by Lucy Gordon;Sarah Morgan;Robyn Donald;Lucy Monroe;Lee Wilkinson;Kate Walker
‘I’d understood your fiancée would be here?’
‘While I was away Melinda found the country too quiet for her. She’s been spending her time between Manchester and London, shopping for her trousseau.
‘She was planning to drive from town and get here mid-afternoon. But, as you’ve probably noticed yourself, she’s invariably late.’ His little smile was tolerant.
Stretching long legs, he added idly, ‘You’ve met her several times. What did you think of her?’
‘She’s beautiful.’
‘Did you like her?’
Melinda had been open, friendly and vivacious, and, in spite of her apparent lack of principles, Fran had found it impossible to dislike her.
Now she answered honestly, ‘Yes, I did.’
‘Most people do. As far as men go, that’s understandable, but women usually get on well with her. Which surprised me at first, until I realised that though she has her faults she isn’t bitchy. Unlike Sherrye…’
Sherrye…
Fran still reacted to that name with a feeling of dread and bitter shame. Though it had been three years ago, that ugly and degrading little scene was still fresh in her mind.
The usual Monday morning meeting had started, but for once her mind hadn’t been on the business in hand. Gloriously happy, secure in the knowledge that Blaze loved and wanted her, her thoughts had gone back to the previous night.
‘I have to go to Hong Kong Monday evening,’ he’d told her regretfully. ‘But I’ll be back on Friday, and we’ll enjoy a quiet few days in the Cotswolds.’
Smiling to herself, Fran was anticipating all the pleasure in store when the double doors of the conference room were flung open and a tall, strikingly beautiful woman with black hair and a vermilion mouth stormed in.
Ignoring the rest of the people grouped round the long table, she singled Fran out and hurled a string of abuse at her, calling her names that made her cheeks burn.
Taken aback by the suddenness of the attack, from a women she had never met and of whose existence she had been completely unaware, Fran sat flushed and mute while the shrill voice ranted on.
‘Believe me, I’ve no intention of letting some two-bit nobody try to steal my fiancé while my back’s turned. I know he took you to Paris for the weekend, but don’t think for one goddamned minute he’s serious about you. He’s just been having a fling…
‘See this?’ She thrust a huge diamond solitaire under Fran’s nose. ‘Blaze is mine, and now I’ve joined him he won’t want you hanging around…Do I make myself clear?’
Turning on her heel, she said over her shoulder, ‘If you’ve got any sense you’ll go now, and save him the trouble of having to get rid of you…’
Hips swaying, she walked away, leaving a stunned silence behind her.
‘Who the hell was that?’ one of the startled analysts asked.
His neighbour, Don Rogers, apparently better informed than the rest, answered, ‘Sherrye Kaufmann. Our new boss’s fiancée, would you believe? I bumped into them a couple of times when I was in New York earlier this year.’
‘She seems to be a first-class bitch.’
‘If you knew Rawdon as well as I do, you’d keep opinions like that to yourself,’ Don warned.
‘Now he’s in charge, if you get on the wrong side of either him or Miss Kaufmann you may find your position here becomes intolerable.’
With that reminder, all eyes turned to the remaining protagonist, who was still sitting shocked and dazed.
Becoming aware that she was now the focus of attention, Fran glanced around to find her peers were judging her.
Some were surprised, some curious, one or two—including her own PA—were sympathetic; the remainder were frankly condemning. She had caused her immediate boss and the company as a whole trouble and embarrassment, not only by her actions but by being so publicly humiliated.
Gathering together the reports that lay on the table in front of her, she pushed back her chair and rose to her feet, a slim, businesslike figure in a navy blue suit and white blouse.
Shoulders squared, chin held high, addressing her own departmental head, she said steadily, ‘Please accept both my apologies and my resignation.’
She made her way from the room, the imposing double doors clicking to quietly behind her, and, looking neither to right nor left, returned to her office.
Having placed the reports neatly on the desk, she was gathering up her coat and personal belongings when her PA hurried in.
Over the past couple of years the two women had become friends, and, clearly distressed, Joanna burst out, ‘I could kill that two-timing swine—and his fiancée…’
Fran, unable to speak, gave the other woman a quick hug.
Crossing the main lobby for the last time, heels clicking on the tiles, she passed Sherrye Kaufmann, whose dark, glittering glance held undisguised triumph.
Then, in a state of shock, feeling no pain yet, she walked away from friends and colleagues; from a hard-won job she had enjoyed and been good at; from a man she had trusted and given her heart to.
It seemed her mother had been only too right when she’d preached the doctrine that men were deceivers and women fools to trust them…
‘I dare say you remember Sherrye?’ Blaze’s question broke into her bleak thoughts.
‘How could I forget her?’ Fran answered wryly, and, knowing he must have had a full account of what had taken place, felt her colour rise.
‘Do you still hate her?’
‘I never did.’ Oddly enough it was the truth.
‘You had every right to. Her outrageous behaviour cost you your job.’
‘My own stupidity did that,’ Fran said crisply.
Dark grey eyes on her half-averted face, he pursued, ‘So you didn’t blame her?’
Full of shame and guilt, of self-reproach and bitter regret at her own culpability, Fran had set the burden of blame squarely on her own shoulders.
‘On the contrary. When I thought about it I felt sorry for her.’
‘Sorry for her?’ Blaze sounded staggered.
Turning towards him, she said flatly, ‘For loving a man who, as soon as his fiancée’s back was turned, was more than willing to seduce any woman who came along.’
Despite her attempt to speak dispassionately, her anger and disillusionment at his perfidy came through.
His attractive face hardened. ‘Now there you’re wrong—on all counts. Firstly, you weren’t just any woman, as I would have told you at the time had you stopped to listen. Secondly, Sherrye loved my money and the lifestyle I could offer her. Never me. Thirdly, our engagement was ended before I left the States. Otherwise she would have travelled with me.’
‘Ended?’
‘When we first became engaged I warned her that I wouldn’t stand for her sleeping around. One afternoon I walked in unexpectedly and caught her in bed with the houseboy. I ordered her to take her things and get out. Though she cried, swore such a thing would never happen again and begged me to change my mind, as far as I was concerned the whole thing was over.’
‘She was still wearing your ring.’
‘I told her to keep it.’ With a twisted smile, he added, ‘A kind of payment for services rendered. She didn’t think it was enough, and threatened to sue me. I invited her to go ahead. Knowing there was no way she could win, she waited for a while, hoping I’d cool off, before following me to England to try to persuade me to take her back.
‘The scene she kicked up in the boardroom was almost certainly caused partly by anger and jealousy at the thought that she’d been replaced, and partly in the hope of driving you away. When she succeeded she must have been cocka-hoop; she certainly looked it when she arrived at my flat. Finding I was just about to start for the airport, she offered to go to Hong Kong with me.
‘I knew she meant trouble, so I told her in no uncertain terms to get out of my life and stay out.
‘Unfortunately, though I didn’t know it then, the damage was alre
ady done…
‘It wasn’t until I got back from my trip and had a word with your PA that I discovered what had happened. I went straight round to your flat. Your landlord said you’d moved out the previous day and left no forwarding address.
‘I tried to find you, but obviously I looked in the wrong places.’
An iron band tightened round Fran’s ribs, restricting her breathing. Was it possible he’d cared?
In a strangled voice, she asked, ‘Why did you try to find me?’
‘Why do you think?’
She shook her head mutely.
‘Perhaps I didn’t like the idea of being misjudged,’ he said mockingly. Then, with an abrupt change of subject, ‘What do you know about Varley’s affairs?’
‘Affairs?’ She was startled, and showed it.
‘I meant business affairs.’
‘Why n-nothing,’ she stammered.
‘You don’t mean to tell me you weren’t aware that the firm’s on the verge of bankruptcy?’
‘Bankruptcy? I don’t believe it! I’m sure it’s nothing of the kind.’ But, even as Fran strenuously denied the charge, she recalled Kirk saying, ‘Trade hasn’t been up to much for the past year or so…’
His face stern, Blaze went on relentlessly, ‘The business has been going steadily downhill ever since the old man died and his son took over. For one thing, Varley’s no businessman, and for another, he’s a great deal too fond of the good life.’
Catching a glimpse of Fran’s expression, Blaze suggested drily, ‘You think that’s an instance of the pot calling the kettle black?’
‘Isn’t it?’
He grinned briefly. ‘The difference is, the pot can afford it; the kettle can’t. Varley tried gambling to help finance his more expensive tastes—’
‘Gambling?’ She was horrified.
‘It proved to be a big mistake. He began to mix with an unsavoury crowd, people on the fringes of the underworld…’
Fran shook her head, not wanting to believe it. Refusing to believe it.
But Blaze continued regardless, ‘He’s run up massive debts, both business and private, with damn-all assets.’
‘There’s the stock.’ Even as she spoke she recalled Kirk explaining to the staff that because of the slump in trade he was keeping stock to a minimum.
‘A drop in the ocean compared to what he owes,’ Blaze said dismissively.
She battled on. ‘He has a luxurious apartment.’
‘Which is mortgaged up to the hilt.’
Her mouth dry, she demanded, ‘How do you know all this?’
‘Before I agreed to let Varleys redesign the necklace I hired Ritters Detective Agency to check the firm out. A report came back that the business was an old-established family concern with a reputation for absolute soundness and integrity. It was only later, when I was alerted by a chance remark made by one of my financial advisors, that I instructed the agency to dig deeper.
‘Varley had been both clever and careful, and it took them some time to uncover the true state of affairs. Even when they did there was a slip-up, and I didn’t get the information until a couple of days ago.’
Struggling to take in what she’d just heard, Fran muttered dazedly, ‘I just can’t believe it. There must be some mistake.’
‘There’s no mistake.’
She tried not to be shaken by his absolute certainty. ‘But even if what you say is true, and I’m quite sure it isn’t, what difference can it make? To you, I mean…’
‘My dear Francesca, I’ve always given you credit for being an intelligent woman.’
‘I don’t know what you’re getting at.’
He laughed, with a gleam of white healthy teeth. ‘I must congratulate you.’
Genuinely bewildered, she echoed, ‘Congratulate me? On what?’
‘On your acting ability. Did your college curriculum include drama lessons?’
‘I really don’t know what you mean,’ she said stiffly.
‘I mean Varley would be proud of you…And, speaking of Varley, don’t you think it’s odd that he hasn’t turned up yet? You’ve been here for quite a while.’
‘Surely it depends on what delayed him?’
‘He hasn’t even phoned.’
‘He may not have had the chance.’
Blaze sketched an ironic salute. ‘You’re also very loyal, and though I think your loyalty is misplaced, I admire you for it.’
‘You’re much too kind,’ she said drily.
‘And you’re much too sassy.’ His tone held a hint of steel, his words a veiled threat that made her wish she’d kept quiet.
Oh, where on earth was Kirk? she wondered with something close to desperation. If only he’d come…
Rising to his feet, tall and dark and formidable, a force to be reckoned with, Blaze suggested, ‘Suppose we take a stroll? Stretch our legs before dinner?’ His tone was now pleasantly neutral.
Rather than taking a stroll with him, she would have preferred to escape from his disturbing presence and be alone.
So much had happened that she felt almost giddy with the strain of trying to keep abreast of things. She longed for time to evaluate and hopefully disprove Blaze’s allegations that Kirk was on the verge of bankruptcy, to dismiss all this ridiculous talk of gambling and the underworld…
She wanted a chance to think, to put into perspective what she’d learnt about his engagement to Sherrye, to reflect on how different her own future might have been had she stood her ground instead of running…
But, perhaps most of all, she needed to try and make sense of her host’s enigmatic behaviour, and the strange undercurrents she could sense…
Becoming aware that he was watching her face and waiting, and knowing she could hardly tell him the truth, she hurriedly sought for a convincing reason not to go.
‘I think I’d sooner rest quietly in my room. When my bag was snatched I scraped my knees, and they’re starting to feel stiff…’
Blaze’s wry expression suggested he knew an excuse when he heard one.
‘Let me see.’ He went down on his haunches by her chair, and before she could object brushed aside her skirt. ‘Dear, dear…’ Studying the grazes on her smooth, shapely knees, he tutted.
Then, head tilted back, he glanced up at her and, his eyes gleaming between thick, dark lashes, announced with mock gravity, ‘However, I don’t think your injuries are serious enough to prevent you taking a walk.’
Straightening up, too close for comfort, he offered her a hand, adding, ‘In fact a bit of exercise might loosen things up, do you a world of good.’
Biting her lip in vexation, but seeing nothing for it, she took the proffered hand and tried not to shiver at the tingle his touch caused as he pulled her to her feet.
Reluctantly, and in silence, she was following him across the terrace when a young maid appeared to clear away the tea things.
Blaze paused. ‘Oh, Hannah,’ he said pleasantly, ‘will you ask Cook to hold dinner until I give the word?’
The girl made a little bob.
Turning to Fran, his smile quizzical, he added, ‘Must allow the missing pair every chance to get here, don’t you think?’
His hand at her waist, he escorted her down a shallow flight of stone steps and across the driveway. A moment later they were walking on smoothly shaven green lawns.
The sun was low on the horizon, its oblique rays making the trees cast long, dark shadows, but the early evening air was still golden and balmy. A warm breeze played with the ends of Fran’s scarf and ruffled Blaze’s dark hair, making him look even more attractive.
‘Shall we head for the lake?’ he asked.
‘Whatever you say.’
Grey eyes amused, he murmured, ‘I do like a tractable woman.’
Fran spoke without thinking. ‘Nice as she is, from what I’ve seen of her, I wouldn’t put Miss Ross in that category.’
‘And you would be quite right,’ he agreed smoothly. ‘Melinda has a will of her own a
nd a very clear idea of what she wants.’
‘And you don’t find that a handicap?’
Smiling a little at the irony, he answered cheerfully, ‘On the contrary. A wife who is too compliant would be a bore. I wanted a woman who was compatible, and basically good-tempered, but with enough spice to make life interesting.’
‘It sounds as though you chose with your head rather than your heart,’ she observed.
‘Anyone who doesn’t is a fool.’
‘Then you’ve never been in love?’
His expression sardonic, he said, ‘Oh, yes, I have. But I don’t believe that love necessarily makes for a happy marriage…’
Remembering what he’d told her about his parents’ marriage, she wasn’t surprised.
‘Or lack of love, an unhappy one,’ he added with an air of finality.
She chose her words with care. ‘So you would be happy to marry without love if all the other factors were present?’
‘It makes more sense than marrying for love when they’re not.’
‘You wouldn’t wait and hope to find both?’
‘That would be the ideal, of course, but it happens so rarely.’ His face grew sombre. ‘And then it doesn’t always work out. In my considered opinion, love is best left out of the equation.’
‘Suppose your chosen partner didn’t feel the same?’
‘One-sided loving, you mean? To be steered clear of at all costs! It unbalances a relationship and can only cause trouble when one partner wants more than the other can give. If both partners go into marriage with a set of clearly defined rules and no emotional hang-ups,’ he went on briskly, ‘it’s much more likely to succeed.’
His words only confirmed what Melinda had already made plain: that their forthcoming marriage was in the nature of a carefully planned merger.
With a little shiver, Fran objected, ‘It sounds too much like some kind of business deal.’
‘And why not? Why shouldn’t I plan my marriage with as much care as I plan my business deals? As I make many deals, and I only intend to get married once, it’s a great deal more important.’
How could a man she knew was quite capable of being warm and romantic act this way? ‘It just seems so…so cold and unfeeling.’
