Long red nails flicked impatiently among the papers on Raoul's desk and Annette frowned darkly. 'He went to Vhopital^* she said, and when she looked round briefly there was a suspicion of anxiety lurking somewhere below the malice in her eyes.
Charlotte would have been less than human if she had not rejoiced in the fact and she could not resist rubbing it in. *Do you mean he's with his wife?'
*It will make no difference!' Annette insisted harshly, but her brashness was overlaid with uncertainty and recognising it gave Charlotte's flagging confidence a much-needed boost. 'Whatever happens to her makes no difference, we —Michel and I—we have plans.'
She was playing for high stakes and obviously she was banking on Lizette not recovering, but to Charlotte there was a strong element of doubt as to whether or not those plans she mentioned would mature. Michel was a junior partner in Menais and Company and very conscious of being so. It was unlikely, she suspected, that he would risk offending his autocratic relatives by going so far as to marry his mistress, whatever he had told her.
'You don't really believe Michel will marry you, do you?' she asked, and Annette's sudden bright flush of colour told its own story.
'Why should he not?' she demanded. 'You think I am not good enough for a Menais? I am a secretaire, not a mere— commis as she was when she married into the Menais family!'
Charlotte frowned, starded by the unsuspected. 'Madame
Lizette was a clerk with the company?' she asked, and Annette nodded impatiently.
'I am better in every way to be his wife,' she claimed.
^Better from Michel's point of view, probably,' Charlotte retorted swiftly, *but hardly from that of the rest of the Menais, I imagine!' No matter if Lizette had been merely a clerk, as Annette claimed, and lower in the office hierarchy than she v;as, to Charlotte there was no com-i parison.
'You know nothing!' Annette told her. 'She had him and she could not hold him! Twice she has lost her man— Michel and his cousin Raoul! She does not deserve to keep her man when she is such a fool!'
Her words drummed in Charlotte's brain inescapably. Obviously she knew all about the affair with Raoul, and at the thought of it, Charlotte's senses rebelled. Michel, it seemed, had spared his wife nothing in demeaning her to his mistress. She sought wildly for words to put her opinion as forcefully as possible, but in that moment there were voices in the hall, and she knew she had no more time.
Annette Villeaux gave her a brief but unmistakably uneasy glance just before the door opened. 'What will you tell him?' she asked, and Charlotte fixed her with a steady eye as she clung to the open drawer beside her.
'Raoul knows all there is to know about you. Mademoiselle Villeaux,' she said, 'and his opinion is the same as mine! I imagine he made it pretty clear to you yesterday!'
Quite obviously he had, for her sudden flush of colour suggested that Raoul had indeed scattered a few home-truths among the tempting bribes he offered if Annette would leave Michel and the proximity of Menais and Company. 'ChienneF she hissed viciously as the door opened.
Seeing Annette there obviously surprised him for a moment, but only for a moment, and then Raoul's eyes narrowed in that all too familiar way he had. 'You wish to
see me, mademoiselleV he asked, and Annette shook her head hastily.
*M.ais noriy monsieur^ I have brought some papers only. Excusez-moiy Monsieur Raoul.' She departed in obvious haste, leaving only the lingering suggestion of her scent in the room.
Raoul said nothing more until the door had closed behind her, then he flung the briefcase he carried across on to his desk and came across to where Charlotte still stood beside the filing cabinet. *You were quarrelling?' he asked, as if he would not believe anything else, and Charlotte shrugged uneasily.
She thought of how differendy she had anticipated the situation would be when he returned and found her still there, and she felt strangely at a loss for a second or two. 1 don't think you'd call it a quarrel exactly,' she told him. I'm not really a match for Mademoiselle Villeaux when it comes to a verbal battle I'
*So?'
From the way he received the information it was clear he did not entirely believe it. Just as clearly he expected to be enlightened as to the cause of the air of tension that had been between the two of them when he came in.
*0h, I scored a few points,' Charlotte admitted hastily, but her voice was too thin and breathless and she spoke without pausing to think, *but she has nothing to hide and she comes straight out with what she has to say!'
*Unlike you, eh, Charlotte?' he asked, soft-voiced, and it took her only a second to realise what she had implied with that rash statement. Glancing up at him she could find nothing in his face to tell her what he was thinking, and thick lashes hid his eyes. *You do have something to hide, do you not, ma thereV
It was much too discomfiting, directly under his eye, so she ducked past him and walked over to the desk, keeping
her hands busy with small unnecessary things to try and stop them from trembling. She was aware that he had turned and was still watching her, and she found his gaze no less disturbing because of the distance bet^veen th^m.
It was much too easy to remember how thrilling it was being held in his arms, and she prayed he would stay where he was and not come any nearer. Desperately looking for something to distract him, she said the first thing that came into her head.
'Have you heard how Madame Lizette is this morning?' she asked, forgetting that she had already enquired before he left her earlier. .
'As I have already told you—no better and no worse.'
From his tone he knew quite well that she had changed the subject to suit her own purpose, and she eyed him with dismay when he came over to join her. Speaking quickly^ and a litde too loudly, she sounded slightly breathless as she found the edge of the desk and held on to it tightly, keeping her eyes downcast.
'Could I—could I possibly go in and see her?' she asked, unaware of how earnest her plea sounded. 'Just for a few minutes, Raoul—could I?'
His slight frown suggested that he found it hard to believe her desire to see Lizette was simply because she felt dutifully sympathetic towards his cousin's wife, and he looked down at her with a steady and infinitely distyrbing gaze until she felt her heart beating urgently hard against her ribs.
'You are so anxious to see her?' he asked. 'Why, Charlotte? Why is it so important to you? And it is important to you,' he stressed, 'or you would not plead with me so touchingly.'
Afraid that she might have appeared too anxious, she spread her hands and shrugged. 'I—I like her. I've told
you before, Raoul, that I like her very much and I feel—^I feel very deeply for her.'
His eyes regarded her without wavering, as if he realised and accepted just how deeply she felt for Lizette, but was still puzzled by her reason. *Is it possible in such a short time to become so very attached to a virtual stranger?' he asked, and Charlotte looked up at him.
Remembering once more how he had held her and kissed her, she knew just how easy it was to become close to a virtual stranger in a short time, and something in her eyes sought to remind him of it too. Isn't it?' she asked.
Just briefly the thick black lashes fluttered as if she had surprised him, then he nodded, and there was enough warmth in the look he gave her to show that he understood her perfecdy. *Mais out, ma chere,"* he allowed sofdy, *it is perhaps possible.' He looked as if something else occurred to him then and raised a questioning brow. *Was it about Lizette that you and Annette Villeaux were quarrelling?'
Charlotte admitted it uneasily. *Mosdy,' she agreed. *She knows how much I despise her! I've left her in no doubt about that!'
*And my cousin too, I imagine?'
It was not so easy to admit that with Raoul looking direcdy at her, but she gave a small jerky nod eventually, and glanced up, defiance in the angle of her clyn. *Yes,' she said. *Although he is at the hospital now, I believe.'
Raoul said nothing, but thrust both hands into
the pockets of his slacks. *I will see what can be done, if you really wish to see Lizette,' he promised.
*You will?' She lotted up, her eyes bright with anticipation. *Oh, thank you, Raoul!'
*No, no, no!' He held up his hands to stem her thanks. *I cannot extend much hope because only members of her family are permitted to visit her at the moment and, close
as you have come to Lizette, you are not family, are you?'
*I suppose not.'
She was unwilling to lie to him, and this was neither the time nor the place to tell him the truth about just how close she might be to Lizette, much as she was tempted. And she was very tempted because the need to be in his arms was almost overwhelming as he stood there facing her, and she could have whispered the truth to him while he held her, and felt safe and secure.
But it just was not possible, not with Lizette clinging so precariously to life and so many things hanging in the balance. And knowing Raoul as she thought she did, she felt sure he would send her away without hesitation, as he had once threatened to do, rather than have an old scandal revived. But when she looked up at him her eyes had the appealing vulnerability of a child's between their tawny lashes, and she saw a response to their appeal that touched her senses.
He said nothing for a moment, but reached out a hand and placed the warm palm on the nape of her neck, curving his long fingers about the back of her head. Drawing her to him unresistingly, he pressed his mouth to her slightly parted lips, seeking a response from her. It was a light but searching kiss and warm with the promise of passion, and she closed her eyes instinctively, swaying towards him until their bodies touched and her softoess yielded to the virile, exciting maleness of him.
*I will try very hard to get you in to see Lizette, if that is what you want,' he whispered. *I will try, ma belle Charlotte.'
It was too much for Charlotte to believe at first, that the bracelet was missing from her handbag where she had always kept it, and she kept searching. It had been with her, safely wrapped in its tissue paper, ever since she came
to France, and it seemed scarcely credible that it was no longer there.
At one time she had made a habit of looking at it every so often, but she had not done so for several days now because things had become so different since Lizette went into hospital. The fact that it could have been lost at any time during the past few days troubled her and she sat on her bed trying to imagine how and where she had lost it.
It had been a crazy impulse that had made her come in search of it, because she had felt the need to reassure herself of the validity of her claim. When things were settled down again and there was no more need to worry about Lizette, she would tell Madame Menais, she had made up her mind about that. And then leave it to the old lady whether or not the information was passed on to the other members of the family. But the thought of having someone find the bracelet and bring matters to a head before she was prepared for it alarmed her.
She swung round and got to her feet in one starded movement when the telephone beside her bed shrilled loudly, and her heart thudded urgently in her breast as she reached for the receiver. She cleared her throat as she lifted it, ready to answer, but was given no time to say anything. She was forestalled by a voice at the other end, clear and unmistakable.
*I wish to see you, come to my office immediately!' Raoul's terse instruction crackled against her ear and she had no opportunity to reply before the connection was cut abruptly.
With the receiver still in her hand she stood for a second or two gnawing anxiously at her lower lip, then she checked her appearance in the dressing table mirror automatically and smoothed over her hair. It was enough that Raoul was obviously angry about something; the fact that it came so sooa after discovering that her bracelet was missing gave
her additional cause for concern.
Knocking on Raoul's door, she walked in without waiting to be invited, then looked across at him where he stood in front of his desk by the window. The fact that he was standing was significant too, Charlotte thought, and she hesitated for a moment before going across to him. Why, oji, why, she thought, did he have to be so tall when she had seldom felt srhaller than she did at this moment?
As she came near he opened one hand and she caught her breath when she noticed the crumpled tissue. It was easy to see the warmth of gold gleaming among its folds; a slender chain with a lozenge-shaped disc joining its two ends and engraved with her own name and that of Raoul the elder and Lizette. She knew exactly what he held in his hand and the thudding beat of her heart almost choked her.
Raoul's grey eyes had a steely look and his mouth was hard and straight, as if it had never smiled or kissed her as gently as it had only yesterday. Charlotte felt herself shiver, as if she had suddenly been immersed in ice-water, and she roiled her hands tightly at her sides until her nails dug into her palms. She said nothing but kept her eyes on the tissue-wrapped gold as if hypnotised by it, and trying hard not to notice how cruel and strong the fingers looked that enclosed it.
'Explain!'
Just the one abrupt command; no surplus words and no preliminary greeting; Raoul had always come straight to the point. But Charlotte had never expected to feel completely at a loss in his presence, and her tongue flicked anxiously across dry lips as she coped with the racing urgency of her heart. She could imagine the shock it must have given him to see ±ose names engraved into the gold disc, and in a way she could sympathise with his reaction even while she was stunned by the fact of his having it.
'Where * She caught at the small husky whisper and
tried to inject it with a little more confidence as she reached out for the bracelet instinctively. *Where did you find it, Raoul?'
Before she could touch it his fingers closed tightly over it, making her draw back hastily, her eyes fluttering nervously between his hand and the fierce look on his face that promised no quarter, whether she told him the truth or not. Then she shook her head and tawny hair fell in a curtain to hide her face from him.
*I ask the questions, ma fille, you answer them!' he told her. *It was lost from your handbag, was it not?' Charlotte hesitated and he went on with that edge of impatience on his voice that she was so familiar with. 'Come, you might as well admit it—I do not drive many young women in my car and you were the last one! Did you find it and take it when you were choosing things to pack into a suitcase for Lizette?'
Startled and indignant, Charlotte looked up swiftly, and her expression alone must have convinced him how wrong he was. 'I don't steal. Monsieur Raoul,' she said in a small and very unsteady voice. *I took nothing from Madame Lizette's things except what I put into the suitcase for her. I'm not a thief!'
It took only a second to convince him, and he acknowledged her honesty with a brief nod that was probably meant to be an apology. But he was obviously as puzzled as ever, and he was frowning. *But it was you who dropped it in my car?' he insisted, and Charlotte nodded.
*I had it in my handbag and I dropped my handbag when I got into your car.' Her voice almost shivered away, but she hastily swallowed and managed to go on. 'I'v^ only just missed it—just before you rang for me to come down.'
'I discovered it beneath the passenger seat only a moment ago,' he said, and the grey eyes narrowed while he regarded her steadily for a moment. *I wish to know how you came
by this, Charlotte, and I intend to keep you here until you satisfy me on that point and others! *
1 didn't steal it, Raoul- '
*Then how does it come to have the name of Menais engraved upon it?' Raoul demanded. Thrusting his huge fist forward with the bracelet clasped tighdy in it, he stood with his back to the window and seemed so overpoweringly big and threatening that Charlotte shivered. *Tell me, Charlotte ! I wish to know how you came by this—this trinket and who it belongs to. Give me an answer, ma filler before I become too impatient!'
*It's mine!' she moistened her dry lips and noticed the frown that drew his black brows together. *rve had it since
I was a baby—at least my parents had it until I was twenty-one just over a year ago, and then my father gave it to me.'
He indicated that she should sit down, but she shook her head. Far better to remain standing when she was to face telling Raoul what he was bound to discover now. Tour father?'
*My adoptive father,' she explained. *I was adopted when I was a baby and the bracelet, that bracelet, was apparendy pushed through the letterbox at my parents' home just after I was adopted. My parents, the Kennedys, always assumed those were the names of my real parents and they named me Charlotte because of it.'
*They are no longer alive?' She shook her head and it was impossible to stop the mistiness that momentarily dimmed her sight of him, because remembering brought home to her just how much she still missed them both. *And they never attempted to contact anyone, to discover who the Menais—these Menais were?'
Following his meaning, Charlotte looked up swif dy. *No, of course not! They wouldn't have dreamed of trying to— what it is you're implying I They were good, honest people and they loved me more than if I had been theirs really—
they weren't interested in whether or not I had a wealthy family!*
He seemed not to have heard her, not to have taken notice of anything she told him. His face was shadowed and the steely grey eyes half-concealed below thick lashes. *Mon dieuP he whispered after a moment or two, and ran a hand through his hair as he began pacing back and forth. Then he swung round swifdy and looked at her with narrowed eyes. *You know what this implies?' he demanded, and Charlotte nodded.
*Yes, I know,' she murmured, her mouth trembling.
*It implies that Raoul—my uncle—had a daughter about whom we knew nothing! I cannot even believe that Raoul himself knew—he was a man who loved children, he would
not have ' He broke off and shook his head violendy to
and fro. *I cannot believe it, Charlotte!'
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