by Penny Jordan
There had been so much tragedy in Mrs Mayers’ life, she could be forgiven for being so obviously proud of her son. Lark wondered if he was aware of how fortunate he was to be the recipient of so much love.
It soon became clear to Lark as she and Mrs Mayers went through the diaries and files that, over recent months, her new employer had not been able to keep on top of all the paperwork.
‘My son suggested a computer, but to be honest I don’t think I could cope with one,’ she admitted ruefully. ‘To be truthful with you, he’d prefer me to retire.’ She hesitated a moment and then confided, ‘I wasn’t very well last winter, and my doctor flapped. Perhaps they’re right and I should retire, but I can’t. I feel I owe it to my first husband and to our son to carry on for just as long as I can.’
These were sentiments with which Lark could easily identify. Her son must be an unfeeling monster not to realise what he was asking of his mother. This charity work obviously meant so much to her. It even occurred to Lark that he might actually be resentful of the amount of time his mother gave to her first husband and child, but she warned herself it would be foolish to judge him without first meeting him.
At one o’clock they stopped for lunch: a light meal served in a pretty dining-room that over-looked the gardens.
When Lark admired the view, Mrs Mayers laughed. ‘Oh, if you like this, wait until you see Abbotsfield. That’s the Oxfordshire house. Its gardens are truly beautiful. My second husband proposed to me there.’ She smiled reminiscently. ‘It was early June and the roses were in bloom—the old-fashioned variety with that lovely musky perfume.’ She gave a faint sigh and looked apologetically at Lark.
‘My dear, you have the wonderful gift of being a sympathetic listener, and I’m indulging myself shamefully with my reminiscences. I mustn’t bore you too much, otherwise you’ll run away, and I wouldn’t want that. It’s such a relief to have someone here who understands how much my work means to me, and who can actually help me with it as well. I confess I have rather been feeling the burden of it these last months, but I haven’t dared admit as much.
‘One thing that is bothering me is this charity affair.’ She frowned, pushing her plate away with her food almost untouched. She was worrying about it, Lark realised sympathetically, although she was trying hard not to show it.
‘We’ve got a good number of subscriptions already, but it’s the organisation that’s causing me problems. My god-daughter Charlotte was going to help me with it. In fact, the whole thing was rather her idea…’ Mrs Mayers pulled a wry face. ‘I suspect she’s found all the organisational detail rather more dull than she anticipated.’
Which, roughly translated, or so Lark suspected, meant that Mrs Mayers been left with a good deal more work to do than she had expected.
‘Well, it shouldn’t take too long to sort out,’ she said consolingly, adding, ‘I helped to organise something similar when I was with Thomson Fawcett.’
It was true. The PR company had been asked to organise a charity ball to promote a client’s products, and Lark had been heavily involved in that organisation.
‘Oh, my dear, you don’t know what a relief it is for me to realise how well you and I jell! At first I was afraid…’ She broke off and shook her head. ‘I’ve talked far too much about myself. Tell me more about your own life, Lark. Lark…such a pretty name…’
‘My parents thought I was going to be a boy. My name came from the fact that the morning I was born my father heard a lark singing outside.’
Lark gave her the explanation matter-of-factly. What had Mrs Mayers been afraid of and why? She must be imagining things, Lark thought, because for a moment it had almost seemed as though someone other than Mrs Mayers had made the decision about employing her, and that was impossible! The older woman was right though, there was a definite rapport between them. Lark had sensed it almost immediately, and that was part of the reason she had been so reticent about taking the job: her fear that in doing so she might expose a woman she liked rather much to her son’s wrath.
But now she had learned of Mrs Mayers’ poor health, things had changed. Now nothing on earth would induce her to give up her job, because now she knew that Mrs Mayers genuinely needed her. The state of the files was proof enough of that. Lark had already privately decided that she would put in some extra time in the evening in order to get them sorted out as quickly as possible.
‘Oh, by the way, my son will be dining here later in the week, and I would like you to join us, Lark. I want you to meet him.’
Ah, so the inspection had arrived, just as she had anticipated it would! Well, now that she was armed not only with the knowledge of her own honesty, but also Mrs Mayers’ need of her, nothing was going to make her abandon her employer. Nothing and no one…certainly not Mrs Mayers’ arrogant son, Lark decided. After all, she was used to dealing with arrogant men now. She had cut her eye teeth on the most arrogant man of all—James Wolfe. She doubted that even Mrs Mayers’ precious son could exceed James Wolfe’s mammoth self-conceit.
She deliberately neglected to let herself remember just exactly how she had dealt with James Wolfe’s arrogance in demanding entry to her flat…and…and making love to her…Because that was what that kiss had been.
She shuddered suddenly, and Mrs Mayers looked concerned.
‘Are you cold, Lark? Is the heating…?’
‘No…No, I’m fine.’ She forced herself to smile.
It was time she put James Wolfe completely out of her thoughts.
CHAPTER FOUR
TWO days later, Lark had not only restored order to the untidy files, she had also made up a checklist for the charity ball, and started to make inroads into its organisation. Details of the various options open to them with regard to staff, food, music and décor had been meticulously written down and then typed before she had placed them in the folder she had earmarked for Mrs Mayers’ attention.
A glance at her watch told her that it was four o’clock. Too late to seek out her employer, who would now be having her afternoon rest—a necessity insisted upon by her doctor.
Lark had also learned that before the charity ball took place Mrs Mayers was hoping to visit Boston, where she was also chairwoman of their branch of the charity.
‘I should have gone before Christmas, but I wasn’t well enough,’ she had admitted to Lark. ‘Now, with you with me to take care of everything…’ She hadn’t said any more, simply smiling affectionately at her new employee, and Lark had responded in kind.
Lark found it difficult to continue with her work; the slightest noise made her jump. The reason she was so tense was that this evening was the evening she was going to meet Mrs Mayers’ son.
The whole household seemed to be affected by the promise of his presence, or, in her case, by the threat of it.
And what had surprised Lark a little, probably in view of her own dread of meeting him, was how highly he was regarded by the other members of the household. It was natural, of course, that Mrs Mayers, as his mother, should love him, but Lark had learned from the housekeeper in particular that, despite his extremely high-powered career, he still made time to help and advise Mrs Mayers with her charity work, and that it was he who had campaigned tirelessly to secure for the charity the patronage of a top royal.
It had surprised Lark a little to discover how involved, albeit in a very quiet and unobtrusive way, he was with the charity. Somehow or other, initially she had gained the impression that he rather disapproved of his mother’s activities. However, the more she worked on the files, the more she noticed the brief, scribbled comments on their pages, often of an extremely helpful and thoughtful nature, and when she mentioned them to Mrs Mayers, they turned out to be made by her son.
‘He’s like his father,’ she had commented fondly. ‘A deeply compassionate man who tends to prefer others not to be aware of his sensitivity. In fact, that’s why…’
Lark had never learned exactly what Mrs Mayers had been going to say because her emplo
yer had broken off abruptly, looking faintly flushed and anxious, and Lark had tactfully not pursued the matter any further, although it did disturb her that a man she had already decided she would dislike should turn out so disconcertingly to have a very compassionate and caring side to his nature. Was she in danger of turning into a woman who hated and mistrusted all men simply because they were men? The thought made her shiver.
The trial and everything leading up to it still gave her nightmares.
Only last night Mrs Mayers had commented gently that she considered Lark to be an intensely loyal person. That had been when she had been drawing Lark out by talking to her about her family background. She had asked then if Lark had any idea exactly why her cousin had spoken and acted as he had.
Lark had hesitated before fibbing that she had not. She suspected that Mrs Mayers guessed that she was withholding something, but the older woman had not pressed her, simply commenting on her loyalty. If only her son might prove to be as understanding and generous as his mother…But Lark knew deep down inside herself that she was hardly likely to find him so.
She tried to concentrate on her self-imposed task of sorting through Mrs Mayers’ many address books in order to make a coherent list of possible subscribers for the ball.
Privately there was one point on which she agreed with Mrs Mayers’ son, and that was that the workload would be dramatically improved if only Mrs Mayers could bring herself to install a computer.
When Lark had gently touched upon the subject, Mrs Mayers had instantly informed her that she was hopeless with anything in the least mechanical, and that in fact she was terrified of the mere thought of owning a computer. Of course, she had added, if she could be sure that Lark would stay with her and take charge of the machine… Was there definitely no young man in her life? she had probed delicately.
Lark had shaken her head, a little amused by the satisfied expression that had crossed her employer’s face.
Perhaps another young woman in her position might have found her job dull, lacking as it did any contact with her peer group, or with anyone, in fact, other than her employer and her small staff, but Lark enjoyed it; she had no desire to socialise, or take the risk of exposing herself to new friendships. Not yet. Maybe later she might feel differently, but right now…
She glanced at her watch to check the time. Mrs Mayers was insisting that she joined her and her son at six-thirty for drinks. There would be a fourth for dinner, Mrs Mayers’ god-daughter, who would then be going out to the theatre with her son.
Lark had wondered if there was a match in the offing between them. Mrs Mayers had not said anything to suggest it, but there had been something in her voice when she mentioned her goddaughter and her son that made Lark curious as to their relationship.
There was only one more address book to go through. As she reached for it, it fell off the desk and she had to scramble underneath it to retrieve it. Consequently she was not in a position to see the person walking into the study and closing the door behind them until she had crawled out from under the desk.
‘Really, Miss Cummings, I know you’ve been dreading meeting me, but there’s really no need to go to such lengths to avoid doing so.’
She would have recognised his voice anywhere; that smooth, amused drawl that managed to hold the threat of something harder and less yielding beneath its velvet surface.
James Wolfe!
She tried to stand up and had to clutch the edge of the desk for support.
It couldn’t be… She was hallucinating. She had got up too quickly, causing a dizzying rush of blood to her head.
Dizzying enough to produce a lifesize, fully fleshed-out phantom?
Hardly.
She stood staring at him, her eyes huge with shock and pain. How could this have happened? Why had it happened?
‘Dear me… Have I managed to render you speechless? I only wish I had the same effect on other members of your sex.’
He smiled at her, a confident, amused smile that invited her to share his mockery, but Lark was too shocked to do so. His smile vanished and he looked at her sharply, that same look he had given her in court: brutally assessing, stripping away all her defences, looking into her innermost being.
‘I take it that my mother didn’t warn you of what to expect.’
Like someone watching a dream sequence in which she had no part, Lark was aware of him frowning.
He was wearing a suit very similar to the one he had worn the evening he called at her flat, she recognised as her shock started to fade, her heartbeat slowing down to its normal rate. The jacket was unfastened, and as he moved the fine cotton of his shirt clung to his body. It was fine enough for her to see the dark shadowing of body hair through it.
A most peculiar sensation thrilled through her. Her glance clung treacherously to him, her mind like a mini-computer relaying a hundred different impressions to her.
He came toward her, enclosing her in a wall of musky heat.
To her shock, her body reacted immediately to her awareness of him. Beneath her sweatshirt she could feel her breasts swelling and hardening. She started to tremble, longing for the courage to push past him and rush out of the room.
‘I really did give you a fright, didn’t I?’ He didn’t sound amused any longer, and had obviously mistaken the cause of her distress.
It seemed impossible to Lark that he should actually be concerned that he might have scared her, and she backed away instinctively as he reached out towards her.
‘What is it?’ He said the words softly. ‘Do I really terrify you so much? There’s no need.’
Somehow or other he had taken hold of her wrist. His thumb found its frantically beating pulse and soothed it; or at least she supposed he must have intended to soothe it. Instead, at his rhythmic caress her entire nervous system went into frenzied reaction: her heartbeat doubled, her lungs refused to expand enough to take in the extra air she desperately needed, and her legs seemed to be incapable of supporting her, so weak had they become.
It was the shock—just the shock of discovering that he was Mrs Mayers’ precious son, that was all. But why was he holding her wrist like that? Why was he touching her in a way that she knew quite well was far too intimate for their brief acquaintanceship? And, worst of all, why was she allowing him to do so?
The study door opened and Mrs Mayers came in, saying, ‘Lark, have you… Oh, James, you’ve arrived.’
The moment the door opened, Lark had found herself miraculously free, and she stepped back, putting a safe distance between them again.
‘Mother, you’ve been very wicked,’ James said in the indolent drawl that was falling all too familiarly on her ears. ‘You didn’t tell Lark who I was.’
‘Oh, dear,’ Mrs Mayers looked flustered and uncomfortable. ‘Well, James, she’s settled in so well…and she was plainly so terrified at the thought of meeting you…’ Here she gave Lark an apologetic look. Had she really been so obvious? Lark wondered miserably. How little she still seemed to know herself. She had had no idea that Mrs Mayers had guessed how much she was dreading meeting her son.
It was true, she realised now, that there had been several occasions when Mrs Mayers had tried to draw her out about the trial, but she had always refused to discuss it. No doubt the older woman had been trying to discover how she felt about her son.
‘I didn’t want to lose her before she’d had a chance to…to meet you properly.’
‘Well, Mother mine, you came very close to doing just exactly that. I thought she was going to faint at my feet when she saw me. Not quite the reaction one hopes to get from lovely ladies.’
‘Oh, James,’ Mrs Mayers exclaimed fondly, ‘I’m sure Lark was going to do no such thing.’ She turned to Lark. ‘I must apologise, my dear. I should have told you who James was, but it’s true, I was afraid of losing you. You wouldn’t believe how marvellous she’s been, James. She’s even trying to convert me into having a computer,’ she told her son in amusement.
Lark was glad that neither of them required her to make any contribution to the conversation. She was still in shock, still trying to come to terms with the realisation that James Wolfe was Mrs Mayers’ son, and, even more terrifying, her discovery that he only had to touch her for all her preconceived ideas about her sexuality and her upbringing to come crashing down around her.
One thing confused her. If she was so susceptible, why had she not discovered this appalling fact before?
‘Lark, I came in to tell you that it’s time to get changed for dinner. You wouldn’t believe it, James,’ she told her son, ‘Lark would work twenty-four hours a day if I let her, I’m sure of it.’
‘My mother has done nothing but sing your praises to me ever since you arrived.’
The smile he gave her made her heart thump dangerously.
‘I—I’m sure you’d rather have dinner alone,’ she started to say, but Mrs Mayers stopped her.
‘Lark, my dear, you are not having dinner in your room. We’d both enjoy your company, wouldn’t we, James?’
Lark couldn’t bring herself to look at him. He couldn’t want her to work for his mother; he was smiling at her now, agreeing with every word Mrs Mayers said, but he was going to find some way of getting rid of her; she just knew it.
As she fled upstairs, she heard Mrs Mayers saying reproachfully to her son, ‘James, what on earth have you done to the poor child? She seems petrified of you.’
What had he done? Didn’t his mother realise what he was like in court? Had she never seen him destroy his fellow human beings…slowly and methodically break them down until they were nothing, until they were totally at his mercy?
She only knew one thing now. There was no way she could calmly get changed and then go down and have dinner with James Wolfe sitting at the same table…watching her, waiting for the inevitable moment when he would ruthlessly tear her into small pieces.
Oh, he had smiled and watched and listened to his mother’s praise of her, but he would never tolerate her working here, never allow her to stay. The miracle was that she had been allowed to arrive here in the first place. Now she knew why he had materialised at her bedsit so oddly that night. But what she didn’t know was why he had left without first making sure that she would not accept his mother’s offer of a job. How furious he would be if he knew that he was the main reason she had taken the job! She smiled mirthlessly to herself.
