*It certainly is,' Charlotte told him happily. *I fetch Madame Lizette's letters every morning, but I'm quite a bit later than usual. I must have known you'd be coming!'
He took her hand once more and held it in his, his fingers toying with hers while he looked down into her eyes, his own gleaming unmistakably. *Would you have made the effort especially if you had known you were likely to meet me at this time?' he asked, and raised her fingers to his lips for a moment, brushing them with a light kiss. *I like to think of you doing so, ma belle mademoiselle^
*It's possible,' Charlotte allowed rather breathlessly. She was uneasily aware of the silent emptiness of the two halls, and of the blank faces of the office doors that could at any moment open to admit one of the Menais to the hall, and she eased her hand free as unobtrusively as possible. *I musm't be too long or Madame Lizette will be waiting for her mail and I shan't even have collected it!'
*Just a moment longer,' Jean begged, and looked so anxious about it that she hadn't the heart to refuse. *You will have dinner with me this evening?'
It should not really have taken her by surprise, Charlotte thought, but all the same it had and she looked uncertain for a moment, glancing back up the stairs before she answered. *I don't know if that's possible. Monsieur Cordet.'
'There is a wonderful litde place that I have found,* he urged, his expressive dark eyes adding a plea of their own. *l know you will love it because it has lots c^ atmosphere, hein? You will come?*
Charlotte hesitated still although she made no attempt to hide the fact that she wanted to accept. But she had been with Lizette Menais for only four days and so far the matter of free time had not been setded, although doubdess it would be in time.
*rm not sure if I can get the evening off so soon,* she told him frankly, *much as Fd like to come. I'm sure you'll understand.*
*Oh, but surely,' he insisted, holding dghdy to her hand, •you have but to ask, ma chere mademoiselle ! *
*I suppose so.* She thought of dining and dancing in Paris and nodded firmly. 'I'll ask,' she said, *and see what Madame Lizette says.*
'Merveilleux!' He was boisterous in his victory and put his free arm about her, hugging her close for a moment while he kissed her mouth. *I will come for you at six, eh?* Charlotte nodded, somewhat dazedly and he smiled. *Au revoir, ma chere mademoiselle, until six! *
He was gone and Charlotte was already deciding what she would wear when she heard a door open, the same one that Jean Cordet had emerged from just a few moments before. This time, however, she felt a faint sdrring of im-easiness when she recognised Raoul Menais, his lean length half-turned to close the door behind him, and the hand that held Lizette*s post trembled slighdy.
He turned and came striding across the hall towards
her, but more than likely making for one of the other offices, and he seemed to become aware of her when he was part way across the hall. He raised a hand that seemed to indicate she should wait there, so that she had little option but to do so instead of leaving as she would rather have done. It was disconcerting to notice at a time like this that he had the lean, rangy grace of an athlete as well as an arrogant air of authority, and that the combination of the two with his particular brand of craggy masculinity was quite staggeringly effective.
'Good morning, mademoiselle,'*
The greeting was cool and impersonal and somehow faintly irritating to Charlotte after her mental summary of his attributes, but she did her best to make her own greeting equally impersonal. *Good morning. Monsieur Raoul.'
He looked impeccably businesslike in a dark grey suit and tie and a cream shirt, and she fully expected him to simply walk on into whichever of the offices he was making for. The fact that he did not was vaguely disconcerting, and there was something about die way he stopped in hoot of her suddenly, as if he had noticed something untoward about her appearance, that made her look at him curiously.
His eyes seemed to have setded on her mouth with disturbing steadiness and there was a definite frown between his black brows; the gleam in his eyes as bright as steel. *Have you seen Monsieur Michel this morning, mademoiselle?^ he asked, and the very ordinariness of the question took her by surprise, so that she stared up at him.
'No,' she said without hesitation, 'not this morning.
monsieur.*
It seemed he was satisfied with her answer, for he was nodding his head, although she could not imagine why at the moment 'TThen you have seen Jean Cordet, yes?'
Puzzled and increasingly irritated by his manner, Charlotte nodded again. 'I saw Monsieur Cordet when he was
leaving your office just now,' she told him. *But we were talking for only a few minutes, monsieur J*
Now that he had established who it was she had been talking to he seemed no longer interested and the frown had disappeared, although it was asking too much that it should be replaced with a smile, she thought ruefully. He inclined his head briefly and turned aside with the obvious intention of c(mtinuing on his way. But to Charlotte, who hated mysteries, there was still a question to be answered.
*I don't quite see why you asked me ' she began.
'It is of no consequence, mademoiselle !' he interrupted quickly, but once more Charlotte delayed his departure, this time by placing a hand on his arm when he would have moved off.
He looked down at her fingers curled lighdy over his arm and for a moment she anticipated a brusque rejection, but instead he reached out suddenly and pressed the cushion of his left thumb against the comer of her mouth. Charlotte gasped, stepped back and stared at him frown-ingly until he turned the thumb over and showed her the inside of it. A smudge of pink Upstick smeared the hard brown skin and she looked at it for a moment uneasily.
*It is to be hoped,' Raoul said in a voice that mocked her swift colour, *±at Jean Cordet does not blush as easily as you do, mademoiselle !'
He was gone, striding across the hall and disappearing into oat of the other doors before Charlotte recovered sufficiendy to realise why he had asked that question about seeing Michel. Automatically she glared across at the door through which he had disappeared, indignant at the idea of his thinking she would allow Michel to kiss her. But then she realised that he had implied no more than Jean Cordet had done when he questioned her, and she shrugged uneasily. It was lucky that she had taken the precaution of avoiding Michel that morning, for she doubted if Raoul
Menais would have sought an alternative otherwise.
Lizette looked vaguely surprised at being consulted about whether or not Charlotte should be given the evening oflF, and she realised that it must be a rare occurrence for her opinion to be asked on anything. She looked at Charlotte with her pale, vague eyes and blinked. *Why are you asking ine?' she said, and Charlotte smiled patiendy.
'Because you're my employer, Madame Lizette. Of course I have to ask you.'
Lizette regarded her for several seconds with that same rather blank look, then she shook her head slowly. *I suppose I am your employer,' she mused, as if the fact had only just dawned on her, and Charlotte found her touch-ingly naive in the circumstances, for the idea so obviously intrigued her. *You're entided to free time, are you not?' she asked, and Charlotte nodded.
*Yes, madameJ'
*Well then—yes, I suppose that you may have the evening off,' she said. She brushed the wisps of hair back from her forehead with one hand; a gesture that was becoming very familiar. *You have a date?' she enquired, and Charlotte nodded.
*Yes, madame, although I told him that it depended whether or not you allowed me the evening off.'
Lizette flicked through the pages of a magazine without even looking at them. 'What time is he coming for you?' she asked, and Charlotte took it that she had her permission to go.
*At six, madame; we're driving into Paris for dinner.'
'Naturally, where else? Mon dieuy the inevitability of men!'
Charlotte looked at her uneasily. Somehow whenever Madame Menais said Lizette was unwell the words seemed to have inv
erted commas around them, and these moods of
hers made her uneasy. In the circumstances it might be expected that she stay with her instead of going out. Making light of it, she ventured a question and laughed as she did so.
*I suppose we're not breaking any house rules by dating, are we?' she asked. *I mean, there's nothing against members of the staff going out together?'
Lizette's pale blue eyes looked blank for a moment, then she laughed harshly. *Rules?' she echoed, and waved her arms about carelessly. *Are rules not made to be broken? Go and &a}oy yourself, ma fille, while you have the opportunity !'
Her laughter made Charlotte shiver involuntarily, for it had the ring of desperation, or madness. 1 just thought ' she began.
*Act, don't think!' Lizette advised wildly. *No one thinks first in this family! We might live to regret it, of course, but it's fun while it lasts, and that's all that matters, isn't it?'
Charlotte 'could not even guess what was behind the remark, but its bitterness starded her and made her more uncertain than ever about leaving Lizette alone. Glancing at her watch at that moment was purely instinctive and meant nothing, but Lizette noticed it and reacted.
*0h, for heaven's sake go and get yourself ready before I change my mind I' she ordered sharply. *I can manage by myself, I'm not completely helpless!'
There seemed htde point in arguing with her in her present mood, and Charlotte had to admit that she looked forward to an evening out. The company of Jean Cordet was infinitely more inviting than that of her employer, and she could always arrange later dates to suit her. *Thank you, madame, that's very good of you.'
Lizette said somediing in Prench which went right over her head, but Charlotte was conscious of the pale eyes fol-
lowing her to the door and she half-turned in the doorway to look back at her. *Have fun! * Lizette said in her harshly husky voice. 'Amuse-toi bien, ma cherel*
It was the hardest thing in the world to close the door on her and just walk off, but Charlotte told herself she was being over-sensitive as she made her way along to her own room. Lizette Menais was used to being alone, and one more evening wasn't going to make very much difference.
CHAPTER THREE
Charlotte took a last look at herself in the mirror and was glad she had chosen to wear the pale yellow dress because it suited her so well and she wanted to look good for her first date with Jean Cordet. She had no hesitation in looking upon this as their first date, for she had litde doubt that he would ask her out again.
The chiffon clung sofdy to her shape and its colour emphasised the tawny lights in her hair, so that she was quite satisfied with the end result. Checking her watch as she turned away, she wondered if by some happy chance Jean Cordet might arrive early tor their date, and with the possibility in mind she made her way downstairs, resisting the temptation to look in on Lizette again.
But it was not Jean Cordet she caught sight of as she came down the last few steps into the hall. Raoul Menais was just leaving his office and she eyed him warily without quite knowing why she reacted the way she did. He saw her in the same mcnnent and came across the hall with long purposeful strides, arriving just as she reached the foot of the stairs. Boldly and without attempting to disguise it he took stock of her. Just as clearly he liked what he saw.
although he did no more than narrow his eyes slighdy.
Charlotte clutched the evening purse in her hand so tightly that the raised pattern on it impressed itself cm her palm, and she found the scrutiny of those grey eyes so discomfiting that she did not look up at him. *I am sorry to disappoint you, mademoiselle,'* he said without preliminary, *but I need your help.'
Glancing down at her dress, Charlotte frowned anxiously. *My help?' she queried. *I don't quite understand. Monsieur Raoul.'
Impatience showed in his eyes, and she had noticed before how his mouth tightened when anyone failed to comprehend his meaning immediately. He was decidedly the most impatient man she had ever met and he seemed to regard her as slightly dim-witted by his standards, it seemed.
*It is quite simple, mademoiselle,'' he explained with studied precision. *I have some important letters to get off tonight, and I need the services of a secretary. Mademoiselle Duclair who normally works for me has succumbed to some mysterious illness and gone home, and there is no one else available!'
He spoke as if he suspected the poor girl of arranging her sudden illness with the specific idea of annoying him, but in any case Charlotte did not see what possible use she could be to him when she spoke almost no French. *I don't speak French,' she reminded him, *and I wouldn't know where to begin taking dictation in French, Monsieur Raoui. Couldn't you get cme of the other girls to help out?'
She could feel his temper reaching out to envelop her and there was no concealing the bright glitter of it in his eyes as he looked down at her. *No, mademoiselle, I cannot get another girl to help, I have already said so. They have all departed for the day.'
*Which is what I was about to do,' Charlotte reminded
him. *I have a dinner date, Monsieur Raoul.*
'I have already apologised for your disappointment,' he pointed out with chilling practicality, *but this is more important, Miss Kennedy, and I have Madame Lizette's permission to make use of your services.' He swept his gaze once more over the pale yellow dress and must have known just how she had looked forward to her date. *If you would prefer to change into something more practical before you begin,' he told her, *do so; but I am in rather a hurry, so please do not be too long.'
It was an order, quite clearly, and Charlotte's chin took on the slightest suggestion of a thrust as she looked up into his face, finding those steely grey eyes very hard to meet. It wasn't easy defying him, but she felt he was behaving so unreasonably that she was entitled to object.
'I'm all ready to go out,' she pointed out unnecessarily, *and I feel '
'I am not concerned with what you feel, mademoiselle^ he interrupted shortly. *These letters are most urgent and you are employed by my family as a secretary. I shall expect to see you in my office in not more than ten minutes' time, however you are dressed!'
He turned and went striding back across the hall while Charlotte was still trying to gather her wits. For a moment or two she stood at the foot of the stairs wondering if she had the nerve to simply go with Jean Cordet and ignore the order to report to foul's office, but the fact that her own disobedience must inevitably involve Jean Cordet as well finally decided her, and she went back upstairs.
She was trembling when she opened her bedroom door and she glared at her own reflection as she pulled on the red dress she had worn all day. He had no right, she told herself, to behave as he was doing, but until she was more sure of just how all-powerful he was in the scheme of things she could not afford to risk his anger too far.
It was slightly more than the allotted ten minutes when she crossed the hall, her heels clicking angrily on the gleaming stone floor. Her watch showed five minutes past six, but it was just possible that her escort had not yet arrived and she glanced only briefly at Raoul Menais's office door before she went over to the double doors and eased them apart slighdy to look outside.
'Mademoiselle!'
She turned back swifdy when she was called and closed the doors in such haste that they banged together. He said nothing more but turned and went back into his office leaving her to follow, and probably never doubting that she would. Obedient but resentful, she walked into the room after him and took a second to look around her.
It could have changed litde with its transformation into an office, for the white paint and flashing gilt curlicues were as prolific here as in the salon. A tall slim window at one end let in the evening light and gave a view of the chestnut trees that lined the approach road. It was a lovely room, even now that it was furnished with dark, businesslike office furniture, and in other circumstances Charlotte would have enjoyed working there.
Raoul Menais stood at a large polished desk over near the window, s
orting through some papers, and even the movement of his long brown fingers suggested impatience. He glanced up and indicated another, slighdy smaller desk the other side of the window widi a nod of his head, still sorting while he spoke.
Tlease sit down over there, mademoiselle. A telephone call has made it necessary to make certain alterations, but I wiU not keep you for very long.'
Even the secretarial desk was much superior to anything she had used before and Charlotte sat down at it experimentally. She was in her own element at a typewriter, she told herself, so she had no need to feel nervous, but it was
rather disconcerting to find that the typing chair was too high for her to reach the floor and her feet swung unsupported above the shiny board floor.
*So!* It starded her to find him at her elbow suddenly and he frowned, almost inevitably, she realised. *Could you not have found a notebook and pen and been ready to begin, mademoiselle^ since you are so anxious to have done with the task?'
*Oh yes, I suppose I could; Fm sorry.* She sought hastily for the requisite tools and then tried to sit with her legs crossed and rest the notebook on her knee while she took dictation, as she usually did. In this instance, however, it was impossible and she put down the notebook while she slid off the chair to adjust it. *It*s too high,' she explained, *I can't reach the floor, but it'll only take a minute to put it right.'
He said something in French which meant nothing to her, but which brought a swift flood of colour to her cheeks because she suspected its meaning and resented it. *Let me I' He brushed her aside impatiendy and spun the chair round with his big hands until it was a good three inches lower, then stood back. *Now try it!' he instructed.
Obediendy Charlotte sat down again. *Thank you,' she told him in a deceptively meek voice. *That's better.'
*Now—may we proceed?'
Chin high, she looked up into his face, dark and shadowed as he stood with his back to the light. She felt she was endded to know whether or not her date had arrived, and if he had, what he had said about her breaking their date. *rm just wondering if Monsieur Cordet came,' she said, shghdy breathless at her own bravado, and the frown on that dark strong face lowered at her.
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