose but the time has come to clear up certain things.” She spoke quietly but defiantly, making sure only he could hear her. “You are wasting your time. I have no intention of turning into another broken heart in your long string of conquests. There is nothing you might offer that I want! I'm more and more convinced that nothing can bridge the measureless gulf separating our moral worlds. So I suggest you continue to confer your undivided attention on your companion. I have no doubt she'll be less than delighted to discover your plans for the evening include another woman.”
His expression hardened a bit. Kate was instantly sorry she had inadvertently admitted asking about him, and felt uncomfortable that she had divulged even a small part of what she had learned. But it was too late now to take back her words, and deep within she was not totally repentant she had bared her feelings. At least now he would keep away from her, would lapse behind his frosty mask of indifference. That she could handle.
His eyes flashed and his sensual lips tightened, revealing the sexy cleft at the corner of his mouth. Despite her chagrin Kate felt that irresistible urge to run her fingers over his lips and cheekbones. What, she speculated, would his lips feel like as they pressed down on hers and what would be the taste of his kisses?
Her look must have given away something of her secret yearnings for his body relaxed and the tension left his face. She drew herself up and lifted her head. She would not let him defeat her. She would not surrender.
“You are much mistaken about me,” he started to say when the baroness' voice cut into his words.
“Here you are.” The baroness, accompanied by the tenor and another woman, stood near them.
“Dr. Evans, Lord Camedon, I would like you to meet Olivero Herrera and his wife Anita.”
Kate and Matthew shook hands with the baroness' guests of honor. Kate expressed her great delight at the concert and Matthew seconded her with praise of his own.
“I know your grandmother well,” the Spanish singer said to Matthew. “She is an extraordinary woman. My wife and I have had the pleasure of her company at various soirees of the king and queen of Spain.”
“I agree. She is quite an unusual character,” Matthew grinned and Kate was unable to take her eyes off his mouth.
“She has told us about your house in Northampton. Bellewoodplain, if I'm not mistaken,” added Anita Herrera. “Her descriptions were so vivid. I'm sure it must be a splendid place.”
“I can assure you, Mrs. Herrera, that any description can only do an injustice to Bellewoodplain, and I would be glad to invite you to be my guests any time you so wish.”
I must be dreaming, thought Kate. Here I am, Kate Evans, in the house of a baron and baroness, on one side of me the most famous tenor in the world and on the other side a handsome Marquis whose grandmother feels at home in the company of the king and queen of Spain. And to top it off, her best friend stood a few feet away talking to a world-renowned author.
She would soon wake up and find it was all a mirage.
“Margaret told me you have already met,” the baroness addressed Kate and Matthew. “Isn't that wonderful? Did you know you would meet here today?”
Matthew looked at Kate. “We had no idea, but as Kate has already been invited to Bellewoodplain as my guest we would have seen each other very soon.”
Kate saw the teasing gleam in his eyes. She had to get out of his range. She managed to smile at the baroness and murmur farewell. She went off to look for Margaret and Jorge and found them ready to leave.
“Jorge has suggested we join him for dinner and I've accepted in your name as well. We'll eat at Chez Alain. Doesn't that sound marvelous?”
“Marvelous,” Kate, still distraught, echoed her friend. It was a miracle she had given him the slip. If it were not for the baroness, she had the feeling she would have been all too easily convinced to dine with him. How had he planned to get rid of his date, she wondered. She seemed madly in love with him, often smiling, and looking at him with adoring eyes. She was very cute and Kate felt sorry for her. He certainly lived up to his reputation as a man who used women to satisfy his carnal lust and then, without pity or emotion, threw them over. He could at least have the decency to choose a woman who was his equal, she thought angrily, someone with experience and not a girl so young and innocent.
Gradually she calmed down and by the time they got into Jorge's rented limousine her dejection lifted and she was able to talk naturally. Jorge, overcoming his bashfulness, proved himself a charming man with a cynical sense of humor. Kate, who had read all his books, immediately found a common language with the author. Margaret was in seventh heaven and her radiant smile never faded.
Tomorrow, Kate decided, she would spend the day as planned in London. She would visit Leonora and take in the new exhibit at the Tate Gallery but she would return to Oxford in the evening. She had no intention of burdening Margaret and Jorge with her presence.
Chapter Five
This must be one of the most fashionable restaurants in London, Kate thought when they arrived at their destination. Attention had been paid to every detail of the restaurant's decor. The place was full but Kate’s fears there would be no room for them were soon laid to rest. Jorge had reserved a table in advance.
“How could you be sure we would agree to dine with you?” Margaret asked in surprise as they seated themselves at the round table.
“I couldn't. I hoped.” He looked disconcerted. “I must confess that I reserved a table here every night since the day we met, but I didn't have the nerve to call to invite you.”
It was very sweet of him to say that, thought Kate. It would never enter Matthew Camedon's mind that a woman would turn down an invitation from him.
Jorge ordered a bottle of red wine and Kate was once again made aware of the pleasures money could provide. Her eyes roved over the other diners and she picked out a well-known Shakespearean actor in the company of another man, and two women sitting several tables away. One of the women was Lola, the supermodel. Matthew should s
tick to that kind of woman, she thought, she looks tough enough to stand up to any possible letdown. Not like the engaging woman he had brought to the concert.
At that moment Margaret leaned and whispered in her ear, “don't look now, but Lord Camedon and his date have just walked in.”
What a frustrating coincidence. Why, out of all the restaurants in London, did he have to choose this particular one? Caught off-guard, she tried to control her agitation. Was it tension or excitement she felt, anger or joy? She was curious to see Lola's reaction when she saw the Marquis. She turned her head in the direction of the supermodel but could not see Lola. Her line of sight was blocked by Matthew and she lifted her head to stare straight into his eyes and those of the young woman at his side. He has no conscience, she decided. An hour ago he was ready to ditch her for me and after my rejection he obviously decided to go ahead with his original plan.
After greeting Margaret and Jorge in a voice that was, to Kate's amazement, cordial, he addressed her directly. “Kate, I'd like you to meet my sister, Rebecca.”
Kate was stunned. She felt like a complete idiot. She would have given a great deal to take back the words she had hurled at Matthew at the concert. This charming girl was his sister. She recalled Richard Lindsay's description of her. The girl standing before her looked neither weak-willed nor colorless but fragile and a bit shy, radiating youth. Kate shook Rebecca Camedon's hand vigorously.
“My brother wanted me to make your acquaintance at the baroness' but you left so quickly. I'm pleased to see you again.”
Kate took to her immediately. “The pleasure is all mine.”
Jorge rose to his feet. “Won't you join us?” he asked.
Rebecca turned to her brother, trying to contain her elation, “if it's alright with you, Matthew.”
“Who am I to refuse,” he answered his sister but his eyes never left Kate's face and she felt their fervor bring a flush to her cheeks.
Jorge and Margaret exchanged swift looks. Jorge made a small sign to the waiter who hovered attentively nearby, and the latter added two settings. Rebecca and Kate sat down, followed by Jorge and Matthew. Margaret started to talk and stopped, dismayed.
