Sins (33 page)

A wave of misery flooded through Rose. ‘Is it always going to be like this for me, Josh?’ she asked him helplessly. ‘Are men always going to think the same about me as Russell did, because of the way I look?’ A single tear rolled down her face, glistening in the moonlight coming in through the gap where the curtains didn’t quite meet.

Propping his head up on his hand, Josh reached over and gently wiped it away.

‘No,’ he told her, ‘one day it will be different.’

Rose refused to be comforted. ‘Different? What does that mean?’

‘It means this,’ Josh told her softly, leaning towards her, cupping her face with his free hand as he brushed his lips lightly against her own.

This wasn’t what he had intended to happen, not at all. Seducing Rose had never even entered his head. Well, maybe there had been occasions when he had looked at her and thought about it–he was a man, after all–but certainly not tonight. It must be the unnatural situation of being in bed with a girl and not making love to her that was affecting him. And it was only a kiss.

Emerald glanced pointedly at her watch. It really was inconvenient of Dougie to have arrived at her house unannounced just as she was about to leave for the Ritz and Christmas lunch with her friends. Her mother had
wanted her to spend Christmas at Denham, but Emerald had declined. She had no intention of doing something so boring and unappealing when she was having such a very pleasant time here in London being cosseted and admired for her ‘bravery’ in ‘going it alone’ after Alessandro’s ‘cruelty’ to her. She had even warned Jeannie not to invite a spare man for her unless he was suitably elderly and very respectable. Emerald was rather enjoying her current ‘Madonna’ status and she wasn’t about to have it spoiled by being seen in public in the company of one of society’s charmers.

‘So why exactly are you here, Dougie?’ Emerald asked impatiently.

‘There’s something I want to ask you.’

‘Can’t it wait, only I’m on my way out,’ she told him pointedly.

‘I’d rather we discussed it now.’

Something in Dougie’s voice–a quiet but determined force–broke through her impatience, commanding her awareness and a certain grudging respect because Dougie wasn’t going to back down and let her bully him into leaving.

‘Very well then,’ she gave in.

‘Could we go somewhere more comfortable–the library, perhaps?’

Emerald exhaled an irritable sigh. ‘All right,’ she agreed, leading the way into the bookshelved room, where she dropped her coat onto the desk, before sinking down into one of the leather chairs close to the fire. Emerald insisted on all the fires being kept burning whether she was in the house or not.

‘Let’s get it over with. What is it, Dougie? What do you want?’ she demanded.

Dougie looked at her. His timing was, he realised, appalling but he was here and he was going to do what he had come here to do.

‘I want to ask you to marry me,’ he answered her simply. ‘I want to ask you to be my duchess.’

Emerald was lost for words, lost to anything other than the shock within her that was now giving way to disbelief, confusion and–against all logic–hope.

‘You want to marry me?’ she asked him as soon as she could speak. ‘Why?’

‘Thought it would be a good thing, what with the little one coming and…well, everything,’ Dougie told her determinedly. He might not have the expertise that Tod Newton and his ilk possessed when it came to women but Dougie knew Emerald better than to tell her that he loved her.

Emerald moved uncertainly in her chair whilst she tried to order her thoughts.

Dougie was proposing marriage to her because he thought it would be a good thing. She would be the new Duchess of Lenchester, Lenchester House and Osterby would be hers, she would have security, social position, wealth and a husband whose praises her mother never stopped singing. Something unsought and desperately fragile, so fragile that it made her hold her own breath, had started to unfurl inside her, something sweet and warm that made her want somehow to be that Emerald she had always refused to be. Fear and anger ignited inside her, uniting against their shared
enemy. Emerald let out her breath and welcomed her return to normality.

‘Me, marry you?’ She arched one beautifully curved eyebrow.

Dougie winced at the contempt in her voice.

‘Certainly not.’

Marriage to anyone right now was the last thing she wanted. And as for marriage to the drover–unthinkable and impossible, of course.

From the library window, Emerald watched as Dougie crossed the square, drawing the attention of an elegantly clad young woman he passed. Emerald started to frown. Dougie was good-looking, she admitted grudgingly–good-looking and tall and broad-shouldered, and titled and rich…The kind of man a woman could rely on, come what may.

Her frown deepened. She wasn’t actually regretting turning him down, was she?

He had known that Emerald would turn him down, Dougie tried to comfort himself as he made his way back towards Lenchester House. He was due at Osterby tomorrow morning for the Boxing Day meet and he should already have left. He had been a fool to go round to see Emerald just because Amber had happened to mention, when he had telephoned to wish them all a Happy Christmas, that Emerald had opted to remain in London. But a fool could dream, couldn’t he?

Jay and the girls had gone for a walk but Amber hadn’t wanted to go with them. She was worrying about Rose,
who hadn’t answered the telephone when she had rung her this morning to wish her a Happy Christmas. It didn’t seem like a proper Christmas without her here. Ella had told her not to worry and had said that Rose would either be sleeping in because of all the work she had been doing, or alternatively might have gone to church.

She was concerned about Emerald’s absence as well, but for different reasons. Amber looked out across Denham’s frost-whitened gardens and the parkland beyond. She couldn’t help thinking of another Christmas that had been shadowed, as this one was, by the conception of an unplanned child. Pain and guilt tightened round her heart.

Soon a new life would be born to the family, the first child of a new generation, her own first grandchild, and no matter what the circumstances of its birth the child itself would be welcome and loved. A grandchild. Hope uncurled inside her, pushing through the darkness of her guilt and despair just as, beneath the frost-hardened ground, already the spears of spring’s bulbs would be uncurling themselves ready to push through their darkness and into the light.

Hope, surely one of the strongest and most enduring of all human emotions.

Ivor called Rose into the office one morning, a week into the new year, and gave her her notice, saying that he didn’t feel she was properly committed to her work. Haltingly Rose tried to explain about Mr Russell, the shock and fear she had experienced, although she did not, of course, tell him about Josh rescuing her and what had followed.

On Christmas Day, when they had eventually got up, Josh had fed her on smoked salmon and cream cheese bagels and hot strong coffee, before walking her home to the Chelsea house late in the evening.

She had felt self-conscious at first, self-conscious and uncomfortable in the light of the intimacy they had shared, but Josh had soon put her at her ease, reminding her that he was her best and closest friend, and that anything that happened between them was natural and understandable and did not need to be dwelled upon with anything other than gratitude that he had been there for her. And now at least, she told herself wryly,
she had a standard against which to measure all other men’s kisses, because when it came to kissing, even without any experience to help her, she knew instinctively that Josh’s kisses were very good.

Her employer, though, was in no mood to listen to her account of the attack in the Russells’ flat. In fact, he was so angry with her, denouncing everything she tried to say in her defence, that Rose knew that Mr Russell had already put his side of the story to Ivor.

‘There’s no room here for someone who disobeys orders and upsets clients,’ Ivor told her.

‘You mean you want me to leave?’ Rose was desperately hoping she might have misunderstood.

‘Yes, I want you to leave,’ he agreed, ‘and the sooner the better, before you cause any
more
trouble.’

It wasn’t even lunchtime so there was no point in her going back to the Cheyne Walk house. Neither Ella nor Janey would be there. And besides, the person she wanted to tell first was Josh. Josh would understand.

Rose knew the minute she saw the small crowd at various stages of having their hair done, standing outside the salon on the street along with Josh’s stylists and juniors, that something was wrong.

‘What is it? What’s happened?’ she asked Irene, the receptionist, catching hold of her sleeve as the other girl stood on the pavement staring up at the windows of the salon.

‘I don’t know.’ Irene looked frightened and upset. ‘These men arrived–big and heavy and really nasty-looking, if you know what I mean–and they told us that we all had to leave. Francis said that he wasn’t going anywhere because
he was in charge since Josh wasn’t there ’cos he’d gone to the bank, and one of them just picked up a chair and smashed it down over one of the basins and told Francis that the next time it would be his head.’

Irene was crying now, and Rose could understand why. At least Josh was safe.

‘Has anyone called the police yet?’ she asked Irene.

‘Yes, Francis has. Oh, I do hope that Josh is all right.’ Irene looked up at the salon as she spoke.

‘You said that Josh had gone to the bank.’

‘Yes, he had, but he came back, and when Francis told him what had happened he went running up the stairs.’

The crowd on the street was thickening with passersby stopping out of curiosity. A police car, its siren wailing, skidded to a halt outside the salon, two policemen getting out, whilst the driver stayed where he was. Francis started to tell them what had happened. Rose wondered why they were wasting time standing on the pavement when Josh could be in danger. It seemed a lifetime before they finally headed for the salon.

This was her fault, Rose knew. Mr Russell had taken his revenge on Josh because he had helped her.

Within seconds one of the policemen came back clattering down the stairs, and out into the street.

‘What’s happening?’ Rose demanded. ‘Where’s Josh?’

‘Now now, love,’ the policeman said, then called out to the driver of the car, ‘Looks like we’re going to need an ambulance. Chap upstairs has been knocked about a bit.’

Josh. It had to be Josh. Rose ran into the building, ignoring the policeman’s command as she raced up the stairs and into the salon.

Or rather what was left of the salon. Broken shards of the wrecked basins covered the floor, the chairs had been slashed with knives, bottles of shampoo emptied on the floor and hurled at the walls. Nothing had been left undamaged and Josh was sitting in the middle of it all, blood on his face from his obviously broken nose, his lip swollen and cut, the sleeve of his jacket slashed.

There was no sign of the men who had caused the carnage and Rose guessed that they would have left via the fire escape at the back of the building.

The policeman was now questioning Josh.

‘Well, lad, this looks like a professional job to me. Got any enemies? Someone who’d do something like this?’

Josh was shaking his head, whilst giving Rose a warning glance.

The policeman sighed and looked resigned, plainly sensing that Josh wasn’t being truthful.

‘Well, if you suddenly remember that there is someone, you can call round at the station and tell us. In the meantime I hope that you’re well insured.’

The policeman put his notebook and pencil back in his pocket and headed for the stairs, clattering down them as he went to join his colleague.

Rose dropped to her knees next to Josh, and reached for his hand. The knuckles were raw and bloody.

‘At least I managed to give one of the bastards a belting,’ he mumbled.

‘Oh, Josh, this is all my fault, Mr Russell—’

‘Nah, it’s someone’s idea of telling me that I need to pay them some protection money,’ he told her. ‘Happens all the time.’

But Rose didn’t believe him–not for one moment.

‘Policeman was right about me needing to be insured. Pity I didn’t pay the premium when it fell due and bought myself a pair of fancy shoes instead.’

Outside another siren screeched and then stopped, indicating that the ambulance had arrived.

Rose looked at him, thinking at first that he was joking and then realising that he wasn’t.

‘Well, that’s that, then. I reckon by the time I’ve paid for this little lot I’ll just about be wiped out. What do you reckon? Do you think Vidal will give me a job?’

‘Of course he will, but you won’t need it,’ Rose assured him.

There was no time to be lost. They could both hear the sound of the ambulance crew coming up the stairs. Soon Josh would be on his way to hospital and what she wanted to say had to be said now.

Knowing that it was because of her that this had happened, Rose had come to a quick decision.

‘Ivor sacked me this morning,’ she told him. ‘Not that I’m bothered. You know how you’ve always said that I should set up my own business?’

Josh nodded.

‘Well, that’s what I’m going to do. I’ve got some money–a trust fund–and I’m going to use some of that to find somewhere for us both, Josh.’ She was speaking faster now, desperate to get the words out whilst they were still alone. ‘Somewhere that I can have my showroom on the ground floor and you can have your salon upstairs.’

It was the least she could do after what he’d done for
her. She knew how much having his own business meant to him.

‘Now just a minute,’ Josh said grimly, ‘there’s no way I’m going to be beholden to you and have you financing me.’

She’d known that would be his reaction and she was prepared for it.

‘You won’t be anything of the kind. I need you, Josh. You make me brave enough to do things I couldn’t ever have done without you. We’ll be partners, business partners, with everything done properly and legally. You’ll design new hairstyles and I’ll design new salons.’ As she said the words Rose knew that it was what she wanted to do more than anything else, much more than draping curtains in stuffy mansion flats. She wanted to be herself, to follow her own direction, to prove to the world, and most of all to Amber, that she was more than the result–the sum–of the disgrace of her father and the poverty of her mother.