The only way.
Lifting her chin, she glanced up and found with a shock that his eyes were fixed on her face.
‘Looking forward to the evening?’ he asked, his voice casual.
‘Oh, yes, enormously.’ Wondering if she’d made the mistake of sounding too enthusiastic, she added, ‘I’ve always dreamt of dancing and dining at the Starlight Room.’
‘Then I’m delighted to have chosen the right venue,’ he said smoothly.
The Starlight Room was, as its name suggested, a rooftop restaurant. It lay at the far end of the complex beyond a large skating rink, which in the summer became an open-air swimming pool.
Two storeys up and circular, an exotic mushroom on a thick stalk, the Starlight Room’s projecting windows provided magnificent views over London.
Madeleine had seen it from a distance, but never yet been inside, and as they stepped into the lift at the base she felt a little flutter of excitement.
As soon as they entered the luxurious foyer, a young man wearing immaculate evening dress wished them, ‘Good evening, sir, madam,’ and took Madeleine’s wrap.
A moment later a larger-than-life maître d’ appeared, who greeted Rafe by name, and with some ceremony led them through to the restaurant proper.
It was every bit as Arabian Nights and glamorous as she could have wished, with a table to each window and a central dance floor.
The majority of the tables were already occupied by a top-notch clientele wearing dinner jackets and evening gowns. The scent of French perfume hung on the air, and there were enough jewels on display to restock the Rue de la Paix.
It was the kind of gathering where ordinarily Madeleine might have felt out of her depth, even slightly intimidated by such a display of wealth. But with a little thrill of pride, she knew herself to be one of the best dressed women there. And on the arm of one of the most strikingly handsome, imposing men.
On a raised dais, like the hub of a wheel, a small orchestra was playing a Latin-American dance number, a soft, romantic tune, with a shiver of maracas.
Above them, the ceiling was a dome of indigo studded with lighted stars, and through the windows she could see snow was still falling gently, adding its own touch of magic to the scene.
Instead of a table for two, as she had imagined, they were shown to a table set for six. She glanced at Rafe, expecting him to point out the mistake, but he said nothing.
As soon as they had been seated, a waiter appeared with a magnum of champagne in an ice bucket and queried deferentially, ‘Shall I open it, sir?’
‘No, not yet, thanks.’
As the man moved away, Rafe turned to Madeleine, and asked, ‘Shall we make the first part of your dream come true?’
Leaving her bag on the table, she went into his arms. He held her lightly but firmly, his spread hand at her waist steady, his chin just brushing the top of her head.
It was more than a year since they had danced together, and as they moved as one to the haunting rhythm she thought how happy she had been then.
Even now he’d contrived to make it lovely and romantic, and had things been different she could have danced the night away in his arms and been utterly content.
When the Latin-American medley came to an end with a scattering of applause, they started to make their way back to the table.
All at once, catching sight of who was sitting there, Madeleine’s jaw dropped and she stopped dead in her tracks.
‘Your mouth’s open,’ Rafe murmured in her ear, ‘and it’s giving me ideas I can’t follow through in a public place.’ He used a finger to lift her chin.
Then, an arm at her waist, he urged her towards the table, where, looking in their direction and smiling, were four people—Eve and Dave, Noel and, presumably, Zoe, all dressed up to the nines.
The four rose at their approach, and there was a smiling chorus of, ‘Happy birthday,’ before, gladness in her voice, Eve exclaimed, ‘Just look at you!’ and leaned forward to kiss Madeleine’s cheek.
When Noel had followed suit, the three men shook hands with great cordiality.
How had Rafe and Noel come to be on such good terms? Madeleine wondered dazedly as, his glance moving from her to Rafe, Noel said with formal politeness, ‘May I introduce Zoe Denholm…?
‘Zoe, this is our lifelong friend, Madeleine Knight, and—’ taking note of the aquamarine on Madeleine’s finger ‘—her fiancé, Rafe Lombard.’
As they exchanged handshakes, Zoe said pleasantly, ‘It’s nice to meet you both.’
Looking at Madeleine’s thunderstruck face, Eve turned to Rafe and remarked with satisfaction, ‘It’s quite obvious that you managed to keep the whole thing a secret.’
‘It wasn’t too hard.’ Pulling out Madeleine’s chair, he added with a wry smile, ‘Her mind was on other things, wasn’t it, sweetheart?’
When, still speechless, she sank onto it, he dropped a little kiss on the top of her head, a gesture that made Eve sigh sentimentally.
As the others resumed their seats, Zoe said to Madeleine, ‘I’ve heard a great deal about you. I understand my darling idiot is hoping to bribe you to sing his praises.’
Seeing the fond, appreciative look she gave Noel, Madeleine found her voice and ventured, ‘It doesn’t appear to be necessary.’
‘It isn’t.’
As Noel began to preen himself, she gave him a dig in the ribs with her elbow. ‘I know him much too well to be taken in.’
‘I say, steady on there.’ He looked aggrieved.
Smiling, she added, ‘But I still love him,’ and earned herself a squeeze.
‘Let me see that.’ Reaching across the table, Eve took Madeleine’s hand and studied the ring. ‘Wowee…and then some!
‘I must confess that when Rafe and I first talked and he told me how things were and said he needed my help, I was a bit worried. But now, seeing how well it’s all worked out, I couldn’t be happier…’
What kind of lies had he told Eve to get both her and Noel so effortlessly on his side? Madeleine wondered numbly.
Fairly bubbling over with excitement, Eve added, ‘And to put the gilt on the gingerbread, the Starlight Room! The mere idea of coming here to dine took my breath away.
‘Though I’m afraid we won’t be able to stay and dance. As soon as the meal’s over we have to fly. We have first-row seats for Serenade, courtesy of Zoe, who is one of the co-writers.’
At a signal from Rafe, the waiter hurried over and, having opened the champagne with a satisfying pop, filled six flutes with the still-smoking wine.
After a toast to, ‘The birthday girl,’ they sipped champagne while they looked at the menu and ordered.
To Madeleine the whole thing seemed unreal, and, feeling as though she was caught up in some virtual-reality role-play, she chose at random.
When the waiter had gone, Eve and Noel each produced a nicely wrapped gift for her to open.
There was a bottle of her favourite hand and body lotion from Eve and Dave, and a luxurious box of chocolates from Noel and Zoe.
When she’d thanked them all, Dave, a nice-looking man with short brown hair and blue eyes, cleared his throat and glanced around. ‘Without wishing to steal anyone’s thunder, I’ve a question I’ve been going to ask Eve, and as tonight is somewhat special it seemed the right time to ask it.’
Taking her hand and holding it, he said simply, ‘Will you marry me?’
‘This madness much be catching,’ Noel remarked into the momentary silence.
Clearly knocked off balance, Eve stammered, ‘But I thought… I—I mean…I wasn’t even sure you were happy living with me… Lately you’ve been so…so offhand.’
‘Call it my last-ditch attempt to stay free. Like most males, I suppose, I was wary of committing myself, scared of being tied down.’ He smiled quietly. ‘But after that last row, I knew if I lost you I’d regret it for the rest of my life. So I went out and bought this…’
Fumbling in his pocket, he took out a small box
and opened the lid. ‘I’m afraid it won’t look much against Madeleine’s ring…’
‘It’s beautiful,’ Eve said, her face all soft and glowing, and held out her hand so he could put the diamond twist onto her finger.
‘Gosh, it even fits!’ she exclaimed in wonder.
‘So it should. I borrowed one of your dress rings to make sure I got the size right.’
‘Darling.’ She smiled mistily.
‘Darling yourself.’ He leaned towards her to kiss her on the lips.
There was a little burst of congratulations, then Rafe said, ‘This calls for more champagne,’ and refilled the glasses so they could drink a toast to the newly engaged pair.
On a high, the couples talked and laughed while they ate a superb meal, and if Rafe said little, and Madeleine even less, no one seemed to notice.
Then just as they were finishing coffee, a waiter appeared and murmured that their taxi was waiting.
In a moment, they had thanked their host and were on their feet and ready to leave. Stooping to give Madeleine a hug, Eve said, ‘Ring me some time over the holiday and we’ll have a good long talk.’
‘Enjoy the show.’ Rafe shook hands all round as they said their goodnights before hurrying off.
Sitting still as a statue, Madeleine watched them go and felt empty, as hollow inside as a ghost. Now it was too late she wondered if she’d done the right thing by keeping quiet.
Instead of letting them walk away believing everything was fine, should she have pricked the pretty bubble? Admitted how Rafe had treated her? Admitted just how fake her ‘engagement’ was?
If it had just been Eve and Noel, she might have done. Might have asked for their help. But as things were she couldn’t have blurted it out in front of them all. Couldn’t have blighted their evening.
Had Rafe been relying on that when he’d set up this birthday dinner?
Or, after the way she’d meekly got into his car at the Denaught, did he genuinely believe she wouldn’t leave him?
If it was the latter, it showed a fair degree of arrogance on his part.
For a moment she wished she’d sent it all up in his face. But she couldn’t have spoiled Dave’s proposal and Eve’s moment of glory, her radiant happiness…
‘Would you like to dance?’ Rafe asked, suddenly a polite stranger.
Squaring her shoulders, Madeleine shook her head. ‘But I’d like to know what you told Eve to get her on your side.’
‘The truth.’
‘She already knew the truth.’
Rafe’s green eyes flashed. ‘She only knew what she’d heard from you, and that wasn’t the truth.’
‘If you think—’
He laid a finger on her lips. ‘It’s high time we set the score straight, but we’ll need to go back to the flat and talk openly and honestly.’
‘I’m not going back with you,’ she said fiercely. If she went back with him she didn’t trust herself not to weaken. ‘I want to leave.’
‘If you still want to leave when we’ve finished talking, I’ll put you in a taxi and pay for a hotel for as long as you need one.
‘But first, as it’s your birthday, let’s have one more dance.’
Rising to his feet, he held out his hand.
After a momentary hesitation, she put hers into it and let him lead her onto the dance floor.
The band were playing an old Jerome Kern tune, a slow foxtrot, dreamy and smoochy, and he held her close, his cheek against her hair.
But while part of her longed to give in to the magic, on-edge and needing to get to the bottom of Eve and Noel’s volte-face, she could only be pleased when it was over.
As soon as he’d paid the bill and collected her wrap, they set off back to the flat.
It felt strange to be returning there when she had been so determined not to go back, and she wondered uneasily if she was doing the right thing.
Suppose this was just another trick to get her where he wanted her? He was good at tricks.
Her steps slowed and faltered. ‘You promise that after we’ve talked you won’t stop me leaving?’
He urged her forward. ‘When you’ve heard me out, if you still want to leave, I promise I won’t stop you.’
She sighed despairingly. What could he possibly say that would alter the situation enough to make her want to stay?
When they reached the flat, he suggested smoothly, ‘While I put a match to the fire, why don’t you change into something more comfortable?’
It suited her to get changed, and she went through to the bedroom without demure.
Her first act was to take off the ring, the necklace and the earrings, and place them safely in the case. That done, she put the beautiful dress and its accessories in the walk-in wardrobe, and donned the suit, boots and gold earrings she had worn earlier in the day.
If Rafe had been hoping she would change into her negligee, she thought with a glimmer of humour, he was in for a big disappointment.
When she returned to the living room, a log fire was blazing cheerfully in the wide grate and two glasses, a bottle of brandy and a bottle of port with a paper napkin round the neck were waiting on a low table.
As she hesitated in the doorway, a gleam of irony in his green eyes, Rafe studied her suit and boots, but made no comment.
He’d taken off his jacket and black bow-tie, and the top two buttons of his evening shirt were undone, exposing the strong column of his throat. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing muscular arms lightly sprinkled with dark hair.
A smut adorned one cheek. As if her glance had made him conscious of it, he raised a hand to brush it away, and finished up with a smear. Without thinking, following her instincts, she reached for a napkin and touched her tongue to the corner to dampen it before wiping away the smear. Then, realising what she’d done, and annoyed with herself for doing it, she took a step backwards and, dropping the napkin onto the table as though it was red-hot, muttered, ‘That was stupid.’
‘No, it was sweet.’ He took the hand that had held the napkin and raised it to his lips.
Flustered, looking anywhere but at him, she sat down in the nearest chair.
A second later, squatting in front of her, he began to remove her boots.
‘I’ll need them when I go,’ she protested, ‘If you go.’
Trying to regain ground, she insisted, ‘When.’
He shrugged. ‘Have it your way, but if you keep them on in here you won’t feel the good of them.’
For just a moment she softened at his care and attention, then, reminding herself she couldn’t afford to, she frowned at him.
To her surprise he burst out laughing.
Without for a moment intending to, she found herself smiling back.
‘That’s better,’ he applauded. Adding, ‘Now then, port and brandy?’
‘A small one, please.’
When he’d passed her a port and brandy and poured a brandy for himself, he took a seat opposite and, looking pointedly at her bare finger, said, ‘You’ve taken off your ring.’
‘Yes.’ Then in a rush, ‘I never wanted to wear it in the first place. I don’t understand why you insisted on buying it.’
Lightly, he said, ‘I believe in doing most things once, and I’ve never had the pleasure of buying an engagement ring before.’
‘You bought Fiona a ring.’ There—it was out.
‘What makes you think that?’
When she hesitated, he said, ‘I thought we were going to talk openly and honestly.’
After a moment, Madeleine admitted, ‘She came to the clinic one night and asked to see me. She told me she was your fiancée. That you were engaged…’
‘We were never engaged.’ His answer was categoric.
‘She was wearing a ring. A square-cut emerald.’
‘Her grandmother gave her a square-cut emerald—a family heirloom, so to speak—for her twenty-first birthday. You can ask Harriet if you don’t believe me.’
‘
Oh…’
‘When Fiona told you she was my fiancée, what did you say?’
Remembrance of the hurt and humiliation she had suffered caused a spasm of pain to tighten Madeleine’s face. ‘I told her I had no idea you had a fiancée.’
‘Was she a bitch to you?’ he asked quietly.
‘Not really. She said she didn’t blame me in particular. That women threw themselves at you, so it was no wonder you took advantage, and if it hadn’t been me it would have been some other woman.’
His green eyes narrowed. ‘What else did she say?’
‘That now she was home again it had to stop. You were hers. I remarked that if you were that kind of man I was surprised she still wanted you.
‘She said, “Oh I want him all right, so if you were thinking of suggesting that I set him free, forget it… For one thing he doesn’t want out, and for another, we have a bargain.”’
‘What kind of bargain?’ Rafe asked curtly.
‘She told me that her father, who didn’t think a woman could successfully run a business, had been concerned about her future, and that he’d agreed to leave the whole of Charn Industries to you if you would marry her and take care of her. She added, “Rafe and I had been lovers for some time, so he was quite happy to make it legal.”’
His green eyes glacial, he demanded, ‘And you believed that?’
‘Wasn’t it the truth?’
He slammed his glass down on the table. ‘No, it wasn’t. Fiona and I were never lovers, and I never made any kind of bargain with my godfather.’
Though it was obvious he was quietly furious, she said steadily, ‘But you inherited the Charn empire when he died.’
‘Yes. Christopher had always intended to leave it to me. But after putting a considerable sum of money in trust for Fiona, he hit a rocky patch, and for the last few years of his life he was faced with severe financial problems.
‘By the time he admitted the truth and asked me for help, his “empire” was teetering on the brink of collapse. It was only my financial support that kept it going…’
Was that what Diane had meant when she’d said, ‘When Christopher ran into trouble, Rafe stood by him through thick and thin’?
Love Without Lies Page 15
