Ben was obviously having difficulty with his habitual self-control.
'In words of one syllable, Verity, now that Gussie's someone else's wife she's no longer any concern of mine except as a friend. The silly incident you witnessed was one isolated happening which will never occur again, believe me. Other men's wives are not my scene, I assure you.' He shook his head in wonder. 'Hell's bells, is it always such hard work to get a date with you? You must have very hardy men-friends.'
'I believe in cards on the table,' said Verity tartly. She shot a penetrating look at his set face. 'Can you deny you still feel something for her?'
'No,' he said reluctantly. 'I was very fond of Gussie when I was young, I'll admit. But it's different now. We're—'
'Just good friends!'
'Do I have to renounce all other women before I merit your company?' he asked with sarcasm, 'or are you satisfied now?'
Verity looked at him levelly. 'You've got the wrong end of the stick. You and Gussie can do what you like as long as I'm not involved.'
'I'm fast coming to the conclusion your company at dinner is just not worth the aggro, Miss Marsh,' Ben said wearily.
'I thought we'd progressed to first names,' she pointed out.
'Funny you should say that. So did I.' He gave her a formal, unsmiling nod. 'Goodbye. No doubt we'll run into each other some time.'
Verity chewed her bottom lip pensively as Ben Dysart strode down the garden, then she shrugged philosophically and went indoors, not really sorry to be staying in. There was nothing restful about the man, and she felt tired after every encounter with him. Niall's company was infinitely less demanding. Nevertheless, when Niall rang up later suggesting they went out for a drink Verity pleaded fatigue and went to bed early, feeling vaguely dissatisfied with life.
Monday was odd. After resenting Ben's presence in her office all the previous week Verity now found she missed it. She was out a great deal during the rest of the week, which helped, and only saw Ben once in passing. He greeted her courteously, a polite stranger again, and went on his way. Verity was relieved, she thought. In the evenings she played tennis and read quite a lot in bed, where she retired early every night. Niall was one of her tennis partners, as was Jim Hayward, a young accountant with a punishing forehand and a zany sense of humour, but Verity found she had no inclination to linger over a drink afterwards, pleading pressure of work and the need for beauty sleep.
Towards the end of the week her Mini refused to start at the end of a very hectic day. After several abortive attempts Verity locked the car in frustration, looking up quickly at a light touch on her shoulder. Ben stood looking at her in polite enquiry.
'Problems?' he asked pleasantly.
Verity nodded ruefully. 'Dead as a doornail.'
He held a hand out for the keys and got in the Mini. When he turned on the ignition he got the same response as Verity, a mere lethargic drone or two from the engine. Ben glanced at the dashboard and raised an eyebrow.
'Your lights are on. When did you use the car last?'
Verity felt two inches high. Her colour rose. 'When I came in this morning—I haven't been out since. I suppose I just didn't notice in this bright sunshine.'
Ben gave her rather a supercilious grin and went over to the Morgan, but came back with an impatient frown.
'I forgot. Mother borrowed my jump leads yesterday and still has them. The best thing I can suggest is that I take your battery home with me and recharge, it overnight. I'll bring it back in the morning—'
'Oh, but I couldn't put you to the trouble,' began Verity at once, more embarrassed by the minute.
'No trouble,' said Ben shortly, and within minutes the offending battery was removed from under the Mini's bonnet and placed in the Morgan.
'I'm most grateful,' said Verity with an effort, very put out at being obligated to Ben Dysart, of all people. 'I could have had someone come from a garage in the morning.'
'Pretty pointless when I can do it just as easily—and for a much smaller fee,' Ben said, poker-faced as usual.
'Smaller fee?' Verity wasn't keen on the sound of that. 'What exactly had you in mind?'
'I thought perhaps we could actually achieve that meal together—minus all the debate this time,' he added casually.
Verity smiled politely. 'How can I refuse?'
'Tonight?'
She shook her head. 'No. I'm afraid not. I'm going out.'
'Tomorrow, then,' he said with finality.
'Yes, fine. Tomorrow.' Verity was unprepared for the peremptory hand on her elbow that propelled her towards the Morgan.
'I'll run you home.' Something in the way Ben said it made Verity get in without a word. The silence continued all the way home. It hardly augured well for the success of an evening out together, and Verity cursed her own carelessness for leaving her lights on. The strap of her handbag must have caught in the switch, she could think of no other explanation. It was a relief to arrive home, and Verity thanked Ben formally and rather distantly for his help as she got out.
'I'll pick you up at half-seven tomorrow,' he said, and raised a hand in farewell as he drove off.
Niall Gordon had obviously come to the erroneous conclusion that he had sole copyright on Verity's spare time. He looked taken aback, then distinctly annoyed that evening after the cinema when Verity told him she was booked for Friday night.
'Booked? What do you mean?' he demanded indignantly. 'We always go out together at weekends.'
'There's no hard and fast rule about it, Niall.' Verity was by no means pleased at his tone.
He tossed back the remainder of his drink and stood up. 'I was rather under the impression there was. Shall we go?'
They left the wine bar in silence and walked quickly down Sheep Street to the car. Niall opened the door for her frostily and drove off with something less than his usual care.
'Am I allowed to ask who stole a march on me?' he asked with dignity.
'Ben Dysart.'
'Oh I see.' Niall scowled ahead of him like a sulky schoolboy. 'Big guns, Verity—out of my league. No wonder I lost out.'
'Oh for heaven's sake!' Verity lost her patience. 'I'm merely having a meal with the man. I could hardly refuse, he's recharging my car battery.'
'Oh yes,' he sneered. 'I bet that's not all he wants in return, from what I hear.'
Verity had had enough. When Niall stopped the car outside her gate she jumped out at once. 'Good night, Niall. Thank you for taking me to the cinema, but I won't ask you in, you're obviously in no mood to be rational.'
'No, I'm not!' He glared at her through the open window. 'Perhaps we'd better forget Saturday night, too.'
'Perhaps we had.' Verity smiled coldly and shut her garden gate behind her with a decisive click, walking away quickly with head high.
She walked to the office fairly early next morning and had been at her desk an hour or so when Ben Dysart tapped on her door.
'Good morning. If you'll let me have your keys I'll start your car up once I've put the battery back—it's fully charged now.' He held out his hand.
Verity took the keys from her bag and handed them over.
'I could easily do that myself,' she pointed out.
'No doubt. But I'm more easily spared than you are.' He smiled briefly. 'I'll report in a few minutes.'
In Ben's absence Verity asked one of the juniors for two coffees, and was able to offer a freshly-made cup to him when he returned. Ben looked surprised, but thanked her, sitting on a corner of her desk to drink it. He tossed the car keys to her.
'Your Mini started up first time,' he said. 'Why were you driving with lights in this weather?'
'I wasn't. Something must have caught in the switch, and I wouldn't have seen they were on in this sunshine.' She smiled politely. 'It's wonderful weather, isn't it? I keep feeling it must break.'
'Progress indeed,' he remarked with a chuckle. 'If we can actually discuss the weather things are looking up!'
'Perhaps we ought to make
a new start,' said Verity impulsively, then bit her lip, frowning, wondering if her words were misleading.
Ben's hard features held a look of amusement as he stood up. 'Don't stop to think twice about everything you say, Verity. Your candour is one of your greatest charms.'
Verity fluttered her eyelashes coyly. 'Compliments, Mr Dysart? You're spoiling me!'
He grinned and opened the door. 'See you tonight— be ready.'
Verity shook her head in amusement and got on with business of the day.
With no idea where Ben was likely to take her Verity was undecided what to wear. She arrived home in good time for a leisurely bath, and a chat with Jenny while she was getting ready.
'The faithful Niall, I presume?' Jenny was lolling on Verity's bed watching her do her face.
'No, not tonight. I'm having dinner with Ben Dysart,' said Verity casually, her attention on the mascara wand she was flicking at her eyelashes.
Jenny raised her eyebrows. 'Your gamekeeper? It should be a more interesting evening than the usual thing with Niall, anyway.'
Verity turned in surprise. 'Don't you like Niall, Jen?'
The other girl shrugged. 'He's all right. I have a nasty suspicious mind, that's all.'
'You mean he's got a few of us on the go simultaneously?'
'Not him! Too expensive.' Jenny smiled scornfully. 'No. I just think Niall's on to a good thing, that's all. A girl with a very good job, a car and a house of her own in a very desirable part of Stratford—what more could an ambitious young man want?'
Verity turned away thoughtfully. 'You think my possessions are the main attraction then?' she said slowly.
Jenny was instantly remorseful. 'No, of course not, Vee. But they're no disadvantage either. If you're dithering about what to wear,' she added, 'my vote goes to that one.' She pointed to one of the three dresses hanging outside Verity's wardrobe.
From the look on Ben Dysart's face, when he appeared on the stroke of seven-thirty, Jenny had been right. The dress was knitted in cobweb fine yarn in edible shades of honey and cream and chocolate, sleeveless and V-necked, with a slim skirt that fluted a little towards the hem. Simple and understated as a sweater, the dress had cost Verity a pretty price, but was worth every penny as a standby for special occasions. Unaware until that moment that she considered this evening as special Verity gave a friendly smile of welcome to Ben, who was dressed in his habitually conservative fashion, in fawn trousers and cream shirt, with a fawn cashmere sweater knotted round his shoulders by the sleeves.
'You look very attractive, Miss Marsh.' He returned her smile and glanced at his watch. 'Punctual too.'
'I hardly dared be anything else—I was Verity this morning,' she added.
'And shall be tonight then. I thought it best not to be too familiar,' he said with a straight face. 'I'm straining every sinew in an effort to remain in your good graces.'
Verity laughed, suddenly very much at ease as they drove off. The constraint that always seemed to lie in wait when they were together was missing this evening, and they talked without effort on a diversity of subjects while they ate a very good meal in a country pub not far from Broadway, Ben obviously well known to the landlord and all the staff. Verity refused offers of steak au poivre and chicken Marengo in favour of a selection from the cold buffet, thoroughly enjoying succulent rare roast beef and game pie, accompanied by an imaginative salad. Ben chose the same dishes, augmenting his plate with home-baked ham and a slice of turkey, but refusing the syllabub that Verity found impossible to resist for pudding.
'I like to see a woman eat properly,' he said lazily, as they lingered over coffee and brandy.
Verity twirled the Remy Martin in her bubble-shaped glass, her lips twitching.
'When my appetite showed signs of flagging my mother hauled me off to our doctor immediately, which gives you a general idea of my eating habits. I have to be in pretty dire straits to go off food.'
'An engine needs fuel to keep running, and you drive yourself pretty hard.' Ben leaned back in his chair, smiling. 'Not that it seems to affect the trimness of the chassis, to continue the theme.'
Verity grinned. 'I'm tall. The calories have a fair distance to cover before they make very much impression.'
He stood up and held out his hand. 'Let's go back to our window seat in the other room.'
'Someone's sitting there,' said Verity, as they dodged their way through the crowded room, but to her surprise the young couple rose at their approach and surrendered their seats, the boy giving Ben a conspiratorial wink as he passed.
'Son of the landlord.' Ben looked smug at the look of surprise on Verity's face. 'I paid for a couple of drinks for young Sam and the girlfriend and he kept our seats warm.'
He looked very pleased with himself, his face so much younger when it was relaxed. Verity asked curiously, 'How old are you, Ben?'
'Thirty-two—how old are you?'
'Twenty-six,' she answered absently, secretly surprised. She had thought him much older.
'You obviously thought I was forty-two,' he bantered.
'No. But I did guess a bit more than you said,' said Verity honestly.
'We men don't resort to artifice to disguise the march of time,' he said quizzically. 'A man has to accept age as it comes, warts and all.'
'Oh I don't know—one only has to watch television to see make-up and hairdye in abundance on members of your sex, Mr Dysart!'
'For God's sake stick to Ben!'
'I was only joking,' said Verity gently.
'Yes, of course. Sorry. What may I offer you to drink?'
Verity shook her head regretfully. 'After Martinis, wine and brandy, I think I'd be pushing my luck if I had anything else.' She looked at him reprovingly. 'You drank far less than me.'
'Not much option, ma'am, I'm driving.'
'Next time I'll drive—' Verity stopped short, colouring painfully at the careless assumption in her words.
Ben leaned across and touched her hand fleetingly. 'Thank you. When do you suggest "next time" should be?'
Verity smiled at him ruefully. 'What good manners you have. You're not obliged to take me out again just because I spoke without thinking.'
'I'm not taking you out—you're taking me!' He laughed, a sudden cajoling look in his black eyes. 'I suppose it would be asking too much to wonder if you're free tomorrow night?'
Verity gave a crooked little smile. 'No. As it happens you wouldn't.'
Ben gave her a sharp look, his black brows drawn together. 'Young Mr Gordon away?'
She shook her head. 'I don't think so.'
'A rift in the lute? Genuine interest, I might add, not idle curiosity,' he added quietly.
'I suppose you could put it like that. To be more precise I think we rather got our lines crossed about the exact nature of our relationship. On my part it was just friendship—on Niall's, well, he seemed to consider it a lead up to something more. A lack of communication somewhere—probably entirely my fault.'
'One can hardly blame him, Verity,' Ben said reasonably. 'You're physically attractive, good at your job, you have a home of your own, I gather—'
'Who told you that?'
He made a face at her. 'I hate to bring up her name, but it was Gussie. I would hardly have had the effrontery to walk into your house last night if you'd had an angry father and a couple of large brothers!'
Verity gave him a look of prim disapproval. 'But you had no conscience about terrifying a poor defenceless female?'
Ben had the grace to look a little uncomfortable. 'Put like that it does sound a bit grim, but in extenuation all I can say is that I acted on the spur of the moment when I found the house empty and a door conveniently open. I humbly apologise once more, Verity.'
He was obviously taken aback by the smile of mischief she turned on him.
'Actually, the house wasn't empty!' she informed him.
Ben looked thunderstruck, dark colour rising along his cheekbones.
'You had someone staying w
ith you?'
'I always do. Gussie forbore to mention that I have paying guests!'
'Good God! Did we—did I, I mean did they hear ?'
'Yes,' said Verity unkindly, enjoying his flounderings hugely. 'Both my paying guests are female, by the way; Jenny's a nurse and she was working that night, but Henrietta's an aspiring young actress with the RSC, and we woke her with our little clash. She crept out on the landing, quivering with fright, to see you and me in, well—'
'Impassioned embrace,' Ben said matter of factly.
'As you say.' Verity's lips twitched. 'She was undecided whether you were breaking and entering, but I think your costume rather scotched that. Then she was worried that you had rape in mind, but in that case thought I might be annoyed if she interfered—so she went back to bed.'
Ben's sudden crack of laughter broke through even the hubbub of the busy lounge bar on a Friday night.
Several faces turned in amusement, and he quietened down immediately.
'She had no idea of coming to your aid, then,' he said, chuckling.
'Henrietta weighs about seven stone and looks as though a puff of wind could blow her away, so I think she did the sensible thing.' Verity's eyes danced. 'I'm a big strong girl, after all.'
Ben shook his head. 'Not all that much, Verity. If your friend's suspicions had been correct there would have been little you could have done to prevent me—or any other male with rape on his mind.'
Verity realised Ben was deadly serious and thought that one over. 'It's a good thing your intentions were quite different, then.'
'I don't think my intentions would have borne scrutiny for a few moments there last night, but luckily common sense took over before I made a complete fool of myself.' His eyes held hers intently, and Verity flushed.
'I think we should forget all about it,' she said lightly, glad when he rose to his feet.
'If we're not going to drink anything else perhaps we should give way to someone who is,' he suggested. 'Shall we go?'
They talked on less emotive subjects on the way home, Verity wondering if she should ask Ben in when they arrived. Ben left the car idling when they drew up outside, obviously not expecting to be invited in, so Verity thanked him with sincerity for a very enjoyable evening and prepared to get out.
Desirable Property Page 7
