Czytaj książkę: «Mistletoe Seductions»
A Mistletoe Proposal
Lucy Gordon
Midnight Under the Mistletoe
Sara Orwig
Wedding Date with Mr Wrong
Nicola Marsh
www.millsandboon.co.uk
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Contents
Cover
Title Page
Contents
A Mistletoe Proposal
About the Author
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
Midnight Under the Mistletoe
About the Author
Dedication
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Epilogue
Wedding Date with Mr Wrong
About the Author
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
EPILOGUE
Endpage
Copyright
A Mistletoe Proposal
LUCY GORDON cut her writing teeth on magazine journalism, interviewing many of the world’s most interesting men. She’s had many unusual experiences, which have often provided the background for her books. Once, while staying in Venice, she met a Venetian who proposed in two days and they’ve been married ever since. Naturally this has affected her writing, in which romantic Italian men tend to feature strongly.
Two of her books have won a Romance Writers of America RITA® Award.
You can visit her website at lucy-gordon.com
CHAPTER ONE
AFTER five years the gravestone was still as clean and well-tended as on the first day, a tribute to somebody’s loving care. At the top it read:
MARK ANDREW SELLON,
9th April 1915—7th October 2003 A much loved husband and father
A space had been left below, filled three weeks later by the words:
DEIRDRE SELLON,
18th February 1921—28th October 2003
Beloved wife of the above
Together always
‘I remember how you insisted on leaving that space,’ Pippa murmured as she tidied away a few weeds. ‘Even then you were planning for the day you’d lie beside him. And the pictures too. You had them all ready for your own time.’
A family friend had returned from a trip to Italy and mentioned how Italian gravestones usually contained a picture of the deceased. ‘It really makes a difference to know what people looked like,’ she’d enthused. ‘I’m going to select my picture now.’
‘So am I,’ Dee had said instantly.
And she had, one for herself and one for her husband, taken when they were still in robust middle age. There, framed by the stone, was Dee, cheerful and ready to cope with anything life threw at her, and there was Mark, still bearing traces of the stunning good looks of his youth, when he’d been a daredevil pilot in the war.
Below them was a third photograph, taken at their sixtieth wedding anniversary party. It showed them standing close together, arms entwined, heads slightly leaning against each other, the very picture of two people who were one at heart.
Less than two months later, he had died. Dee had cherished the photograph, and when, three weeks after that, she had been laid beside him Pippa had insisted on adding it to the headstone.
Finishing with the weeds, she took out the flowers she’d brought with her and laid them carefully at the foot of the stone, murmuring, ‘There, just how you like them.’
She rose and moved back, checking that everything looked right, and stood for a moment in the rich glow of the setting sun. A passer-by, happening to glance at her, would have stopped and gazed in wonder.
She was petite, with a slender, elegant figure and an air of confidence that depended on more than mere looks. Nature had given her beauty but also another quality, less easy to define. Her mother called her a saucy little so-and-so. Her father said, ‘Watch it, lass. It’s dangerous to drive fellers too far.’
Men were divided in expressing their opinion. The more refined simply sighed. The less refined murmured, ‘Wow!’ The completely unrefined wavered between, ‘Get a load of that! ‘ and ‘Phwoar! ‘ Pippa shrugged, smiled and went on her way, happy with any of them.
Superficially, her attractions were easy to explain. The perfect face and body, the curled, honey-coloured hair, clearly luscious and extravagant, even now while it was pinned back in an unconvincing attempt at severity. But there was something else which no one had ever managed to describe: a knowing, amused look in her eyes; not exactly come-hither, but the teasing hint that come-hither might be lurking around the corner. Something.
A wooden seat had been placed conveniently nearby and Pippa settled onto it with the air of having come to stay.
‘What a day I’ve had!’ she sighed. ‘Clients talking their heads off, paperwork up to here.’ She indicated the top of her head.
‘I blame you,’ she told her grandmother, addressing the photograph. ‘But for you, I’d never have become a lawyer. But you had to go and leave me that legacy on condition that I trained for a profession.’
‘No training, no cash,’ Lilian, Pippa’s mother had pointed out. ‘And she’s named me your trustee to make sure you obey orders. I can almost hear her saying, “So get out of that, my girl.”’
‘That sounds like her,’ Pippa had said wryly. ‘Mum, what am I going to do?’
‘You’re going to do what your Gran says because, mark this, wherever she is, she’ll be watching.’
‘And you were,’ Pippa observed now. ‘You’ve always been there, just out of sight, over my shoulder, letting me know what you thought. Perhaps that was his influence.’
From her bag she produced a small toy bear, much of its fur worn away over time. Long ago he’d been won at a fair by Flight Lieutenant Mark Sellon, who’d solemnly presented him to Deirdre Parsons, the girl who later became his bride and lived with him for sixty years. To the last moment she’d treasured her ‘Mad Bruin’ as she called him.
‘Why mad?’ Pippa had asked her once.
‘After your grandfather.’
‘Was he mad?’
‘Delightfully mad. Wonderfully, gloriously mad. That’s why he was so successful as a fighter pilot. According to other airmen that I spoke to, he just went for everything, hell for leather.’
To the last moment, each had feared to lose the other. In the end Mark had died first, and after that, Dee had treasured the little bear more than ever, finally dying with him pressed against her face, and bequeathing him to Pippa, along with the money.
‘I brought him along,’ Pippa said, holding Bruin up as though Dee could see him. ‘I’m taking good care of him. It’s so nice to have him. It’s almost like having you.
‘I’m sorry it’s been so long since my last visit, but it’s chaos at work. I used to think solicitors’ offices were sedate places, but that was before I joined one. The firm does a certain amount of the “bread and butter stuff”, wills, property, that sort of thing. But it’s the criminal cases that bring everyone alive. Me too, if I’m honest. David, my boss, says I should go in for criminal law because I’ve got just the right kind of wicked mind.’ She gave a brief chuckle. ‘They don’t know how true that is.’
She stood for a moment, holding the little bear and smiling fondly at the photos of people she had loved, and still loved. Then she kissed him and replaced him in her bag.
‘I’ve got to go. ‘Bye, darling. And you, Grandpa. Don’t let her bully you too much. Be firm. I know it’s hard after a lifetime of saying, “Yes, dear, no, dear”, but try.’
She planted a kiss on the tips of her fingers and laid them against the photograph of her grandparents. Then she stepped back. The movement brought something into the extreme edge of her vision and she turned quickly to see a man watching her. Or it might be more exact to say staring at her with the disapproval of one who couldn’t understand such wacky behaviour. Wryly, she supposed she must look a little odd, and wondered how long he’d been there.
He was tall with a lean face that was firm almost to the point of grimness. Fortyish, she thought, but perhaps older with that unyielding look.
She gave him a polite smile and moved off. There was something about him that made her want to escape. She made her way to a place where there were other family graves.
It was strangely pleasant in these surroundings. Although part of a London suburb, the cemetery had a country air, with tall trees in which birds and squirrels made their homes. As the winter day faded, the red sun seemed to be sliding down between the tree trunks, accompanied by soft whistles and scampering among the leaves. Pippa had always enjoyed coming here, for its beauty almost as much as because it was now the home of people she had loved.
Just ahead were Dee’s parents, Joe and Helen, their daughter Sylvia and her infant son Joey, and the baby Polly. She had never known any of them, yet she’d been raised in a climate of strong family unity and they were as mysteriously real to her as her living relatives.
She paused for a moment at Sylvia’s grave, remembering her mother’s words about the likeness. It was a physical likeness, Pippa knew, having seen old snapshots of Great-Aunt Sylvia. As a young woman in the nineteen-thirties she’d been a noted beauty, living an adventurous life, skipping from romance to romance. Everyone thought she would marry the dashing Mark Sellon, but she’d left him to run off with a married man just before the war broke out. He died at Dunkirk and she died in the Blitz.
Something of Sylvia’s beauty had reappeared in Pippa. But the real likeness lay elsewhere, in the sparkling eyes and readiness to seek new horizons.
‘In the genes,’ Lilian had judged, perhaps correctly. ‘Born to be a good time girl.’
‘Nothing wrong with having a good time,’ Pippa had often replied chirpily.
‘There is if you don’t think of anything else,’ Lilian pointed out.
Pippa was indignant. ‘I think of plenty else. I work like a slave at my job. It’s just that now and then I like to enjoy myself.’
It sounded a rational answer, but they both knew that it was actually no answer at all. Pippa’s flirtations were many but superficial. And there was a reason for it, one that few people knew.
Gran Dee had known. She’d been a close-up witness of Pippa’s relationship with Jack Sothern, had seen how deeply the young girl was in love with him, how brilliantly happy when they became engaged, how devastated when he’d abandoned her a few weeks before Christmas.
That time still stood out fiercely in Pippa’s mind. Jack had left town for a couple of days, which hadn’t made her suspicious, as she now realised it should have. Wedding preparations, she’d thought; matters to be settled at work before he was free to go on their honeymoon. The idea of another woman had never crossed her mind.
When he returned she paid an unexpected visit to his apartment, heralding her arrival by singing a Christmas carol outside his door.
‘New day, new hope, new life,’ she yodelled merrily.
When he opened the door she flew into his arms, hoping to draw him into a kiss, but he moved stiffly away.
Then he dumped her.
For a while she’d been knocked sideways. Instead of the splendid career that should have been hers, she’d taken a job serving in the local supermarket, justifying this by saying that her grandparents, both in their eighties and frail, needed her. For the last two years of their lives she’d lived with them, watching over them, giving them every moment because, as she declared, she had no use for boyfriends.
It was then that the innocent beauty of her face had begun to be haunted with a look of determination so fierce as to be sometimes alarming. It would vanish quickly, driven away by her natural warmth, but it was still there, half hidden in the shadows, ready to return.
‘Don’t give in to it,’ Dee had begged in her last year of life. ‘I know you were treated cruelly, but don’t become bitter, whatever you do.’
‘Gran, honestly, you’ve got it all wrong. So a man let me down! So what? We rise above that these days!’
Dee had looked unconvinced, so Pippa brightened her smile, hoping to fool her, not very successfully, she knew.
Only after her death had Dee been able to put the situation right with a modest legacy, conditional on Pippa training for a proper career.
Pippa had changed from the quiet girl struggling to recover from heartbreak. Going back out into the world, starting a new life, had brought out a side she hadn’t known she had. Her looks won her many admirers, and she’d gone to meet them, arms open but heart closed. Life was fun if you didn’t expect too much, and she’d brought that down to a fine art.
‘Aunt Sylvia would have been proud of you,’ her mother told her, half critical, half admiring. ‘Not that I knew her, she died before I was born, but the way she carried on was a family legend and you’re heading in the same direction. Look at the way you’re dressed!’
‘I like to dress properly,’ Pippa observed, looking down at the short skirt that revealed her stunning legs, and the closely cut top that emphasised her delicate curves.
‘That’s not properly, that’s improperly,’ Lilian replied.
‘They can be the same thing,’ Pippa teased. ‘Oh, Mum, don’t look so shocked. I’m sure Aunt Sylvia would have said exactly that.’
‘Very likely, from all I’ve heard. But you’re supposed to be a lawyer.’
‘What do you mean, “supposed”? I passed my exams with honours and they were fighting to hire me, so my boss said.’
‘And doesn’t he mind you floating about his office looking like a sexy siren?’ Lilian demanded.
Pippa giggled.
‘No, I guess he doesn’t,’ Lilian conceded. ‘Well, I suppose if you’ve got the exam results to back you up you’ll be all right.’
‘Oh, yes,’ Pippa murmured. ‘I’ll be all right.’
One man, speaking from the depths of his injured feelings, had called her a tease, but he did her an injustice. She embarked on a relationship in all honesty, always wondering if this one would be different. But it never was. When she backed off it was from fear, not heartlessness. The memory of her misery over Jack was still there in her heart. The time that had passed since had dimmed that misery, but nothing could ever free her from its shadow, and she was never going to let it happen again.
‘I reckon you’d have understood that,’ she told Sylvia. ‘The things I’ve heard about you—I really wish we could have met. I bet you were fun.’
The thought of that fun made a smile break over her face. Sometimes she seemed to smile as she breathed.
But the smile faded as she turned to leave and saw the man she’d seen before, frowning at her.
Well, I suppose I must look pretty crazy, she thought wryly. His generation probably thinks you should never smile in a graveyard. But why not, if you’re fond of the people you come to see? And I’m very fond of Sylvia, even though we never met. So there!
Her mood of cheerful defiance lasted until she reached her car, parked just outside the gate. Then it faded into exasperation.
‘Oh, no, not again!’ she breathed as the engine made futile noises. ‘I’ll take you to the garage tomorrow, but start just this once, please!’
But, deaf to entreaties, it merely whirred again.
‘Grr!’
Getting out to look under the bonnet was a formality as she had only the vaguest idea what she was hoping to find. Whatever it was, she didn’t find it.
‘Grr!’
‘Are you in trouble?’
It was him, the man who’d interrupted her pleasant reverie in the graveyard and practically driven her out by his grim disapproval. At least, in her present growling exasperation that was how it seemed to her.
Not that he was looking grim now, merely detached and efficient as he headed towards her and surveyed the car.
‘Won’t it start?’
‘No. But this has happened before, and it usually starts after a while if I’m firm with it.’
His lips quirked slightly. ‘How do you get firm with a car? Kick it?’
‘Certainly not,’ she said with dignity. ‘I’m not living in the Dark Ages. I just—tap it a little and it comes right.’
‘I’ve got a better idea. Suppose I tow you to the nearest garage, or have you got a special one where you normally go when this breaks down? ‘
‘My brothers own a garage in Crimea Street,’ she said with dignity.
‘And do they approve of your “tapping” the car?’
‘They don’t approve of anything, starting with the fact that I bought it without consulting them. I just loved it on sight. It’s got so much personality.’
‘It’s certainly got that. What it hasn’t got is a reliable engine. You say you have brothers in the trade, and they let you buy this thing?’
‘They did not “let” me because I didn’t ask their permission,’ she said indignantly.
‘Nor their advice, it seems. I hope they gave you a piece of their minds.’
‘They did.’
‘So would I if you were my daughter.’
‘But I’m not your daughter, I haven’t asked for your help and I certainly haven’t asked for your interference. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to leave.’
‘How?’ he asked simply.
In her annoyance she’d forgotten that she was stranded. She glared.
‘It’s three miles to Crimea Street,’ he pointed out. ‘Are you going to walk it? In those heels? Or are you going to call them to rescue you? They’ll love that.’
‘Yes, and I’ll never hear the end of it,’ she sighed. ‘Ah, well, I don’t seem to have any choice.’
‘Unless I give you a tow?’ Seeing her suspicious look, he said, ‘It’s a genuine offer. I can’t just leave you here.’
‘Me being such a poor, helpless damsel in distress, you mean?’
His lips twitched. ‘Well, there must be something of the damsel in distress about you, or you wouldn’t have bought this ridiculous car.’
‘Very funny. Thank you for your offer of help, but I’ll manage without it. Good day to you.’
‘Come off your high horse. Come to think of it, a horse would probably have served you better than this contraption. I’ll fetch my car and connect them.’ Starting to move off, he turned to add, ‘Don’t go away.’
She opened her mouth to reply, had second thoughts and closed it again. It was annoying that she couldn’t help laughing at his jibe, but that was the fact. She was still smiling when he returned in an expensive vehicle that made her eyes open wide.
‘Oh, wow! Are you sure you want that thing seen with my old jalopy?’ she asked.
‘I’ll try to endure it.’ He worked swiftly to connect the cars, then opened his door and indicated for her to get into the passenger seat.
She had to admire the smooth, purring movement of his vehicle, which spoke of expense and loving care, suggesting that this man had an affinity with cars. Since she loved them herself, she could feel some sympathy, even a faint amused appreciation of how she must look to him. He’d implied that she reminded him of a daughter, and she wondered how many daughters he actually had.
‘I’m Roscoe Havering, by the way,’ he said.
‘Pippa Jenson—well, Philippa, actually.’
‘Pippa’s better: more like you.’
‘I’m not even going to ask what is “like me”. You have no idea.’
‘Cheeky Very young.’
‘I’m not that young.’
‘Twenty—twenty-one—’ he hazarded.
‘Twenty-seven,’ she laughed.
It was as well that traffic lights had forced him to halt because he turned quickly to stare at her in surprise. ‘You’re not serious.’
‘I am.’ She gave him a wicked smile. ‘Sorry!’
‘How can I believe you?’ he said, starting up again. ‘You look more like a student.’
‘No, I’m a solicitor, a staid and serious representative of the law.’ She assumed a deep voice. ‘Strong men quake at my approach. Some of them flee to hide in the hills.’
He laughed. ‘I think I’ll get you home first. I won’t ask who you work for. Obviously, you have your own practice which is driving everyone else into bankruptcy.’
‘No, I’m with Farley & Son.’
She saw his eyebrows rise a little and his mouth twist into a shape that meant, ‘Hmm!’
‘Do you know them?’
‘Quite well. I’ve used them in the past. They’ve got a big reputation. You must be impressive if they’ve taken you on. Aren’t we nearing Crimea Street now?’
‘Next one on the left.’
They saw the garage as soon as they turned into the street. The little business that Pippa’s great-grandfather, Joe Parsons, had set up ninety years earlier had flourished and grown. It was now three times the size, and her brothers, Brian and Frank, had bought houses on the same street so that they could live close to their work.
They were just preparing to shut up shop when the little convoy rolled into view. At once they came out onto the pavement and stood watching with brotherly irony.
‘Again!’ Frank declared. ‘Why aren’t I surprised?’
‘Because you’re an old stick-in-the-mud,’ Pippa informed him, kissing his cheek, then Brian’s. ‘And clearly you didn’t mend it properly. This is Roscoe Havering, who came to my rescue.’
‘Good of you,’ Brian said, shaking Roscoe’s hand. ‘Of course a better idea would have been to dump her in the nearest river, but I dare say that didn’t occur to you.’
‘Actually, it did,’ Roscoe observed. ‘But I resisted the temptation.’
The brothers laughed genially. They were both in their forties, heavily built and cheerful.
A few moments under the bonnet was enough to make Frank say, ‘This’ll take until tomorrow. And look, I’m afraid we can’t invite you in. The family’s away and we’ve sort of planned…well…’
‘A night on the tiles,’ Pippa chuckled. ‘You devils! I’ll bet Crimea Street is going to rock.’
‘You’d better believe it!’
‘OK, I’ll come back tomorrow.’
‘Don’t you live here?’ Roscoe asked.
‘No, I’ve got my own little place a few miles away.’
‘Where exactly?’
She gave him the address in the heart of London.
‘I’ll take you,’ he said. ‘Get in.’
Relieved, she did so, first retrieving two heavy bags from the back of her car.
‘Thanks,’ she said as she clicked the seat belt and slammed the door. ‘I’ve got a heavy night’s work ahead of me and I’ve got to give it everything.’
‘No hungry man wanting his supper cooked?’
‘Nope. I live alone. Free, independent, no distractions.’
‘Except visiting your friends,’ he observed.
‘They’re my brothers—oh, you mean in the graveyard. I suppose you thought I looked very odd.’
‘No, you looked as if you were enjoying the company. It was nice.’
‘I always did enjoy my grandparents’ company. I adored them both. Especially Gran. I loved talking to her, and I guess I just can’t stop.’
‘Why should you want to?’
‘Most people would say because she’s dead.’
‘But she isn’t dead to you, and that’s what matters. Besides, I don’t think you worry too much about what other people say.’
‘Well, I ought to. I’m a lawyer.’
‘Ah, yes. Staid and serious.’
She made a comical face. ‘I do my best.’
Outwardly, he showed nothing, but inside his expression was wry. Twenty-seven. Was he expected to believe that? Twenty-four, tops. And even that was stretching it. If she really worked for Farley she was probably little more than a pupil, but that was fine. She could still be useful to him.
A plan was forming in his mind. The details had to be fine-tuned but meeting her was like the working out of destiny. Somewhere, a kindly fate had planned this meeting and he was going to make the most of it.
‘It’s just there,’ Pippa said, pointing through the window to a tall, expensive-looking apartment block.
‘There doesn’t seem anywhere to park,’ he groaned.
‘No need. Just slow down a little and I’ll hop out. Just here where the lights are red.’
She reached for her bags, flashed him a dazzling smile and got out swiftly.
‘Thank you,’ she called, backing off.
He would have called her to wait but the lights changed and he had to move on.
Pippa hurried into the building and took the elevator to the third floor. Once in her apartment, she tossed the bags away and began to strip off.
‘Shower, shower,’ she muttered. ‘Just let me get under the shower!’
When she was naked she hurried into the bathroom and got under the water, sighing with satisfaction. After relishing the cascade for a few minutes, she got out and dried herself off, thinking of the evening’s work that lay ahead. She felt ready for it now.
But then something caught her eye. One of her bags lay open on its side, the contents spilling out, and she could see at once that one vital object was missing.
‘Oh, heavens!’ she groaned. ‘It must have fallen out in his car and he drove off with it.’
The sound of the doorbell revived her hope. Roscoe Havering. He’s found it, brought it back to me. Thank heavens!
Pulling a large towelling robe around her, she ran to the door. ‘I’m so glad to see you—’
Then she stopped, stunned by the sight of the young man who stood there, his air a mixture of pleading and defiance.
‘Oh, no,’ she breathed. ‘You promised not to do this again.’
CHAPTER TWO
FOR most of the journey Roscoe wore a frown. Things were falling into place nicely. Not that this was a surprise. He was an organised man, skilled at controlling his surroundings and making things happen as he wanted, but even he could hardly have arranged matters as neatly as this.
So his frown didn’t imply problems, simply that there were still details to be sorted before he’d fixed everything to suit himself, and he was giving that desirable outcome the concentration it deserved.
Now he could see the large, comfortable house that had once been his home. These days it housed only his mother and younger brother Charlie, although Roscoe had kept his room and usually slept there a couple of nights a week to keep a protective eye on both of them. His mother was looking anxiously out of the window and came to the door as soon as she saw him. She was approaching sixty, nervously thin but still with the remnants of good looks.
‘Is it all right?’ she asked. ‘Have you sorted it?’
He kissed her. ‘Sorted what?’
‘About Charlie. Have you arranged everything?’
For just the briefest moment he tensed, then smiled.
‘Mother, it’s too soon to arrange everything, but I’m working on it. Don’t worry.’
‘Oh, but I must worry. He’s so frail and vulnerable.’
Luckily she wasn’t looking directly at him, or she’d have seen the cynical twist of his mouth. Roscoe had an unsentimental, clear-eyed view of his younger brother. He knew Charlie’s volatility, his ramshackle behaviour, his headlong craziness and his selfishness. All these he saw through a filter of brotherly affection, but he never fooled himself. Frail and vulnerable? No way!
But he knew his mother’s perception was different and he always avoided hurting her, so he simply said, ‘Leave it to me. You know you can trust me.’
‘But you will make them drop those stupid charges, won’t you? You’ll make those horrid people admit that he’s innocent.’
‘Mother, he’s not exactly innocent. He more or less admitted—’
‘Oh, but he didn’t know what he was saying. He was confused.’
‘He’s not a child. He’s a young man of twenty-four.’
‘He’s a child in his heart, and he needs his big brother to defend him.’
‘I’m doing my best. Just leave it to me.’
‘Oh, yes, you always protect him, don’t you? You’re such a good brother. I don’t know what I’d do without you.’
‘Well, you don’t have to,’ he said gently. ‘So it’s all right.’
‘Now come indoors and have your supper.’
‘Fine, I’ll just get my things.’
But, as he leaned into the car, he froze suddenly.
‘Oh, Lord! ‘ he groaned, seizing something from the floor at the back. ‘How did that get there?’ He straightened up, holding a large envelope. ‘It must have fallen out of one of her bags and she rushed off without noticing. Perhaps I can call her.’
He pulled out the contents, all papers, and went through them looking for her phone number. He didn’t find it, but he did notice that these were serious papers. She’d spoken of a heavy night’s work ahead, and would probably need them.
‘I’m sorry,’ he sighed. ‘Can you hold supper? I’ll be back in an hour.’
He was gone before his mother could complain.
‘Jimmy, you promised to leave me alone.’ As Pippa spoke she was backing off, one hand clutching the robe across her breast, the other held up defensively. ‘We agreed it was over.’
‘No, you said it was over,’ he protested. ‘I never said it. I couldn’t say it, feeling the way I do. Oh, Pippa, I miss you so much, if you only knew. But you do know in your heart, don’t you? I couldn’t be so crazy about you if you didn’t feel just a little something for me.’
‘I do feel something for you,’ she sighed.
‘There, I knew it!’
‘But it’s not what you want. It’s mostly pity and a sort of guilt that I let things go so far. Honestly, Jimmy, I didn’t mean to. I thought we were just having a good time with no strings. If I’d known you were getting so serious I’d have discouraged you earlier.’
‘But you didn’t,’ the young man pleaded. ‘Doesn’t that prove you feel something for me?’
‘Yes, it means I feel like a kindly aunt, and that’s not what you want.’
His face fell and she knew a pang over her heart. He was a nice boy, and he’d appeared on the scene just in time to discourage the one before him. She’d been grateful, and after that they’d shared many a laugh, some dinner engagements and a few kisses.
Then things had got out of hand. He’d grown serious, wanting to take her away for a weekend. Her refusal had increased his ardour. He’d spoken of his respect, and proposed marriage. Her rejection had cast him into despair.
‘Couldn’t we give it another try?’ he begged now. ‘You tell me what it is about me that annoys you and I’ll be careful never to do that.’
Reluctantly, Pippa decided that only firmness would be any use now.
‘When you talk like that it annoys me,’ she said. ‘When you haunt me, and telephone at all hours, sending me flowers which I don’t want, bombarding me with text messages asking what I’m wearing, then I get very annoyed.
‘You’re a nice boy, Jimmy, but you’re not for me. I’m sorry if I led you to believe otherwise. I didn’t mean to. Now, please go.’
Something in his eyes made her pull the edges of her robe closer, clutching them firmly. His anguish was being replaced by the determination of a man who would no longer accept no for an answer.
‘Please go,’ she said, stepping back.
‘Not without a kiss. You can grant me that, can’t you?’
‘I think not. Goodbye.’
Pippa tried to close the door but he forestalled her. Now his breathing was coming heavily, the arms that closed around her were strong, and she was no longer sure she could deal with him.
‘Let me go, Jimmy.’
‘Not until I’m ready.’
‘Did you hear me? I said let me go and I meant it. Stop that. Jimmy, no!‘
On the journey back to Pippa’s apartment Roscoe was frowning again, but this time in confusion. On the one hand there was her appearance—young, dainty, vivacious. On the other hand there were the papers with their plethora of facts and figures that only a skilled, serious mind could understand. He tried to fit the two sides together, and couldn’t.
This time he found a parking space and entered the building, going to study the list of residents by the elevator.
‘Can I help?’ A middle-aged man was passing by.
‘I’m looking for Miss Jenson’s address.’
‘Blimey, another one. They pass through here like an army. Mind you, even she doesn’t usually have two in one evening.’
‘Indeed,’ Roscoe said carefully.
‘I tell you, it’s pathetic. They come here with their flowers and their gifts, begging her, pleading with her, but it’s no use. When she’s bored with them she dumps them. I’ve tried to warn some of them but will they listen? You’d expect a man to have more dignity, wouldn’t you?’
‘You would indeed,’ Roscoe said, still guarding his words.
‘But they say she’s magic and they can’t help themselves.’
‘You spoke of two.’
‘Yes, the other one hasn’t been here long so you’d better go carefully. Good-looking young fellow. Shouldn’t think you’d stand a chance. She’s got a pick of them, you know. Best of luck, though.’
He passed on out of the front door, leaving Roscoe wondering what he’d wandered into. But what he’d just heard was good news in that it made Pippa likely to be more useful to him, and nothing else mattered. He located the apartment and got into the elevator.
As soon as the doors parted he heard the noise coming from just around the corner, out of sight, a male voice crying out, ‘You can’t be so cruel—’
Then Pippa’s voice. ‘Can’t I? Get out now or I’ll show you how cruel I can be. I’m told I have very sharp knees.’
‘But I only—ow!’
‘Now go. And don’t come back.’
Roscoe turned the corner just in time to see the young man stagger back, clutching himself, then collapse to the ground. Through the open door he could see a woman, or perhaps a goddess. She was completely naked, leaving no detail of her glorious figure to the imagination. The hourglass shape, the curved hips, the tiny waist, the breasts slightly too large, although his view of them was partly obscured by her glorious hair, not pinned back now but cascading down in a riot of curls.
After a moment he realised that the vision was Pippa, but not the light-hearted girl he’d met earlier. This was a very angry woman, standing triumphant over her defeated foe who was writhing on the ground. Literally.
The vision vanished at once, not in a puff of smoke but in a hasty movement to make herself decent by pulling on a robe as soon as she saw Roscoe. Only the fury on her face remained.
With the robe safely concealing her, she came to the door and addressed the young man. ‘I’m sorry, Jimmy, but I warned you. Don’t come back here, ever.’
Jimmy’s face was sullen as he hauled himself to his feet, all good nature gone. ‘You haven’t heard the last of this,’ he spat. ‘Jezebel!’
Incredibly, a smile flickered over her beautiful features. ‘Oh, come on, you can do better than that. Who was Jezebel, after all? Now, if you’d said Mata Hari I’d have been insulted—or maybe flattered, one of the two.’
‘Mata who?’
‘Oh, go and look it up!’ she said with the exasperation of a schoolmistress. ‘But go!’
Scowling, he dragged himself to his feet and began to limp away, but not before turning to Roscoe. ‘You’ve been warned,’ he spat. ‘She won’t treat you any better.’
Roscoe held up the envelope. ‘I’m just the delivery man,’ he said mildly.
Jimmy flung him a speaking look and limped away. Roscoe waited until he was out of sight before saying, ‘I’m sorry to arrive unexpectedly, but you left this in my car.’
She made as if to take the envelope that he held out, but snatched her hand back as the robe fell open.
‘I’ll take it inside,’ he said, moving past her.
She followed him, slamming the front door, hurrying into the bedroom and slamming that door too. Roscoe wondered at her agitation. After all, she’d been the victor, conquering and subduing her foe. He would have given a good deal to know the history behind that scene.
The apartment was what he would have expected, lush and decorative in a way he thought of as ultra-feminine. The furniture was expensive and tastefully chosen and the shelves bore ornaments that suggested a knowledge of antiques.
In one corner of the room was a desk with a computer and various accessories, all of which were the very latest, he noted with approval. It seemed to tell a different story to the rest of her. Ditzy dolly-bird on the one hand, technology expert on the other.
But probably the computer had been installed by her employers. That explained it.
She came whizzing back into the room, dressed in sweater and jeans. They were sturdy and workaday, unglamorous except that they answered all questions about her figure.
‘Are you all right?’ he asked.
‘Certainly I’m all right. Why shouldn’t I be?’ She sounded a tad defiant.
‘Just that he seemed rather overwrought—’
‘And he called me Jezebel, implying that I’m a floozie, that’s what you meant.’
‘That’s not what I meant at all.’
Even to herself, Pippa couldn’t have explained why she was on edge, except that she liked to stay in control, and being discovered as she had been was definitely not being in control.
‘Look, I just came back to return your papers,’ he said hastily. ‘Don’t blame me for finding…well…what I found.’ Too late, he saw the quagmire stretching before him.
‘And just what do you think you found? ‘ she demanded, folding her arms and looking up into his face. It was hard because he had a good six inches over her but what she lacked in height she made up in fury.
His own temper rose. After all, he’d done her a favour.
‘Well, I found a girl who’d been a bit careless, didn’t I?’
‘Careless?’
‘Careless with her own safety. What on earth possessed you to get undressed if you were going to knock him back?’
‘Oh, I see. You think I’m a vulgar tease?’
‘No, just that you weren’t thinking straight—’
‘Or maybe you’re the one not thinking straight,’ she snapped. ‘You jump to the conclusion that I stripped off to allure him, and the true explanation never occurs to you. Too simple, I suppose. He arrived after I had come out of the shower.’
‘Oh, heavens, I should have thought of that. I’m sorry, I—’
‘I didn’t get undressed for him,’ she raged on, barely hearing him. ‘I’m not interested in him and so I’ve told him again and again, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Just like a man. You’re all the same. You all think you’re so madly attractive that a woman’s no never really means no.’
‘I didn’t—’
‘Conceited, arrogant, bullying, faithless, treacherous—’
‘If you’d only—’
‘Leave, now!’
‘If I could just—’
‘No, you can’t “just” Leave!’
‘I understand that—’
‘Listen, the last man who came in here wouldn’t go when I told him to, and you saw what happened to him.’
‘All right,’ Roscoe said hastily. ‘I really only came to return your property.’
‘Thank you, sir, for your consideration,’ Pippa responded in a formal voice that was like ice, ‘but if you don’t leave of your free will you’ll do so at my will and that—’
‘I’m going, I’m going.’
He departed quickly. Whatever the rights and wrongs of the situation, this was no time to argue. For some reason, she was ready to do murder. It was unfair, but there was no understanding women.
From Pippa’s window, a curve in the building made the front door visible. She stood there watching until she saw him get into his car. Then she turned and glared at the photograph of her grandparents on the sideboard.
‘All right, all right. I behaved terribly. He came to return my things and I was rude to him. I didn’t even thank him. Why? Why? I don’t know why, but I was suddenly furious with him. How dare he see me naked! Yes, I know it wasn’t his fault; you don’t have to say it. But you should have seen the look on his face when he saw me on display. He didn’t know whether to fancy me or despise me, and I could strangle him for it. Grandpa, stop laughing! It’s not funny. Well, all right. Maybe just a bit. Oh, to blazes with him!’
Down below, Roscoe took a quick glance up, just in time to see her at the window before she backed off. He sat in his car for a moment, pondering.
He’d gained only a brief glimpse inside her bedroom, just enough to see a double bed and observe that it was neatly made and unused. He’d barely registered this but now it came back to him with all its implications.
So she really had refused him, which meant she was a lady of discrimination and taste as well as beauty and glowering temper. Excellent.
Later that night, before going to bed, he went online and looked up Mata Hari:
Dutch, 1876-1917, exotic dancer, artist’s model, circus rider, courtesan, double agent in World War One, executed by firing squad.
Hmm! he thought.
It was a word that occurred to him often in connection with Pippa. With every passing moment he became more convinced that she would fit his plans perfectly.
The two men regarded each other over the desk.
‘Not again!’ David Farley said in exasperation. ‘Didn’t he promise to reform last time?’
‘And the time before,’ Roscoe sighed. ‘Charlie’s not really a criminal, he just gets carried away by youthful high spirits.’
‘That’s your mother talking.’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘Why can’t she face the truth about Charlie?’
‘Because she doesn’t want to,’ Roscoe said bluntly. ‘He looks exactly like our father, and since Dad died fifteen years ago she’s built everything on Charlie.’
The door opened and Roscoe tensed, but it was only a young woman with a tea tray.
‘Thanks,’ David Farley said gratefully.
He was a burly man in his late forties with a pleasant face and a kindly, slightly dull manner. He cultivated that dullness, knowing how useful it could be to conceal his powerful mind until the last moment. Now he poured tea with the casual skill of a waiter.
‘Has your mother ever come to terms with the fact that your father committed suicide?’ he asked carefully.
Roscoe shook his head. ‘She won’t admit it. The official story was that the car crash was an accident, and we stuck to that to discourage gossip. Now I think she’s convinced herself that it really was an accident. A suicide would have been a rejection of her, you see.’
‘Of all of you,’ David ventured to say. He’d known Roscoe for years, right back to the time he’d been a young man who admired and loved his father. He too had suffered, but David doubted anyone had ever considered this.
Now, much as he’d expected, Roscoe shrugged aside the suggestion that he actually had feelings and hurried to say, ‘If I can pull Charlie through this without a disaster I can get him onto the straight and narrow and stop her being hurt.’
‘Do you know how often I’ve heard you say that?’ David demanded. ‘And it never works because Charlie knows he can always rely on you to rescue him from trouble. Just for once, don’t save him. Then he’ll learn his lesson.’
‘He’ll also end up with a criminal record, and my mother will have a broken heart,’ Roscoe said harshly. ‘Forget it. There has to be a way to deal with this, and I know what it is. It’s important to put the right person on the case.’
‘I shall naturally deal with this myself—’
‘Of course, but you’ll need a good assistant. I suggest Miss Philippa Jenson.’
‘You know her?’
‘I met her yesterday and was much impressed by her qualities,’ Roscoe declared in a carefully colourless voice. ‘I want you to assign her to Charlie with instructions to give him her full attention.’
‘I can give Pippa this case, but I can’t take her off other cases. She’s much in demand. Don’t be fooled by her looks. She’s terrifyingly bright and one of the best in the business. She qualified with some of the highest marks that have ever been seen, and several firms were after her. I got her by playing on her sympathies. She did her pupillage here and I managed to persuade her that she owed me something.’
‘So she really is qualified? She looks so young.’
‘She’s twenty-seven and already becoming well known in the profession. This lady is no mere assistant, but a formidable legal brain.’
The last three words affected Roscoe strangely. The world vanished, leaving only a young, perfect female body, glowing with life and vigour, dainty waist, generous breasts partly hidden by the luscious hair that tumbled about them, beautiful face glaring at him with disdain.
A formidable legal brain!
‘What…what did you say?’ he asked with an effort.
‘Are you all right?’
The vision vanished. He was back in the prosaic offices of Farley & Son, facing David Farley across a prosaic desk, drinking a prosaic cup of tea towards the end of a prosaic afternoon.
‘I’m fine,’ he said quickly. ‘I just need to settle things with Miss Jenson. Can I see her?’
‘She’s in court this afternoon, unless perhaps she’s returned. Hang on.’ He seized the phone, which had rung. ‘Pippa! Speak of the devil! How did it go?… Good…good. So Renton’s pleased. You made his enemies sorry they were born, eh? I knew you would. Look, could you hurry back? I’ve got a new client waiting for you. Apparently you already—’
He checked, alerted by Roscoe’s violent shake of the head. ‘You’re already known to him by repute,’ he amended hastily. ‘See you in a minute.’
Hanging up, he stared, puzzled. ‘Why didn’t you want me to say you’d already met?’
‘Best not. Start from scratch,’ Roscoe said. Inwardly, he was musing about the name Renton, which he’d glimpsed on the papers he delivered last night, plus a mountain of figures.
‘So she has a very satisfied client?’ he mused.
‘One of many. Lee Renton is a big man in the entertainment field, and getting bigger. There were some grim accusations hurled at him by someone who’d hoped to take advantage of him, and failed. Financial stuff, all lies. I knew Pippa would nail it.’
‘So her adversary is sorry he was born?’ Roscoe queried.
‘Nasty character, up to every trick. But then, so is she. Great on detail, reads each paper through thoroughly. Nothing escapes her. She’ll be here in a moment. The court is just around the corner.’
‘Solicitors don’t usually appear in court, do they? I thought that was the role of barristers.’
‘The old division still exists,’ David agreed, nodding, ‘but its lines are getting blurred. These days, solicitors can act as advocates more often than in the past, and when they’re as good as Miss Jenson we encourage it. You’ve made a good choice.’
‘Yes,’ Roscoe murmured. ‘I have.’
‘Luckily for you, she’s a workaholic or she might be reluctant to add to her workload so close to Christmas.’
‘Close to Christmas? It’s only November.’
‘Most people start planning their schedule now so that they can grab some extra days off when the time comes. Pippa does the opposite, comes in earlier, works later. The nearer to Christmas it gets, the more of a workaholic she becomes. I could understand it if she was alone, but she’s got plenty of family. It’s as if she’s trying to avoid Christmas altogether.’
‘You make her sound like Scrooge.’
David grinned. ‘Well, I think I really have detected a touch of “Bah! Humbug!” in her manner.’
His phone rang. He answered it and made a face. ‘Don’t send him in or I’ll never get rid of him. I’ll come out there.’ Rising, he said, ‘Stay there and I’ll be back in a minute.’ He hurried out.
While waiting, Roscoe went to stand by the window, looking down on a part of London that spoke of wealth and manipulation, people in control, sophistication—rather like one aspect of Pippa Jenson. But not all of her, he thought, remembering the unselfconscious way he’d seen her joking with the headstone yesterday.
The door opened. Somebody flew into the room, speaking breathlessly. ‘Oh, my, what a day! But it was worth everything to see the look on Blakely’s face when I had all the figures—’
She stopped as Roscoe turned from the window.
‘Good afternoon, Miss Jenson,’ he said.
CHAPTER THREE
FOR a moment Pippa’s face was full of shock. ‘You,’ she murmured.
Then shock was swiftly replaced by a smile. ‘So prayers do get answered after all,’ she said.
‘I’m the answer to your prayers?’ he queried. ‘Now that I wasn’t expecting.’
‘Meeting you again is the answer to prayer,’ she said. ‘It gives me the chance to say thank you, otherwise I’d have had to search for you all over London. You came to my rescue three times last night—towing me to the garage, taking me home, bringing my papers over—and then I was rotten to you. I can’t forgive myself.’
‘No, that’s my job,’ he agreed. ‘Let’s forget it now.’
‘That’s kinder than I deserve. When I think—’
The door opened. It was David with the man he’d been trying to get rid of, and who was now talking nineteen to the dozen, causing David to make a face of resignation.
‘We’re in the way,’ Roscoe said. ‘Let’s have a bite to eat. Cavelli’s is very good, and it’s nearby.’
‘Great. I’m famished.’
Cavelli’s was a small restaurant over the road, just opening for the early evening. They found a table by the window.
‘I’d toast you in champagne,’ Roscoe said, ‘but I’m driving. What about you?’
‘I’m afraid my car’s still on the sick list. I came in by taxi.’
‘Champagne, then.’
‘Not on my own. What I’m really dying for is a cup of tea.’
He placed the order and sat regarding her for a moment. Her hair was pinned back again, as he’d first seen it, but the rich honey colour still had a luxuriant appearance. She was dressed for business in a dark blue trouser suit of decidedly mannish cut. But if she thought for a moment that it masked her vibrant sexual allure, she was deceiving herself, Roscoe thought.
He pulled himself together. This was a time for business. The ‘other’ Pippa, the one he’d seen last night, must be firmly banished. He did his best to achieve that, but it was hard when all around them people were turning to look at her in admiration.
They toasted each other in hot tea, and Pippa sighed theatrically with relief.
‘You don’t know what I owe you,’ she said. ‘Those papers won the case for me. Without them, it would have been a disaster.’
‘Yes, you couldn’t have made Frank Blakely sorry he was born, which I gather you did.’
She gave a triumphant chuckle. ‘I reported the figures, he disputed them, I produced the papers that proved them, he demanded to know how I came by those papers, I said my lips were sealed—’
‘That sounds a bit dodgy,’ Roscoe said, grinning, pleased.
‘Do you mind?’ she demanded, mock-offended. ‘I am not “a bit dodgy”’
‘I beg your pardon—’
‘I’m very dodgy—when I have to be. It depends on the client. Some need more dodginess than others. Some don’t need any.’ She added wickedly, ‘They’re the boring ones.’
‘I see you believe in adjusting to their requirements,’ he said appreciatively.
‘That’s right. Ready for anything.’ She chuckled. ‘It makes life interesting.’
‘Miss Jenson—’
‘Please, I think we’ve passed the point where you could call me Pippa.’
She didn’t add, After the way you saw me, but she didn’t need to.
‘Pippa—I’m sorry if I embarrassed you last night. I only wanted to return your property.’
‘It wasn’t your fault. It was just unlucky that you turned up…well…at that moment.’
‘He seemed to feel very strongly about you.’
She sighed. ‘He’s a nice boy but he can’t understand that I don’t feel the same way. We went out for a while, had some fun, but there was nothing in it beyond that.’
‘Not on your side, but surely his feelings were involved? ‘
For a moment Roscoe fancied a faint withered look came over Pippa’s face.
‘And if it had been the other way around, do you think he’d have cared about my feelings? ‘ she asked quietly.
‘Perhaps. He seemed to have really strong emotions about you.’
The look vanished so fast he couldn’t be sure he’d seen it. ‘Life’s a merry-go-round.’ She shrugged. ‘You have to look forward to the ups but always be ready for more downs.’
‘So there’s nobody special in your life at the moment? Or are there a dozen like him ready to spring out like last night?’
‘Possibly. I don’t keep count. Look, I just wanted to apologise for the way I flew at you. After what you did for me, you deserved better. Today was a triumph. I had two job offers as I was leaving the court, and without those papers I’d have got nowhere. So I owe you, big time. I meant what I said. I’d have hunted you down through all London to tell you that.’
‘And if I hadn’t known exactly where to find you, I’d have hunted you down too. I have a job that only you can do.’
‘Are you the client David mentioned? ‘
‘That’s right.’
‘Ah, I begin to see. You want someone good with figures, right?’
‘Among other things,’ he said carefully. ‘The case I want you to take concerns my younger brother, Charlie. He’s not a bad lad, but he’s a bit irresponsible and he’s got into bad company.’
‘How old is he?’
‘Twenty-four, and not very mature. If he was anyone else I’d say he needed to be taught a lesson, but that—’ he hesitated before finishing stiffly ‘—that would cause me a certain amount of difficulty.’
‘You couldn’t afford to be connected with a convict?’ she hazarded.
‘Something like that.’
‘Mr Havering—’
‘Call me Roscoe. After all, what you said about me calling you Pippa—well, it works both ways, doesn’t it?’
For a moment the naked nymph danced between them and was gone, firmly banished on both sides.
‘Roscoe, if I’m to help you I need full information. I can’t work in the dark.’
‘I’m a stockbroker. I have clients who depend on me, who need to be able to trust me. I can’t afford to let anything damage my reputation.’
His voice was harsh, as though he’d retreated behind steel bars. But the next moment the bars collapsed and he said roughly, ‘Hell, no! You’d better know the real reason. If anything happens to Charlie, it would break my mother’s heart. He’s all she lives for, and her health is frail. She’s been in a bad way ever since my father died, fifteen years ago. At all costs I want to save her from more suffering.’
He spoke as though the words were tortured from him, and she could only guess what it cost this stockbroker to allow a chink in his confident facade and reveal his emotions. Now she began to like him.
‘Why is he in trouble?’ she asked gently.
‘He went out with his friends, had too much to drink. Some of them broke into a shop at night and got caught. The shopkeeper thinks he was one of them.’
‘What does Charlie say?’
‘Sometimes he says he wasn’t, sometimes he hints he might have been. It’s almost as though he didn’t know. I don’t think he was entirely sober that night.’
Pippa frowned. This sounded more like a teenager than a young man of twenty-four.
‘Do you have any other brothers or sisters? ‘ she asked.
‘None.’
‘Aunts, uncles?’
‘None.’
‘Wife? Children? Didn’t you mention having a daughter?’
‘No, I said if you were my daughter I’d give you a piece of my mind.’
‘Ah, yes.’ She smiled. ‘I remember.’
‘That’ll teach me not to judge people on short acquaintance, won’t it? Anyway, I have neither wife nor children.’
‘So, apart from your mother, you’re Charlie’s only relative. You must virtually have been his father.’
He grimaced. ‘Not a very successful one. I’ve always been so afraid of making a mess of it that I…made a mess of it.’
Pippa nodded. ‘The worst mistakes are sometimes made by people who are desperately trying to avoid mistakes,’ she said sympathetically.
Relief settled over him at her understanding.
‘Exactly. Long ago, I promised my mother I’d take care of Charlie, make sure he grew up strong and successful, but I seem to have let her down. I can’t bear to let her down again.’
It felt strange to hear this powerful man blaming himself for failure. Evidently, there was more to him than had first appeared.
‘Does he have a job?’
‘He works in my office. He’s bright. He’s got a terrific memory, and if we can get him safely through this he has a great future.’
‘Has he been in trouble with the police before? ‘
‘He’s skirted trouble but never actually been charged with anything. This will be his first time in court.’
She wondered what strings he’d had to pull to achieve that, but was too tactful to ask. That could come later.
‘Was anyone injured? ‘ she asked.
‘Nobody. The shop owner arrived while there were several of them there. They escaped, he gave chase and got close enough to see them just as they reached Charlie. He began yelling at them, which attracted the attention of two policemen coming out of the local station, and they all got arrested.
‘The owner insists Charlie was actually in the shop with the others, although I don’t see how he can be sure. He must have just seen a few figures in the gloom.’
‘What about the others? Haven’t they confirmed that he wasn’t in the shop? ‘
‘No, but neither do they say he was. They hum and haw and say they can’t remember. They were really drunk, so that might even be true. But the owner insists that he was there and is pressing charges.’
She considered. ‘Any damage?’
‘None. They managed to trick their way in electronically.’
‘So the worst he might face is a fine. But he’d have a criminal record that would make his life difficult in the future.’
‘It’s the future I’m worried about. They’re a bad crowd, and they’re not going to stop. It will get worse and worse and he’ll end up in jail. I’ve got to get him away from that bunch.’
‘Doesn’t he begin to see that they’re bad for him if this is the result?’
‘Charlie? ‘ Roscoe’s voice was scathing. ‘He doesn’t see the danger. So what if he’s convicted for something he didn’t do? He’ll just pay the fine and laugh his way home. There’s a girl in this crowd who’s gained a lot of influence over him. Her name’s Ginevra. He’s dazzled by her, and I think she gets her fun by seeing what she can provoke him into doing.’
Pippa frowned. ‘You mean he’s infatuated by her. There’s not a lot I can do about that.’
‘But there is. You can break her hold over him. Instead of being dazzled by her, he could be dazzled by you. He’s easily led, and if Ginevra can lead him into danger you could lead him into safety.’
‘And suppose I can’t get that kind of influence over him?’
‘Of course you can. You’re beautiful, you’ve got charm, you can tease him until he doesn’t know whether he’s coming or going. If you really set your mind to it you can get him under your thumb and make him safe. I know you can do it. I’ve known you were the perfect person ever since we met and I learned who you worked for.’
So carried away did he become, explaining his plan, that he missed the look of mounting outrage in Pippa’s eyes.
‘I hope I’ve misunderstood you,’ she said at last. ‘You seem to be saying that you want me to be a…well…’
‘A mentor.’
‘A mentor? That’s what you call it?’
‘You point the way to the straight and narrow and he follows you because he’s under your spell.’
‘Ros—Mr Havering, just what kind of a fool do you take me for? I know what you want me to be and it isn’t a mentor.’
‘A nanny?’
The discovery of what he really expected from her was making her temper boil again. ‘Be careful,’ she warned him. ‘Be very, very careful.’
‘I may have explained it badly—’
‘On the contrary; you’ve explained it so perfectly that I can follow your exact thought processes. For instance, when did you decide that you wanted me for this job? I’ll bet it was last night when you arrived at my home. One look at me and you said to yourself, “She’s ideal. Good shape. Handy with her fists and no morals”. Admit it. You don’t want a lawyer, you want a floozie.’
‘No, I want a lawyer, but I can’t deny that your looks play a part.’
‘So you admit I look like a floozie?’
‘I didn’t say that,’ he said sharply. ‘Will you stop interrogating me as if I were a prisoner in the dock?’
‘Just demonstrating my legal skills which, according to you, are what you’re interested in. Tell the court, Mr Havering, exactly when did Miss Jenson first attract your attention? Was it when she was naked, or several hours earlier when you saw her in the graveyard? You saw her swapping jokes with a headstone and decided she was mad. Naked and mad! That’s a really impressive legal qualification.’
He took a long breath and replied in a slightly forced manner. ‘No, I too sometimes talk to the headstone when I visit my fa—Never mind that. I didn’t know we were going to meet. It was pure chance that your—that Miss Jenson’s car broke down, we got talking and she told me where she worked. That firm has handled legal work for me before and I was planning to approach them about Charlie. I saw that she would be the ideal person to take his case.’
‘You decided at that moment, knowing nothing about her legal skills? But of course those weren’t the skills that counted, were they? What mattered was the fact that she was a vulgar little piece—’
‘I never—’
‘A ditzy blonde with curves in the right places, who could be counted on to seduce your brother—’
‘I’m not asking you to—’
‘Oh, please, Mr Havering, credit the court with a little common sense. If you’d managed to set them on the road together, that is where it would have led eventually. At the very least, the question would have come up. You don’t deny that, do you?’
‘No, but—’ He stopped, seeing the pit that had opened at his feet.
‘But perhaps you were counting on this vulgar, unprincipled young woman to deal with him as effectively as you saw her deal with another man. A good right hook, a well-aimed knee—who needs legal training?’
She stopped, slightly breathless as though she’d been fighting. She couldn’t have explained the rising tide of anger that had made her turn on him so fiercely. He wasn’t the first client whose attitude had annoyed her, but with the others she’d always managed to control herself. Not this time. There was something in him that sent her temper into a spin.
‘I think we’ve said all we have to say,’ she informed him, beginning to gather her things. ‘I’m sorry I won’t be able to meet your requirements, but I’m a lawyer, not an escort girl.’
‘Please—’
‘Naturally, I shan’t be charging you for this consultation. Kindly let me pass.’
He had her trapped against the wall and could have barred her exit. Instead, he rose and stood aside. His face was unreadable but for the bleakness in his eyes. Despite her fury, she had a guilty feeling of having kicked someone who was down, but she suppressed it and stormed out.
Just around the corner was a small square with fountains, pigeons and wooden seats. She sat down, breathing out heavily and wondering at herself.
Fool! she told herself. You should just have laughed at him, taken the job, knocked some sense into the lad, then screwed every penny out of Havering. What came over you?
That was the question she couldn’t answer, and it troubled her.
Taking out her cellphone, she called David.
‘Hi, I’ve been hoping to hear from you,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Wait until you’ve heard my news. The phone’s been ringing off the hook with people wanting you and nobody but you. You made a big impression in court today, producing those figures like a magician taking a rabbit from the hat. Working for Roscoe Havering will do you even more good. Everyone knows he employs only the best.’
‘Tell me some more about him,’ Pippa said cautiously.
‘Hasn’t he told you about himself? ‘
‘Only that he’s a stockbroker. I—want to get him in perspective.’
‘He doesn’t boast about what a major player he is, that’s true. But in the financial world Roscoe Havering is a name that pulls people up short. They jump to do what he wants—well, I expect you’ve found that out already. What he doesn’t readily talk about is how he built that business up from collapse. It was his father’s firm, and when William Havering committed suicide it smashed Roscoe.’
‘Suicide?’
‘He didn’t tell you that?’
‘No, he just said his father had died and his mother never really recovered.’
‘There was a car crash. Officially, it was an accident, but in fact William killed himself because his life’s work was going bust. Roscoe worked for his father. He’d seen the financial mess they were in and tried to help, but there was little he could do. Secretly, I think he blames himself. He thinks if he’d done more he might have prevented the disaster—used his influence to pull William back from the brink. It’s nonsense, of course. He was only twenty-four, little more than a beginner. There was nothing he could have done.
‘After William’s death he managed to save the business and build it into a massive success, but it changed him, not really for the better. His ruthless side took over, but I suppose it had to. You won’t find him easy. What he wants, he wants, and he doesn’t take no for an answer.’
‘But do you realise what it is that he wants? ‘ Pippa demanded. ‘Am I supposed to seduce this boy, because you know what you can do with that idea.’
‘No, of course not,’ David said hurriedly, ‘but let’s be honest, you’ve had every man here yearning for you. You’ll know how to get this lad’s attention.’
‘I’m not sure—’
‘You haven’t turned him down?’ David sounded alarmed.
‘I’m thinking about it,’ Pippa said cautiously.
What are you talking about? raged her inner voice. Just tell him you’ve already said no.
‘Pippa, please do this, for the firm’s sake. Roscoe brings us a lot of work and, between you and me, he owns our office building. He’s not a man I want to offend.’
David was a good boss and a kind man. He’d taught her well, while keeping his yearning admiration for her beauty behind respectable barriers.
‘I’ll get back to you,’ she said.
She was thoughtful as she walked back to Cavelli’s, trying to reconcile the contradictions that danced in her mind. She’d perceived Roscoe Havering as an older man, certainly in his forties, but if David’s facts were correct he was only thirty-nine.
It was his demeanour that had misled her, she realised. Physically, he was still youngish, with dark brown hair that showed no hint of grey or thinning. His face was lean, not precisely handsome but intelligent and interesting. It might even have been charming but for a mysterious look of heaviness.
Heaviness. That was it. He seemed worn down by dead weights that he’d carried so long they were part of him. They aged him cruelly, but not permanently. Sometimes she’d surprised a gleam of humour in his eyes that hinted at another man, one it might be intriguing to know.
She quickened her steps, suddenly eager to talk to him again, wondering if he would still be there. He might have walked out. Or perhaps he was calling David to complain about her.
But as soon as she went in she saw him sitting where she’d left him, staring into space, seemingly full of silent sadness. Her heart was touched, despite her efforts to prevent it.
Control, warned her inner voice. Stay impartial. His outrageous request must be considered objectively.
How?
She approached quietly and pulled out a chair facing him. He looked up in surprise.
‘I’m sorry I stormed out like that,’ she said. ‘Sometimes I get into a temper. Shocking loss of objectivity, especially in a lawyer. A wise man wouldn’t want to employ me.’
‘There’s such a thing as being too wise,’ Roscoe said gently. ‘I’m sorry, too. I never meant to offend you. I expressed myself badly, and you were naturally upset.’
‘You didn’t express yourself badly. You laid out your requirements for your employee, making yourself plain on all counts, so that I’d understand everything before committing myself. That was very proper.’
He winced. ‘I wish you wouldn’t talk like that.’
‘I’m merely trying to be professional.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘It’s just not very nice to have people thinking I’m a tart. It’s even worse when that’s my chief qualification for a job.’
‘I never said that,’ he disclaimed hurriedly. ‘Nor did I mean it. But you do seem to have the ability to love ‘em and leave ‘em.’
‘Oh, I believe in leaving ‘em. I just manage without the love ‘em bit.’
‘That’s what I want. You can cope with Charlie better than a more naive girl would. You could handle him, keep him in order, make him see things your way. What’s funny?’ Her sudden chuckle had disconcerted him.
‘You are,’ she said. ‘You’re making such a mess of this. What you really want is a heartless woman who can take care of herself, and you’re tying yourself in knots trying to say so without actually saying the words. No, no—’ she held up a hand to silence his denial ‘—we’ve covered that ground. Let it go.’
‘Will you help me?’ he asked slowly.
‘If I can, but things may not work out as you plan. You’ve assumed that he’ll take one look at me and collapse with adoration. Suppose he doesn’t? ‘
‘I think that would be a really new experience for you,’ he said, trying to sound casual.
‘Not at all. The world is full of men who are indifferent to my charms.’
‘You just haven’t met them yet.’
‘I’ve met plenty.’
‘Splendid! Then you’ll know what to do. Just use whatever methods you normally use to overcome their resistance.’
Her lips twitched. ‘I could take that as another insult.’
‘Yes, you could—if you were determined to.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘I means that I’ve realised that you can twist everything I say into an insult, and you do it whenever it suits you. So now I’m fighting back.’
‘How?’
‘By refusing to let you bully me,’ he said firmly. ‘I am not going to cower and watch every word in case you misunderstand. You don’t actually misunderstand anything. You know I don’t really mean to insult you, so don’t try to score points off me. I don’t want you to seduce Charlie. I want you to beguile him, make his head spin until he’ll follow your lead. You’ll do a good job and I’ll respect you for it. And if we fight, we fight openly. Agreed?’
There was a definite no-nonsense tone to his voice, making it clear that he meant every word. He was putting his foot down, asserting himself, warning her not to mess with him—all the powerful, dominant things that she had instinctively associated with him.
And yet—and yet—
Far back in his eyes, that look was there again—a gleam that might have been conspiratorial humour.
Or perhaps not.
After a moment Pippa held out her hand to him. ‘Agreed.’
They shook. She took out a notebook and spoke formally. ‘I need to know as much about the gang he’s running around with as you can tell me.’
‘They’re all young people who seem to live on the edge of the law. They don’t even have proper addresses. They squat, which means they move on a lot as they get caught. I don’t know for a fact that they steal, but they don’t have any regular source of income. Charlie definitely gives Ginevra money. They live from hand to mouth, which he finds exciting. Here. That’s the two of them together.’
From an inner pocket he took out a photograph that seemed to have been taken in a crowded room, probably a squat. In the centre, a young couple lay back in each other’s arms.
‘He keeps that as a treasured souvenir,’ Roscoe observed curtly. ‘I wanted you to see it, so I stole it from him.’
‘Good for you,’ Pippa murmured. Studying the picture, she felt a rising tide of excitement. ‘Yes, now I begin to understand. She’s up to her old tricks.’
‘You know her?’ Roscoe demanded, startled.
‘Yes, and her name’s not Ginevra, it’s Biddy Felsom. I suppose she thought the new name sounded more glamorous. Her hobby is teasing the lads to do daft things to win her favour. She’s done a lot of damage in her time. What’s the matter? ‘
The question was surprised from her by the sight of Roscoe’s face, filled with shock and dismay as he stared over her shoulder. The next moment she heard, above her head, the petulant voice of a young man.
‘So there you are, Roscoe. Hiding from me, I suppose. You must have known I’d be over here as soon as I found out what you were up to.’
‘Charlie—’
‘Well, you can forget it, do you hear? I know exactly the kind of creep you’ll want to hire for me, all settled and respectable. Let’s be respectable, whatever else happens. No way. I’ll find my own lawyer—someone who understands the world and lives in the present. Ow!’
He hopped back, wincing as Pippa’s chair was pushed out hard against his leg.
‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean that to happen,’ she said untruthfully.
Gazing up at him, she knew he had a grandstand view of her face and the generous curves of her breasts, with just one button of the sedate blouse undone. Now the smile, soft and warm, dawning slowly, suggesting that she’d been pleasantly amazed at the attractions of the young man looking down at her.
‘Hello,’ she said.
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