by Shales, Mia
But was she really so lacking in affection for Matthew Camedon? To be candid with herself, she had to admit his openly avowed attraction to her had not exactly repulsed her. To her dismay she felt an agreeable tingle of anticipation at the fact that she would be seeing him that evening.
“Tell me about your grandmother. She sounds like a very interesting woman,” Kate prodded her companion.
“I adore her but she can be very tough and bossy. My grandmother is convinced she can run everybody's life better than they. She objected to my studying in Italy and thought I should stay home, find a suitable husband and start a family. She had a big row with Matthew when he backed me and settled an ample annual allowance on me so that I could be independent and decide on my own life.”
“That was very generous of him,” Kate murmured.
“Yes. Due to Matthew's love and magnanimity I won't ever be dependent on someone else. Not even on him. My grandmother was enraged when she heard about it and set up a commotion,” Rebecca giggled, “but Matthew knows how to handle her and valiantly withstood her attacks.”
“What about Matthew? Does she press him to get married?”
“She doesn't give him a moment's peace. The problem is that lately she has gotten it into her head that he must marry Gabriella, a distant cousin of ours from Spain. Gabriella is only eighteen and Matthew almost had a stroke when he heard that. He expressed his opinion in no uncertain terms but she is very stubborn. Only yesterday he told me she's bringing Gabriella to Bellewoodplain.”
“And what does Matthew say to that? Does he care?”
“Matthew never loses his self-control. He has a great deal of patience for grandmother's infuriating behavior and her meddling in his affairs. Although he didn't criticize grandmother in front of me, I think that this time he's really angry. He told me that Gabriella has no place in his life and the sooner grandmother understood that the better it would be for everyone concerned.”
Rebecca leaned forward, scanning Kate's face closely, until she said in a tone of surprise, as though just this minute she had come up with a startling thought, “you know what? I have the feeling his impatience has something to do with you. I think for the first time in his life he has met a woman he feels he might fall in love with.” A look of unabashed delight spread over Rebecca's face. “He doesn't want Gabriella at Bellewoodplain because he wants to devote all his attention to you. That's awesome, Kate. It's simply wonderful.”
“I hate to disappoint you but we are not even particularly fond of each other.”
“Nonsense. Everyone who looked at you last night could see you were madly attracted to each other.”
Kate felt a blush spread over her cheeks, but Rebecca hadn't finished. She seemed fascinated by the romantic possibilities. “It's true my brother isn't an innocent lamb, but you saw for yourself how women throw themselves at his feet. Since he was sixteen they don't leave him alone. There isn't a man who could withstand such temptation.”
“I can't accept that. He doesn't resist because he doesn't want to. He is quite obviously pleased with his freedom and with his bachelor state just as they are. He gives the impression of not exactly rushing to tie himself up with one woman.”
“But you must take into account that he’s never fallen in love before and I don't think it's because he's incapable of loving. I know how much sensitivity is hidden behind that mask of indifference and frigidity. He simply hasn't yet met the right woman.” Rebecca's eyes were dark and full of emotion. “Give him a chance, Kate. Matthew is a very special person. His devotion and attachment for the people he loves are endless. The woman he chooses for his wife will be the happiest person on earth.”
At this point Kate lost all desire to pursue the subject of Matthew Camedon. She was simply too embarrassed.
“I must go. I've enjoyed your company and I hope we'll see each other soon. Will you be at Bellewoodplain this weekend?”
“Unfortunately, no. When I understood you were the doctor coming to examine the manuscript John found, it was already too late to change my plans. I'm going to France for the summer.”
Kate was surprised to see her blush. “I'm going hiking with a friend of mine. Like me, he's an Englishman studying in Italy and that's where we met.”
“Sounds marvelous,” Kate said, “I hope you have a great time.”
“Thank you. I'll be in touch when I come back.”
Kate returned to the apartment in the afternoon and to her surprise found Margaret at home.
“I decided to leave work early so I would have time to rest and get ready for my date with Jorge. How did you spend the day?”
“It was a good day. Aside from visiting my friend Leonora and seeing a new exhibit at the Tate, I met Rebecca Camedon this morning and had tea in her apartment. She lives up the street, only a few buildings away.”
“Does her brother live with her?” Margaret asked interestedly.
“No. He has his own place in Belgravia.”
Margaret looked at her with a faint grin on her face. “It's probably a stunning apartment.”
Kate began to feel ill at ease. Aside from being her best friend, Margaret was very reliable and discreet. There was no reason she couldn't tell her about the dinner planned for this evening. “By the way,” she said, “Matthew invited me to dinner tonight and I accepted on condition that he takes me back to Oxford afterwards.”
“Oh, yes, I forgot to tell you that he called me about a quarter of an hour ago and said he would pick you up at eight. Apparently your phone was shut off the whole afternoon.”
Kate felt relieved she had confided in Margaret on her own initiative. It would have been awkward for Margaret to pass on that message if Kate had not disclosed her plans.
“What do you plan to wear?”
“I don't know. I hadn't thought about it. The truth is, I don't have anything to wear,” she sighed. “My dress is still at the cleaners and I didn't bring anything else that would be suitable for dining with a lord.”
“Don’t worry. My wardrobe is at your disposal. You can return the ensemble when we next see each other. I can't let you go to dinner feeling glum. Besides, I want you to keep the dress you wore last night.”
“You're very generous, but I can't accept a gift like that.”
“The issue is not open to discussion. The dress suits you a thousand times more than it does me. It looks as though it was made to order for you and you'll be doing me a great favor if you allow me to compensate you in some small way for the damage I caused your dress.”
After a weak argument Kate gave in, knowing her protests would be in vain. At a quarter to seven Margaret was ready to greet Jorge. When he arrived she left Kate with a hug and a kiss, making her promise she would call after the weekend in Bellewoodplain and tell her all the news.
After she left Kate returned the elegant suit Margaret had given her to its place in the closet. She had no intention of going out of her way to find favor in Matthew's eyes. Perhaps when he saw her tonight he would understand they had no chance together. They lived in different worlds. The impecunious young lecturer could have no place in the life of a rich, powerful lord.
No, she would not borrow her friend's expensive clothes any more. Matthew would have to face the real Kate Evans and not the glamorous woman he had met at an Oxford concert and at a ball hosted by barons. She remembered his jaded voice as he said to John in the restaurant: 'it was hard to distinguish much of her behind those shapeless clothes and that ridiculous hat. I can't see myself being even remotely interested in her'. At the time his words fell on her indifferent ears but now she felt enraged. She would not get dressed up for him. She couldn't help the small smile of satisfaction that stole to her lips when she thought of his expression as he saw her in her own clothes. He had probably reserved places at an expensive restaurant and would feel embarrassed to be seen in the company of a woman so plainly dressed.
Chapter Seven
He arrived on the dot of eight and when
Kate opened the door she was, for a moment, completely dumbfounded. She looked at him, her eyes betraying her mixed feelings. Surprise, consternation, delight.
“You look surprised. Weren't you expecting me?”
“Yes of course, but...”
“But what?”
“Nothing,” she whispered while appraising his outfit, finally meeting his eyes.
“I don't mind standing out here all night, but it really isn't polite to leave a guests on the doorstep.”
Kate pulled herself together. “I'm sorry. Come in. I'll be ready in a minute.” She led him to the living room and after mumbling a few more words of apology she rushed to disappear in her room. The truth was she had been ready for over half an hour but she needed a few minutes alone.
She sat on the bed and stared at the wall. Did he have a magic mirror? How could he know she wouldn't get dressed up for the date? He had to know or he would never have dressed the way he did. And what would have happened if she had gotten dressed up as she felt he expected her to? In that case she would not have been able to overcome her chagrin. Despite the turmoil of her thoughts she could not help but think that Matthew Camedon was unlike everyone else. He was one of a kind.
Kate took a deep breath and entered the living room. Matthew, sitting in a corner of the sofa and leafing through a journal, rose to his feet and Kate felt her heart race. He was wearing jeans that hugged his hips and waist in the sexiest possible way and a black wool shirt was stretched over his broad shoulders and muscular chest. Only now did Kate really notice the perfection of his body. He did not look like your average English lord. More like a movie star. It must be, she thought, the Spanish blood that gave him that sensuous and sensational look.
“Do you like it?” He grinned and she saw the depression at the edge of his lips.
“What?” she asked attempting to look indifferent.
He laughed. It was a deep, virile laugh. Kate couldn't believe her ears. He raised his hand and stroked her cheek. Kate became suddenly aware of how close he stood. She wanted to retreat but his hand, moving imperceptibly, wound around her neck and under the hair gathered at the nape, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin under her ear. He lowered his eyes until they reached her lips. He inclined his head slightly forward and Kate was sure he was about to kiss her. She smelled the fresh, clean scent.
“Me,” he said unruffled, his lips only inches away from hers, “do you like me?”
“Well, I…” she whispered helplessly, “I don't know,” she concluded forlornly.
Matthew lowered his hand and drew away. There was an odd expression on his face but he did not insist on prolonging this intimate conversation, a conversation that had advanced far too fast for Kate's taste.
“Come, I'm famished. I hope you like pasta.”
“I love Italian cooking,” she assured him.
Matthew's eyes watched Kate as she turned off all the lights and picked up her handbag.
“Allow me,” he said and took the bag. Kate did not object. She knew he would pay no attention to any protest she might voice. An Aston-Martin was parked in front of the building. Matthew opened the door and waited politely until she seated herself. Kate thanked him silently for not taking the opportunity to touch her and breathed deeply to inhale the smell of the leather. Matthew sat beside her and started the engine. He pressed a button and a soprano filled the expanse of the car. She looked at him and he smiled. “Sound familiar?”
“Villa Lobos? Bachianas Brasileiras?”
He regarded her fondly. “Right. And the singer?” Kate did not know this particular rendition. The voice sounded familiar but she could not place it.
“Victoria de los Angeles,” he said, and the two listened to the charming aria in silence.
“Who is your favorite composer?” asked Matthew as the last notes faded.
“Bach. He is the only one whose compositions appear to me, without exception, to be the work of a genius. From the simplest exercises he wrote for his sons' edification, to the most famous pieces."
“You know a great deal about music,” he commented. “Do you play an instrument?”
“No,” Kate laughed, “I have a good ear and I've learned a great deal from reading and listening to others, but my knowledge is academic. That's true in all fields. I can analyze and criticize the creations of others, sometimes even very cleverly, but I can't create a truly original work myself.”
“Not even writing?”
“I don't think so but I must admit I've never tried. Perhaps one day I'll sit down and try to write a novel. For the present, at any rate, I don't feel I'm ripe for it. And you?”
“Do I write?”
Kate laughed again. “No. Do you play?”
“I've been playing the piano since I was four.”
Kate wasn't sure why she had expected him to say no. The image of him running his fingers lightly over the black and white keys was outrageously romantic and she felt the by now familiar warmth spread though her body.
“I met Rebecca today.”
“She told me. You've acquired another fan. She doesn't stop talking about you.”
“I like her enormously.”
“I'm glad. Rebecca needs a friend like you. She and I have always been close, but growing up in Bellewoodplain she didn't have many friends. She was a lonely child.”
“Didn't she make friends in school?” Kate asked, thinking back on what Richard Lindsay had told her at the party.
Kate saw Matthew's jaw tighten a moment before he relaxed. When he spoke, his voice was unemotional. “Rebecca didn't go to high school like the other girls. She preferred to be tutored at Bellewoodplain and I respected her wishes. I made sure she had superior teachers and the finest education in the country.”
“She seems very sociable.”
“She's changed in the last few years. She's more outgoing, ready to make new friends and goes out with people her age. The semester in Italy did her a world of good.”
“She told me how you backed her when she wanted to study abroad.”
“I encourage her in whatever she chooses to do.”
“Then she is a lucky girl.”
Kate wondered where he was taking her. The car wended its way through an elegant residential neighborhood and Kate, who had not paid much attention to their route before, recognized Belgravia Place. A nagging suspicion began to gnaw.
“Where are we going?”
“To my apartment.”
Kate was at a loss. How should she react? Act furious and demand he turn the car around and take her straight to the train station? Insist they eat out as she had expected? Feign indifference and unconcern?
He turned into a small street near a rectangular garden filled with trees and parked the car opposite a building ornamented with graceful balconies atop slim columns. The entire neighborhood was wreathed in an atmosphere of patrician wealth.
He faced her, laying his hand on the back of her seat. Kate froze in her place.
“Don't be scared. I don't know if I can behave like a perfect gentleman but I can reassure you that I have never, but never, had to force a woman to give herself to me. Nothing will happen tonight if you don't want it to happen.”
That, she thought, is precisely the problem. She had the discomforting feeling he could easily bring her to desire all that he desired. They were not evenly matched. He was sure of himself and of his attraction to women, and she was inexperienced. She had gone out with very few men and aside from Patrick, had never had a meaningful relationship with any man. But was the gulf between them truly so vast?
She had to admit Rebecca was right. She was as attracted to him as he to her. What was she to do now? After a few drawn-out moments Kate decided to allow herself the liberty of being carried away by events. She was drawn to the snare with the foreknowledge of probable pain and anguish, but she could not resist the bait. The lure of enjoying, even if for a few hours, the undivided attention of this man.
“I'm not afraid
but I expect from you the behavior of a perfect gentleman,” Kate finally replied.
He smiled at her. "I give you my solemn word that I will try to behave as one,” he said and she averted her head, afraid that if she continued to face him she would turn to butter.
A doorman led them through the lobby to an elevator entirely paneled in highly polished wood with buttons of gleaming copper
She had only to step inside the dimly illuminated apartment to feel the instantaneous spell it cast. The walls were covered with ravishing silk materials. Magnificent carpets lay on the inlaid parquetry floor and sumptuous velvet curtains were gathered to the side to reveal thinner curtains of antique lace. The large living room managed to appear intimate and welcoming. It was easy to imagine an entire family gathered here every evening before dinner. Scattered about the room were sofas and armchairs upholstered in rich-toned fabrics. Above an antique cabinet crafted two hundred years ago, an oil painting by Bonnard faced a similar-sized painting by Delacroix.
Matthew, leaning on a chair, allowed Kate to absorb the magnificence of the apartment. He, in the meantime, was absorbed in Kate. She looked so pretty in a plain skirt and a blouse. The silken brown hair was gathered in a knot and he felt an urge to untie the constraining ribbon and run his fingers through the smooth cascade. Her every movement embodied patrician refinement and her moist lips, now parted in wonderment, made him question his promise not to seduce her. Even now he could barely restrain himself from sweeping her up in his arms and carrying her off to bed. He took a deep breath. It was imperative he be patient. She had to trust him before she would be ready to give herself.
He found it hard to believe that he, Matthew Camedon, was so considerate of the feelings of a woman he desired. He always assumed that any woman he made love to would sooner or later be hurt, some more and some less, and long since had learned to overcome any pity he might feel for a particular woman after their affair ended. But he knew with certainty that if Kate were hurt he would feel extraordinarily bad.
“Come,” he took her hand, “let's eat.”
