*Oh, but you're wrong!' Charlotte protested, and stared at him in dismay. She could not have anticipated such a situation when she resorted to subterfuge in an effort to trace her family background, and she was at a complete loss for the moment. *You're very wrong, Monsieur Raoul, I swear it!'
She started nervously when he got to his feet and came across the room on those long legs, soft-footed on the deep pile of the carpet. *Then why, mademoiselle^ he demanded, looking down at her. *I will not believe that someone as efl&cient and as pretty as you needs to pander to the whims of a sick woman for her living.'
*I like Madame Lizette!'
The defence of her employer was instinctive and impulsive, but it did not impress Raoul and he still looked down at her narrowed-eyed as she stood with one hand holding tighdy to die edge of the desk. *When you applied for the post,' he reminded her, *you did not know Madame Lizette, you did not even know you were to work for her; Grand'mere told me how disappointed you were to discover she was not to be your employer. So, I repeat, mademoiselle, I am interested in your reasons.'
Charlotte glanced past him at the door. All she could think of to do in the circumstances was to offer a half-truth
and hope he would let her go. *I—Fm hoping to find someone,' she ventured.
*In this house?' The black brows frowned ominously. *How can that be?'
Warily Charlotte sought for something that would not involve her too deeply or too soon. *I don't know,' she confessed. *He—it's possible that I could be wrong—it was a long time ago.'
'If you have been honest with me then I am confident diat you are wrong, mademoiselle V Raoul declared without hesitation. *We have no one in this household who is likely to have been your lover—a long time ago!'
He quoted her derisively and Charlotte flushed, her fingers tautly white as she gripped the edge of the desk. 'I didn't say anything about a lover, monsieur^ and you have no right to interrogate me about matters that don't concern you! I won't be bullied and I won't '
*You will give me a satisfactory answer,' Raoul declared dirough tight lips, *or mon dieuy I shall throw you out of this house now—before another minute has passed I'
*You can't!' Her cry was as much anxious as defiant and she let out a quite involuntary cry of protest when his fingers closed about her wrist and held tighdy. *Let me go!' She tugged at her captive arm frantically. *Let me ^o I'
'Would it not be well to do as the lady asks, mon brave V
Charlotte turned her head swifdy when she recognised the voice and realised in the same instant just what interpretation Michel Menais was putting on the scene. He stood just inside the door of the office for a moment, his round handsome face smiling good-humouredly, then he started shaking his head as he came across the room towards them, his brown eyes twinkling, as if he enjoyed ±e idea of discomfiting his cousin. Looking at Charlotte's flushed face and downcast eyes, he nodded towards the door.
*Your way is clear, Mademoiselle Kennedy; my wife is asking that you see her before you prepare for your evening out.' He flicked a dark brow first at her and then at Raoul, and smiled. *You are seeing Jean Cordet, are you not? A good-looking young man who will go far.' He winked an eye when Charlotte glanced at him doubtfully. *If he is careful not to make enemies in the wrong places, eh? You should warn him of that!'
*Oh, mon dieu; tais-toiy Michel!' Raoul turned his shadowed grey eyes on to Charlotte once more and let her ease her wrist from his fingers. *You may go, mademoiselle* he told her, but something in the tone of his voice as well as his eyes told her that she had not heard the last of the matter.
In the meantime she fled thankfully, and went in search of Lizette. *Thank you, monsieury' she said as she turned to go, but addressed her thanks to Michel, not to Raoul.
Jean Cordet was a perfect escort. He was attentive, prone to extravagance and fun to be with, and Charlotte enjoyed his company. She had been right to suppose he would make further dates after that first one that Raoul spoiled for them, and this was the third time in a formight he had taken her to dinner, besides taking her for an exploratory drive into the country one week-end.
The drive to Paris through the evening light always set her mood for the evening, and she could still anticipate dining and dancing in the most romantic city in Europe with the same thrill of excitement. That was the title claimed for his home town by Jean, and Charlotte could find no reason to deny it
Driving along under the darkening sky and drawn by the lure of twinkling lights and die soaring skeleton of the Eiffel Tower, Charlotte put that earlier discomfiting scene with Raoul firmly out of her mind. She had a good-looking
escort and the prospect of an evening in Paris before her; she could afford to forget all about Raoul Menais.
*We shall go to a little place I know of,' Jean promised with a brief wink as he drove along a narrow, ill-lit street 1 on the west side of the city. *You will like it, Charlotte, I promise.'
'I always do,' Charlotte told him contentedly, and smiled.
*Ah, Charlotte!' He reached for her hand and lighdy kissed it.
The restaurant turned out to be tucked away in a back street and looked at first glance to have been left behind in the last century. Imitation candles under glass shades gave it an air of intimacy, and the variety and richness of the smells from the kitchen immediately put one in the mood to indulge the appetite and think nothing of the consequences. A small group of musicians played more or less in harmony and added to the slight air of decadence suggested by gilt and red plush and waiters in long white aprons.
It was contrived, but it was cleverly contrived and achieved its object by setting a mood that was perfecdy suited to a quiet dinner for two. No table, Charlotte noticed, was set for more than two, and she found it quite impossible not to speculate on how many of the couples already sitting there were illicit twosomes. It had that kind of an air about it, and it was fun as well as very French.
*You like it?' Jean asked as they began their meal with a dish of hors-d'oeuvres that included anchovies, stuffed olives, minute portions of pat6 and some kind of highly spiced sausage.
Charlotte intended to try every item on the dish and she nodded enthusiastically. It's a fantastic place,' she said, glancing around the dimly lit room. 'I wouldn't be a bit surprised to see Toulouse-Lautrec come in at any minute!'
She laughed at her own fancy and shook her head, but Jean seemed to be in sympathy with her mood, and he reached over to cover her hand with his own.
*It has atmosphere, eh?' he asked, and leaned slighdy towards her as he spoke. *It is very '
*Wicked!' Charlotte decided with another light laugh, then caught her breath suddenly at something that caught her eye. Pulling back her hand, she looked at Jean across the soft glow of the imitation candle that stood between diem. *Jcan—Fve just seen Monsieur Michel.'
Jean's eyes narrowed just a fraction, but he smiled and shrugged without even attempting to check on the accuracy of her statement. *So you have seen Monsieur Michel,' he said as he resumed his meal. *Maybe Monsieur Michel will also see you, Charlotte, but we will still enjoy our dinner, shall we not?'
He obviously saw nothing wrong and for a moment Charlotte wondered if he realised that not too far away, in the same room, one of his employers was dining tete-^-tete with his secretary and obviously enjoying the experience. *He's with Annette Villeaux,' she told him, and almost at once wished she had let the matter drop, for obviously Jean preferred not to be told. ^
He shrugged and pointedly refused to even turn his head to see Michel Menais gazing into the bold dark eyes of his secretary. *It is not my concern, ma chere, and nor will you make it yours if you are wise. I am here to enjoy myself with you and no doubt Monsieur Michel has the same thought in mind. However he chooses to amuse himself does not concern me, and I hope that you are not going to gaze at him so pointedly, Charlotte, that his attention is drawn to us.'
*No. No, of course not.' She resumed her meal, but somehow the idea of Michel Menais
sitting there with Annette Villeaux while Lizette sat alone in their apartment was not
easy to accept and it was difficult not to keep glancing across at the other table, ^ust the same,' she added, *I wish I hadn't seen them.'
Jean looked at her and smiled wryly. *You feel sorry for Madame Lizette?'
*Don't you?' she challenged, but guessed from the way he shrugged his shoulders that he simply accepted it without going too deeply into whys and wherefores.
*It is something that happens,' he said, spearing a section of sausage cm to his fork and studying it before he bit it. 'You should not enquire too closely into those kind of situations, Charlotte, it is not wise in our situation.'
'Our situation?' She was genuinely puzzled for a moment, forgetting briefly that to Jean she was simply another employee. *0h yes, of course.' She nodded understanding and stopped herself from glancing yet again at that other, not too distant, table. *I suppose it isn't any of my business, is it? But I quite like Madame Lizette—I feel sorry for her.'
From Jean's expression it was clear that he saw no more to Lizette than the drab and rather silly woman she showed herself as. Maybe he even thought she deserved to be made a fool of by her more extrovert husband. 'I cannot imagine why he married her,' he said frankly as he helped himself to Mother olive. 'Although she was possibly a pretty woman once behind that—that dreary facade, but she has faded.'
It was a cruel assessment and Charlotte wished she could deny it with some degree of conviction. 'She must have been very pretty,' she insisted. 'It still shows sometimes.'
'Hmm.' Jean munched the olive thoughtfully. 'There is a story that a very long time ago she was involved in some kind of scandal. I cannot imagine it, not Madame Lizette.
Madame Menais, now ' He smiled and rolled his eyes
wickedly. 'But one never knows, eh?'
*What kind of a scandal?' Charlotte could not resist the question and she found it very much harder not to look at Michel Menais while she waited for Jean to enlighten her.
*It is said that Madame Lizette once had a lover,' he told her with exaggerated relish, then laughed and shrugged his shoulders as if he found the rumour unlikely personally. *I find that very difficult to imagine.'
Charlotte was frowning, her mind busy with possibilities that were never more than vague suspicions, and she shrugged carelessly after a-few seconds. *I don't think it's likely,' she said, but still wondered if it was as unlikely as both she and Jean declared it to be.
*Likely—unlikely,' Jean said with a hint of impatience as he reached for her hand. *I do not propose spending the evening with a very pretty girl talking about our employer's wife. We have better things to do with our evening, eh, Charlotte? Some more wine, perhaps?'
*Oh no, no, this is fine, thanks!'
She placed her hand over her half-full glass and shook her head, but just for a second her eyes strayed once more across the sofdy lit restaurant to where Michel Menais sat holding the hand of Annette Villeaux, and she wondered.
Last night had been fun, even though Charlotte had been momentarily distracted from her enjoyment by seeing Michel Menais and his secretary dining together. The situation had been brought home to her more sharply when she returned a litde after midnight and found Lizette in tears. She had claimed a headache and Charlotte had given her tablets to help it, but it made the fact of Michel and Annette Villeaux even more unacceptable.
The next morning Raoul had asked that she should see him in his office, and in the circumstances she felt very reluctant to meet him again. Last night had possibly been a mistake on both their parts, for he had, she guessed, spoken
without thinking, and she had risen to the bait much as she always did, much too easily. He could check her references easily enough and prove his theory wrong, and possibly he had done so by now, but just the same she did not look forward to being closeted alone with him again this morning.
When she opened the office door, however, it was not Raoul she found there but Annette Villeaux. She seemed to be alone and stood by the desk they shared, gathering up a handful of envelopes for posting, and Charlotte looked at her curiously from just inside the door, in two minds whether or not to leave again.
It was unusual for her to acknowledge her, but in this instance Annette Villeaux turned her gleaming dark eyes on her and half-smiled. 'Bonjour, mademoiselle,^ she said, and the greeting suggested a challenge as she came across the room on long slim legs that had none of the difficulty coping with high heels that poor Lizette did. 'Monsieur Raoul is absent for a moment, he will return within a minute.*
So far all Charlotte*s attempts to be friendly had met with a determined off-handedness, but this morning with RaouPs message to impart she supposed the girl had had litde choice but to recognise her existence. 'Bonjour, mademoiselle.' She returned the greeting coolly, remembering the circumstances in which she had seen Annette Villeaux last.
Ignoring her coolness, perhaps even relishing it, the bright red mouth curved into a derisive smile and she made no attempt to leave as yet. *Did you enjoy your diner yesterday evening?' she asked, and her boldness took Charlotte unprepared.
Last night's tete-i-tete was the last thing she expected to have mentioned and she realised with dismay that it was her own colour that rose at the prospect of discussing it;
Annette Villeaux showed no such sign of embarrassment. Last night Charlotte would have told her exacdy what she thought of her, but now that the opportunity was there, caution warned her to tread carefully.
*I enjoyed it very much, thank you, Mademoiselle Villeaux,'' she said. *Did you?'
This time the challenge was hers and she found it hard to beheve that far from being resented it was received with a glowing gleam of malicious sadsfacticm in the dark eyes. *Naturellement,'' she was told. *I am always happy in the company of—a friend.'
The pause was effective and quite deliberate, so as to leave no doubt of her meaning, and Charlotte thought she had seldom disliked anyone as much as she did Annette Villeaux at that moment. *You delight in it, don't you?' she accused in a voice she found hard to control. *It doesn't
matter to you that poor Madame Lizette is ' She broke
off hastily, squirming under the mockery in the other girl's eyes.
^Pauvre Madame Lizette!'
She laughed, and Charlotte felt her anger becoming too much to contain. Not simply because it was Madame Lizette who was being so cruelly mocked, but because of the sheer malice that prompted the mockery, 'Doesn't it trouble your conscience at all?' she demanded. *Don't you ever stop to think that you're amusing yourself at the expense of a woman who can't defend herself?'
Something, just for a moment, suggested that the shaft had gone home, but the expression was too fleeting to define accurately, and Annette Villeaux was laughing once more and shaking her head. ^ImhecileP she jeered. *Do you think I have to persuade him to me? Huh?' Laughing, she fanned out the letters in her hand and waved them provocatively before her face while she winked one eye and pursed her lips. *You know nothing, if you think so!'
Thoroughly incensed, Charlotte held her ground and the fact that the other woman was several inches taller than she was did not deter her in the slightest. 'There's a name for women like you!' she declared angrily, *but I prefer not to repeat it. Mademoiselle Villeaux! Just let me say diat I hope you get everything you deserve from your—^association ! Both you and Monsieur Michel—^I hope you liv^ to regret it, both of you!'
'Mademaistilki'
Both girls swung round, but Charlotte was perhaps the one who saw the arrival of Raoul at that particular moment as inevitable. She was less quick to recover her composure too, and whereas Annette Villeaux stood with her eyes downcast, long lashes brushing modesdy on her smooth cheeks, Charlotte was unmistakably angry. Her eyes gleamed sapphire bright with the hght of batde, and her cheeks were flushed as she looked at him, breathing a litde unevenly in the passion of her anger.
Annette Villeaux stood by, waiting, the perfect sec
retary, ' while Charlotte looked at him as if she meant to involve him too, and she knew that he must have heard at least her last few words. It was Charlotte he addressed, Charlotte on whom he turned those steely grey eyes and it needs be Charlotte who answered him.
•Monsieur Raoul, I '
*Pardon, monsieur^ Annette Villeaux's quiet voice cut across her attempt and she showed him the letters she had in her hand. 'Les lettres, monsieur, puis-je *
*Mais oui* Raoul answered her impatiendy, Ures hien, mademoiselle, allezP
Leaving Charlotte to face him alone Annette Villeaux flicked her dark eyes briefly m Charlotte's direction, dien inclined her head meekly to Raoul as she turned to go. 'Merci, monsieur* And strutting elegandy on ±ose ridiculously high heels she walked out of the room.
*Well, mademoiselle}'
His deep quiet voice goaded her to a response and Charlotte raised her eyes, looking at him as steadily as she felt able to for the pulsing urgency of her heartbeat. *rm sorry you came in when you did, Monsieur Raoul/ she began, but was allowed to go no further.
*I have no doubt of it!' he retorted swifdy. *I am interested to learn by what right you consider yourself qualified to make such statements about one of your employers in a voice that you seemed not to care could be heard beyond the confines of this office!'
Charlotte stared at him in dismay, the tip of her tongue flicking anxiously across dry lips as she glanced at the door. 'You could hear out there in the hall?' she asked, and he nodded, his mouth tight.
*I heard your words quite clearly, mademoiselle What would you have done had it been Monsieur Michel himself who had overheard your verdict, I wonder.'
Raoul was never an easy man to face, and in this instance Charlotte felt badly out of her depth. She hadn't made the statement she did purely on hearsay, so there at least she had right on her side, but she could hardly expect him to see it in that light. Perhaps he knew of his cousin's interest in Annette Villeaux, or perhaps he didn't, but the evidence of Charlotte's own eyes was her only defence and she did not hesitate long about justifying herself.
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