The Runaway Women in London

by Lesley Eames

  ‘I don’t want—’

  But he tugged her to her feet. Lydia couldn’t refuse him now without causing a scene. Damn.

  Aware of the hot pressure of Harry’s hand as he led her onto the dance floor, she pulled her fingers free the moment they arrived, then stiffened as his hands moved to the bare flesh of her arms. His eyes were dark and his lips were curved in the smallest of smiles.

  A memory of the stupid kiss he’d given her at the treasure hunt floated into Lydia’s mind. It had been so quick that it had barely registered, but now she couldn’t help wondering how it would feel if he kissed her again. Blast Hux for putting idiotic ideas into her head. The last thing she wanted was a kiss from Harry Dellamore.

  Drawing her close, he began to sway from side to side. Lydia fought to put some distance between them.

  ‘Relax,’ Harry chided.

  ‘You’re treading on my toes.’

  ‘Liar.’

  His breath was warm on her cheek. Lydia’s heartbeat skittered and she was dismayed to realise it wasn’t because she found the sensation repellent. Harry was wearing some sort of cologne. It wasn’t flowery like a woman’s perfume. It was faintly spicy instead. Lydia tried to block it out by turning her head away.

  Another couple was dancing dangerously close. Harry steered Lydia to safety, but then smoothed his hands all the way up to her shoulders. A shudder rippled through her body and, with a sense of horror, Lydia realised it was a shudder of pleasure.

  Oh, heck. She really was attracted to Harry.

  But how could she feel attracted to a man she wasn’t even sure she liked? The answer came straight back at her. She had the physical appetites of Celia Sutton, a woman who’d entangled herself with numerous men without a thought for her husband and daughter.

  ‘Enough,’ Lydia said, pulling away the moment the song finished and storming back to the table. She was aware of Harry following. Of him watching her. But she refused to look back.

  It was grotesque to think she had that woman’s blood in her veins. But it didn’t mean Lydia had to give in to it. She could fight it instead.

  Stockton appeared content to have her on the home team, so there was no need to come to any more social gatherings. From now on she could keep her dealings with Harry purely professional.

  It was a mercy when the party finally broke up, though Lydia was annoyed to learn Harry had telephoned Silver Ladies to tell Jenny he’d return Lydia by taxi. With Jenny in the car, Lydia could have left the conversation to her.

  ‘I thought we could let her rest,’ Harry said. ‘Besides, I need to talk to you.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘I’ve got something for you.’

  They got into the taxi the doorman had hailed. ‘Well?’ she demanded.

  ‘It’s an address.’ He took a slip of paper from the pocket of his dinner jacket and passed it to her.

  What on earth…? Lydia felt hot. Cold. As fiery as a volcano. As icy as the North Pole. ‘How did you get this?’

  ‘A nod, a wink and a five-pound note,’ Harry told her.

  ‘At Selfridges?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘You’ve no right to meddle in my affairs.’

  ‘I’m trying to help.’

  ‘I don’t need help.’

  ‘If you saw her—’

  ‘I don’t want to see her! How many times do I have to tell you? Not that it’s any of your damned business.’ The interfering arrogance of the man! How could Lydia even have entertained the thought of him kissing her?

  ‘You’ve nothing to lose by talking to her as you think the worst of her already. But you could have something to gain.’

  ‘Oh, really?’

  ‘You might be able to move past what happened and let yourself feel emotion again. It seems to me that at the moment you don’t trust yourself to feel anything in case you get hurt. But there’s an attraction between us and—’

  Lydia laughed. Even to herself it sounded harsh, but she didn’t know how else to respond.

  It was bad enough to be betrayed by her own body without Harry encouraging her to act on that betrayal. But most excruciating of all was this suggestion that her mother had damaged her. That she was vulnerable and weak. Lydia couldn’t bear it.

  ‘I see what this is about. Just because I don’t fall into your arms like most girls, you think I have some sort of problem. You’re too arrogant to accept that I might not actually feel this so-called attraction. That I just might not like you.’

  Harry looked serious now. Chastened even. ‘Lydia, please. I only want—’

  ‘I’m not interested in what you want! I’m not interested in you.’

  She turned away from him, glad that the journey to Shepherds Mews took only a few minutes at this time of night. She leapt out of the taxi before it had quite stopped, too angry to say more than a brusque thank you to the driver and nothing at all to Harry.

  But Harry got out too and caught her as she reached the door to Silver Ladies. ‘Lydia, I’m sorry I’ve upset you.’

  ‘I’m not upset. I’m annoyed. And I’ll thank you to mind your own damn business in future.’

  She realised she was still clutching the sheet of paper. Tearing it into shreds, she threw the pieces at his face.

  ‘Leave my private business alone.’

  With that, she let herself into Silver Ladies and closed the door.

  What a disastrous end to an evening that should have left her whooping with joy. Lydia was furious with Harry and she was even more furious with herself. She winced at the memory of her words and the scraps of paper she’d flung at Harry. She hadn’t stopped to see the expression on his face, but she could imagine it and… Oh, Lord!

  Why hadn’t she laughed instead of losing her temper? Laughter disguised the truth far more convincingly than anger. It saved face for all concerned and made it possible for them to rub along together into the future. Harsh words, on the other hand…

  The thought that he’d brought it on himself wasn’t helping. She might not like Harry Dellamore, but she realised she liked the thought of hurting him even less. It wasn’t as though he’d set out to upset her. On the contrary, he’d gone to some trouble in the mistaken belief that he was helping her.

  The address was lost to her now, of course. Or was it?

  Lydia found the words had burned themselves on her memory. Mrs Celia Sutton, 16 Somerset Mansions, Somerset Avenue, St John’s Wood.

  Not that they mattered. Pushing all thoughts of Celia aside, Lydia faced the real catastrophe of the evening. There was no way Harry would want her on the home team now.

  Forty-three

  Grace heard a footstep and looked round from the desk to see Ruth hovering.

  ‘Can we talk?’ Ruth asked.

  Her expression was sombre. Guessing she’d come to say she’d decided against working in Silver Ladies, Grace smiled a welcome anyway. ‘Come and sit down.’

  ‘I’m leaving the shoe shop,’ Ruth told her. ‘Silver Ladies won’t survive without me.’

  Grace was taken aback until she realised Ruth’s decision was based on obligation rather than inclination. Why else would she look so miserable? ‘You shouldn’t leave your job unless it’s what you really want. We can find someone else to help in Silver Ladies.’

  ‘You won’t find anyone. Not someone who’ll work for hardly any money.’

  ‘Hardly any money to begin with, but once the business builds…’

  ‘Even if you found someone, it could be uncomfortable having a stranger living here.’

  ‘They might prefer to stay with family.’

  ‘It doesn’t sound likely to me.’

  It didn’t sound likely to Grace either. ‘Then we’ll look for an investor who’ll pay enough for us to employ someone at a proper wage.’

  ‘In return for most of the profits.’

  ‘In return for some of the profits.’

  ‘That sounds unlikely too.’

  ‘It’s worth explorin
g.’

  Grace had intended to explore it with Owen before that awful day when she’d soured any interest he might have felt in Silver Ladies. Thinking he could be trusted to support the others without trying to dominate them, she’d planned to suggest he take only a small share of the business on her departure with a view to taking larger shares if and when the others left or lost interest. Grace hadn’t seen him at all since that day. Not even at his end of the mews. Perhaps he was taking care to avoid her.

  The chance of finding another such person had to be slight, but it still wasn’t right to force Ruth into the business.

  ‘We won’t be angry if you prefer to stay at the shop,’ Grace said. ‘Just because you were keen on the business once, it doesn’t follow that—’

  ‘I’m still keen!’ Ruth protested. ‘There’s nothing I want more than to be working in the business we all started together.’

  Then why was she so unhappy? Ruth’s face had flushed red as if she regretted speaking angrily, but instinct warned Grace to be careful how she pushed for information. ‘Are you worried about giving up your regular wage?’ she asked.

  Ruth swallowed. ‘A little. I know I still have some inheritance left, but you tied it up in an investment account so I can’t get at it.’

  ‘I wanted you to have something to fall back on.’

  ‘I’m not complaining. But it means I’ll need to live on money from Silver Ladies.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘More than Jenny and Lydia. I need it for… things.’

  ‘You don’t need to justify yourself,’ Grace told her, though Ruth had never been secretive before. ‘And it’s still my intention to repay what I owe.’

  ‘I don’t want you to repay a penny,’ Ruth argued. ‘Especially now you’re leaving.’

  ‘I need to repay it for my own self-respect. But I appreciate your kindness, Ruth.’

  ‘I’m not kind at all.’ Ruth sounded bitter.

  ‘We’ll have to disagree on that.’

  ‘I’ll need time off too,’ Ruth continued. ‘To go shopping… and see people. Like Dorothy from the shop.’

  ‘Everyone needs time off,’ Grace told her. ‘Jenny sees Johnnie. And Lydia’s involved in her racing.’

  As far as Grace knew, that was. Lydia had been in a strangely defiant mood since the dinner at the Ritz, tensing every time the telephone rang, though so far she hadn’t received any calls. Had she argued with Harry again? Been dropped from the team? Grace hadn’t dared to ask.

  But she did want to make sense of Ruth’s attitude. It wasn’t like the sweet girl she knew to be snappy and brooding. ‘Is anything else troubling you, Ruth?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Ruth was defensive again.

  ‘You seem downhearted.’

  Ruth shrugged. ‘I’m just sorry you’re leaving.’

  There was more to it than that. Grace was certain there was. ‘Ruth, I’m your friend. I hate to think something’s troubling you. I can’t promise a solution, but sometimes it helps just to talk.’

  Ruth’s face was strained and for a moment Grace thought she’d unload her burden. But instead Ruth collected herself. ‘There’s nothing to talk about.’ With that, she walked into the living quarters and closed the door.

  Grace sat back and sighed. Perhaps Ruth resented her leaving more than she cared to admit. Or perhaps she feared she’d be a poor substitute for Grace in running the business.

  The door opened again and Ruth emerged in her coat. ‘I’m going to post a letter.’

  ‘If you need more time to think about Silver Ladies—’

  ‘I’ve done nothing but think about Silver Ladies! I’ve made my decision and I won’t go back on it. Is there anything I can get for you while I’m out?’

  ‘Milk,’ Grace told her.

  Ruth nodded and left.

  Worn out with all the complications life was throwing at her, Grace rubbed her temples. At least she only needed to stay in London for another few weeks. Just long enough to settle Ruth into Silver Ladies.

  Grace got up and walked to the window. It would be lovely to be with Gran again but returning to Ruston meant leaving her dreams behind. Perhaps one day she’d have the chance to be involved in another business. In the meantime, she’d be grateful for any job. She was worse off than ever, being in debt to Ruth, but she’d never been afraid of hard work and she refused to be daunted.

  She heard the growl of the Silver Lady returning from a booking and ran down to open the garage gates. These days she avoided looking towards Owen’s end of the mews as it only fuelled her misery.

  ‘How was the booking?’ Grace asked.

  ‘The customer was in a hat shop for almost an hour,’ Lydia grumbled. ‘How can it take an hour to choose a hat?’

  Grace shared a smile with Jenny, then looked round as Ruth returned.

  ‘Has Grace told you I’m joining Silver Ladies?’ Ruth asked.

  ‘That’s wonderful!’ Jenny cried.

  Ruth only nodded and went inside.

  ‘She doesn’t look very pleased,’ Jenny commented.

  ‘Perhaps she just doesn’t want to be stuck with only me when you two leave,’ Lydia said.

  ‘I’m not leaving,’ Jenny pointed out. ‘And I’m sure it wouldn’t be true even if I were.’

  Lydia shrugged. ‘The car needs a wash. I’m going to change.’

  ‘It isn’t true, is it?’ Jenny asked Grace, after Lydia had followed Ruth inside.

  ‘I doubt it, but I can try to find out.’

  Grace spoke to Ruth the following day when Jenny was out with Johnnie and Lydia was down in the garage. The door to the passage was open and they heard Lydia swear as she dropped something. ‘I think she may have fought with Harry,’ Grace began. ‘I wonder if she might be feeling a little hurt as well.’

  ‘Hurt?’ Ruth asked.

  ‘She thinks you don’t want to work with her.’

  ‘Of course I want to work with her!’ Ruth was appalled. ‘Why does she think I don’t?’

  When Grace didn’t answer, a flush in Ruth’s cheeks showed she was aware she hadn’t been an easy person to live with recently.

  ‘I’m sorry if I’ve been…’ Ruth began. ‘It’s just…’

  ‘Yes?’ Grace prompted, but Ruth shook her head. ‘I’ll put things right with her.’

  Ruth made a big effort with Lydia over the days that followed. ‘Not that it’s made a difference,’ Ruth reported bitterly, for Lydia remained prickly.

  ‘She still hasn’t heard from Harry,’ Grace said.

  It would only add to Ruth’s troubles to explain that it was hardly surprising that Lydia didn’t believe her as Ruth was still so obviously out of sorts. How brittle they were. All of them. The old ease had disappeared.

  When a call finally came from Fairfax Park, it came from Hux rather than Harry, but Grace heard enough to know he was arranging for Lydia to practise again. After a minute or two, Lydia bade Hux a gruff goodbye, then went down to the garage without saying a word.

  Tiptoeing into the passage, Grace saw her sitting on an upturned box with her face in her hands. Her relief at still being on the team was palpable. Grace crossed her fingers for a reconciliation with Harry too.

  Grace spent her last weeks in London doing everything she could to teach the others to manage Silver Ladies without her. Ruth learned with dogged determination, though her mind often wandered and she was quiet when she returned from her final day at the shoe shop.

  ‘I need time off to meet Dorothy for tea next week,’ she said, her resentful expression challenging anyone to refuse her.

  No one did.

  But Ruth’s true self shone through when she gave Grace a parting gift of theatre tickets. ‘I know you’ve wanted to go ever since we came to London but haven’t been able to afford it.’

  How darling of her. This was the Ruth Grace knew best: kind, generous, open…If only Grace could find a way to persuade Ruth to talk about her troubles. Unfortunately, all her attempts
met with failure and so did Jenny’s. Grace even heard Johnnie asking Ruth quietly if all was quite well but, again, Ruth gave her standard answer of being fine and hastened away from him.

  Grace’s final day was to be spent watching Lydia in her first race at Fairfax Park. ‘Wouldn’t you prefer to go to the Empire Exhibition?’ Lydia asked.

  ‘I would like to see the exhibition,’ Grace admitted. ‘But not as much as I’d like to see you race.’

  Lydia left for Fairfax Park early so she could practise. Grace followed on a later train, expecting to take the special bus that had been organised to transport people from the station to the track, but someone called her from a car – a young man with the merriest eyes Grace had ever seen.

  ‘Miss Lavenham? Grace?’ He leapt out to open the passenger door for her. ‘I’m Luke Huxtable. Call me Hux, though. Everyone else does. I heard you were coming and offered to pick you up.’

  ‘How kind.’ Lydia had never admitted to liking Hux, but the fact that she hadn’t described him as annoying was a glowing recommendation.

  Grace wasn’t surprised. Hux kept up a lively chatter all the way to Fairfax Park, but it was sensible and caring, particularly regarding Lydia. ‘She’s a terrific driver. She just needs to use her nerves to make her sharper instead of letting them get the better of her. I left her with Sam. He’ll keep her calm.’

  There was no mention of Harry, but Hux smiled ruefully and Grace sensed that he too was frustrated that Harry and Lydia had fallen out.

  He drove into a courtyard and Grace saw Harry’s dashing figure emerge from one of the buildings. He was all kindness to Grace, bending to kiss her cheek. ‘I’m sorry you’re leaving. You’ll be missed.’

  She was introduced to Sam too. How nice they all were.

  Wishing them luck, she followed Sam’s directions to the public areas. The crowd was huge, with restaurant, bars and tea room all looking busy. Grace’s business sense appreciated the way Fairfax Park had been designed to appeal to women as well as men, with attractive decorations, numerous plants and a powder room that managed to be feminine but also fun, with mirrors set into tyres, taps shaped like steering wheels and photographs of a dashing Lydia in her racing car.