'I'm sure we can cope,' Adrien said quietly, following the older woman along the corridor. 'Is there anything I can do to help?'
'No, thanks, madam.' Mrs. Whitley beamed at her.
'I'm used to the way she likes things done by now.'
'I see,' was all Adrien could find to say to that. So this was an established relationship after all, she thought. And perhaps there'd been a slight glitch somewhere along the way which had turned Chay's thoughts briefly towards alternative amusement. Only for him to realise the error of his ways... All the arrangements seemed perfect, she acknowledged as she stood rigidly in the doorway. It wasn't the largest of the guest rooms but it was one of her favourites, with its pretty chintzes. There were bowls of flowers everywhere, and the bed looked inviting, with pillows piled high and crisp linen.
Not that the lady concerned would be spending much time there, she thought, wincing. Her nights would undoubtedly be passed with Chay in the big canopied bed next door. She would be the one in his arms, responding rapturously to the caress of his hands on her skin, listening as his voice whispered his love for her. She cleared her throat. 'I've got a bit of a headache, Mrs. Whitley. Do you think I could have dinner on a tray in my room?'
'Of course, Miss Lander.' Was there understanding as well as sympathy in the housekeeper's glance? 'Would you prefer a light supper? Can I get you some paracetamol?'
'I have some.' And what painkiller on earth could relieve the agony that was grinding inside her?
Adrien wondered as she turned to retreat. 'Something simple would be fine, if it's no trouble.' She hesitated. 'If you'd just tell Mr. Haddon that I won't be coming down...'
'Oh, he's dining out himself, madam,' Mrs. Whitley said briskly. 'He told me so just now. It's not a problem.'
How desperate we are to avoid each other, Adrien thought, as she trailed back to her room. But perhaps even that's for the best.
And she wished with all her heart that she could believe it.
She spent the evening in her room. Mrs. Whitley brought her supper of mushroom soup and a herb omelette, followed by chocolate mousse, and, taking one look at her white strained face, recommended an early night. Then stood over her while Adrien swallowed the painkillers for the fictional headache which had now become full-blown reality. It seemed impossible that she should sleep, yet she did. When she woke the sun was streaming through the curtains and for a brief moment the day seemed full of promise. Until she remembered. But it was only the morning she had to get through, she told herself resolutely, getting out of bed. In the afternoon Chay's visitors would be arriving, and she would have no time to spare for her own thoughts.
She had the dining room to herself when she went downstairs, a used cup and plate indicating that Chay had already breakfasted.
She drank some of the fresh coffee that Mrs. Whitley brought her, and crumbled a piece of toast to pieces in lieu of eating.
She cleared the table and put the used dishes on a tray to take to the kitchen. The cleaners had arrived, and were already hard at work, she saw, as she emerged from the dining room.
Adrien thought she had never seen the Grange look more beautiful. In spite of everything that had happened since, it had been a privilege to plan its restoration and watch the house slowly revive. It was a labour of love, she thought, and sighed.
'There's a fax for you.' Chay was standing in the office doorway, holding a sheet of paper. He was wearing close fitting black trousers and a matching polo shirt open at the neck. He looked heavy-eyed, in need of a shave, and not a little bad-tempered, and Adrien's heart turned over in love and longing at the sight of him.
She said coolly, "Thank you,' as he dropped the paper on to the tray. The message was brief: 'Come over around coffee time. I have a surprise for you. Zelda.'
'You should have explained to her that I have first call on your time this weekend,' Chay said with equal coldness.
'Everything's ready.' Adrien lifted her chin. 'I think I should be allowed half an hour off for good behaviour.' She hesitated. 'In fact, I was wondering whether you really needed me at all.'
His mouth tightened. 'What the hell does that mean?'
She said quietly, 'Your—other guest. Won't she expect to act as your hostess?'
He shook his head. 'She'd hate it She tends to be shy,' he added wryly.
Her brows lifted. 'So presumably your future entertaining will be kept to a minimum.'
'You can let me worry about that.' His voice and expression were uncompromising. 'And make sure you're back in good time.'
'Yes.' Adrien bit her lip. 'Yes, of course.' She went to the utility room and loaded the dirty crockery into the dishwasher. Mrs. Whitley was there, taking things out of the tumble dryer.
'Our boss isn't in a very good mood today.'
Adrien kef her tone deliberately light.
Mrs. Whitley pursed her lips. 'Hangover,' she said succinctly.
'Oh,' said Adrien.
Just before eleven, she took the Jeep to the village. Zelda was waiting for her, the coffee already made.
'So, what's the surprise?'
'I decided the little black dress needed some help.' Zelda handed her a flat package. When Adrien opened it, she found a waistcoat in black and silver brocade.
'When on earth did you make this?' She slipped it on over her workaday cream shirt.
'It's gorgeous.'
'I made it last night It's furnishing fabric—left over from that little sitting room we did for Lady Gilmour.'
Zelda grinned at her. 'The old bag's not coming to dinner, I hope?'
'No, just to the drinks party tomorrow.' Adrien paused. 'But I may not be going to that.'
'Why not?' Zelda stared at her. 'I thought you were signed up for the duration.'
Adrien shrugged. 'Things keep changing.' She took the waistcoat off and folded it carefully. She said in a low voice, 'Zee—I don't think I can take any more.'
'Oh, dear.' Zelda sighed deeply. 'This is what I was afraid of. You've fallen in love.'
Adrien smoothed the brocade with her fingertip. She said simply, 'I've loved him all my life.'
'Adie,' Zelda said gently, 'a few weeks ago you were planning to many Piers Mendoza.'
Adrien bent her head wretchedly. 'I was fooling myself,' she said. 'I'd never have gone through with it. I was more in love with the house than I ever was with Piers. But he was there—and he was a link with the past and he seemed to want me,' she added with difficulty. 'Besides, I'd convinced myself that Chay would never come back. And that I hated him. I—needed to hate him because of everything that had gone on in the past. So I built up this whole big illusion about being in love with Piers.'
'My God.' Zelda cast her eyes to heaven. 'And then Chay did come back.'
'Yes.' Adrien gave a brief, unhappy smile. 'And now I've lost him.' She paused. 'He—he has someone else.'
Zelda grimaced. 'It's becoming an epidemic. Who is she?'
'I don't know. But he's invited her down this weekend and put her in the room next to his. And I don't think I can stand it,' she ended wretchedly. Zelda was silent for a moment. 'You're sure it isn't still the house?' Her tone was dry.
Adrien gasped. 'Of course not.' Her voice shook.
'It's always been Chay. Only I was so muddled...'
She tried to smile again. 'It was much easier to hate him.'
'Oh, love.' Zelda put her arms round her and gave her a swift hug. 'Well, I think you have two choices. We can sell up here and move far enough away that you'll never see or hear of him again. And they say, "Out of sight, out of mind."'
'Yes,' Adrien agreed listlessly. 'What's the other choice?'
Zelda shrugged. 'If you want him, fight for him.'
'I don't think I have the right weapons.'
'Oh, come on,' Zelda said bracingly. 'He's male; you're female. That usually works pretty well.'
She gave Adrien a measuring look. 'After all, that's what this whole thing is about. I never went for that "just a job" story. You've been lit up like a Christmas tree since that first day. And that certainly never happened with Piers.'
Adrien flushed. 'I didn't realise I was that transparent.'
Zelda smiled at her. 'Babe, you've never admitted your true feelings before—even to yourself. It makes a difference. Now, go into battle—and win.'
As Adrien went into the cottage to collect her mail the phone was ringing. She picked up the handset and gave her name and number, but no one answered and then the caller rang off. Adrien pulled a face at the phone. 'If it's a wrong number you could at least apologise,' she muttered. She began to go through her letters, tossing junk mail into the wastebasket and putting bills and personal letters to one side.
She was trying to decipher a message on a postcard from Mykonos, from an old school friend, when someone knocked at the front door. Still frowning over her postcard, she wandered over to the door and turned the handle.
'Hello, beauty.' Piers Mendoza smiled at her.
'Surprised to see me?' And, laughing, he pulled her towards him and kissed her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
For a moment, shock held Adrien still, then she pulled away, furiously scrubbing a hand across her mouth.
'What the hell are you doing here?'
'I was in the area,' he said.
'Was that you on the phone just now?'
'I was checking you were here. After all, I could hardly turn up at the Grange, and I gather that's where you're living these days.' His voice deepened, became almost pleading. 'I had to see you, Adrien. I had to explain. To put things right between us.'
She went on staring at him, her eyes wide with disbelief. 'But you're in Brazil.'
His mouth thinned. 'Don't remind me. But I had some unfinished business in London, so I came back two days ago.'
She said tersely, 'You should have stayed in London. Goodbye, Piers.' She made to close the door, but he slipped past her, shutting it himself and leaning against it.
'You could at least hear me out,' he told her reproachfully.
'There's nothing to hear,' she said coldly. 'You conned me, Piers, and I could have gone bankrupt.'
'I was desperate, Adrien.' His voice was suddenly hoarse. 'You don't understand down in this backwater, but it's a jungle out there. And Chay Haddon's one of the tigers. I had no choice. I had to save my own skin.'
'At the expense of mine.'
'You do what you must in order to survive, Adrien.' He shrugged slightly. 'As you've doubtless discovered by now. I'm sure Chay charged highly for his rescue package.'
She bit her lip. 'I don't know what you're talking about.'
He laughed. 'Don't lie, darling. I can see in your eyes you're no longer the dizzy little innocent I left behind. I just hope he made your initiation enjoyable,' he added softly. 'He's waited long enough for it.'
She said shortly, 'You're disgusting. And I'd like you to leave.'
He threw up his hands in capitulation. 'Sweetheart, I'm sorry. I'm just jealous, I guess. I always have been.'
She shook her head in bewilderment. 'But
why?'
'Because my uncle preferred him.' He spoke with sudden harshness. 'A housekeeper's bastard above his own nephew. Can you believe it? He was at the Grange the whole time, and I only came on visits, so there was always a chance he could cut me out with Old Angus. Steal my inheritance.'
Adrien said gravely, 'So—he had to be taught a lesson? Was that it?'
'Can you blame me?' He sounded almost injured. 'I wanted him out of the reckoning. It never occurred to me that your dreamy bird-watching hero would turn himself into the tycoon of the Millennium.'
'And take your inheritance, anyway.' Her voice bit.
'Yes,' he said. 'But I made him pay for it. And I added a premium for you, my sweet.' He looked at her with narrowed eyes. 'You've always been his one weakness. It's made—negotiations easier.'
'Chay has no weaknesses,' she said. 'Not any more. So don't expect any favours.'
'Ah.' He studied her speculatively. 'So what's happened, Adrien? Did you finally run out of hero-worship? Or did you fail to—er come up to his expectations?' He grinned. 'Well, that was always on the cards. You're a lovely girl,
Adrien, but you're not that special. And Chay Haddon can afford to pay for any woman he wants—
and a wide range of services.'
She walked to the door and threw it open, her eyes blazing. 'Get out—now.'
'I seem to have touched a nerve,' he said, unperturbed. 'Well, we're not all as fussy—or as rich as the great Mr. Haddon. And I plan to visit London on a regular basis from now on. Why don't you move back there and rent a place? Let me show you how much fun bed can be?'
She said steadily, 'Because you sicken me. You're sleaze on legs, Piers, and I can't believe I ever let you anywhere near me. Don't contact me again.'
'Harsh words,' he said with a shrug. 'Let's test your resolve.' And he pulled her into his arms and put his mouth on hers.
Her impulse was to struggle. To kick and fight, and mark his face with her nails. But a warning voice reminded her that anger made him dangerous, that it might be better to stand passively and suffer the pressure of his lips and the worm of his tongue trying to invade her mouth. It was soon over. He smiled at her, but the look in his eyes was ugly. 'Don't worry, Adrien. You won't be hearing from me again. Who needs a cold bitch like you anyway?'
He walked to the Mercedes parked at the kerb, blew her an insolent kiss, then drove away with a squeal of tyres.
She thought, shuddering, I need to wash my face.
She turned to go back into the cottage and saw Chay standing a few yards away, his face like stone.
As their eyes met, Adrien felt her heart stop beating. She seemed to be frozen to the spot, watching him walk towards her.
He said, too quietly, 'So that was the surprise your friend was talking about?'
'No.' She shook her head violently. 'No, that was something completely different. She'd no more idea that Piers had come back than I did.'
'You sound as if he wasn't a welcome visitor.' His mouth was grim. 'Unfortunately for you, I witnessed the tender farewell.'