"Don't be embarrassed," he said gruffly. "I like to see Nicky showing his affection. You're too bottled up, my dear."
This was the first intimation her father had given that he considered her repressed and Valerie could not hide her astonishment. But she refused to comment on it, knowing it would prolong a conversation she wanted to end. Apart from that, Nicky was enjoying her discomfiture and would do all he could to increase it.
Not until ten o'clock did he make a move to go, and when her father asked him to stay the night she held her breath. If he accepts, she thought furiously, I'll walk out. But to her relief he shook his head, explaining he had to be in London for an early morning press conference.
"I expect you'll want Valerie to be with you," Mr. Browne said.
"With all my heart. But I'm not sure she will. She hates the razzmatazz of show business."
"Then she shouldn't have fallen in love with one of its brightest stars."
Echoing the words—but silently—Valerie accompanied Nicky to his car and, alone with him at last, could not restrain her fury.
"I don't mind you putting on an act when there are other people around but it was unnecessary to do it tonight."
"I don't see why. You told me yourself you didn't want your father to know the truth about it."
"There was still no reason for you to put on such a heavy act. The trouble with you is that you want all the world to love you."
"That's better than having them hate me." In the moonlight he peered down at her.
"I don't like the way I originally hooked you, nor the way I've had to beg you to stay in my life. But sometimes you set a ball in motion and you can't stop it—even if you want to."
"Is that a plea for forgiveness?" she asked icily.
With a shrug he took his place behind the wheel, then with a laconic salute, he drove slowly away, careful not to rev the engine—a gesture of thoughtfulness she had not expected from him.
"You should go to London, my dear," her father said when she returned to the sitting room. "I don't think it's good for Nicky to be alone."
"Alone?" She almost laughed. "Alone with Bob and the group and all the hangers-on? The trouble is, Nicky's never alone! He likes being surrounded by people."
"That wasn't the impression he gave me. He was quite forthcoming about himself today. Surprisingly so."
She longed to ask what Nicky has said, but forced herself to keep quiet. It would all be lies anyway—part of the act he had put on to disarm her father. Yet why should he have bothered? What was he trying to prove? That he could get everyone to love him, if he tried?
Wearily she pushed her hair away from her face. She had not had it decently cut since her first visit to the Mayfair hairdresser, and it had grown so much that the original style was lost. Yet the longer length suited her, giving her a sensual air of disarray.
"I think we should ask Mrs. Jakes to return," her father said. "I've made up my mind, Valerie. I don't want you keeping house for me. You'll soon be getting married and—"
"No," she interrupted. "I won't. I—we—we want to wait till we know where we're going to settle."
Mr. Browne opened his mouth to reply, thought better of it, and announced he was going to bed.
Four days later Nicky telephoned to let her know that his solicitors had come to a financial settlement with Dawn.
Valerie's first thought was that she and Nicky were now free to end their engagement. Although it was what she had longed for, she felt bereft. Nicky would disappear from her life; he would forget her as he forgot all his girlfriends.
"I'm delighted," she managed to say. "That means we can end our engagement. I'll send you back your ring."
"Wait till everything's signed and sealed," he said quickly. "Bob thinks it would be safer."
"Very well. But don't announce it to the press until I've told my father."
On Friday afternoon Sheila called unexpectedly, and as soon as Valerie saw her, she guessed what had happened.
"I've something to tell you, Valerie," she began.
"I know. And congratulations! You'll make Mark a wonderful wife."
Sheila giggled and held out her hand. "He gave me this last night."
Valerie looked at the beautiful sapphire surrounded by diamonds. "It's perfectly lovely."
Sheila held it against her cheek. "Mark says it matches my eyes—that's why he chose it."
"He's a man with excellent taste." Valerie hugged Sheila. "When are you getting married?"
"I'm not sure. We haven't set the date yet, but there's no reason for us to wait." The blue eyes became curious. "What about you? You've been engaged much longer than I have. And you can't be saving up to buy a semi-detached!"
Valerie stretched her mouth into a smile, wishing Bob had not stipulated that she and Nicky continue with this farce for a few days longer. The weight of her pretense was becoming a heavier burden each day and she desperately longed to discard it.
"I still haven't met Nicky," Sheila continued. "But Mark says he's very nice."
Knowing what such a comment must have cost Mark, Valerie was grateful to him.
"I think Mark was very jealous of him to begin with." Sheila was still speaking. "But once he met me again, he stopped feeling so badly about him. Yet he still didn't realize he was in love with me. I've got Wanderer to thank for that!"
"Mark should have him as the best man!"
"I'll tell him so." Sheila followed Valerie into the kitchen, making a surprised face as she saw the dozen baking tins on the table. "Are you expecting company?"
"I'm helping out Mrs. Mathers. Her pastry cook's sprained her wrist and I offered to help out."
"Why?" Sheila still looked surprised. "Oh, I don't mean why are you helping out, but why are you still in Kerring to do it? Why aren't you with Nicky? If he were my fiance I wouldn't leave him for a minute."
"I trust him," Valerie said shortly, and felt regret as she saw her friend redden. She did not blame
Sheila for being surprised at the way she was behaving; in Sheila's place, she would feel exactly the same. Damn Nicky and Bob and all their lies! If things weren't settled by the end of next week, she would go to London and settle them for herself.
"I hope you won't be cooking for Mrs. Mathers tomorrow?" Sheila said. "Mark and I would like you to come to the races with us."
Valerie thought quickly. She was not a lover of racing, finding the long wait between each event incredibly boring, yet she was reluctant to refuse the invitation, knowing that if she did, Mark might feel she resented his falling in love with someone else.
"I'll be delighted to come with you," she said, "but whatever you do, don't follow my bets. I'm the world's worst when it comes to picking winners!"
Sheila reminded her of this twenty-four hours later when one of Valerie's chosen horses romped home at twenty to one.
"If you're the worst picker of winners, old dear, I'd sure like to meet the best!"
"It's an accident," Valerie laughed. "My first win ever—I promise you."
But when her next horse also came in first, both Sheila and Mark asserted she must have secret information.
"Either that, or your luck's changed," Mark added. "You'll soon have the bookmakers paying you to stay away!"
"How about helping me spend some of my ill- gotten gains?" she quipped, pointing to the refreshment tent.
"A good idea. I can do with a brandy to warm me up."
They moved to the refreshment tent, though once there and their orders given, Mark refused to let Valerie pay. Accepting his decision with a smile, she sipped her drink and relaxed. As always when mentally off-guard, she thought immediately of Nicky and wondered where he was and what he was doing. Had he meant it when he had told the press he was thinking of settling in California? She tried to visualize his life in the future but could only see his present one, with people like Bob and Dawn as part of it. She turned to set down her empty glass and saw Dawn standing at the entrance of the tent. What an u
nhappy coincidence! Idly she watched the girl move forward, accompanied by a stout, middle-aged man.
"Anything wrong, Val?" Mark asked. "You look as though you've seen a ghost."
"Not a ghost. Just somebody I met in New York."
Mark followed her gaze. "You mean the silver blonde?"
She nodded and he stared thoughtfully at Dawn. "Funny… I'm sure I've seen her before." Suddenly he straightened. "I've got it! She used to weekend at the Taverners with the man she's just come in with. But she had blond hair then—almost white it was. Surely you saw them there yourself?"
Valerie cast her mind back, remembering Mrs. Mathers' comment about the couple who gave their name as Jones and professed to be hunting cottages. Suddenly she began to tremble. How could she have forgotten that heavily made-up face with its silver-gilt hair? True, she had only brushed past Dawn as she had left the hotel, but the girl's looks were so distinctive she must have been blind not to have recognized her.
With recognition came another realization. If Dawn and "Mrs. Jones" were one and the same, then Nicky had nothing to fear from her. She would never dare to say he had promised her marriage and than let her down—not when she had spent so many weekends, during that time, with another man.
She caught at Mark's arm. "I've got to phone Nicky."
"Nicky?" Mark looked surprised. "There is something wrong, isn't there?"
"No, there isn't. Quite to the contrary. But I've just thought of something very important to tell him."
"There are phone booths near the entrance. I'll take you there."
"There's no need. Stay with Sheila. I'll be back as soon as I can."
With growing excitement Valerie dialed Nicky's number. There was no reply and she spoke to the message clerk, who promised to leave word that she had called and urgently wished to talk to Nicky.
It was late afternoon before she returned home and she looked hopefully at her father, hoping he would tell her Nicky had called. But there had been no word from him and she telephoned again. Still there was no reply.
On an impulse she decided to go to London and talk to him face to face. If only his lawyers hadn't already passed over the money he had agreed to give Dawn. He could always fight to get it back, of course, and Dawn would lose the battle. But ugly publicity would ensue, and since this was the one thing he wished to avoid, he would no doubt prefer to lose the money.
Valerie refused to ask herself why she should care if he did. All she knew was that she wanted to stop it.
"I've got to go to London to see Nicky," she burst out. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, Dad, but I—"
"Don't fret about it," he said reassuringly. "I'm quite capable of looking after myself for the rest of the weekend."
"I won't be away for the whole weekend. I'll come back on the last train tonight." Her father's astonishment was too patent to be ignored. "What I have to say to Nicky won't take long. I—I can't tell you about it yet, but___ Please Dad, don't look at me like that. I
haven't gone out of my mind."
"I didn't say you had. But you're certainly acting strangely. In fact you've been doing so since you got engaged to Nicky."
"It will all come right in the end," she said. "Most things do."
Forestalling any reply he might have made by dashing upstairs to change, she was on her way to London within the half hour.
She felt uneasy about entering the Savoy after an absence of several months, but a couple of the desk clerks recognized her, and at her inquiry, affirmed that Nicky was in his suite.
Nervously she went up to it and, outside the door, braced herself, and momentarily wondered why she had been idiotic enough to come here, and then knocked.
It was opened instantly by Nicky, and his lack of surprise at seeing her told her he had known she was on her way up. His greeting confirmed it.
"I couldn't believe it when Reception said my fiancée was here." He moved aside to let her enter the room. "There's nothing wrong with your father, is there?" he asked her.
"No. But I had to talk to you. I telephoned this afternoon but you were out."
"You should have left your name. Then I'd have called you back."
"I did leave my name. That's why I—that's why I'm here. When you didn't return my call? I thought you didn't want to speak to me."
"You're right," he said. "I don't."
She resisted the urge to walk out. She was here for a purpose and she would carry it out.
"Anyway, I didn't get your message," he added reluctantly. "If I had, I would have called you back." He moved over to a side table. "A drink?" At her refusal, he poured himself a large whiskey and then turned around. "What do you want to talk to me about? I told you I'd let you know the minute we'd be free."
"I know you did, but—"
"You can't wait, eh?" He gulped down his drink and poured himself another. "My country bumpkin can't wait to get rid of me! The man most girls vote that they'd like to marry is poison to little Miss Browne!"
Listening to him, Valerie wondered if he were drunk. She had never known him drink to excess before, yet neither had she seen him in such a belligerent mood.
"Don't look so scared of me, Miss Browne. I'm not drunk, only merry."
"Maudlin, more like it!"
"And who can blame me? What man wouldn't be maudlin at losing a pretty little fiancée like you?"
"Nicky, stop it! I haven't come here to have a row with you."
"Then what have you come for?"
"To tell you Dawn Meadows has another boyfriend."
Glass raised, Nicky paused. Then he gave a sarcastic smile. "I don't think that warranted a trip up here. I didn't think she'd pine for me forever!"
"But you did think she had hoped you would marry her. I mean that's why you've agreed to buy her off. Because she's kept on saying she was in love with you and was convinced you'd marry her as soon as she was divorced."
"So what?" he said irritably.
"So it isn't true. Dawn was playing around at the same time that she was telling you she loved you."
"How do you know?" His sarcasm had gone and he was watching her intently.
"I saw her at the races this afternoon and suddenly realized I'd seen her months before at the Taverners." Quickly she recounted all the facts. "I'm sure Mrs. Mathers will recognize her too."
"Is this what you came to say?" He looked amazed.
"Yes. I wouldn't have come if I could have spoken to you on the telephone. But when you didn't return my call I thought you didn't want to speak to me and— well, I couldn't let Dawn get away with blackmailing you. Even if she'd genuinely loved you, she was wrong to do it, but when I remembered her weekends with that other man…" She paused, hoping he would say something. But all he did was to go on looking at her, his expression still intent but impossible to read. "I… I hope you haven't paid her yet?" she continued. "I'm sure she wouldn't fight you, if you refused."
"I'm sure she wouldn't. As it so happens, we were due to hand her lawyers a check on Monday. So you've saved me a very hefty sum."
"Good." She rose and went to the door.
"Is that all you have to say?"
"What else is there? We can now end our engagement, Nicky, and get on with our own lives."
"You and that farmer friend, I suppose?"
"Does it matter to you?"
"Not in the least." His look was not as careless as his words. "But you were in love with me—or so you said—and I wouldn't want to think you were still—"
"Don't think," she interrupted tersely. "I'm not. I loved a dream. Not the true Nicy Barratt I found you to be."
"Romantic love is for fools," he grated. "One day you'll grow up enough to know you can't make a person into an angel."
Unable to bear anymore, she put her hand on the door knob. Before she could turn it he was in front of her, barring her way.
"You can't wait to go, can you?" he grated. "Well, let me give you a little memento as a final goodbye."
Before she could prevent him he pulled her close and pressed his mouth on hers. He had kissed her many times but never with such longing.
"Valerie," he muttered, "I can't let you go. There's something I must say."
"No!" she cried, and wrenched free. "It won't do any good."
"How do you know? Hear me out first. You said you loved me once."
She stared into his face, longing to tell him she would love him for the rest of her life. But pride held her back. Whatever emotion prompted Nicky now, tomorrow or the day after he would change, and she would merely be a good story for him to tell his friends—simply another episode for the newspapers.
"I was a child," she said flatly. "And a child's emotions don't last. You mean nothing to me, Nicky. To be honest, I'd find it easier to love a snake!" Pulling open the door, she ran down the corridor.
The next few days were an unending misery. She reached home at midnight to find her father just switching off the television. Knowing she could not hide her depression, she told him her engagement was over.
"I guessed it would happen," he said. "You've been unhappy since you came back from America. At first I thought it was because of my accident, but when I got better and you were still moping around like a wet blanket, I knew something was wrong." He paused. "There's only one thing I'd like to say. Things won't go on being as bad as they are now. One day you'll forget Nicky."
"I hope so." She half turned away. "I never stood a chance of marrying him. He was—he was using me."
"In what way?"
"As a smoke screen. He never loved me, Dad. You might as well know that."
Mr. Browne rubbed the side of his nose, a gesture he always made when puzzled. "I'm not so sure I agree. When he was here last I could have sworn he loved you. I don't believe it was an act."
"You don't know Nicky," she said wearily. "He's the best actor in the world."
"If you say so. Heaven knows I'm not defending him. You know him better than I do."
After that, neither of them referred to Nicky again. The days went by, each one more monotonous than the last, and Valerie was determined to take a job away from Kerring. Her broken engagement had been a seven-day wonder and she had been besieged by pressmen. Bob had displayed unexpected tact in intercepting most of the reporters and interviewing them himself. He put the blame for the broken romance onto Nicky's sojourn in Hollywood and his decision to live in California.
Rachel Lindsay - An Affair To Forget Page 16
