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Page 6
'Shall we go too?' she suggested, and received quite a loving smile from Rod that she had read his mind.
They said their goodbyes to the couple they were with, and meeting their host and hostess in the hall, were able to give their thanks for a splendid party without the need to go and look for them. Then, with Rod waiting at the foot of the stairs, Sorrel went up to the bedroom where she had left her wrap.
Though if she had hoped to leave the party without being embroiled in a scene with Cynthia Armitage, the moment Sorrel entered the bedroom and saw her there holding court with two other women, she knew that her luck had just run out.
Cynthia's face went livid the moment she saw her, and all Sorrel's hopes of retrieving her wrap and of leaving without a word being exchanged went up in smoke as, 'My God—you!' her ex-employer screeched.
She then seemed lost for words, but it was for only a second that peace reigned. For as Sorrel had known she would, she welcomed an audience and was soon laying her tongue to every name she could, while the two other women looked on. Her vindictiveness knew no limits that a mere nanny should be moving in the same exalted circles as herself, as she went on to regale her listeners with the story of how 'this conniving bitch had conned her beloved father into leaving her money in his will.'
'Every last rag she has on her back has been bought with money that should be mine,' she ranted on, her spiteful eyes making a meal of Sorrel's amber dress.
Nowhere near as calm as she was trying to appear, Sorrel spotted her stole and caught hold of it. She was sorely tempted, as anger hit, to tell Cynthia Armitage a few home truths. Her friends might be wearing a different look on their faces were she to tell them that Cynthia had been so ashamed of her father and his dropped aitches that if she could have found an easier way to wheedle money to constantly top up her bank account, then no way would she have lived under his roof.
But she restrained the impulse, turning her back on the small satisfaction that would have been hers to reveal how Cynthia would have left her father to starve the sooner to get her hands on her inheritance. That it had been she who had tried to tempt his appetite in those last months of his life, not his daughter. Sorrel turned her back on Cynthia too, who hadn't finished telling yet about how her poor dear darling father had been sucked up to… As quietly as she had entered, Sorrel left the room.
Rod, without knowing it, was a calming influence on the way home. For since he knew nothing of what had gone on upstairs, his conversation was on matters away from the party. Not that Sorrel could put that scene from her mind so completely, and she was only half with Rod as part of her went on to wonder if it would have been better to have stayed and, nauseating though it would be, had a slanging match with Cynthia Armitage. It was obvious that Cynthia's venom had not lessened. And the fact that she had walked out and frustrated any further attempt to belittle her in front of people had left Cynthia with still plenty to say should they ever meet at some other party.
Half wishing then that she had stayed to let Cynthia get all the spite out of her system, Sorrel came away from her thoughts to see that they had reached her flat. And it was only when Rod escorted her into her apartment building and she felt his arm come around her shoulders that she saw that she should have been spending that time on the car ride home in sorting through for the best way to tell him that this was the last time she was going to see him.
Going up in the lift afforded barely any time for her to get her thoughts together, and they were at the door of her flat when, before she could so much as get the first word out, Rod was forestalling her by suddenly saying:
'I'm glad you wanted to leave the party when I did.'
An ominous feeling started to creep over her that, from the tense look of him, she had left what she had to say to him a little too late!
'It was a—good party, wasn't it,' she said, hoping she was wrong with the suspicion that had just come to her, for never had she seen him looking so intent, so serious.
'I wanted to bring you home early so that you wouldn't be too tired to listen to what I have to tell you—to ask you,' he said, to her despair.
'Rod, I…' she began, trying to head him off. But Rod, she was to hear, was not to be headed off.
'You must know that I love you,' he went on. And while something inside her froze that she was going to have to hurt him, he was continuing quickly, 'Do I get to come in so that I can ask you to marry me?'
'Rod…' Helplessly Sorrel paused, but her expression was telling him more than she knew. For his face had fallen before quietly, she could get to tell him, 'Rod, I'm—sorry.'
There was no need now to tell him that she was not going to see him again, because although he tried to deny the answer he could see in her eyes, in that quiet 'I'm sorry' he just had to know that there was no future for the two of them together.
'Don't say anything,' he told her in a sudden rush. 'Think about it for a while. You might like the idea once you get used to it,' he pressed hurriedly. But Sorrel was shaking her head.
'I can't marry you,' she said gently. And since there was no way she could take the sting out of her next words, 'I'm sorry,' she said again. 'I like you so very much, Rod, but I don't love you.'
'You might learn to love…' he tried, but again she was shaking her head.
'I won't, Rod,' she said, with such certainty in her voice that he sucked in a short breath, then asked:
'Are you in love with somebody else?'
Caught out, Sorrel might admit to herself where her heart lay, but pride demanded that no one else knew of her unrequited love.
'No, I'm in love with no one,' she lied.
'Then marry me,' he urged promptly. 'We get on well, and…'
'No, Rod,' she cut him off. And because it was true, honestly, she told him, 'I don't want to marry anyone.'
It was the honesty in her eyes that came with what she had just said that seemed to convince him he was banging his head against a brick wall. But Sorrel felt sad when, without saying another word, he just bent his head and saluted her cheek with a kiss, and not in a mind to wait for the lift, went quickly towards the stairs.
Sorrel watched him until he had gone from her sight, not inserting the key into her door until she had heard the outer door lock behind him. To her, just then, it seemed less of a harsh dismissal if she waited until he was clear of the building before she closed her flat door on him.
But, her heart was heavy as she realised that, although she had not set out to deliberately hurt him, hurt him she had—but the hurt left her the moment she had the door of her flat open. For a sound to the left of her, just before she crossed her threshold, made her turn her head, her eyes going enormous to see, stepping from around the corner where he had been hidden, none other than—Ellis Galbraith!
Gaping, incapable of speech, so great was her shock that Ellis had actually pushed her inside her flat and come in with her before she had recovered sufficiently to decide to write to whoever it was one wrote to about the security, or rather the lack of it, in the building, she scarcely had enough wind to blaze:
'How did you get in?'
That she was going to have to whistle for her answer became plain, as, not one iota put out that she appeared ready to physically throw him out, Ellis smiled a smile she had no belief in, as he murmured:
'So friend Drury is out of luck!' And while she was gaping afresh that not only had he, by the sound of it, unashamedly listened and heard every word of Rod's proposal—and his being turned down—as cool as you like, Ellis's mouth quirked again, though more naturally this time as he asked, 'Going to make me a cup of coffee?'
'Coffee!' she repeated, her eyes going wide at the sheer audacity of him. 'Like hell I'll make you coffee!' she added as she started to recover. And at his look that said 'Now is that nice?' all her instincts of self-preservation rose to the surface as though to try and contradict how alive she felt just to have him there. 'It's late, and I'm tired,' she told him snappily.
Briefly
her disquiet began to fade when it looked as though Ellis was going to heed her not too subtle hint that he should leave. 'All right,' he said, a resigned look coming to his features. But her relief was shortlived. For he turned from her, but not towards the outer door. 'I'll make it,' he said, and was already heading to where her kitchen lay. 'Would you like one?' he thought to ask.
On the one hand wanting to thump him for his sheer unmitigated nerve, in spite of herself Sorrel's sense of humour decided at that moment to come out of hiding. She tried hard to stay cross with him, and was sure she didn't like him very much when, just as her mouth picked up at the corners, he turned back again.
Not wanting him to see any lingering traces of the Sorrel she had been who had been ready to laugh at the smallest crack he made, she moved to turn away. , 'I don't take sugar,' she said grumpily, accepting his offer to make her a cup of coffee while he was making his own, though expecting some sarcastic rejoinder that it might sweeten her if she did take sugar.
But he did not make any reference to her unsweet tone, but took the wind out of her sails completely, by saying quietly, 'I remember.'
The next sound she heard was Ellis busy in the kitchen. And she was telling herself then that it meant absolutely nothing that he had remembered from eight years ago that she didn't take sugar. Ellis always had had a memory for detail for goodness sake. And anyway, why was she searching for possible meanings that just hadn't been there in that simple statement, even if he had made it sound as though he had forgotten nothing of that time eight years ago?
And, remembering the utter fool she had made of herself then, Sorrel was fast hoping that his memory might be less than perfect about other matters.
By the time Ellis came back bearing two cups of coffee, there was not a smile in her. As soon as he'd had his coffee, she was going to throw him out—who in the name of thunder did he think he was anyway, calling on her at this time of night?
Having whipped herself up to feeling quite angry with him, Sorrel wasted no time in letting him know that he was backing a loser if he thought he was going to get her to smile again. She waited only until, with a small table between them, he had taken the armchair opposite hers. He looked content to sit there and talk the night away—only did she have news for him!
'How long have you been skulking about out there?' she demanded to know for starters.
The quirk of his mouth, though quickly controlled, told her that her terminology had amused him. 'Round the other corner of your landing, do you mean?' he asked in return, being deliberately obtuse, she knew. The tightening of her mouth told him she was not well pleased with him. But when, instead of giving her the straight answer she was after, he allowed that quirk that had been on his mouth to turn into a mocking smile, and told her, 'Long enough to hear Drury's declaration of love,' Sorrel saw that he was determined to ignore her hostility.
'It didn't occur to you that to eavesdrop on—on what was a very private moment might not be in the best of taste?' she fired.
'You don't think Drury might have been a shade— embarrassed—had I made my presence known while he was down on one knee?' he countered, not rising to the anger coming from her.
Recognising that the heat in the conversation was only one way, Sorrel knew it was the agitation in her to have him there that was making her go off half-cocked. And she was then doing all she could to recapture some cover of sophistication that had been such an enormous help to her on the evening of first seeing him again.
'Perhaps you're right,' she conceded, leaning languidly back in her chair. 'Though I don't suppose for a minute you thought to stick your fingers in your ears.'
The grin he sent her was nearly her undoing. Eight years were wiped away with that grin. She lowered her eyes as she swallowed on a knot of emotion that came and grabbed her by the throat. Ellis used to look like that when she'd trotted out something that tickled his sense of humour. Again she was fighting for control.
But the control she wanted was there when next she looked at him. Though she was grateful that the grin that had stripped those years away had gone. For his face had fallen into stern lines as he looked at her, and his words were telling her that he had not missed seeing her swallow. But she was more than grateful that he had found a different interpretation to put on her emotional moment, when he said:
'You haven't changed, Sorrel—you still hate hurting anyone's feelings, don't you?' Solemnly she looked back, wanting to deny that she hadn't changed, but not quite with him until he added, 'You were remembering that you had to hurt Drury by turning him down, weren't you?'
'It's never pleasant to have to—to hurt someone,' she said quietly.
'No, it isn't,' he agreed, his voice gone gritty, and to her ears, it sounded for all the world as if Ellis too had bled a little that he had once had to hurt her.
Realising then that her imagination had still not learned its lesson from the good hiding Ellis had served it eight years ago, Sorrel firmly killed any thought that he had meant to sound in any way sorry.
'Your coffee's going cold,' she hinted broadly.
She was halfway to downing hers while noting that he was making no move to pick his up, when she very nearly choked on it. For, his voice easy again, no shame in him at his blatant eavesdropping, smoothly he reminded her:
'You told Drury that you didn't want to marry anyone.'
With great difficulty, the sophisticated front she was trying to put across demanding it, Sorrel just managed to control the nerves in her throat that would have seen her choking on her coffee. Ellis Galbraith really was the limit! she thought, and she decided then that she was not going to answer any more of his questions.
He caught the haughty look she sent him that was meant to convey that she would rather have his room than his company. But to her chagrin, he was not the least put out by any look she conjured up in an attempt to try to freeze him.
'Was that remark meant to convey that you never intend to marry?' he went on to ask, entirely oblivious, she thought, that she was no longer seventeen when she had shared her every opinion with him.
Refusing to be drawn, she gave an elegant shrug of her shoulders. With luck he would soon get tired of her non-replies. Then he would go, and she would go to bed—and probably lie there, she thought, and wonder why he had called anyway. Certainly she wasn't going to ask him.
Pointedly she looked at his coffee cup. Then she raised her eyes to his—and warning bells were starting to go off in her head!
She had seen that determined light in his eyes before. Ellis Galbraith had the bit between his teeth. And suddenly, for all he appeared outwardly relaxed, Sorrel knew that Ellis was going nowhere until he had what he had come there for—whatever it was!
'I think you should go,' she said abruptly, not caring to be polite as sudden nerves attacked.
'Were you lying?' he asked, ignoring her trying to turn him out as if she had not spoken. 'Were you lying when you told him,' his eyes were pinning hers as quietly he ended, 'that you were in love with no one?'
Her nerves suddenly froze into a solid block. She was incapable of moving, incapable of saying anything, even if she had any intention of replying. But she almost died when Ellis followed on, still in that same quiet tone, his eyes refusing to let her look away, and said:
'Are you, Sorrel—still in love with me?'
For witless seconds she could do no more than just sit there staring at his stern waiting face. Then, from sheer fright that he should ever know how it was with her, she gave a tinkle of a mocking laugh.
'My God, Ellis,' she scoffed sarcastically, 'have I been that obvious!'
She should have known that it would take more than the edge of her tongue to put him off. For he was sticking in there, and to her horror, was determined to wring her dry, as he reminded her:
'You once swore you would always love me.'
'Did I?' she asked, feigning surprise. She emitted another light laugh. 'God, I must have been gauche in those days!'
But she had no time for relief to flood in when she saw that Ellis seemed ready now to take the hint. Because as he rose from his chair and moved, again it was not to the door that he moved. And a new light had entered his eyes when, determined not to shy away or let him see her swallow again, she saw he was moving towards her.
'So you're a fully grown woman now,' he said, coming to a stop only when he stood right in front of her.
Not sure what she was supposed to reply to that, Sorrel remained motionless, her eyes watchful. But when one of his hands came up to the side of her face, it was the hardest work to keep up the sophisticated front she was showing. For her heart, never quite steady since he had appeared so unexpectedly, had suddenly started to thunder.
A breathing space came to her when his hand left her cheek. But the 'Goodnight' she had ready on the tip of her tongue, as she suspected his next move would be to go, was never uttered.
For in the next moment, in a smooth though lightning movement, both his hands were in her hair, and before she knew it, the pins that confined her elegant chignon were dropping unheeded to the carpet anywhere they fell. And as her hair tumbled down about her shoulders, so too fell her only protection— her look of sophistication.
'Now you look more like the girl I once knew,' breathed Ellis, a look of satisfaction in his eyes as he surveyed the change his handiwork had performed.
'You can just jolly well…' she tried as, panic-stricken, she saw a warm look come to his eyes. She never got to finish—for suddenly Ellis had taken her in his arms.
She had felt panic-stricken before, but with his arms around her, Sorrel felt near to fainting. She wanted to remain cool, calm, and collected. But for years she had been starved of his touch.
She pushed at him as she tried to listen to her head, but the battle she was trying to put up was lost without a fight when, refusing to let her go, Ellis brought his mouth down over hers.