Reform of the Rake

by Catherine George

  From the day she moved her possessions into the Clares’ coach house life was transformed for Lowri. The bedsitting-room adjoining her little office was a comfortable little apartment, complete with bathroom and a minuscule kitchen just large enough for Lowri to cook a meal for one occasionally. After the flat in Shepherds Bush the privacy was wonderful, unmarred by the slightest tinge of loneliness, since at any time Lowri knew she could stroll down the long, beautiful garden to a warm welcome in the house. This, however, was a privilege Lowri rationed herself strictly from the start.

  But there were definite advantages for the Clares in the situation, nevertheless, since Lowri was happy to act as baby-sitter when the busy social life of the Clares demanded it. Since the retirement of Mrs Dobson, Rupert’s original treasure of a housekeeper, Sarah had taken on Brenda, who came in daily to help with the house. But Brenda enjoyed a hectic social life, and wasn’t keen on baby-sitting too often in the evenings, which left a gap Lowri was only too glad to fill.

  As the horse-chestnuts came into bloom and a green smell of spring came floating through her open office window, Lowri felt that fate had been very kind to her indeed. She sniffed at the heady vanilla scent of trees in blossom and heaved a contented sigh as she applied herself to the work which grew more absorbing by the day. The novel was now in its third quarter and working up suspensefully to the climax which Rupert flatly refused to reveal to Lowri in advance. Not even Sarah was any wiser, which apparently was nothing unusual. Rupert liked to keep his plot to himself until the very last sentence was recorded on tape.

  Then one weekend Lowri’s presence as a guest was commanded at one of Sarah’s parties. And the tempo of life quickened again.

  Lowri had helped out during the day, mainly by taking charge of Emily while Sarah concocted delicious cold dishes for the party meal, but once Dominic and Emily had eaten supper and the latter was settled in bed with a story Lowri dashed back to her flat to get ready, tingling with anticipation. She had a new, flattering black dress to wear, bought with her first cheque from Rupert, but, most important of all, Adam Hawkridge would be one of the guests.

  The party, as always at the Clare home, was a lively, entertaining occasion from the start, and Lowri, circulating with platters of canapés, no longer felt shy as she mingled because so many of the guests were already well known to her by this time. Sarah, stunning in a plain white dress with turquoise and diamond hoops in her ears, her black hair coiled high on her head, was in her element at Rupert’s side as they welcomed their guests, most of whom had some literary connection. But the guest who had none was nowhere in sight. Adam Hawkridge was late. Lowri found it hard to stop watching the door, but when he finally put in an appearance her heart sank at the sight of his tall, blonde companion. When he noticed Lowri his face lit with the familiar, blazing smile, and he threaded his across the crowded room towards her, leaving the voluptuous blonde with Rupert and Sarah, and another man new to Lowri.

  ‘Hello, Lowri!’ He squeezed her hand and took the silver dish from her, dumping it unceremoniously on the nearest table. ‘How’s the little cousin? Are you enjoying the new job? Is Rupert a despot to work for?’

  ‘Hello—Adam,’ responded Lowri shyly. ‘I’m fine, the work is fascinating, and so far Rupert’s very kind.’

  ‘And so he should be.’ He kept hold of her hand to take her across the room. ‘Come and meet Caroline.’

  ‘Where’s Fiona?’

  ‘Haven’t the foggiest,’ he returned carelessly. ‘Out partying with some other guy, at a guess.’

  When they joined the others Adam barely had time to make introductions before the man with Caroline moved in on Lowri with practiced expertise.

  ‘I’m Guy Seton, Caroline’s brother,’ he announced, and took Lowri by the hand. ‘Afraid I’m a gate-crasher. The delightful Mrs Clare assures me she doesn’t mind.’

  Lowri gazed into a pair of narrow, hot dark eyes under hair almost as fair as the sexy Caroline’s, and felt an odd pang of apprehension. Guy Seton exuded such restless energy that he made her feel uneasy.

  Rupert, who obviously did object to the gatecrasher, smiled warmly at Lowri. ‘So there you are, little cousin,’ he said, with emphasis on the relationship. ‘Having a good time?’

  ‘Too busy handing round food for that,’ said Sarah, and flapped a hand at Lowri. ‘Leave all that now. Brenda will help with supper.’

  To her annoyance Lowri found herself neatly separated from the rest by Guy Seton. Adam, who had momentarily deserted Caroline for a delighted redhead on the far side of the room, spared a disapproving frown for Guy’s manoeuvre, Lowri noted wistfully, as the latter hurried her through the open French windows on to the terrace outside. The slim, restless man perched on the stone balustrade, one leg swinging as he patted the place beside him.

  ‘Come. Tell me your life story, little Welsh cousin. Was your father a fan of matchstick men—is that how you got your name?’

  Lowri perched uneasily beside him, not at all happy about finding a constricting arm round her waist. ‘No. Mine’s spelt with a final “i”—Welsh for Laura, nothing to do with Lowry the artist. And my life-story isn’t interesting in the slightest.’

  ‘You interest me a bloody sight more than the so-called literati in there.’ His arm tightened. ‘What’s a nice little Welsh maiden like you doing in the big city, Lowri with an “i”?’

  She sat rigid in his clasp, disliking the innuendo he managed to inject into the word ‘maiden’. ‘I work for Rupert.’

  ‘Lucky Rupert.’

  Lowri shifted uncomfortably, but Guy Seton held her fast. ‘Don’t be frightened, poppet,’ he said, chuckling. ‘I shan’t eat you.’

  ‘Which reminds me—there’s a perfectly good supper waiting inside,’ she said firmly, and disengaged herself. ‘Shall we go and sample some of it?’

  Guy Seton possessed a thick skin, she found, quite impervious to her unsubtle hints that his monopoly of her company wasn’t welcome. He stuck to her side like glue, and short of causing a scene there was nothing she could do about it. Something about his hectic, almost feverish attentions filled her with unease. Lowri had no illusions about her looks. She was more rounded than she would have liked for her lack of inches, and regarded her large, dark eyes as her only redeeming feature. Besides, she had good reason to distrust a sudden rush of attention like Guy Seton’s, wary of men who came at the gallop after only one glance. And by staying so close all the time Guy was destroying her hopes of a chat with Adam at some stage. Not, she noted, depressed, that there was much chance of that. Adam had now returned his attentions to the sultry Caroline, who was smouldering up at him in a way which made it obvious she wanted him to round off the evening in her bed.

  ‘Are you a friend of Adam’s?’ she asked Guy, her eyes on the absorbed couple across the room.

  ‘Not a friend, precisely,’ said Guy. His mouth thinned as he followed her gaze. ‘I was in school with him. He’s Caroline’s “friend”. She’s crazy about him. Women flock round Hawkridge in droves. Can’t think why. He’s no oil painting.’

  ‘No,’ agreed Lowri. ‘He’s not.’ But he’s twice as attractive as you, Guy Seton, she added silently, because he’s got warmth. You’re a cold fish, I think, for all the burning glances and febrile charm.

  ‘Caro’s so blatantly panting to share Hawkridge’s bed I’m amazed she insisted I came with them tonight. But I’m glad I did.’ Guy gave her a smile of confident intimacy. ‘Instead of playing gooseberry to those two, I can take you home instead.’

  Lowri’s answering smile was frosty. ‘No need. I live here.’

  ‘Hell.’ He scowled. ‘That’s a blow.’ He eyed her up and down, his eyes undressing her. ‘Rupert Clare’s bloody lucky, having two gorgeous women at his disposal under the same roof.’

  Enough was enough. Lowri glared at him. ‘I’m very fond of Rupert, but I live in the coach house to be precise, not under his roof. Nor am I at anyone’s disposal.’ She thrust her empty glass
in his hand. ‘Goodnight, Mr Seton.’ And without another word she hurried through the hall to the kitchen and slammed the door shut behind her.

  ‘What’s up?’ Brenda looked up from loading the dishwasher in surprise. ‘Someone ruffle your feathers out there?’

  ‘Someone certainly did,’ said Lowri, seething. ‘Any coffee going, Brenda? I’ll give you a hand to clear away.’

  ‘Coming up, love,’ said Brenda, filling the kettle. ‘Won’t say no to a bit of help. Terry’s coming for me in half an hour—mustn’t keep him waiting.’

  ‘Terry?’ said Lowri, laughing. ‘What happened to Wayne?’

  Brenda winked, thrusting a hand through her spiky blonde hair. ‘What he doesn’t know about he won’t grieve over, eh?’

  A few minutes later Lowri stole along the pergola lining the path which led to the coach house. She gained her little sanctum with a sigh, partly of relief for eluding the disturbing Mr Seton, but mostly of regret for having so little opportunity to talk to Adam. Which was stupid, she told herself as she hung up the black dress. Any time he’d had to spare from Caroline had been spent on the redhead with the cleavage. She cleaned off her make-up irritably, rubbed some moisturiser into her olive skin, gave her lengthening hair a good brush and got into a nightshirt and the vividly embroidered black silk kimona her father and Holly had given her for Christmas, by which time she felt ominously wide awake. She slid into bed and reached for a well-thumbed copy of Northanger Abbey. Jane Austen’s dry wit rarely failed to soothe, and with a sigh Lowri banked up her pillows, settled herself comfortably and put thoughts of Adam and the annoying Mr Seton firmly from her as she settled down to read.

  She was halfway through the first chapter when a knock on the outer door brought Lowri bolt upright. She sprang off the bed, startled, and went out through the office, certain it must be Sarah or Rupert with some emergency. She unlocked the door then screeched in fright as Guy Seton pushed her back inside the office, slammed the door shut and stood with his back to it, a wild look about him which scared her rigid.

  ‘Now, now, Lowri,’ he said menacingly. ‘This isn’t at all friendly, is it? I need some comfort, some tender loving care, sweetheart.’

  ‘Well, you won’t get it from me!’ she snapped. ‘You shouldn’t be here.’

  ‘Why not? I asked if I could see you home. And here you are, and so am I. Let’s party!’ He stalked towards her, the restless, feverish aura about him now so pronounced that Lowri could have kicked herself for not recognising the cause sooner. Her unwanted visitor was obviously high on something a lot more dangerous than champagne.

  ‘Guy, please,’ she said, backing away. She tried to smile. ‘It’s late and I’m tired—’

  ‘Then come to bed,’ he said hoarsely, and reached for her.

  Lowri fought him off savagely, but despite his slim build Guy Seton was strong; deceptively so. He managed to drag her, kicking and struggling, into the bedroom and on to her bed. Beside herself with rage, Lowri twisted and turned like an eel, her nails raking down his face, her teeth sinking into the mouth crushing hers, and Guy let out a howl and drew back, face contorted, clenched fist raised. Then suddenly he was flat out on the floor, felled by a savage blow from Adam Hawkridge, who stepped over the unconscious man without a second look, and hauled Lowri into his arms.

  ‘Are you all right? Did that bastard hurt you?’ he barked.

  Her teeth were chattering so much Lowri found it hard to reassure him that apart from the odd bruise and the fright of her life she was fine.

  ‘How—how did you know—?’ she gasped.

  ‘Caroline was ready to go home and insisted her blasted brother go with us. When I couldn’t find him I made an educated guess. Thank the lord I did,’ he added harshly, and tipped her face up to his. ‘Were you saying the truth? He didn’t—harm you?’

  Lowri’s face flamed. ‘If you mean did he rape me, no! And I didn’t lead him on, either—I swear I didn’t.’ Tears of reaction slid down her face. ‘I just don’t understand it. He stuck to me like glue all evening. In the end I got so fed up I escaped and came back here.

  But—’ she gulped. ‘He followed me. That’s it, you know the rest.’

  Adam held her close, patting her as though she were Emily. ‘There, there, it’s all over now. Shall I fetch Sarah?’

  ‘No! And for heaven’s sake don’t say a word to Rupert, either.’ She grimaced at the thought. ‘His explosion threshold’s a bit low, as you know. Let them finish the party in peace.’ A convulsive shudder ran through her. She swallowed a sob and Adam’s arms tightened.

  He cursed under his breath and turned her face up to his. ‘Don’t, little one,’ he said urgently, ‘you’re safe now.’

  As her tear-wet eyes met his Lowri’s heart gave a sudden thump and she breathed in sharply. For a moment they were utterly still, then Adam bent his head involuntarily to kiss her, the inflammatory effect of the contact so unexpected it took both of them by surprise. Lowri’s lips parted to the sudden seeking of his tongue and Adam’s arm tightened, his free hand cupping her head to hold her still as he kissed her with a fierce heat quite different from the comfort she knew was all he’d intended.

  When he let her go, several earth-shattering moments later, Lowri almost staggered.

  ‘Hell and damnation!’ he said bitterly. ‘I’m no better than Seton.’

  Lowri blinked, dazed, trying to smile. ‘Don’t say that. You—you were just comforting me.’

  Adam’s eyebrows rose. ‘Was I, Lowri?’

  She flushed, and looked away, biting her lip in sudden disgust as she caught sight of Guy Seton, still out to the world on her bedroom floor. ‘Ugh! What shall we do about—about that?’

  For answer Adam bent down and slung the unconscious man over his shoulder with negligent ease. ‘I’ll just dump him in the back of the car and collect Caroline. I’ll have to put her in the picture, I’m afraid, but no one else need know.’ He manoeuvred Guy Seton’s body through into the office, motioning Lowri to open the outer door. ‘Is the coast clear?’

  She peered around outside, nodded, then smiled up at him ruefully. ‘I’m deeply grateful to you, Adam. I rather fancy you saved me from a fate worse than death.’

  Adam gave her a sombre look. ‘I feel responsible. I brought the bastard here tonight, after all. I’m very sorry, Lowri. For everything.’ He paused a moment, a sudden, irrepressible gleam in his eyes. ‘Well perhaps not quite everything,’ he amended, grinning, and hefted his unconscious burden more securely, waved his free hand, then made his way down the outer stair and disappeared through the gate in the wall.

  When he was out of sight Lowri locked her door and shot the bolts into place, then stripped her bed and put clean sheets on it, thrusting thoughts of Adam’s kisses from her mind by concentrating fiercely on the debt she owed him. Without his timely appearance there could have been a great deal more to put right in her life than a mere change of bedlinen.

  CHAPTER THREE

  AFTER a restless night Lowri slept late next morning, and awoke at last to loud knocking on the office door. She jumped out of bed, pulling on her kimono.

  ‘Coming!’ she called, wincing at the pounding in her head, and went to the door to admit Dominic.

  ‘Mum says will you come over? You’ve had a telephone call.’ He eyed her in surprise. ‘Gosh, Lowri, what a shiner! How did you get that?’

  Since Lowri could barely see out of one eye, the question came as no surprise. ‘I bumped into something,’ she said with perfect truth. Guy Seton’s elbow had rammed her eye while she was fighting him off. She smiled at Dominic. ‘Tell Mum I’ll be there as soon as I’ve dressed. I’ve been lazy this morning.’

  One look in the bathroom mirror told her that trying to keep last night’s events from Sarah would be a complete waste of time. The truth, Lowri thought, resigned, will out whether I want it to or not. She frowned, realising she’d forgotten to ask Dominic who’d rung her.

  Later, dressed in jeans and an ol
d checked shirt, Lowri put on dark glasses to shield her eye from the bright sunshine and crossed the garden to join Sarah and Rupert in the kitchen.

  ‘Good morning,’ she said, smiling brightly. ‘Where’s Emily?’

  ‘Dominic’s keeping her amused until you’ve told us about the black eye,’ said Sarah promptly, pouring coffee.

  Rupert plucked the glasses from Lowri and whistled. ‘Hell’s bells!’ his eyes narrowed dangerously. ‘Right. Tell me who did that, Lowri—now!’

  ‘First tell me who rang,’ she said quickly to divert him.

  ‘It was Adam,’ said Sarah, ‘He’s coming round later to take you out to lunch.’ She eyed Lowri militantly. ‘But never mind that—how on earth did you get that shiner?’

  Lowri, trying to appear unaffected by the news that Adam intended taking her out, drank some coffee and gave a terse account of the encounter with Guy Seton. ‘So you don’t have to do battle for me,’ she told an incensed Rupert at the end of it. ‘Adam knocked Guy Seton cold last night on the spot. The man probably looks—and feels—far worse than I do this morning.’

  ‘I should bloody well hope he does,’ said Rupert savagely.

  ‘Is the eye the only damage?’ demanded Sarah urgently.

  ‘Yes. Adam arrived on the scene before Guy could have his wicked way with me.’ Lowri held out her cup for more coffee. ‘But it beats me why the wretched man should have been so intent on getting it. I’m not the type who drives men wild, now am I!’

  ‘You obviously appealed to Seton.’ Rupert scowled. ‘He took one look and kept sniffing round you all night. I would have done something about it, but he’s quite attractive, I suppose. You might have wanted it that way.’

  ‘I told you she wouldn’t,’ said Sarah with scorn. ‘Guy Seton’s bad news where women are concerned.’