The Granville Sisters (13 page)

‘And the fact she thinks Charles Padmore has a brilliant future is enough to scare anyone. God, the man’s a moron.’

Edward laughed. A lazy bumble bee drifted past him to settle in the centre of a pink cabbage rose. He gave the stem a gentle tap, and the bee rose indignanly from its resting place, and droned off, heading for a bower of tiny rambler roses.

‘That’s what I’d like to do to Rosie,’ he remarked thoughtfully. ‘Give her a good shaking up. Get her to open her eyes to the real world. What the hell is she going to
do
with a loser like Padmore?’

Colin looked at him askance. ‘You’re not sweet on her, are you?’

‘God, no. I just think she’s heading for a very dreary future. Why, are
you
sweet on her?’

Colin shook his head. ‘I was rather smitten with Juliet for a while, but she’s too hot to handle. Too heartless, as well. She needs someone who can tame her.’

‘Like the shrew, you mean?’ Edward chuckled at the comparison. ‘I quite envy the man who finally does … tame her, I mean.’

‘I hear she’s seeing someone called Daniel Lawrence.’

Edward looked thoughtful. ‘Daniel Lawrence, eh? Dear God!’ He turned to Colin. ‘I say, old chap, do you think she’s a masochist?’

It was the third bouquet in a week. The first one, a large bouquet of white roses, had come with a card bearing the words,
You’re the tops, you’re the tower of piza
… It was unsigned.

The next morning, pink roses arrived in a basket.
You’re the tops, you’re the Mona Liza
was written on a note, and again there was no signature, but Juliet began to guess who might be sending them.

This morning, an arrangement of dark crimson roses, lavishly tied with red velvet ribbon, was delivered. Intrigued, she ripped open the little envelope, and drew out the card. Then burst out laughing.

Cole Porter can say it better than I can … Daniel
.

Juliet was still laughing with delight when the phone rang a few minutes later.

‘There’s a call for you, Miss Juliet,’ Parsons announced primly. ‘A Mr Lawrence.’

‘I’ll take it in the morning room,’ she said lightly, as she sashayed out of the dining room.

‘Who’s Mr Lawrence?’ Rosie asked, agog with curiosity.

‘No one you know,’ Juliet replied lazily over her shoulder.

Daniel’s first words surprised her. ‘I thought we’d go out to dinner tonight, Juliet.’

Not –
When can I see you?
Not –
Can I take you out?

‘That depends,’ she parried.

‘Do oysters and champagne appeal?’

‘They’re so
passé
.’

‘Caviar and vodka?’

‘
Ordinaire
.’

‘The lady is difficult to please.’

‘It’s
who
I dine with, not what I eat, that I’m choosy about.’

‘Not where?’ he queried.

‘Mostly who.’

‘How about this, then. I’ll pick you up at eight o’clock and we’ll dine somewhere you’ve never been before.’

‘I’ve dined everywhere.’

‘Not in this place.’

‘How can you be sure of that?’

‘As sure as I am that you’ll be looking ravishing. And very, very sexy.’

Giggling to herself, Juliet went to finish her breakfast.

‘Why are you looking so pleased with yourself?’ Rosie bristled, putting down her newspaper.

‘Wouldn’t you like to know,’ Juliet replied with maddening evasiveness.

That evening a scarlet sports car drew up outside 48 Green Street and a moment later Daniel was standing on the front doorstep, filling the space with his presence.

Thankful that both Rosie and her parents were out, Juliet hurried forward, and after saying hello, slipped into the passenger seat, her white fox furs pulled close against the chill of the evening. Then Daniel jumped into the driving seat and they were off, roaring towards Hyde Park Corner.

‘Where are we going?’ Juliet asked curiously.

‘Not far,’ Daniel replied, ‘and you
do
look very, very sexy.’

So does he
, she thought, looking covertly at his strong profile. He intrigued her. No other man would dare take command of a situation, with a comparative stranger, the way Daniel was doing. Yet at the same time his manner suggested great intimacy, as if they’d known each other for years.

What am I getting into? she thought, with a mixture of excitement and wariness, as he drove speedily towards the Embankment.

In the darkness, the river glinted with sinister stillness and the gas lamps threw patches of mellow light on the old paved streets. A pang of alarm shot through her. She knew nothing about this man. She was taking an impossible risk going off with him, without even telling her family where she was going.

Then he stopped the car and, getting out, came round to open her door.

‘What
is
this place?’ she asked, standing very upright, her head raised, as if she were sniffing the air.

‘Come with me,’ he said softly, cupping her elbow in the palm of his hand.

For a wild moment she felt like running away … hailing a passing taxi, shouting for help … but how far would she get in high heels, and her long tight skirt? Visions of rape flashed through her mind. She started to tremble.

‘It’s all right, Juliet.’ His deep voice rumbled like the growl of a gentle lion, as if he sensed her perturbation.

‘I’m fine,’ she retorted sharply, raising her chin, determined to look more confident than she felt.

He led her along the Embankment, until he stopped by a gangplank, its handrails hung with lanterns.

She stopped dead in her tracks. ‘A
boat
?’ she exclaimed, in alarm. ‘I don’t understand …’

‘This way, darling.’ Calmly taking her hand, he led her down the steep incline of the wooden planking, until they reached the deck of a houseboat.

‘Welcome aboard,’ he said, ushering her into a large cabin, with windows all around, overlooking the river. Candles glowed on a table set for dinner. Through the large windows the Thames flowed past, carrying dimly lit river boats.

A waiter stepped from the shadows, holding a silver tray with two glasses of champagne.

‘Thank you. You can go now,’ Daniel told him, taking the glasses and handing one to Juliet.

In silence the waiter withdrew. A minute later they heard him walking up the gangplank.

‘To you, Juliet,’ Daniel said, raising his glass. ‘Come and sit down.’

The waiter had left dressed crab, lobster and crayfish on a fish platter, surrounded by sliced lemons. There were different salads, Italian bread studded with dark fruit, and piles of grapes in a basket, beside a cheese board.

‘This is fun,’ Juliet remarked with brittle lightness, determined to sound sophisticated, as if she was used to dining on boats with strange men every night of the week.

‘So tell me about yourself,’ he asked softly, topping up her glass.

‘There’s so little to tell,’ she replied, shrugging.

‘But I don’t know anything about the real you; only what I’ve read in the magazines and newspapers.’

‘That’s all there is to know. Very boring, really.’ She sipped her champagne, and smiled her wicked smile.

‘What about your time in Rome? Surely, away from your parents, you had a good time?’ He looked deeply into her eyes, probing, searching.

As if mesmerized, the saying
like a lamb to the slaughter
flitted through her mind. Juliet couldn’t help speaking with painful honesty, such was his effect on her.

‘The Principessa was as strict as a prison warder. I managed to slip out on my own occasionally, to do some shopping, but mostly she chaperoned me. And what’s the use of going to the Spanish Steps if all one does is look at Keats’s house?’

Daniel looked at her sadly. ‘Rome is such a romantic city too. Didn’t you meet anyone …?’

‘I met lots of really divine people, but they were all the same age as my parents. It was very educational, though, in more ways than one.’

He looked at her intently. ‘What sort of ways?’

Juliet shrugged again, tilting her head to one side. ‘I’d never been away from home before,’ she admitted. ‘I think it made me grow up fast. I had intelligent, worldly people to talk to, and that rather opened my eyes.’

Daniel’s smile made the corners of his mouth tip up attractively. ‘Which you don’t get at home?’ he quipped swiftly.

‘Daddy’s very clever,’ she replied defensively. ‘Mummy … well, she’s had five children, and a big house to run … She doesn’t have much time for anything else.’

‘What do you enjoy doing most?’ Daniel persisted, never taking his eyes off her face.

Juliet found that a hard question to answer. She didn’t want Daniel to think she was a shallow party-loving ex-débutante, and yet what else
did
she like doing? ‘All sorts of things,’ she replied lightly.

He looked at her with tenderness. ‘You’re a rebel, my darling, and I love you for it. And you’re holding something back from me; I can feel it. What is it? What keeps you awake at night? What gives you nightmares?’

Juliet felt her cheeks flushing red. ‘Nothing!’ she retorted hotly. And too swiftly.

‘But you have bad dreams?’

‘What are you? A psychiatrist?’ He was crossing the boundary line, getting into forbidden territory, and it made her angry.

Daniel immediately looked contrite. ‘I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean to pry, and why should you tell me anything, anyway? It’s just that I think you’re the most … the most fascinating and beautiful girl I’ve ever met; and I want to get closer to you,’ he added, his voice soft and low.

Juliet looked at him warily. ‘Then let’s talk about something else,’ she suggested crisply.

‘Of shoes and ships and sealing wax, of cabbages and kings? How about the new King and Wallis Simpson, then?’ Daniel teased, laughingly.

‘Yes, indeed. What about her?’ Juliet replied. For the first time since she’d been a small child, she’d found someone she wanted to confide in; she wanted to tell Daniel all about herself, although she barely knew him. The desire was almost overwhelming, but she drew back, not daring.

To tell him everything would be like opening Pandora’s box, and God knows what would come flying out, to beset her and make her nightmares worse.

‘Talking of the new King,’ he said easily, realizing she was not going to open up to him, ‘I can’t help thinking it was a bad omen when the jewelled Maltese Cross on the Crown of England came crashing down from his father’s coffin and rolled into the gutter as it was paraded through the streets.’

‘Did it? I didn’t know that,’ she said, intrigued, glad to talk about something else.

‘Are there lots of things you don’t know?’ He reached for her hand, and held it tenderly.

‘That depends.’

‘You’ve been to Paris, I suppose?’

She shook her head.

‘Then
I’ll
take you,’ he said in delight. ‘We’ll stay at the Ritz, dine at Maxim’s, go shopping in the Rue de Rivoli, have lunch in Montmartre, go to l’Opera, and end up being real tourists by going up to the top of the Eiffel Tower, to see the whole city spread out at our feet. What do you say?’ The look in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine.

‘I don’t see how I can …’ Tantalizing visions of a weekend in Paris with this incredible man seemed thrilling but impossible.

‘If you think your parents would make a fuss, I’ll get my mother to invite you for the weekend to our place in Kent. In reality, we’ll drive to Dover, and cross on the ferry to Calais. Then we’ll drive to Paris.’

He leaned across and took her other hand, as he gazed intently into her eyes. ‘You’ll come with me, won’t you?’

Juliet felt momentarily dizzy. It was one thing sneaking off to a houseboat whilst pretending to be at a girls’ supper party in Chelsea, but to go
abroad
…! She gazed back into his eyes and met the challenge.

‘Why not?’ she replied boldly, after only a moment’s hesitation. His audacity at inviting her away for a weekend was stunning but terribly exciting. ‘But only as a friend,’ she added quickly, in case he thought she was fast.

‘Of course,’ he agreed, with equal speed, and seeming understanding, which then made Juliet feel immoral for even suggesting he might have had other ideas.

Daniel spoke reassuringly. ‘So when would you like to go?’

She looked into his eyes and felt a thrilling sort of terror. No matter what she’d just said, she knew without a shadow of a doubt that this man was going to be her first lover. An experienced lover, too. She started trembling, unable to meet his gaze.

‘Let’s go in a couple of weeks,’ he said, without waiting for her answer. Then he leaned closer, so she could feel his breath on her cheek. ‘We’ll have a never-to-be-forgotten time, I can promise you that.’

She smiled. ‘Paris in the spring,’ she said, putting on a grand society voice, as if she’d just said
Shopping in Bond Street
. ‘What fun!’

‘Who is she?’ Liza asked. ‘It’s very kind of her to invite you for the weekend, but who else is going to be there? Is she having a house party?’

‘I think so,’ Juliet lied. She’d shown her mother the letter from Sonia Lawrence, handwritten on pale blue stationery, with the address in Kent printed at the top.

‘Then you’d better accept,’ Liza said vaguely. She was having a dreadful time working out the seating plan for the church for Rosie’s wedding, and Henry wasn’t helping her at all.

‘I’ll do it right away,’ Juliet replied. In reality, she thought dreamily, I’ll really be accepting … being wined and dined at all the best places in Paris, before Daniel … She gave a quick intake of breath, visualizing a large double bed, with snowy white sheets and soft pillows, and Daniel carrying her to it, and then lying down beside her … she replayed that bit over and over in her mind, because the anticipation of that moment was so delicious … Then he would reach for her … The rest of her reverie was hot and hazy; she could hardly wait.

‘How do you like it?’ Charles asked Rosie. He’d taken her to see the small house in Farm Street where they were going to live when they were married.

Rosie was stunned by the tiny rooms, and hurt because he’d bought the house without consulting her first. She decided, however, it would be best to make appreciative sounds at this stage. Anyway, it would do for a start, but of course they’d have to get a bigger place within the next year or so.