* * *
So, wearing a dress she had made—a pretty pale blue muslin dress with a tight-fitting bodice, a full skirt and edged with white lace at the throat—and a wide-brimmed bonnet on her head, Lydia stepped along the street to discuss business with the manager of the bank where she had a small account. She knew she was taking a chance, but it was a chance she had to take if she wanted to get anywhere.
It was a warm day in midsummer and the sun was shining from a cloudless sky, which she hoped was a good omen.
Reaching the bank, she stepped round an elegant midnight-blue open carriage and four matching greys, unaware that the gentleman who it belonged to had come out of the bank and was seated inside. Her mind was so occupied with the task ahead of her and her heart beating fast with apprehension and excitement that she failed to notice how his eyes followed her inside and that he sat back to wait for her to emerge.
Lydia had to wait ten minutes before she was told the manager would see her. She was ushered inside where Mr Pemberton, the manager, met her at the door.
‘Miss Brook, come and sit down and tell me what I can do for you.’
Lydia perched stiffly on the edge of the chair in front of the desk and waited until the impeccably dressed Mr Pemberton was seated across from her before she spoke. ‘I intend to open my own business and would be grateful if your bank would grant me a loan. I have found sound premises just off Bond Street where I would like to set up as a dressmaker. I do know the business and I am confident I can make it a success.’
Mr Pemberton looked taken aback. The appearance of a beautiful young woman wanting to do business was unprecedented. Despite her effrontery, he listened to her as she outlined her plans. He admired her determination and ambition and he was impressed by her enthusiasm. But she did not imbue him with enough confidence despite her high expectations.
‘I have made a list of everything that I will need and how much it will cost,’ she said, delving into her bag to produce her carefully drafted list, but she stopped when he came directly to the point and said,
‘That won’t be necessary, Miss Brook. I am sorry to have to tell you that I cannot grant you what you want.’
‘Oh,’ she breathed, looking across at him, thinking that he wasn’t sorry at all. She sat perfectly still in her seat, her hands clutching the bag on her knee, her face pale but composed. ‘I see. You—cannot help me?’
‘What do you have in the way of collateral?’
‘Collateral...? I—I am sorry...what...?’ she stammered, not having thought of this.
‘You have to have collateral to set against a loan.’
‘I—have a small account here at the bank, but nothing else of value.’
‘The money in your account is a small sum and not nearly enough. If the bank were to loan you the amount you need, should you be unable to meet your obligations, as your creditor we would be forced to call in the loan.’
‘But I have no intention of failing, Mr Pemberton. I intend to make my business a success.’
Raising his eyebrows, he pursed his lips and shook his head. ‘We don’t know for definite that will happen. Unfortunately, you lack the necessary wherewithal. I am a banker, Miss Brook, in the business of making money. I must also tell you that I have never approved a business loan for a lady before and I am hesitant to start with you. You must forgive me therefore when I tell you that there will be no loan forthcoming.’
‘I see.’ She rose. ‘Thank you for seeing me and giving me your time. I am much obliged, sir.’
Utterly deflated, Lydia left Mr Pemberton’s office with her head held high. Once outside she paused and bowed her head, allowing no one to witness the collapse of her courageous facade.
* * *
Standing beside his carriage, Alex watched Lydia leave the bank. It was two months since the events in Scotland. He had frequently thought of her during that time, wondering what had become of her. It was only when they had parted that the full reality of what he had done took over. He told himself he’d been a fool in taking her to bed. He had been unfair to them both, but he could not deny that the memory of their coupling had had a profound and lasting effect on him. He remembered the passion of her. It was still there in her. That was what was so mesmerising. There was something about her that reached out and touched him in half-forgotten obscure places.
He was amazed to think so mystical a woman could be made up of such simple, soft and warm human flesh. He had known from the start that she could never belong to him and he had accepted the fact as a permanent condition and that come daylight they would go their separate ways. But that night she had cast a lethal spell over his life that could never be broken.
* * *
Encased in disappointment, Lydia was unaware of Alex as she walked past him. He noted that the excitement had left her eyes and the spring that had been in her step before she entered the bank was absent as she moved slowly along the pavement, seemingly uncaring of the direction in which she was heading. Instructing his driver to wait, Alex went after her, slowing his long stride when he was almost upon her.
‘Miss Brook?’
The words reached Lydia only faintly through the mist of her anxiety. On hearing her name she paused and slowly turned to face the man approaching her. The sun was in her eyes and too bright for her to see clearly, but there was something familiar about the way he moved. He was very tall, with the same dark hair and taut grace, the same air of cool self-possession as Alex Golding. Blinking hard, she told herself that she was losing her mind, that it was her imagination playing tricks on her. But she sensed it was him. It was as if some tangible, powerful force told her so. She even recognised the elusive, tangy smell of his cologne, borne to her on the warm breeze.
The closer he came, on trembling limbs she stood and waited, her heart pounding with dread as she recalled the manner of their parting. Suddenly, the busy thoroughfare and the people who flowed past her seemed to melt away and Lydia was stunned as she looked at the man she had not expected to see again. He looked so handsome in a black morning coat, striped trousers and a pristine white collar and black satin tie. She remembered the feel of him close to her, the heat of his body, the scent of him, the feel of the pulse beating in her throat, the dizzying moment when he had entered her. She remembered that nothing had mattered then but the wanting and the satiation. Swallowing hard, she resisted the pull of memory.
The sunlight moved off her face. Her lovely eyes were liquid bright, their sadness so deep Alex felt the breath catch in his throat, but when she recognised him the sadness evaporated to be replaced with hostility. Her head lifted imperiously and her shoulders squared, her manner saying quite clearly that she had not forgiven him for his harsh words on their parting in Scotland.
He smiled crookedly, but made no move towards her, instinct telling him he’d be best served to keep some distance between them for the present. ‘So,’ he said, ‘you do remember me.’
‘Yes, I do. I would like to say I do not know you, but we would both know it to be a falsehood. I am hardly likely to forget our last encounter.’ Feeling the heat of his gaze, she waited for him to move closer, her hands holding her reticule in front of her. Until that moment she had thought she remembered exactly what he looked like, his well-chiselled features stamped indelibly in her mind, but what she saw now did not resemble what she remembered of him. Everything about him exuded brute strength and his pale blue eyes bore down into hers with cynicism, his jaw set and ruthless.
As she waited for him to speak again, she saw no sign of the passionate, sensual side to his nature, of the man who had held and kissed her with such tender delight. He moved closer, his penetrating stare relentless.
‘I see you are still angry with me.’
‘I have not forgotten the things you said to me,’ she replied with cool civility. ‘But I’ve lost all desire to quarrel with you.’
&nbs
p; He laughed shortly, the severity of his features softening. ‘I’m happy to hear it. To what do we owe this temporary truce?’
She frowned, averting her eyes. ‘I have more important things on my mind just now than remembering that awful time in Scotland.’
He cocked his head to one side and studied her troubled features. ‘It is two months since then. Are you with child?’ he asked bluntly.
Lydia’s cheeks burned with the frankness of the question. ‘No,’ she uttered sharply. ‘No, I am not, so you can set your mind at rest on that matter. I assure you, Mr Golding, your relief cannot be greater than my own.’
It was exactly the reaction Alex had expected from the proud beauty who had caught his attention in Scotland. ‘I am relieved to hear it,’ he said on a more gentle note, his expression grave as he looked down at her troubled face. ‘And my name is Alex, remember. Considering our previous meeting and what transpired between us, don’t you think it’s ridiculous to call me Mr Golding?’
‘You are right. I did blame you entirely for what happened in Scotland,’ she said quietly. ‘But after much deliberation I’ve come to see things more clearly. The truth is that my actions when I agreed to have supper with you and consented to what happened later were foolish. I behaved like a shameless wanton and I cannot in all honesty blame you for thinking that’s what I was.’
‘And how do you know what I thought?’
His voice across the distance that separated them and the way he was looking at her did strange things to Lydia’s heart. ‘I was certain that was what you felt.’
Alex stepped closer. ‘Then you were wrong. I thought you were not only a lovely young woman, but so refreshingly different from all the other women of my acquaintance.’
‘I—I didn’t know.’
‘The simple fact was that I couldn’t resist you, Lydia. All I could think about was getting you to myself then and there and having you melt in my arms. I did not have the scruples to ignore that ignoble impulse.’ He had wanted her then and he wanted her now—this remained unsaid. It was evidently still there; the bond that had developed between them in Scotland continued to pull them together.
Lydia stared at him. He captured her eyes with his. She was aware of a treacherous warmth slowly beginning to seep through her body.
‘Whatever it is that is troubling you, I’m a good listener if you would like to talk about it.’
She continued to gaze up at him. With his back to the sun his face was all angles and planes and shadows. His expression was firm, his eyes glittering and faintly troubled. ‘Talk? To you?’
‘Why not?’ he murmured, looking down into her huge, clear eyes, which were steady and direct.
‘It isn’t your problem.’
‘Then I’ll make it my problem.’
She looked deep into his eyes. He really did seem disposed to listen.
‘Share it with me, Lydia,’ he persisted gently. ‘Hasn’t anyone told you that a trouble shared is a trouble halved, that two can bear a cross more easily than one?’
Lydia smiled. A softness entered her eyes and a haziness that suggested tears. ‘Yes. My mother—once.’
Alex was relieved to see her smile and her shoulders relax a little. It was a start. ‘So, what is it? I might be able to help.’
Her smile disappeared and she sighed despondently, shaking her head. ‘I don’t think anyone can help me. I’ve just been to the bank to ask the manager for a loan to enable me to open my own dressmaking business and he refused to entertain the idea.’
‘I see. It is not the only bank in London.’
She looked at him frankly. ‘It might as well be. The mere fact that I am a woman is against me.’
He nodded. ‘There is a disparity between the privileges accorded to the sexes—which is unjust, I agree.’
‘I had no idea it would matter so much. Men have such a hold over the world of business. I thought that with the account I have at the bank it would stand as collateral. Before I came here... I—I thought...’ She fell into a momentary silence, her eyes fixed some distance a long way beyond the bustling street.
Alex looked at her in surprise, holding his breath for her to continue. But coming abruptly back to earth, she only said harshly, ‘I beg your pardon. I should not be telling you this. You could not possibly understand.’
‘I understand more than you realise. I have not got to where I am now without my share of pitfalls along the way. When we parted in Scotland I told you that if there was anything I could do to help you I would do so. Do you remember?’
Lydia was stirred despite her earlier hostility by the depth of sincerity in his voice. Silence fell once more between them. Alex stood very still, but it seemed to Lydia that his broad shoulders leaned towards her. She nodded slowly, looking at him with fresh interest and collecting her thoughts. Her mind worked steadily along as practically, logically, an idea formed and enlarged in her brain. From the very beginning she had suspected Alex Golding of being a wealthy man. Suddenly it seemed so simple. Distrustful and very much on her guard against men’s wiles after what had happened in Scotland, such was her need to forge ahead with her plans that she was tempted to find out how much sincerity was in Alex’s words.
‘Just how serious are you about helping me, Alex? Would you lend me the money to start up my business?’
‘I would be happy to talk about it.’ He watched her eyes narrow slightly and he guessed that her quick mind was beginning to understand that he might be about to offer her a way out of her predicament. ‘Do you have premises for the business you wish to open?’
‘I have seen some premises I could rent that would be just perfect for what I want.’
‘That’s a start. I have my coach outside the bank. Why don’t you show me?’
‘I will have to collect the key from the owner first.’
‘That shouldn’t be a problem.’
* * *
Driving away from the bank, they were unaware that they were being observed. Accompanied by her maid, Irene Hilton was in a carriage that stood across the road from the bank. Instantly, she had recognised Alex’s carriage and frowned, her pencilled black brows drawn together like wings, her eyes darting to the occupants and fastening on Alex’s companion.
She had watched closely as he handed the unfamiliar woman into his carriage. Her eyes narrowed and glittered as they followed the other carriage down the street, but not before she had seen how Alex looked at the woman. Her heart leapt in dismay on seeing the warm smile he bestowed on her. Resentful and wishing he would look at her that way, she took refuge in anger, a fierce glint lighting her eyes. With jealousy ripping through her, her face turned an ugly red, then paled as every vestige of blood drained out of it.
She was curious. Who was that woman? The beauty of her face shone out of her and her figure attracted the eye. Going about without a maid told Irene she belonged to the underclasses. But there was something in her face when she looked at Alex, a spark of something between them, a connection that she, Irene, would not countenance, not when she wanted him for herself.
Alex was an attractive man who exuded sex appeal and masculine allurement. These traits were a lethal combination, but when one added his enormous wealth and the power he wielded, it made him irresistible. He had visited her brother in France and she had welcomed him like a lover. But she had got nowhere. He had been polite, with a ready smile and always willing to accompany her with her brother to parties and to dance with her, but he showed her no more attention than he would any other woman.
Now she was back in London and in his company once more, she had high hopes that she would succeed where she had failed in France and she would not allow any upstart to thwart her plans. When Alex’s carriage was about to turn off towards Bond Street, she instructed her driver to follow it.
* * *
They had no difficulty obtaini
ng the key for the premises. Alex crossed the threshold after Lydia, his gaze sweeping round the empty room with a great deal of interest. Lydia could hardly contain her excitement and enthusiasm as she pointed everything out to him. Caught up in her project, she could not stop talking. When she at last fell silent she glanced at him. He was standing perfectly still by the counter, studying her with those strongly marked eyebrows slightly raised. Something in his expression told her he was waiting for her to continue selling herself.
With her hands clasped tightly together at her waist, she moved towards him, an earnest expression on her face as she tried to convince him she knew what she was doing.
‘I know the trade. I’ve been involved in it all my life. I am a good seamstress and I have experience in design. My customers will be middle-class ladies who require practical wear and fashionable ladies who wish to be elegant—and perhaps order the occasional ball gown.’
Alex leaned against the counter, folding his arms in front of him. ‘To be successful it will take a shrewd business head. Do you have reliable connections and where will you buy your fabrics?’
‘I have my sources for the fabrics I shall require—Alistair allowed me to accompany him on occasion, introducing me to the owners and people of note. I will search out other warehouses and factories for what I need and employ people to find what I want further afield—and to keep expenditure low I will buy end of rolls, fabrics that have not sold or are flawed in some way. I know draymen who will deliver the heavy rolls to the shop.’
Alex listened to her carefully. Her knowledge and enthusiasm had him in thrall and, as he listened, he noticed how animated she became, how her eyes shone and her brow wrinkled with displeasure when she thought he wasn’t listening. She wore her determination like chainmail—such was the result of having ambition in a world dominated by men. He laughed lightly and apologised for becoming distracted by her expressive face, but he did not tell her how lovely he thought her eyes were. He promised he would give her his undivided attention.
Carrying the Gentleman's Secret Page 9
