Authors: Sara Craven
A little sigh came down the line. 'It's Rohan, isn't it?' Marcia Wainwright asked almost resignedly. 'My dynamic, attractive bastard of a brother. From his few, brief, and very guarded remarks about you, I gather you must be the first woman to turn him down since he left prep, school. My congratulations. I wonder if the Guinness Book of Records would be interested.'
Cass was startled into laughter. 'Mrs Wainwright…'
'Oh, Marcia, please. And I'll call you Cassie, even though we seem destined to remain apart.' She paused. 'Is that short for Cassandra, by the way?'
Cass's hand clenched round the receiver until the knuckles showed white suddenly. She said evenly, 'Yes, but I never use the name.'
'Then I won't either,' Marcia said comfortably. 'Cassie—this is silly. I could do with some stimulating female companionship, and I'm sure Jodie needs playmates. What child ever didn't? And we could always fix a time when Rohan was in London, so you didn't have to see him, if you didn't want to.' She paused again. 'If you have no transport, I could have you met at the station.'
Cass said ruefully, 'You make it very difficult for me to refuse without sounding positively ungracious, but I have to, just the same.'
'I won't pretend I'm not disappointed,' Marcia said. 'But I still have hopes of persuading you. We'll talk about it at the party tomorrow night. I look forward to meeting you.' And she rang off.
Cass replaced her receiver thoughtfully. In spite of herself, she'd liked the sound of Marcia, and Jodie often wistfully mentioned James and Simon. But it was impossible. The last person on earth she needed to be on friendly terms with was Rohan Grant's sister.
Cass breathed a sigh of relief when she reached home the following evening. The party that night seemed to have been the sole topic of conversation at the agency all day long, but fortunately her own silence on the subject seemed to have passed un-noticed.
'We're going to have a wonderfully lazy evening,' she told Jodie, as she added seasoning to a dish of chicken provencale, and put it into the oven to cook slowly. 'While we're waiting for supper, we'll have our baths and wash our hair, then eat in our dressing gowns.'
Jodie welcomed the idea with rapture. It wasn't a very relaxing bath, and shampoo and water seemed to get everywhere, but it was great fun, and Cass felt more lighthearted than she'd done for days, as she wielded the hairdryer and brush, and scented the fragrance of the casserole beginning to drift through from the kitchen.
The abrupt buzz at the front door was a totally unwelcome intrusion.
'You said a rude word,' Jodie accused.
'I did,' Cass admitted ruefully. 'I wasn't expecting callers, that's all. Perhaps if we keep very quiet, they'll go away.'
But the buzzer sounded again, more imperatively than ever. Then a longer burst, as if whoever was outside was leaning on the thing, Cass thought resentfully, as she got up to answer it, tigtening the belt of her robe as she did so.
She released the catch, and almost as she did so, Rohan walked in. She gasped and fell back, as the hazel eyes blazed down at her.
'Good evening,' he said in a silky tone which didn't fool her for an instant. 'I've just learned that you're not coming to the party tonight. May I ask why not?'
Cass looked at him incredulously. 'You've come all the way from Graystocks to ask me that?'
'Of course not,' he said. 'I'm just on my way down there now, and I'm taking you with me.' His eyes swept over her assessingly. 'Well you're half ready at least. Go and put a dress on.'
'I'll do nothing of the sort,' Cass said between her teeth.
'Is Mummy going to a party?' Jodie demanded. 'Can I go too?'
'No,' Cass said desperately. She turned to Rohan. 'I refused the invitation because Mrs Barrett has another engagement tonight, although why I should have to offer an explanation for my decision…'
He turned to her, smiling, his eyes glinting dangerously, looking, she thought, almost golden—tiger's eyes.
'Then you should have let us know, Cassie,' he said smoothly. 'Every problem has its solution, after all, and Jodie's suggested her own. She can go with us—and stay for a few days too. I'll ring Gray stocks and warn Nanny she has a visitor.'
'Oh, Rohan—may I?' Jodie's face was transfigured.
'No,' Cass almost shouted. 'I won't hear of it.'
Rohan put a hand on Jodie's shoulder and pushed her gently towards the bedrooms. 'Go and choose all the clothes you like best,' he directed gently. 'Mummy will be in to help you presently.'
When they were alone, Cass said stormily, 'You can go to hell. I won't be pushed around by you.'
He said harshly, 'I haven't even started pushing yet. I wouldn't have known you weren't going to this party if Marcia hadn't got a guest list from my secretary and checked the names. You're one of the guests of honour and you know it, and you're not insulting me by failing to turn up. Does Finiston know you weren't planning to be there?'
'No,' she said defiantly. 'Nor do I see what difference it makes, considering I don't even work on the account any more. And while we're on the subject of guest of honour, what's Miss Vance going to say if I turn up.'
'Very little,' he said briefly. 'She's in California. Did her well publicised departure escape your notice?
'It must have done,' she said. 'But it makes no difference. I'm still not going.'
'Oh, but you are,' he said grimly. 'Now, go and dress.'
She stamped her foot. 'No.'
He shrugged off the light overcoat he was wearing. In the formality of dinner jacket and black tie, he looked sensational, stunningly attractive, and she felt her stomach lurch crazily as she looked at him.
He strode past her, towards her bedroom, and she went after him, nearly tripping over the hem of her robe. When she caught up with him, he was standing in front of her open wardrobe, scanning impatiently along the rail.
He said, 'Your decent clothes shine out like good deeds in a sinful world.' He pulled the dress she'd worn to the theatre off its hanger and tossed it to her. 'Wear this.'
'When hell freezes over.'
He smiled charmingly. 'Then I'll put the bloody thing on you myself. Believe me, it will be my pleasure.'
He moved towards her, his eyes going to the belt of her robe. Beneath the thin fabric, she was naked, and they both knew it.
She whispered shakily, 'No' and put out a hand to fend him away. 'No—please.' She swallowed. 'I'll do it.'
He nodded. 'I'll sort Jodie out,' he said expressionlessly and left her.
Moving like an automaton, she found a handful of underwear, and began to put it on, hastily covering herself with the dress in case he came back to check on her progress. She sank down on the stool in front of her dressing table and stared at herself. Her eyes looked enormous—like a bush baby's in the pallor of her face. Fumbling a little, she began to apply moisturiser and foundation. A mask, she thought, to hide behind, and never had she needed one more.
She was clumsy with the eye shadow and had to wipe it off and start again, taking slow deep breaths to calm herself. Her hand was surer with the blusher and mascara wand, and she etched in the contours of her mouth in colour with barely a tremor.
The car, waiting for them in the street below, was low, sleek and frighteningly powerful. Cass stopped looking at the speedometer after a while, although she had to admit Rohan was a first class driver. He didn't speak, and neither did she, yet their awareness of each other seemed total. And that was frightening too—hurtling through the darkness in this enforced intimacy while Jodie drowsed on the back seat. In some strange way it was one of the most disturbing things which had ever happened to her.
At last she felt she had to break the silence, or scream. She said, 'Won't your guests be wondering where you are?'
He shrugged slightly. 'Marcia knows I may be late and why,' he said. 'She can cope, and she has the rest of the
Eve
board to help her.'
Cass shook her head helplessly. 'Why have you done this?' she asked quietly. 'You couldn't wait to get me off the account.'
'I couldn't wait to get you out of my particular orbit,' he came back at her grimly. 'Only, it isn't as simple as that—is it?'
Cass looked down at her hands clenched together in her lap. 'No,' she admitted dully.
He made a small sound in his throat, but whether it was prompted by satisfaction or exasperation, she could not tell.
Graystocks was a big Georgian manor, floodlit from the drive and gardens, and with additional light spilling from the windows and open front door. Cars, she noticed, were still arriving.
Rohan drove round to the side of the house and through an arched gateway into a large cobbled yard where he stopped. He said, 'I'm sorry this is the back way, but it will make it easier to find Nanny for Jodie.' Moving gently so as not to disturb the dozing child, he lifted her from the rear of the car, then walked with her into the house, while Cass followed.
The domestic area of the house seemed vast to Cass, used to one small kitchenette, and crowded with people. She found herself wondering how many were permanent staff, and how many merely hired for the evening. Rohan led the way, regardless of the bustle going on around him, to a door opening on to a steep flight of stairs.
Nanny, a tall, rather gaunt woman with a serene face, was waiting at the top of the stairs.
'Good evening, sir,' she said calmly. She sent Cass an appraising glance. 'And good evening to you, madam. If you could bring the little girl along, we'll pop her into bed.' She sent Cass a peculiarly sweet smile as if she divined her inner unrest. 'There's really no need to worry about her. She'll be safe here.'
As Cass murmured her thanks, Rohan appeared again. 'We'll go downstairs,' he ordained abruptly. 'You can check on her later, if you wish.'
'Of course I wish,' she retorted, nettled. She bit her lip. 'I suppose you think I'm being over-fussy, but she has had problems—and she's all I've got,' she added defensively.
He sent her an ironic look, but his voice was politely expressionless as he said, 'Of course.'
A tidal wave of noise seemed to flow towards them as they emerged from the nursery wing, and walked along a broad gallery towards the main staircase. Cass could hear the throb of disco music mixed with the buzz of voices and laughter, and nervousness swept over her. Joining the party in the company of the master of the house was not her idea of an unobtrusive entrance. She hung back slightly, pretending to examine some of the portraits on the walls. One in particular caught her eye, and she stared at it, her interest real. The subject was a tall woman, her hair swept up into one of the elaborate styles which preceded the Great War, her slender throat circled by a pearl choker. She was beautiful, but it was the serene laughter in her eyes which gave the portrait its character.
'My grandmother,' Rohan said. 'The Eve after whom the cosmetic company was named. I told you once it was dear to my heart, and now you know why.' He added mockingly, 'I do have these occasional flashes of humanity.'
It was a side of him she would prefer not to be aware of, Cass thought, turning blindly away without replying.
She was bitterly aware of the curious glances coming her way as she descended the staircase by Rohan's side.
'So you made it.' It was a girl's voice amused and satisfied, and Cass turned abruptly to find herself being confronted by someone tall with brown hair and hazel eyes, and a familiarly lazy grin curving her mouth.
'Yes, we are alike, aren't we?' she said cordially as if Cass had spoken. 'But,' she lowered her voice. 'I wouldn't let my predatory brother see you gaping like that or he might think all hope was not dead.' She held out her hand. 'Jodie, I presume, is already dead to the world upstairs. I look forward to making her acquaintance tomorrow. You are going to let her stay?'
Cass said stiffly, 'It seems so. I was given little choice.'
Marcia laughed. 'A family trait, I'm afraid. I hope you'll forgive us for steamrollering you like this. But I'm sure it will be good for her, and marvellous for the boys. I suppose I can't persuade you to be our guest too.'
'I'm afraid not.'
Marcia sighed. 'I was afraid of that too,' she acknowledged with a rueful grin. She was wearing a black dress which had probably cost a month of Cass's salary, and a string of exquisite pearls. 'Now, what can I get you to drink?'
Cass opted for white wine, and as Marcia turned away to signal an approaching waitress, Lloyd's voice said thunderously, 'I thought you said you weren't coming.'
'I wasn't,' Cass returned levelly. 'But it would take too long to explain.
And explanations could be complicated, she thought with a little inward shiver. Everything was moving too fast suddenly, sweeping her inexorably along paths she could not comprehend.
He looked explosive. 'But I would have brought you,' he protested. 'How did you get here?'
She sighed. 'Rohan brought me.'
He looked totally nonplussed. 'But didn't you explain about the kid?'
Several times,' she said with forced gaiety. 'As a matter of fact, she's here too, asleep upstairs.'
Lloyd was looking at her as if she'd just grown an extra head. 'It all seems very cosy,' he said at last. 'How long have you been on these kind of terms with the Grants.'
'I haven't, and I'm not,' she said wearily. 'It was just—a way out of an impasse, that's all. And, as it happens, Jodie did meet the Wainwright boys once, and they've asked her to spend a few days here.'
While he was absorbing that, Marcia reappeared. 'Your drink,' she said to Cassie then awarded Lloyd one of her candid smiles. 'Hello, I don't think we've met. I'm Marcia Wainwright. You're not dancing, and you're not eating, and you must do one or the other. Let me introduce you round a little.'
Lloyd gaped at her as if she'd popped up through the floorboards in a puff of smoke. 'Haswell,' he muttered. 'Lloyd Has well.'
Marcia beckoned, and a pretty blonde whom Cass recognised from her modelling work with the agency, joined them smilingly.
'Hattie, darling,' Marcia cooed. 'Do take Lloyd somewhere and make him smile again. I'm sure you can.'