A Different Kind of Love

by Jean Saunders

  “Just for a while, then.” Brogan gave in, tired of all the fuss now. “But you’ll write regularly to your mother, telling her of your doings, miss.”

  “I’ll write to her tonight,” Kate said, guiltily aware she had been remiss in not doing so before. “And you can take the letter home.” She paused. “When are you going back?”

  “Tomorrow morning, we don’t plan on staying any longer,” Donal said. “We’ll find somewhere to sleep tonight.”

  “Mrs Wood can probably let you have a room for one night,” Kate said. “And I know she’ll give you a good breakfast to see you on your way.”

  It was persuasive enough, and although Kate wondered how they would take to Doris and Faye and Thomas Lord Tannersley, at least they would know she was in safe hands in Jubilee Terrace. And it would put off the moment when she would have to tell Luke everything – or nearly everything.

  By the time Luke arrived in his Bentley to take the Sullivans to Paddington Station the next morning, they had become more comfortable in Jubilee Terrace. Doris and Faye were clearly taken with Donal’s good looks and his country accent. And Brogan was relieved to see that for all their chic appearance they too were out-of-towners, as Mrs Wood called them, and unlikely to lead their girl into bad ways.

  “You didn’t have to offer to take them to the station. They would have taken a taxi-cab,” Kate murmured when she was sitting beside him, and the men were silent in the back, overawed at the magnificence of the vehicle.

  “I thought you’d like to see them off on the train,” he said. “And if I wasn’t there, you might even have got on it and I’d never see you again.”

  Would you even want to see me again, now that you know how many lies I’ve told? she asked him silently. But at least now you know I did work in a sweatshop. I didn’t lie about that, and I’m not grand at all.

  She was very nervous when the train finally steamed out of Paddington. In his pocket, her father had the carefully written letter she had penned to her mother, explaining everything in detail and telling her not to worry. And that if, and when, she became rich and famous, she’d be sending money home. She almost scratched that bit out, wondering if it was too flippant, but in the end she decided to leave it in.

  “So now we’ll go to the studio and you can tell me everything,” she heard Luke say as they got back into the car, and drove out of the station approaches and into the Praed Steet traffic. “They say confession’s good for the soul, and I suspect you’ve been keeping too many things to yourself for far too long, Katie. And I’ve got pretty broad shoulders.”

  “Don’t,” she said tightly.

  “Don’t what?” he said, glancing at her.

  “Please don’t be kind to me. I can’t bear it.”

  “What do you want me to do, then? Tell you what a little fool you must have been to believe the lies that a rogue like this Radcliffe fellow turned out to be?”

  “If you like.”

  “I don’t like,” Luke said shortly. “I remember the haunted look in your eyes when I first saw you in Bournemouth, which told me you loved him, no matter what he did. Am I right?”

  Kate looked down at her hands lying loosely in her lap. Her ringless hands now, since she had discarded the shameful sight of a wedding ring she wasn’t entitled to wear.

  “I loved him once – or thought I did,” she said carefully. “But this is hardly the place to discuss such things, is it?”

  “All right, it can wait,” Luke said. “But I think I’m entitled to know the truth now, Kate, don’t you? I’d like to think I’m your friend, and friends confide in one another, don’t they?”

  She swallowed. He was the best friend she’d ever had, and she nodded mutely, turning away from him as if afraid that he could see the guilt and shame of her wanton relationship with Walter etched on her face.

  They drove the rest of the way to Dundry Mews in silence, and Kate felt as if she had aged years since the last time she’d been there. She expected them to talk in the seclusion of the studio, but Luke led her up some stairs at the back of it into his living quarters, if such a term could be applied to such luxurious surroundings.

  She hadn’t been invited there before, and she was immediately tongue-tied at the quality of the elegant furniture and the deep-piled carpets in his spacious sitting room. There were framed paintings on the walls, and on a side table there was a tray of glasses and decanters of spirits. As she sat down gingerly on the edge of a pale blue velvet chair, Luke poured them each a glass of brandy.

  “For medicinal purposes,” he said with a half-smile as he anticipated her protest.

  “I’m not ill!”

  “You’re very tense, and that’s almost as bad. Drink it, Kate, and then we’ll talk,” he ordered.

  She did as she was told, feeling like a leaf in the wind, and wondered how on earth she was going to tell this honourable, decent man, anything at all about her association with a rat like Walter Radcliffe.

  Chapter Ten

  “So where do we begin?” Luke said quietly.

  And where will it end? he asked himself silently. If she was still holding a torch for this Radcliffe fellow, he might as well kiss goodbye to any romantic notions he had about Kate Sullivan. The hell of it was, he knew it was much too late for that, she was already embedded too deeply in his heart.

  She spread her hands helplessly, and Luke didn’t miss the way they shook, or the pain in her lovely eyes. She must have really loved him, Luke thought savagely, knowing he was subconsciously turning the knife in his gut, but unable to stop it.

  “Are you really my friend, Luke?” Kate asked, taking him by surprise with the quietly voiced question.

  Without thinking, he knelt by the side of her chair, just managing to resist the temptation to draw her into his arms.

  “Always,” he said sincerely, and then more teasingly, “No matter what heinous crime you’ve committed, you can be sure I’ll always stand by you, Kate.”

  She gave a faint smile. “Even if I turned out to be the biggest fool in creation for believing everything I heard?”

  “Even so. But why wouldn’t you believe what you were told? We all have to take people on trust. So I understand that Radcliffe promised you marriage when he was in no position to do so?” he prompted, since she seemed so reticent to put it into words.

  “We were to be married on the day I went to Bournemouth,” she said. Her lips were dry. She had to tell him about that dreadful morning, swiftly, before her nerve failed completely. “I was dressed in my mother’s wedding gown, and my little sisters were rushing about in their bridesmaids’ finery. And then Donal came tearing up to my room with a letter and, for a split second before he started raving about him, I thought it was going to be some sweet note from Walter.”

  “Go on,” Luke said. He was already anticipating what the bastard had done, but the best therapy was for Kate to say it all, however painful. He’d seen enough of that kind of letter arriving at the Front to know the agony it caused. Some poor devils had gone cheerfully over the top rather than go back to an empty house and an empty life.

  “It was a note all right,” Kate said bitterly. “But there was nothing sweet about it. It was to tell me he already had a wife, so he couldn’t go through with the marriage. If he did, he’d be risking a prison sentence.”

  “He did you a favour,” Luke said brutally, hating to see this lovely girl so near to breaking point as she recalled the horror of that day.

  “Don’t you think I know that now?” Kate almost snapped. “But I couldn’t see it at the time. All I could see was the shame and humiliation of it all. My mother was in a terrible state, and my father – well, you’ve seen my father! I hardly have to tell you what he was like. And Donal blamed himself for bringing Walter to the house in the first place.”

  “He was your brother’s friend then?”

  “They met in the army in France. Walter was – is – a Yorkshireman and a travelling salesman. He was in our part of
the world on business, and he thought he’d look up his old army acquaintance, and that was how I met him.”

  “And being a travelling man with the gift of the gab, as they say, he swept you off your feet,” Luke supplied as she gazed into space.

  Kate’s eyes were still heavy with pain, and she looked at him, thinking that if he only knew the half of it, he wouldn’t be giving her such unspoken sympathy. If he ever dreamed how she’d let herself be seduced by that sweet-talking travelling man, and found herself pregnant, he’d be thoroughly disgusted with her. When he was photographing her in some special pose, he often referred to her angelic golden looks, but if he knew the truth, instead of thinking her such an angel, he’d think her a slut.

  She shuddered, and this time Luke didn’t attempt to resist his need to hold her close. And for Kate the temptation was just too great to resist leaning her head against him, feeling his warm sympathy flowing between them.

  “It’s over, Kate, and you have to forget it, or it will destroy you.”

  He said the words against the fragrant scent of her hair. It was as soft and sensuous as fine silk between his fingers, and it was more than he could do to resist stroking it. Despite knowing it would be a fatal mistake to rush her in any way, he felt a throb of desire in his loins that wouldn’t be denied.

  She had gone very still against him, and very slowly he moved his head back a fraction from hers to look into her eyes. Before he could stop himself, he was kissing her mouth and holding her tightly against him as if they shared the same skin. And for all that Kate had told herself she would never trust another man again, she ardently kissed him back, with all the wasted passion she had once spent on Walter. When she realised what she was doing, she struggled to be released from his embrace, but even though the kiss had ended, Luke still held her close.

  “Kate, I won’t apologise for that, because I’ve wanted to do it ever since we met. I can see now why you’re so wary of people, but you mustn’t let one bad experience colour the rest of your life. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” she mumbled. “But I can’t forget it so quickly, either. He did mean a lot to me, Luke. Otherwise, I’d never – well, I’d never have agreed to marry him, would I?”

  She felt obliged to say it to justify everything, even though Walter had effectively killed any remaining love she had had for him. Perhaps it was just as well if Luke thought it meant she was still pining for him, it gave her time to adjust to this new life she was sharing with him.

  “Kate, I want to show you something,” he said, after a few moments of just holding her, while her rapid heartbeats begin to slow down a little.

  She felt a frisson of alarm. After all, she was alone with a gentleman in his apartment, and she was in a highly vulnerable state. She knew Luke was worth twenty of Walter, but even now, she couldn’t quite convince herself that all men weren’t only after one thing. Luke saw her suspicious look and gave her a little shake.

  “You’d better start trusting me, Kate. We’re going to be spending a great deal of time together if you’re going to continue working for me.”

  “You meant what you said to my father then? About me having a job here as long as I wanted it?” she said.

  “Of course I meant it. I told you once I always mean what I say. Do you want the job or do I have to advertise for another dragon?”

  She gave a small smile for the first time that day, and her facial muscles had a hard time accepting the new conditions because she had been holding them in check for so long.

  “If you want me, I’m happy to accept,” she said.

  “I do want you,” Luke said.

  “So what do you have to show me?” she asked, because for all his lack of expression she knew very well he wasn’t only referring to the job he offered her. He was offering her himself. She pushed away the thought; she simply wasn’t ready for that yet, if ever. She didn’t want any romantic entanglements. Besides, she still wasn’t sure whether or not she was frigid after what Walter had put her through, and there was only one way to find out. The thought of Luke discovering that she wasn’t as virginal as he obviously believed was enough to make her take fright at once.

  “Come into the next room,” he said now, “and you don’t have to worry, Kate, it’s not my bedroom.”

  “I wasn’t worried,” she lied.

  The went into a small boxroom. Pinned up around the walls were dozens of Luke’s pictures, some of them framed. Many of the pictures were of family groups that had obviously turned out especially well, and which he wanted to keep. And one of the narrower walls was completely covered in pictures of Kate Sullivan.

  Her mouth dropped open as she saw the images of herself taken during the week, including the ones from yesterday when she was wearing the shimmery chiffon frock she adored, and which always gave her such confidence. Until her men folk had arrived, and spoiled it all.

  Looking at the pictures, she thought faintly that Luke had made her look as glamorous as an American movie star. All the poses he had suggested, whether they were sweet or sensual, were simply stunning, even to her own eyes.

  “When could you possibly have done all this work?” she gasped, the surprise of it all quickly removing all the unpleasant reminders of Walter.

  “Some of it was done during the week, but I spent most of last night in the darkroom doing the rest. I wasn’t feeling much like sleeping, and in my experience the best way to stop yourself from thinking too much is to keep your hands and your brain occupied.”

  She didn’t ask what had been keeping him awake. Instead, she stared, wide-eyed, at the pictures he had produced. There was no doubt, within her limited knowledge of photography, that Luke was very accomplished indeed.

  “So what do you think?” he asked.

  “I think you’re simply the best,” she said sincerely.

  “Why, thank you, ma’am,” he said with a smile, but he was quite moved by her reaction. He’d expected her to express some pleasure in the way he’d captured her loveliness, but there was less vanity in her than he’d ever seen in a girl before, and yet this one had it all, the looks, the charm and the personality. From his observations, most girls would be admiring the images of themselves, rather than complimenting the photographer.

  “But what on earth are you going to do with them all?” Kate said, starting to laugh. “You wasted a lot of film on me taking all these, Luke, but I’d like to have one or two of them to send home, if you wouldn’t mind.”

  He burst out laughing at her artless words.

  “Oh, Kate, you do me a power of good. No other girl in the world would be so damn modest as you. Can’t you see what a stunner you are and that you’re any photographer’s dream?”

  So was that all she was to him? She knew better now than to ask such leading questions, and the memory of that kiss a short while ago told her something very different.

  “Well, all right, if you say so. But I still can’t understand why you took so many. What are you going to do with them all?” she persisted.

  “My idea is to get a portfolio together and take them to an agency that deals in magazine work,” he said, at once the professional again. “If we’re lucky we might get a commission. But then again, we might not, and it might all come to nothing, so don’t count your chickens.”

  “I won’t,” she said. It wasn’t at all important to her, anyway, but she could see that it was to Luke. And since he had helped her so much, she was quite willing to do all she could to further his ambitions.

  “Anyway,” he went on briskly, “now that we’ve sorted out your troubles, shall we go out and have a spot of lunch? Have you ever been to a Lyons Corner House?”

  “I shouldn’t think so, since I don’t even know what it is!” she said pertly. “Is it respectable?”

  He began to laugh again. “Oh Kate, you really are priceless sometimes.”

  “Is that good? And why are you laughing at me?”

  “If I am, it’s only because I thin
k you’re adorable,” Luke said, with absolute truth. “Lyons Corner Houses are a national institution, and the waitresses in their uniforms are known as nippies—”

  “Oh, so it’s just another tearoom, is it?” she interrupted scornfully, quite used now to the street corner tearooms that seemed to be everywhere in London.

  “You could say that,” Luke said, the lights in his eyes dancing with good humour. He spoke with some relief, thankful that she was in good spirits again, after what had been a pretty traumatic twenty-four hours.

  Long before the summer ended and the leaves in the London parks had begun to turn to red and gold, Kate’s birthday had come and gone. There had been letters and cards from home, wishing her well, and she was glad her family had clearly accepted her new life. Especially since she had lived up to her promise and sent a little money now and then for their special treats.

  She began to feel as if she had always been a part of Mrs Wood’s bohemian establishment, and the special meal Mrs Wood had put on for her birthday had touched her immensely. Even more, she felt a real part of Luke Halliday’s business world. Luke assured her she had a natural talent for the role of receptionist/assistant, and that she had exactly the right attitude for putting nervous clients at their ease.

  She preened at his compliments. She was happier than she had ever been since the shock of discovering she was carrying Walter Radcliffe’s baby. Perhaps she was happier than she had a right to be, she sometimes thought uneasily, for she believed that in this life there had to be a price to be paid for wrongdoing. And as yet she hadn’t paid for the sin of fornication and its consequences.

  “Why the sudden shadow on your face?” Luke asked her now as they relaxed with tea and cake in his apartment after a satisfactory session in the darkroom, where the splendidly posed photographs of a titled lady and gentleman had smiled out at them both.

  Luke closed the studio on two afternoons during the week, and on Saturday mornings, which was when he devoted his time to producing his fine-quality pictures. Kate loved those times. It was just as Luke had said, watching the images come to life on the photographic paper was truly magical.