by Anne Hampson
‘Christine says she will soon curb this young man’s arrogance once she gets to know him better.’
‘Oh, she does, does she? Takes a whole lot too much for granted—always did! But one of these days that little minx will get a set-down. I’ve never liked her and if you were a child of mine I wouldn’t allow you to have anything to do with her.’
‘She is really very nice—’
‘She’s not! And if you take my advice you’ll keep her at a distance, otherwise you’re going to find yourself in some trouble. Ensnaring rich husbands may be the thing with women of her type, but it doesn’t suit you; you’re not cut out for a vixen. Enjoy yourself on this trip—heaven knows you get little enough pleasure stuck behind that counter all the time—but forget Christine and her advice on how to trap unsuspecting males.’
‘But I must try. If I succeed I can make all the family happy—and myself,’ she added as an afterthought, wondering why her tone lacked conviction. ‘When you asked me to come with you it seemed a sort of—omen.’
‘Rubbish! You watch out it doesn’t prove to be a bad omen. Supposing you do trap some rich fool—’
‘There’s no question of trapping,’ retorted Muriel indignantly. ‘I only mean to do as Christine advised and leave the rest to—luck.’
‘Never believed in luck myself,’ her aunt grunted. ‘Anyway, in spite of your denials it all boils down to deliberate man-hunting. Now, what if you do trap a man into marriage, have you considered what his reaction will be when he finds out?’
‘Aunt Edith,’ said Muriel patiently, ‘I don’t intend to trap anyone. I shall merely be pleasant and hope someone will be attracted to me.’
‘In other words, you’re selling your looks,’ her aunt asserted bluntly, ‘and you have a fortnight in which to do it. My dear girl, men are not fools; they don’t run of! and marry a girl they’ve known only two weeks.’
‘I understand that,’ she admitted, blushing furiously at her aunt’s plain speaking. ‘But if someone likes me enough he’ll wish to continue our friendship.’
‘You appear to have it all worked out to perfection, but I can only hope, for your own sake, that you will fail in your endeavours.’
‘You think that if I do succeed he will be sure to find out some time that I—deliberately tried to—to—’
‘ “Catch” is the word I think you prefer,’ Aunt Edith put in smoothly, ‘though I fail to see the difference.’
‘He can’t find out,’ Muriel said, becoming hotter and hotter. ‘How can he? Nobody knows except you and Christine and Aunt Sarah.’
‘And your family, that makes—’ Aunt Edith frowned. ‘Does your father know about this?’
‘No—we thought it best not to tell him,’ Muriel confessed. ‘He would never have let me come.’
‘No, of course he wouldn’t—I ought to have known he’d be in ignorance of all this.’ She looked very worried. ‘You must drop the whole idea, Muriel, do you hear me!’ But before Muriel had time to reply she waved her away impatiently. ‘Oh, dear,’ she groaned. ‘I feel terrible—no, don’t fuss—go away.’
‘Are you sure—?’
‘Go away.’
In spite of her glamorous air and apparent sophistication Muriel felt very small and frightened as she entered the dining saloon, but she contrived to hide her nervousness as the table steward came forward to conduct her to the table at which were seated a middle-aged lady and gentleman. She sat down; was her dress really too low? she wondered, glancing at the couple to see what effect her appearance had on them. If they found anything unusual, however, they managed to hide it behind a polite smile, and within a few minutes they were chatting pleasantly to her.
‘So this is your first cruise?’ Mrs. Worsley said. ‘We do one every year; in our opinion it’s the ideal holiday—if you like the sea, of course.’
‘My aunt thinks so, too. She used to go twice a year when her husband was alive.’
Mr. Worsley, a short, jolly-faced man with thick white brows and a wrinkled forehead, glanced at the empty chair.
‘Is your aunt with you, then?’
‘Yes, but she’s not very well. She is always ill for the first couple of days.’
‘Lots of people are, but it doesn’t stop them coming. You see the same people year after year, and it’s amazing the friends you make. I’ve already seen four people I know.’
‘You have?’ His wife looked interested. ‘Who are they?’
‘Mr. and Mrs. Powell—I saw them as we were embarking, but I haven’t seen them since—and those two young men who shared our car for the Naples trip last year. What are their names?’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t remember, but there they are, over at the table in the corner.’
His wife, glancing over her shoulder, knitted her brows in concentration.
‘One of them is called Andrew—I remember that because we have a son, Andrew,’ she explained to Muriel, who wasn’t very interested because she was studying the menu. She had a healthy appetite and such things as roast duckling and peaches in jelly made her feel quite hungry. ‘I can’t remember their surnames at all.’
Muriel thoroughly enjoyed her first dinner on board, feeling quite at home with her table companions who were rather typical of the more well-to-do of her father’s customers. Mr. Worsley ordered wine and insisted on her taking a glass; she made sure to sip it slowly, not knowing what effect it might have on her.
‘I suppose you’re joining the dancers in the night club?’ Mrs. Worsley spoke as though it were a foregone conclusion. ‘I think we shall just sit and watch for a while and then turn in. I always seem to feel sleepy on my first evening at sea.’
Muriel thought it would be nice to stay with this homely couple, but of course they would not want her. Besides, she would stand a far better chance of meeting a young man if she went dancing, for despite her aunt’s warnings, she meant to proceed with her plan. Looking round, however, she soon realized that most of the men were accompanied by ladies. This wasn’t going to be as easy as she had imagined. Her courage began to ebb; she could never go dancing on her own.
‘I think I’ll go to my cabin and read,’ she said flatly, and both her companions looked up in surprise.
‘You can read at home,’ Mr. Worsley exclaimed.
‘I h-haven’t a partner,’ she stammered, flushing. ‘I would rather go to my cabin.’
‘I’m quite sure you wouldn’t,’ Mrs. Worsley returned emphatically. ‘Henry, we must find Miss Paterson a partner.’
‘Oh, no!’ The very idea shocked Muriel and she realized she would never acquire the cool confidence of her cousin who would, no doubt, quite easily have found a partner for herself. Ignoring her protest, Mrs. Worsley told her husband to fetch the two young men over to their table.
‘We are all one happy family on these cruises,’ she informed Muriel with a smile. ‘If you’d been before you would know that.’ She went on to say what nice young men they were, all the while nodding and gesticulating in their direction.
‘But I can’t let you ask one of them to be my partner.’ Muriel’s behaviour was in complete contrast to her appearance, and it seemed impossible that her plan could ever be carried out successfully. She wasn’t clever enough; she just hadn’t the nerve...
‘They’re coming this way.’ Having risen to do his wife’s bidding, Mr. Worsley hesitated. ‘They’ve recognized us.’
They certainly had, and there was nothing for Muriel to do but stay and be introduced to them. Both men were tall, but the dark one was slightly taller than the other and it was on him that Muriel’s eyes were fixed. There was something lordly in the way he carried himself, and a certain dignified courtesy in his finely modulated voice when he addressed Mr. Worsley.
‘I thought I saw you on deck before we sailed.’ He gave Mrs. Worsley a most charming smile. ‘How are you?’
‘Fine, thanks—and you?’
‘Quite well, thank you.’
While her husband went in search of
another chair, Mrs. Worsley began the introductions.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she laughed, ‘but I can remember only your first name, Mr.—Mr.—?’
‘Burke—and this is Bill Raines.’
‘Ah, yes, I remember now.’ She introduced Muriel to them and when her husband arrived with the chair they all sat down.
Muriel liked Bill on sight, but she was not too sure about Andrew. He was talking to Mr. Worsley and she watched him unobserved for some moments. He had jet black hair which was inclined to wave, and dark features which, although undeniably handsome, portrayed both arrogance and ruthlessness. Her impression was that he would make a staunch and dependable friend, but an unmerciful enemy. So intently were her eyes fixed upon him that it was impossible for him not to sense her interest, and he turned a mild stare in her direction. Muriel blushed, and his brows lifted slightly, his expression changing to one of puzzlement. The blush appeared to puzzle him. Muriel sternly pulled herself together; it would be stupid to lose her poise at a time like this. Not that she thought of trying her luck on Andrew Burke, but there was his friend.
‘This is Miss Paterson’s first trip,’ Mrs. Worsley was saying, ‘and she’s actually thinking of going to her cabin to read. What do you think of that, Mr. Burke?’ Andrew suppressed a yawn.
‘I think it’s an excellent idea,’ he said. ‘Bill has found a young lady he met on another trip and they’re going dancing; I think I shall follow Miss Paterson’s example.’ His manner was distinctly cold—in fact, for some quite inexplicable reason, Muriel felt she’d been snubbed.
‘Oh, how ungallant of you,’ Mrs. Worsley chided. ‘I was just going to ask you two to take Miss Paterson with you. I took it for granted you’d be going along to the night club.’
‘We could make a foursome,’ Bill suggested, and Andrew’s brows lifted a little higher as he met his gaze. Then his eyes flickered again to Muriel; they held contempt, distaste ... but it was the sensation of being stripped that caused Muriel to squirm and brought the angry colour flooding to her cheeks.
‘I would much rather go to my cabin,’ she said with what dignity she could muster. That hateful man should not think her a suppliant craving for his company! ‘But thank you all the same for wishing to find me a partner.’ Andrew’s gaze took on a new interest and he appeared to be amused. His tone, however, was colourless when he spoke.
‘I had no idea you were going to your cabin simply because you’d no partner,’ he said. ‘I shall be delighted to do as Mrs. Worsley suggests.
‘I’m going to my cabin because I’m tired!’ She hadn’t meant to snap, but judging by the expressions on the faces of her companions she had undoubtedly displayed her temper. This seemed to add considerably to Andrew’s amusement.
‘I’m quite sure you’re not tired,’ he said laughingly. ‘I shall take you dancing, Miss Paterson.’ A distinct emphasis on the word ‘shall’, and it was with difficulty that Muriel controlled herself. She had no wish to offend her table companions, so she refused his offer graciously, saying she really was tired. Perhaps another evening...
‘Miss Paterson’s a little embarrassed because I asked you to partner her,’ interrupted Mrs. Worsley, ‘but there’s no need to be, my dear. Tell her, Mr. Burke, that we’re just one free-and-easy, happy family on these trips.’
‘Quite right,’ Bill put in encouragingly. ‘Do come and make a foursome, Miss Paterson.’ His smile was charming; Andrew smiled, too, but Muriel sensed he was no longer amused. Mr. and Mrs. Worsley waited expectantly; Muriel felt that to continue her refusals would only result in her own discomfort.
‘If you’re sure you don’t mind?’ she began, looking at Andrew and wondering why she should suddenly feel so tensed and afraid, as though some terrible catastrophe were about to overtake her.
‘As I said, Miss Paterson, I shall be delighted to take you dancing.’
The dancing began at nine o’clock and ended at midnight. Bill introduced Muriel to his friend, Kathleen, a fair-haired, vivacious girl who appeared to take an instant liking to her, and despite the bad beginning Muriel thoroughly enjoyed herself. Twice during the evening she slipped away to her aunt’s cabin; the first time the old lady merely snapped, the second time she ordered Muriel out and told her not to return that evening.
When the dancing was over Bill and Kathleen said good night and went off by themselves. Muriel turned to her companion.
‘Thank you very much,’ she began, then pulled herself up, convinced that that wasn’t quite the right thing to say.
‘The pleasure was all mine,’ Andrew returned in a soft, lazy drawl. ‘Shall I see you to your cabin?’
Reaching it, he bade her good night.
‘I hope your aunt will be better in the morning,’ he added, making no arrangements for another meeting, and as she went slowly into her cabin and sat down at the dressing-table Muriel felt inexplicably flat and depressed.
‘I wish he hadn’t seen me like this—’ Angrily she seized a pad of cotton wool and, dipping it into a jar of cleansing cream, removed the heavy make-up from her face.
Why had she said that?
She frowned at her reflection, could find no reason, and after a moment she turned her thoughts to other, more important matters.
Bill—Pity he had found Kathleen; he would have done very well. Andrew... No use wasting time on him; he was the stiff, unemotional type that never fell in love, the sort of man who would grow into a crusty old bachelor, long-haired and eccentric. Pity, though, for he appeared to be frightfully rich, for Bill had asked him how he was liking the new Bentley... Muriel heaved a deep sigh; yes, it really was a pity.
But who else was there? Most of the men seemed to be married, or were in mixed parties. I think I’ll have to drop the idea, she mused dejectedly. In any case, if I do find someone, I doubt if I could remain convincing for very long.
The trouble was—and it had happened twice this evening—she had a childish habit of exclaiming and clapping her hands when anything pleased or excited her. Andrew, she recalled, had frowned most oddly at her, and then his eyes had half closed, hiding his expression.
She let her hair fall on to her shoulders, gazing dreamily into the mirror. It had been wonderful dancing with Andrew, though—and what envious glances had been cast in her direction!
At last she undressed and slid between the cool sheets; but it was a long time before she slept. It would have been considerably longer had she overheard the conversation going on in the state-room where Andrew had been joined by Bill.
‘You know, I was beginning to regret having let you persuade me to come on this trip—I was bored to death the last time—but now I believe it’s going to be interesting.’ Andrew poured himself a drink and sat down, an expression of faint contempt on his handsome face.
‘The Paterson girl?’ Bill glanced up wonderingly, his glass poised half-way to his lips. ‘There’s a much nicer one at the table next to ours—couldn’t take her eyes off you at dinner.’
‘Didn’t notice her.’
‘You must have. Red dress and blonde hair.’
‘Oh, her? Pretty but uninteresting. Besides,’ he added, ‘I’m not in the habit of flirting with innocent little girls; they’re apt to be hurt and, although you may be rather sceptical, I have a conscience.’
Bill laughed.
‘The Paterson girl shouldn’t give you any conscience trouble. I’ll wager she knows all the rules.’
‘Yes, indeed. The typical good-time girl with one object in view.’ Andrew’s mouth curved into an amused sneer. ‘Haven’t been dodging ’em for years without learning to spot them at a glance. Well, I’m very willing to play, so long as the game’s played my way. That girl needs a lesson, and I decided to give her one when she pretended to be embarrassed by Mrs. Worsley’s asking me to partner her.’
‘Seemed more indignant than embarrassed, and that was because you’d already practically snubbed her.’ Bill paused in thought, a slight frown appearing on his brow. ‘I
felt almost sorry for her; that’s why I suggested taking her with us. I had the impression that she really meant what she said about preferring to go to her cabin.’
‘Part of the act,’ Andrew said with contempt. ‘Those women all follow the same pattern, all display a marked reluctance at first, a lack of eagerness. You have no need to waste your pity on that girl. She asked to be introduced to us.’
‘I can’t see how you reached that conclusion,’ his friend mildly protested. ‘If she’s fortune-hunting then her interest is in wealthy men, and how could she know we come into that category?’
‘She can’t know anything about any man until she has met him. As it happens, though, she’d been doing a little pumping. I saw Mrs. Worsley glance over in our direction several times as she talked to the girl; we were definitely under discussion, and if we hadn’t gone over Mr. Worsley would have beckoned us. He was about to do so as we rose from our table.’
‘But the Worsleys don’t know much about us!’
‘Enough. Last year, when old Worsley said he had shares in the Munro Electrical Company, you told him mine was the rival firm, remember?’
‘Yes—yes, I do,’ responded Bill thoughtfully, draining his glass, and then, ‘What’s your intention? Will you make her fall for you and then throw her over?’
‘She’s not the sort of woman who falls in love,’ Andrew said with a sneer. ‘No, I intend to convince her that she has me safely—er—hooked, and then...’ He reached for his glass, his expression changing to one of amusement.
‘And then ..A sudden frown creased his friend’s brow. ‘Oh, leave the girl alone, Andrew!’
‘Not likely; I intend to have some fun. As I said, that girl needs a lesson, and it so happens that I’m in the very mood to give her one.’
CHAPTER TWO
When Muriel arrived at the swimming-pool the next morning she found her three companions of the previous evening already there. They were playing with an enormous rubber ball, and as it came out of the water and bounced at her feet Muriel picked it up and threw it back.
