The House of Adriano (9 page)

She rose to her feet slowly. “What are you going to do now?”

“First I suggest that you join me for dinner, then we
can...
”
He was not allowed to go any further. Her dislike and hurt fury boiled over.

“Join you for dinner! It would choke me. You’re the most detestable person I’ve ever met, and I wouldn’t take a thing from you - and if you want to set the police on me for running away with Peter, you can do so,” with which she ran out of the room and down the stairs before he could make any move to stop her.

The first part of the night she spent in tear-drenched misery, the second in an exhausted sleep, awakening in the morning just as miserable as when she had first reached home, perhaps even more so, because she was quite convinced that she would never see Peter again. As for her parting shot about the police, she did not really think that Duarte would take any action against her. He would not want his own name involved, and now that he had got his own way doubtless that would be enough for him. Instinct told her - however little she liked to admit it - that he was not a vindictive man.

It was a morning when she did not have to get up early, but she got up at the usual time, because lying in gave her too much time to think. She usually worked alternate Saturdays, and this was her morning off, but she did not know whether to be glad of that fact or sorry. If she had gone to work she would not have had this awful sensation of being so alone. Everything in the little flat seemed to echo with emptiness. There was only one place to be set at the table, breakfast only for one and washing
up
only for one.

Would she ever get used to it? She supposed she would eventually. That old
cliché
about time healing any wound was true enough. One thing she was certain of, though - time would never deaden her extremely acute dislike of Duarte Adriano.

After a little while the quietness and solitude of the flat became too much for her and she decided to go out, wandered for a little while in an aimless manner, then caught the train into town. Once there she wandered aimlessly again, did a little window-shopping, but was not very interested even in that, especially when once, off in the distance, she caught sight of the hotel where Duarte was staying - and Peter, of course.

A swift little pang shot through her. Was he missing her? Although personal inclinations might make her hope that he did, on the other hand, for his sake, she must hope that he did not miss her too much and quickly managed to get used to his new life. Then she abruptly turned down a side street so that the hotel was out of sight, went into Myers vast department store and, in a flash of recklessness, bought an exquisite pure silk Indian stole that was so expensive she would in the ordinary way only have looked at it longingly before she went on to something far less costly, even if she had been looking for a stole, which she really was not at the moment. She did not know when she was going to use such a beautiful thing, but she supposed it would come in handy some time or the other for a ball, although balls and dancing were the last things to appeal to her at the moment. It was just the feeling that she had to do something out of character, spending a lot of money on something she did not really need, to take her mind off Peter.

She smiled a little ruefully as she watched the assistant carefully wrapping up the shimmering turquoise folds that glinted with silver embroidery. At least she now possessed something that would never have joined her wardrobe in normal circumstances.

She wandered around for a short while longer, than caught the train home again - and there a shock awaited her. Drawn up outside the front door was a long, black car she recognised immediately.

She stiffened, and her first impulse was to walk by without acknowledging the man she knew would be sitting in the driving seat, but even if she might have given way to the impulse, it was too late, because he had already seen her, and with surprising quickness and the lithe grace that was so characteristic of him, was standing on the footpath at her side.

The dark head inclined with urbane courtesy, but Aileen acknowledged his greeting with stiff, conventional
politeness, wondering why he had chosen to wait for her.

“How ...
how is Peter?” she could not help asking, although she had determined not to bring up the subject.

A shade of sardonic amusement crossed his face. “You will doubtless be pleased to learn that he has already displayed signs of missing you.”

“Not exactly,” Aileen replied, somehow managing to keep her voice quiet and even. “The sooner he gets over missing me, the better it will be for him.”

“
Your altruism is to be admired.”

She shot him a quick look at that, but there was no suggestion of derision or even mocking amusement on his dark face. Yet at the same time she could not quite take his remark at its face value.

“Is it?” she answered cautiously. “I’m fond of Peter. Although I would naturally prefer that he doesn’t forget me, I can see that it will be best if he does ... and as quickly as possible, since he isn’t to see anything further of me.”

He looked at her for a moment in silence, then asked abruptly, “You have lunched yet?”

“No.”

“There is something I wish to discuss with you.” He looked around them with the slightest trace of a frown. “We cannot talk here. At the risk of causing you to ... feel like choking, perhaps I might ask you to lunch with me.”

Was there just the faintest trace of irony as he said that? Aileen stiffened and could not stop her head going up sharply.

“I will apologise for my rudeness, Mr. Adriano - but at the time I meant what I said.”

“Then I may take it that you accept my invitation?”

“I should be glad to ... thank you.”

If he could be so formally polite, then so could she, not that her dislike had abated in the least. There was, however, something that slightly puzzled her about him and she glanced surreptitiously at his chiselled, aquiline profile as he started the car, after seating her with grave deference beside him. There seemed to be something different about him this morning, and she was sure it was not imagination. He was more as he had been when she had first met him, even a hint of that aloof, distant charm as he made a few innocuous remarks on the way in to town. Of course, all through he had never lost that calm assurance, and she realised now that it had been the reason why she had flown into a panic and run away as she had. Nor had he ever really descended from that cold pinnacle of his. Any outbursts or rudeness had been on her side alone, but although she might
r
egret her lack of control on occasion, she excused it by telling herself that she had plenty of reason for it. Duarte of course must have been coolly certain all along that he would win. It would be nice to
g
o through life with such assurance, she thought with a little mental sigh, and hoped that some day he would come up against somebody or thing that would manage to prick that irritating assurance. Still, she did have some small satisfaction in knowing that she must have caused him a certain amount of trouble. He might be the Conde de Marindos, but he must be aware by now that there was at least one person who did not consider he was everything to be desired.

The car drew up at the same hotel she had fled from sight of only a few hours before, and he ushered her into the dining room with a kind of unconscious care she might have found pleasant in other circumstances. .At another time - and with a different person - the deference and attentiveness of the staff might also have thrilled her, but just now it only served to heighten her dislike of him. It was bad enough here, but probably in his own country people just about lay down and let him walk on them. No wonder he thought of himself as some kind of uncrowned monarch - with which final cross little harangue to herself she schooled her features into conventional politeness and made quite sure that her tone of voice was the same.

After a most excellent lunch she looked across at him with cold blue eyes.

“You said you had something you wanted to discuss with me.”

Despite herself, her voice was not quite so even as she could have hoped, and she would not have been surprised if it had conveyed the implication that she would not have lunched with him had there not been anything to discuss. Anyway, she thought to herself, what could he have to discuss with her? And why had she so tamely agreed to have lunch with him? He had Peter, to be brought up now as an Adriano, and presumably that was all that mattered to him.

One dark brow slanted up, again in that slight suggestion of irony, and she had an idea that he had guessed something of what she had been thinking, but his voice was quite level as he asked:

“How much does your present career mean to you?”

Aileen shot him a quick glance at that, because it was not
exactly what she had expected to hear from him - although, come to think of it, just what had she expected to say? She was beginning to realise that he could be a complete enigma, which was understandable of course, since she was not used to his type of man. The Conde de Marindos of this world did not usually cross the paths of people like Aileen Lawrence.

“I don’t like it as much as my previous job, if that’s what you meant,” she answered somewhat cautiously.

“Then you might be prepared to give it up for another position?”

“I might. It depends what the position amounted to.”

“Not a secretarial one. I realise that you are very attached to Peter and that he has an affection for you.”

Her heart gave a little jump of hope at that, but she could not resist a veiled jibe.

“I didn’t think you realised that.”

“I am not unobservant.”

She had the impulse to retort that, even if he was observant enough to notice the affection between Peter and herself, she had not thought it would mean anything to him, but she restrained it and waited for him to continue.

“I shall need somebody to take care of Peter.” The dark eyes held her shocked, incredulous gaze. “Would you be prepared to go to Spain with him?”

“To ... to go to Spain?”

She wondered if that was really her own voice. It sounded far too shaken and whispery. What would this incredible man say next? After every action and sentence seemed to have been deliberately designed to reveal him as a person who did not take other people’s feelings into account so long as his own wishes were carried out, he made her an offer like this.

“I don’t quite understand,” she said at last.

He shrugged, with a quick gesture of one slim, long-fingered hand that suddenly emphasised his foreignness, his difference from anyone she had ever met before.

“It is simple. Dona Teresa, Eric’s mother, is still alive, but she is too old to take care of Peter adequately. I would prefer somebody younger, preferably somebody he knows. It will be difficult enough for him to settle in a new country, without
finding himself surrounded entirely by strangers.”

Aileen, if her life depended on it, could not have controlled the startled look she gave him. She was not really surprised to see the dark brows jerk up in a return of the sardonic mockery she had seen on his face on one or two other occasions.

“I startle you?”

“Not exactly.” Once again she had to carefully control what she said. “I hadn’t expected you to ... to think of that side of it.”

“I see.” The sardonic amusement became more pronounced. “I am undoubtedly cast as the unfeeling monster who has no heed whatsoever of the feelings of other people.”

Aileen flushed, because that was exactly how she did think of him - or had until that moment. Not that her dislike was any less, she hastened to assure herself. Quite apart from the question of Peter, there was something about him that instinctively antagonised her.

“I’m sorry,” she said, a little lamely she could not help but feel, but it is always hard to apologise when the apology is made reluctantly.

“Thank you,” he said dryly. “Perhaps one day you will mean it,” which showed that he was under no illusions as to how she thought about him. Not that it would worry him, she was quite sure. The opinions of Aileen Lawrence would not mean a thing.

“What about his schooling?” she asked, bringing the subject determinedly back to a more impersonal matter. “I have no training to be able to give him lessons.”

“That would not be necessary. A tutor will be arranged for until he is old enough to go to school.”

She could not help looking surprised at that. “He already goes to school.”

“You will find customs a little different in my own country.” A little different! She had the feeling they would be a whole lot different. By school, though, he probably meant college. For all his excellent command of the English language, he had probably chosen the wrong word there.

“There is one thing that must be understood, though,” he added, his voice hardening slightly. “There is to be no interference in whatever I might choose for Peter.”

“From me, you mean?” she asked quite deliberately.

He nodded, but a hint of amusement was visible in the very dark eyes. “I have no doubt that you will express yourself quite clearly if anything displeases you, but you will leave the final decision to me. There is to be no taking matters into your own hands again.”

Once again she could not quite control the defiant little tilt of her head.

“The circumstances would be different. Before, I was a free agent. If I was in your employ, I would naturally respect your wishes - even though, as you said, I might express myself quite clearly if I thought anything was wrong.”

That would get the matter quite clear. As an employee she would certainly respect his wishes, as she did anyone she worked for, but it would also let him see that she did not intend to make a doormat of herself. Even employees had rights these days.

“Then you accept?”

She nodded. “Yes - and thank you for offering me the position.”

One dark brow quirked up a little dryly again. “You have not asked what the remuneration would be,” and then he named a sum that made her gasp.

“That’s far too much!”