Turn the page for a sneak peek at

Wealthy Australian, Secret Son,

the exhilarating new novel from international bestselling author Margaret Way available this month from all-new Mills & Boon® Cherish™.

CHAPTER ONE

The present

IT WAS an idyllic day for a garden party. The sky was a deep blue; sparkling sunshine flooded the Valley; a cooling breeze lowered the spring into summer heat. A veritable explosion of flowering trees and foaming blossom had turned the rich rural area into one breathtakingly beautiful garden that leapt at the eye and caught at the throat. It was so perfect a world the inhabitants of Silver Valley felt privileged to live in it.

Only Charlotte Prescott, a widow at twenty-six, with a seven-year-old child, stood in front of the bank of mirrors in her dressing room, staring blindly at her own reflection. The end of an era had finally arrived, but there was no joy in it for her, for her father, or for Christopher, her clever, thoughtful child. They were the dispossessed, and nothing in the world could soothe the pain of loss.

For the past month, since the invitations had begun to arrive, Silver Valley had been eagerly anticipating the Open Day: a get-to-know-you garden party to be held in the grounds of the grandest colonial mansion in the valley, Riverbend. Such a lovely name, Riverbend! A private house, its grandeur reflected the wealth and community standing of the man who had built it in the 1880s, Charles Randall Marsdon, a young man of means who had migrated from England to a country that didn’t have a splendid past, like his homeland, but in his opinion had a glowing future. He’d meant to be part of that future. He’d meant to get to the top!

There might have been a certain amount of bravado in that young man’s goal, but Charles Marsdon had turned out not only to be a visionary, but a hard-headed businessman who had moved to the highest echelons of colonial life with enviable speed.

Riverbend was a wonderfully romantic two-storey mansion, with a fine Georgian façade and soaring white columns, its classic architecture adapted to climatic needs with large-scale open-arched verandahs providing deep shading for the house. It had been in the Marsdon family—her family—for six generations, but sadly it would never pass to her adored son. For the simple reason that Riverbend was no longer theirs. The mansion, its surrounding vineyards and olive groves, badly neglected since the Tragedy, had been sold to a company called Vortex. Little was known about Vortex, except that it had met the stiff price her father had put on the estate. Not that he could have afforded to take a lofty attitude. Marsdon money had all but run out. But Vivian Marsdon was an immensely proud man who never for a moment underestimated his important position in the Valley. It was everything to him to keep face. In any event, the asking price, exorbitantly high, had been paid swiftly—and oddly enough without a single quibble.

Now, months later, the CEO of the company was finally coming to town. Naturally she and her father had been invited, although neither of them had met any Vortex representative. The sale had been handled to her father’s satisfaction by their family solicitors, Dunnett & Banfield. Part of the deal was that her father was to have tenure of the Lodge—originally an old coach house—during his lifetime, after which it would be returned to the estate. The coach house had been converted and greatly enlarged by her grandfather into a beautiful and comfortable guest house that had enjoyed a good deal of use in the old days, when her grandparents had entertained on a grand scale, and it was at the Lodge they were living now. Just the three of them: father, daughter, grandson.

Her former in-laws—Martyn’s parents and his sister Nicole—barely acknowledged them these days. The estrangement had become entrenched in the eighteen months since Martyn’s death. Her husband, three years older than she, had been killed when he’d lost control of his high-powered sports car on a notorious black spot in the Valley and smashed into a tree. A young woman had been with him. Mercifully she’d been thrown clear of the car, suffering only minor injuries. It had later transpired she had been Martyn’s mistress for close on six months. Of course Martyn hadn’t been getting what he’d needed at home. If Charlotte had been a loving wife the tragedy would never have happened. The second major tragedy in her lifetime. It seemed very much as if Charlotte Prescott was a jinx.

Poor old you! Charlotte spoke silently to her image. What a mess you’ve made of your life!

She really didn’t need anyone to tell her that. The irony was that her father had made just as much a mess of his own life—even before the Tragedy. The first tragedy. The only one that mattered to her parents. Her father had had little time for Martyn, yet he himself was a man without insight into his own limitations. Perhaps the defining one was unloading responsibility. Vivian Marsdon was constitutionally incapable of accepting the blame for anything. Anything that went wrong was always someone else’s fault, or due to some circumstance beyond his control. The start of the Marsdon freefall from grace had begun when her highly respected grandfather, Sir Richard Marsdon, had died. His only son and heir had not been able to pick up the reins. It was as simple as that. The theory of three. One man made the money, the next enlarged on it, the third lost it. No better cushion than piles of money. Not every generation produced an heir with the Midas touch, let alone the necessary drive to manage and significantly enlarge the family fortune.

Her father, born to wealth and prestige, lacked Sir Richard’s strong character as well as his formidable business brain. Marsdon money had begun to disappear early, like water down a drain. Failed pie-in-the-sky schemes had been approached with enthusiasm. Her father had turned a deaf ear to cautioning counsel from accountants and solicitors alike. He knew best. Sadly, his lack of judgement had put a discernible dent in the family fortunes. And that was even before the Tragedy that had blighted their family life.

With a sigh of regret, Charlotte picked up her lovely hat with its wide floppy brim, settling it on her head. She rarely wore her long hair loose these days, preferring to pull it back from her face and arrange it in various knots. In any case, the straw picture hat demanded she pull her hair back off her face. Her dress was Hermes silk, in chartreuse, strapless except for a wide silk band over one shoulder that flowed down the bodice and short skirt. The hat was a perfect colour match, adorned with organdie peonies in masterly deep pinks that complemented the unique shade of golden lime-green.

The outfit wasn’t new, but she had only worn it once, at Melbourne Cup day when Martyn was alive. Martyn had taken great pride in how she looked. She’d always had to look her best. In those days she had been every inch a fashionista, such had been their extravagant and, it had to be said, empty lifestyle. Martyn had been a man much like her father—an inheritor of wealth who could do what he liked, when he liked, if he so chose. Martyn had made his choice. He had always expected to marry her, right from childhood, bringing about the union of two long-established rural families. And once he’d had her—he had always been mad about her—he had set about making their lifestyle a whirl of pleasure up until his untimely death.

From time to time she had consoled herself with the thought that perhaps Martyn, as he matured, would cease taking up endless defensive positions against his highly effective father, Gordon, come to recognise his family responsibilities and then pursue them with some skill and determination.

Sadly, all her hopes—and Gordon Prescott’s—had been killed off one by one. And she’d had to face some hard facts herself. Hadn’t she been left with a legacy of guilt? She had never loved Martyn. Bonded to him from earliest childhood, she had always regarded him with great affection. But romantic love? Never! The heart wasn’t obedient to the expectations of others. She knew what romantic love was. She knew about passion—dangerous passion and its infinite temptations—but she hadn’t steered away from it in the interests of safety. She had totally succumbed.

All these years later her heart still pumped his name.

Rohan.

She heard her son’s voice clearly. He sounded anxious. “Mummy, are you ready? Grandpa wants to leave.”

A moment later, Christopher, a strikingly handsome little boy, dressed in a bright blue shirt with mother-of-pearl buttons and grey cargo pants, tore into the room.

“Come on, come on,” he urged, holding out his hand to her. “He’s stomping around the hall and going red in the face. That means his blood pressure is going up, doesn’t it?”

“Nothing for you to worry about, sweetheart,” Charlotte answered calmly. “Grandpa’s health is excellent. Stomping is a way to get our attention. Anyway, we’re not late,” she pointed out.

It had been after Martyn’s death, on her father’s urging, that she and Christopher had moved into the Lodge. Her father was sad and lonely, finding it hard getting over the big reversals in his life. She knew at some point she had to make a life for herself and her son. But where? She couldn’t escape the Valley. Christopher loved it here. It was his home. He loved his friends, his school, his beautiful environment and his bond with his grandfather. It made a move away from the Valley extremely difficult, and there were other crucial considerations for a single mother with a young child.

Martyn had left her little money. They had lived with his parents at their huge High Grove estate. They had wanted for nothing, all expenses paid, but Martyn’s father—knowing his son’s proclivities—had kept his son on a fairly tight leash. His widow, so all members of the Prescott family had come to believe, was undeserving.

“Grandpa runs to a timetable of his own,” Christopher was saying, shaking his golden-blond head. She too was blonde, with green eyes. Martyn had been fair as well, with greyish-blue eyes. Christopher’s eyes were as brilliant as blue-fire diamonds. “You look lovely in that dress, Mummy,” he added, full of love and pride in his beautiful mother. “Please don’t be sad today. I just wish I was seventeen instead of seven,” he lamented. “I’m just a kid. But I’ll grow up and become a great big success. You’ll have me to look after you.”

“My knight in shining armour!” She bent to give him a big hug, then took his outstretched hand, shaking it back and forth as if beginning a march. “Onward, Christian soldiers!”

“What’s that?” He looked up at her with interest.

“It’s an English hymn,” she explained. Her father wouldn’t have included hymns in the curriculum. Her father wasn’t big on hymns. Not since the Tragedy. “It means we have to go forth and do our best. Endure. It was a favourite hymn of Sir Winston Churchill. You know who he was?”

“Of course!” Christopher scoffed. “He was the great English World War II Prime Minister. The country gave him a huge amount of money for his services to the nation, then they took most of it back in tax. Grandpa told me.”

Charlotte laughed. Very well read himself, her father had taken it upon himself to “educate” Christopher. Christopher had attended the best school in the Valley for a few years now, but her father took his grandson’s education much further, taking pride and delight it setting streams of general, historical and geographical questions for which Christopher had to find the answers. Christopher was already computer literate but her father wasn’t—something that infuriated him—and insisted he find the answers in the books in the well-stocked library. Christopher never cheated. He always came up trumps. Christopher was a very clever little boy.

Like his father.

The garden party was well underway by the time they finished their stroll along the curving driveway. Riverbend had never looked more beautiful, Charlotte thought, pierced by the same sense of loss she knew her father was experiencing—though one would never have known it from his confident Lord of the Manor bearing. Her father was a handsome man, but alas not a lot of people in the Valley liked him. The mansion, since they had moved, had undergone very necessary repairs. These days it was superbly maintained, and staffed by a housekeeper, her husband—a sort of major-domo—and several ground staff to bring the once-famous gardens back to their best. A good-looking young woman came out from Sydney from time to time, to check on what was being done. Charlotte had met her once, purely by accident.

© Margaret Way, PTY., LTD 2011

About the Author

LUCY GORDON cut her writing teeth on magazine journalism, interviewing many of the world’s most interesting men, including Warren Beatty, charlton Heston and Sir Roger Moore. She also camped out with lions in Africa, and had many other unusual experiences which have often provided the background for her books. Several years ago, while staying Venice, she met a Venetian who proposed in two days. They have been married ever since. Naturally this has affected her writing, where romantic Italian men tend to feature strongly. Two of her books have won the Romance Writers of America RITA® award.

You can visit her website at www.lucy-gordon.com

Dear Reader,

I must admit to getting a wistful satisfaction from writing about a heroine whose beauty and allure knock men sideways. No hopeless sighing for her. One quirk of her gorgeous mouth, a look from her sultry eyes, and they fall at her feet, begging for her attention. I guess we’ve all indulged that fantasy at some time.

But the underlying truth is never so simple, as I learned from Pippa, heroine of A Winter Proposal. Beneath the surface of the sultry siren is a woman who has been hurt almost beyond bearing, and who has sheltered behind her desirability and her reputation as a good-time girl, determined not to let the world discover her fears.

Those fears include Christmas and mistletoe—both of which bring back suffering she can’t bear to recall.

But then she meets Roscoe, a man as damaged as herself, and as skilled at hiding it. Each of them sees through the other’s defences to the loving hearts beneath. Harsh and forbidding on the surface, Roscoe discovers depths of tenderness within himself, and uses them to rescue Pippa. Through him she finds that Christmas can once more be a time of joy.

But they are not alone in their struggle. Pippa’s beloved grandmother, Dee, has always been a loving presence, offering advice, and standing as a symbol of love’s triumph to inspire her to her own happy ending.

Warmest wishes,

Lucy Gordon

A WINTER PROPOSAL HIS DIAMOND BRIDE

LUCY GORDON

www.millsandboon.co.uk

A WINTER PROPOSAL

LUCY GORDON

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.

CHAPTER FOUR

CHARLIE drew a long, slow breath, visibly stunned. This was useful, Pippa thought, bringing a professional mind to bear on the situation, because it gave her the chance to study him.

He was certainly handsome. His face was slightly fuller than his brother’s, just enough to give it a vivacious quality that was alluring. His mouth was attractively curved, and she guessed that many a girl had sighed hopelessly for him. He was too boyish to attract her, but he seemed pleasant.

‘Hello,’ he murmured, distracted. Then he recovered his poise and seated himself next to Pippa. ‘Look, I’m sorry. I’m only mad at him.’ He indicated Roscoe.

‘He must be an absolutely terrible person,’ she said sympathetically.

‘He is. Definitely.’

‘And now he wants to force his choice of lawyer on you—someone middle-aged and ignorant of the modern world, who won’t understand you. Oh, yes, and respectable. Shocking!’

She couldn’t meet Roscoe’s eye. He was leaning back, regarding her performance with wry appreciation.

‘By the way, I’m Charlie Havering,’ the young man said, holding out a hand.

‘I’m Pippa Jenson,’ she said, taking it. ‘And I’m your lawyer.’

Charlie grinned. ‘Yeah, right!’

‘Seriously. I’m a solicitor. I work for Farley & Son.’

‘But you can’t be,’ Charlie protested. ‘You don’t look at all respectable.’

‘Watch your manners, Charlie,’ Roscoe said. ‘This is a highly qualified lady you’re talking to.’

‘I can see that,’ Charlie said, taking her hand. ‘Very highly qualified.’

Roscoe caught his breath as he found himself surrounded by double entendres. ‘I only meant,’ he said carefully, ‘that she’s a professional—no, not like that—’

He swore inwardly as he realised what Pippa could make of this, but she surprised him, bursting out laughing. Laughter possessed her utterly, making her rock back and forth while peals of merriment danced up from her and Charlie regarded her with delight. In fact Roscoe realised that everyone in the place was smiling at her, as though just by being there she brightened the day.

She reached across the table and took Roscoe’s hand. ‘Oh, shut up,’ she told him, still laughing, ‘You make it worse with every word.’

‘I don’t mean to. I was considering your feelings,’ he said stiffly, withdrawing his hand.

‘Heavens, we’re way past that. Enough. It’s finished.’

‘As you wish. But Charlie, behave yourself.’

‘Why, when I’m talking to the most gorgeous girl I’ve ever met? Hey! ‘

One moment he was leaning close in a seductive conspiracy. The next, he was bouncing with agitation at something he’d seen.

‘It’s him,’ he yelped, leaping to his feet. ‘Just let me get to him.’

Across the restaurant, a long-haired young man turned in alarm, then vanished between some curtains, closely followed by Charlie.

‘What was that?’ Pippa said, looking around.

‘A man who owes him money,’ Roscoe observed. ‘One of many.’

‘So that’s your brother. He’ll be an interesting client. Yes, I think I’ll accept his case.’

It was on the tip of Roscoe’s tongue to tell her to forget it because he’d changed his mind. But he controlled the impulse, as he controlled so many impulses in his life, and sat in tense silence, a prey to opposing feelings. On the surface, things were working out exactly as he’d wanted. The smile she’d given Charlie was perfect for the purpose, and it had had the desired effect. His brother had been transfixed, just as Roscoe had meant him to be. So, what more did he want?

He didn’t know. All he knew for certain was that he hated it.

‘Pippa,’ he said edgily, ‘I must be honest, I think you’re going about this the wrong way.’

‘What?’ She stared at him. ‘I’m doing what you said you wanted.’

‘Yes, but I had in mind something a little more—’ He hesitated, made cautious by the look in her eyes.

‘A little more what?’ she asked in a voice that was softly dangerous.

‘More subtle,’ he said desperately.

‘Mr Havering, are you telling me how to do my job?’

‘I wouldn’t dare.’

‘Really? I’m not sure of that. Perhaps we should have discussed this before now, so that you could tell me exactly how a woman goes about beguiling a man? After all, I know so little about the subject, don’t I? How stupid of me not to have taken lessons from you! Why don’t you instruct me now so that I’ll know which boxes to tick?’

‘All right,’ he said quickly. ‘Of course you know more than I do about this.’

‘Which I thought was why you hired me. Anyway, I’m not doing well, since his attention was so easily distracted. One hint of an unpaid debt and he’s off. Hmm! Perhaps I should review my strategy.’

‘I feel sure your strategy is quite up to the challenge.’

‘It’s the first time a man has walked away from me when I was trying to mesmerise him. I could feel quite insulted by that.’

‘You’re having a bad day for insults, aren’t you?’

‘Between you and him, yes.’

‘Then I may as well add to my crimes by pointing out that he didn’t walk away from you, he ran away at full speed. Perhaps I’ve hired the wrong person.’

‘You could be right. Desperate measures are called for. I must lure my prey into a net from which he cannot escape.’

‘Always assuming that he returns at all,’ Roscoe pointed out. ‘You may have to go after him.’

‘Please!’ She appeared horrified. ‘I never “go after” a man. They come after me.’

‘Always?’ he asked, eyes narrowed.

‘If I want them to. Sometimes I don’t bother.’ Thoroughly enjoying his discomfiture, she smiled. ‘And never mind condemning me as a hussy, because that’s exactly what you hired me for.’

‘Is there any point in my defending myself?’ he growled.

‘None whatever,’ she assured him.

She was curious to know what he would say next, but Charlie spoiled things by reappearing, cursing because his prey had escaped.

‘Did he owe you very much?’ Pippa asked, turning from Roscoe with reluctance.

‘A few thousand.’

‘Perhaps we can recover it by legal action,’ she suggested.

‘Ah…no,’ he said awkwardly. ‘It’s a bit…well…’

‘All right, let’s leave it,’ she said quickly. ‘The sooner we get down to business, the better.’

‘Yes, we must have a long talk over dinner,’ Charlie said. ‘The Diamond is the best place in town. Come on, let’s go.’

‘First you ask Miss Jenson if she is free,’ Roscoe said firmly. ‘If she is, then you ask if she can endure an evening with us.’

‘Us? Ah, well—I didn’t actually mean that you should come with—’

‘I know exactly what you meant, and you can forget that idea. Miss Jenson, could you put up with the two of us for a few more hours?’

‘I’ll do my best,’ she said solemnly. ‘We have serious matters to discuss.’

‘I agree, so we can forget The Diamond,’ Roscoe said, taking out his cellphone and dialling. ‘Hello, Mother? Yes, it’s me. We’re on our way home and we have a guest. I’ve found a first-rate lawyer for Charlie, so roll out the red carpet for her. Fine. See you soon.’ He ended the call.

Charlie, who had been spluttering fruitlessly, now found his voice. ‘What about how I feel? ‘ he demanded.

‘The Diamond is no place for a serious discussion.’

‘And doesn’t Pippa get a say?’

‘Miss Jenson has already done us the honour of agreeing to dine with us. Since this is a business meeting, I’m sure she feels that the venue is irrelevant.’

‘Certainly,’ Pippa said in her briskest tone. ‘I have no opinion either way.’

‘You’re going to just let him walk over you?’ Charlie demanded.

Pippa couldn’t resist. Giving Roscoe a cheeky sideways look, she leaned towards Charlie and said, ‘It can’t be helped. In my job you get used to clients who want to rule the roost.’ She added conspiratorially, ‘There are ways of dealing with them.’

The young man choked with laughter, jerking his head towards Roscoe. ‘Think you can get him on the ropes?’

‘Think I can’t?’

She was watching Roscoe for his reaction. There was none. His eyes were on her but his face revealed nothing. Clearly, the notion of tussling with her, whether physically or emotionally, caused him no excitement.

‘Just promise that I can be there to see you crush him beneath your heel,’ Charlie implored.

‘When you two have finished,’ Roscoe said in a bored voice.

‘Just a little innocent fun,’ Charlie protested.

‘Sorry, I don’t do fun.’ Roscoe’s voice was so withering that Pippa threw him another quick glance. For a moment his face was tight, hard, older.

‘That’s right, he doesn’t,’ Charlie said.

‘OK, I’m here,’ said a voice overhead.

Charlie groaned, then bounced up as he recognised the man who owed him money, now holding out an envelope.

‘I only ran to get this,’ he said. ‘I always meant to repay you.’ He dropped the envelope and fled. The reason became obvious a moment later.

‘There’s only half here,’ Charlie yelped. ‘Hey, come back!’ He resumed the pursuit.

Alone again, Roscoe and Pippa eyed each other, suspicion on one side, defiance on the other.

‘How am I doing?’ she asked.

‘You’ve certainly got his attention. I’d give a lot to know what he’s thinking.’

‘He believes what he wants to believe,’ she said with a small flash of anger. ‘Men always do. Didn’t you know that? I know it. And so does any woman who’s ever had a man in her life.’

‘And when a woman knows it she makes use of it? ‘

‘She does if she has any sense of self-preservation. And may I remind you again, Mr Havering, that I’m doing what you hired me to do? You’re paying for my skills, but you don’t get to dictate what skills I use or how I use them.’

‘Don’t I?’

‘No, because if you try I’ll simply step aside and let Charlie see you pulling my strings.’

He drew a sharp breath. ‘You really know how to fight dirty.’

‘Have you only just realised that?’

He regarded her. ‘I think I have.’

‘Good, then we understand each other. Now he’s coming back. Smile at me so that he’ll know that all is well between us.’

‘I wonder if that day will ever come,’ he said softly.

But the next moment he was smiling as she’d suggested, even talking pleasantly, loud enough for Charlie to hear. ‘My mother’s housekeeper is an expert cook. I promise that you’ll enjoy tonight’s meal, Miss Havering.’

‘Pippa,’ she said. ‘After all, we’re fighting on the same side.’

His eyes warned her not to push her luck, but he only inclined his head before rising and saying, ‘I’ll get the car. Be waiting for me outside and don’t take too long.’

She longed to salute him ironically and say, Yes sir, no sir. I obey, sir. But he was gone before she had the chance.

‘That’s his way,’ Charlie said, correctly interpreting her seething. ‘People give up arguing. You will too.’

‘Will I? I wonder. Did you catch up with that man?’

‘No, he escaped again. But at least I got some of the money. And now we’re alone, can I tell you that you are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever met?’

‘No, you can’t tell me that,’ she said. ‘For one thing, I already know and, for another, your brother wouldn’t approve.’

‘Oh, forget him. What does he have to do with us? ‘

Pippa frowned. ‘He’s protecting you. Don’t you owe him some kind of consideration?’

‘Why? He’s only thinking of himself. The good name of Havering must be defended at all costs. The truth is, he cares for nobody.’

‘And nobody cares for him?’ she murmured slowly.

Charlie shrugged. ‘Who knows? He doesn’t let anyone inside.’

It sounded so convincing, but suddenly there was the whispered memory of Roscoe saying, ‘If anything happens to Charlie, it would break my mother’s heart… At all costs I want to save her from more suffering.’

This wasn’t a man who cared nothing for anyone. He might care so much that he only admitted it under stress.

Or perhaps Charlie was right. Which of the two was the real man? Impossible to say. Unless.

Suddenly the waiter hurried up to them, almost stuttering in his agitation. ‘He’s in the car…says he told you to be out there waiting for him. He’s good ‘n mad.’

They ran outside to where Roscoe’s car was by the kerb, engine running. When they had tumbled into the back seat, Pippa said politely, ‘I’m really sorry,’ but Roscoe only grunted, his eyes on the traffic as he edged his way into the flow. She supposed she couldn’t blame him.

Their destination was an expensive London suburb, full of large detached houses standing in luxurious gardens. A woman was waiting by the gate, smiling and waving at the sight of them. She was thin and frail-looking, and Pippa recalled Roscoe saying that she’d been in a bad way ever since his father’s death, fifteen years earlier.

But her face was brilliant with joy as Charlie got out of the car and she could hug him. He handed Pippa out and she found herself being scrutinised by two bright eyes before Angela Havering thrust out a hand declaring that she was so glad to meet her.

Roscoe drove the car away.

‘He has to park at the back,’ Charlie explained. ‘He’ll join us in a minute.’

‘Come inside,’ Angela said, taking her hand. ‘I want to know all about you, and how you’re going to save my dear boy.’

She drew Pippa into the house, a lavishly elegant establishment, clearly furnished and tended by someone who’d brought housekeeping to a fine art, with the cash to do it.

In the kitchen they found Nora, a cheerful, middle-aged woman in a large apron, presiding over a variety of dishes.

‘I hope I didn’t make your life difficult, coming unexpectedly,’ Pippa said as they were introduced.

‘There’s plenty to eat,’ Angela said. ‘It’s always been one of my husband’s maxims that a successful house has food ready all the time.’

Pippa smiled, but she had a strange, edgy feeling. Angela spoke almost as if her husband were still alive.

Nora poured wine and Angela handed them each a glass and raised hers in salute.

‘Welcome to our home,’ she said to Pippa. ‘I’m sure you’re going to make everything all right.’

It was a charming scene, but it would have been more charming, Pippa thought, if she’d waited for Roscoe to join them. It was a tiny point, but it troubled her.

From the kitchen window, she had a view of the back garden, with a large garage at the far end. As she watched, Roscoe came out of a side door of the garage and began walking to the house.

‘Here he is,’ she said, pointing.

‘Oh, good. I was afraid he’d keep us waiting. Honestly, he can be so inconsiderate.’

Over supper, Angela was on edge, constantly turning an anxious expression on Charlie, then a frowning gaze at Roscoe, as though silently criticising him for something. To Pippa, it seemed as though she’d given all her love to one son and barely registered the existence of the other.

Of course, she argued with herself, Charlie was a vulnerable boy threatened with disaster, while Roscoe was a powerful man, well able to take care of himself. But still.

Charlie’s cellphone rang. He went out into the hall to speak to the caller and, as soon as he’d gone, Angela clasped Pippa’s hand.

‘You see how he is, how he needs to be cared for.’

‘And he’s lucky to have a brother who cares for him,’ Pippa couldn’t resist saying.

‘Oh, yes, of course there’s Roscoe. He does his best, but when I think of what might happen to my darling…maybe prison.’

‘He won’t go to prison,’ Pippa said at once. ‘It’s a first offence, nothing was stolen and nobody was hurt. A fine, and perhaps some community service is the worst that will happen.’

‘But he’ll have a criminal record.’

‘Yes, and that’s why we’re working so hard to defend him.’

‘Oh, if only my husband were here,’ Angela wailed. ‘William would know what to do. He always does.’

Roscoe’s eyes met Pippa’s and a little shake of his head warned her to say nothing. She nodded, feeling all at sea, glad to keep quiet.

‘But you’ve got me to help, Mother,’ Roscoe reminded her.

‘Oh, yes, and you do your best, but it’s not the same, is it?’

‘No, it’s not the same,’ Roscoe said quietly.

‘If only he hadn’t gone away. He should be here now that we need him so much.’

Again, she might have been speaking of a living man, and Pippa wondered uneasily just how much she lived in the real world.

As she spoke, Angela fiddled constantly was a ring on her left hand. It was an engagement ring, with an awesome central diamond, surrounded by smaller diamonds.

‘That’s my engagement ring,’ Angela said, seeing her glance. ‘It was much too expensive and William couldn’t really afford it in those days, but he said that nothing was too much for me. All these years later, I still have it to remind me that his love never died.’ Her voice shook.

Pippa was uncertain where to look. Angela’s determination to thrust her emotion on everyone was difficult to cope with, even without knowing that it was misplaced.

Charlie returned after a moment, bearing a cup of tea which he set before his mother.

‘Why, darling, how kind of you to think of me!’ She turned to Roscoe. ‘Isn’t Charlie a wonderful son? ‘

‘The best,’ Roscoe agreed kindly. ‘Now, drink up, and have plenty of sugar because that always does you good.’

‘Here,’ Charlie said, spooning sugar madly into the cup. His mother beamed at him.

So the spoilt child got all the credit, Pippa thought, while Roscoe, who was genuinely working hard to ease her troubles, was barely noticed.

Then she reproved herself for being over-emotional. Roscoe was only doing what was sensible, supporting his mother and Charlie so that the family should not disintegrate. The idea that he might be saddened by being relegated to the shadows of Angela’s affection was too sentimental for words. And if there was one thing Roscoe was not, it was sentimental.

And neither was she, she reminded herself.

Nonetheless, she couldn’t help warming to him for his generosity and patience.

A little later Angela went away into the kitchen, and she seized the chance to tell Charlie about Ginevra. He was reluctant to believe the worst, but Pippa was firm, saying, ‘I don’t want you to contact her unless I say so. Give me your word.’

‘All right, maybe I was a bit mad but she made my head spin.’

‘Well, it’s time to stop spinning. Mr Havering, do you have a computer here that I could use?’

‘It’s upstairs,’ Roscoe said. ‘I’ll show you.’

‘Beware,’ Charlie warned. ‘He’s taking you up to his bedroom, a place where no sensible woman goes.’

‘Cut it out,’ Roscoe advised him wearily. ‘Miss Jenson, I hope you know you have absolutely nothing to fear from me.’

‘That’s not very flattering,’ Charlie protested illogically.

‘Unflattering but sensible and businesslike,’ Pippa said. ‘Mr Havering, let me return the compliment by declaring that I too am entirely free from temptation. Now, shall we go?’

‘I’ll come too,’ Charlie declared. ‘To protect you.’

‘I need no protection,’ she declared firmly. ‘Ask your brother how I deal with troublesome men.’

Charlie’s eyes widened. ‘Hey, he didn’t—?’

‘No, I didn’t,’ Roscoe said, exasperated. ‘But I witnessed the fate of someone who did. Take it from me, you wouldn’t like it. Stay here and look after Mother.’

Roscoe’s room was much as she would have expected—full of straight lines, plain, unadorned, unrevealing. The bed was narrow and looked hard, the wallpaper was pale grey, without pattern. There was a television, modest, neat, efficient; a set where a man would watch the news. A monk could have lived in this room.

But his real home was an apartment elsewhere, she reminded herself. She wondered if that was any different, and doubted it.

But then she saw something that made her stare and gasp with delight.

‘Wow!’ she breathed. ‘How about that? Let me look at it. Can you just—? Yes, that’s right. Oh, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever—yes—yes—yes—’ Her hands were clasped in sheer ecstasy, her voice full of joy, her eyes glowing with blissful satisfaction.

Roscoe regarded her, fascinated. It wasn’t his first sight of a beautiful woman in transports—in his arms, sometimes in his bed.

But this one was looking at his computer.

A touch of the switch had caused the machine to flower into glorious life, making her watch, riveted, as one state-of-the-art accessory after another leapt into the spotlight.

‘Oh, goodness,’ she breathed. ‘Why haven’t I ever—? I’ve never even heard of some of these.’

‘One of my clients owns a firm that makes software and computer peripherals,’ Roscoe said. ‘He’s at the cutting edge and I get everything ahead of the game. I’ll tell him you’re interested and I’m sure he’ll fix you up.’

‘Oh, yes, please! And look at the size of that screen, the biggest I’ve ever seen.’

‘You should try one,’ Roscoe said. ‘It’s useful for having multiple documents open at once.’

‘Ah, yes,’ she murmured. ‘Useful. How do I go online?’

He touched a switch and in a moment she’d connected with her work computer, entered the password and brought up a list of documents. A few more clicks brought Ginevra’s face to the screen just as Charlie entered the room.

‘Hey, that’s her! ‘ he exclaimed. Then he stared at the caption. ‘But who’s Biddy Felsom?’

‘She is,’ Pippa said. ‘Known to the police as a small-time offender and pain in the neck. She enjoys getting stupid boys to do things they shouldn’t, pulling their strings, like she pulled yours.’

‘Well, she’s history,’ Charlie said. ‘I know that you’ll save me from her.’

‘Good. Now it’s time I was going home,’ Pippa observed.

‘I’ll drive you,’ Roscoe said.

‘No you won’t, I will,’ Charlie was quick to say.

‘Neither of you will,’ Pippa said. ‘Mr Havering, will you call me a taxi?’

‘I’ll drive you,’ Charlie insisted.

‘Shut up!’ his brother said impatiently. ‘Can’t you see she’s had enough of the pair of us tonight? Miss Jenson, I suggest that the next meeting should be at my office. My secretary will call you to fix a time.’

‘Certainly,’ she said in her most efficient tone.

‘I know you can rescue me,’ Charlie said. ‘We’ll do it together because I’m going to take your advice in everything.’

He said the last word with a breathless sincerity that made her regard him wryly. His eyes twinkled back at her and they laughed together.

Angela came in and demanded to know what was happening. Charlie proclaimed his faith in Pippa, which made his mother embrace her.

Roscoe took no part in this. He was calling the taxi.

Just before it arrived, Charlie came to stand before her. ‘There’s something I’ve just got to know,’ he breathed.

‘I’ll tell you if I can,’ she promised. ‘What is it?’

‘This,’ he said, putting a hand behind her head and whipping out the clip in her hair, letting her glorious locks flow free.

‘I’ve wanted to do that ever since we met,’ he said.

‘Then you should be ashamed of yourself,’ Roscoe growled. ‘That’s no way to treat a lady.’

‘Pippa’s not offended,’ Charlie pleaded. ‘Are you? ‘

‘No, I’m not offended, but right this minute I feel like your nursemaid. I think you should call me Nanny.’

‘Not in a million years,’ he said fervently.

She gave a crow of laughter. ‘Well, my taxi seems to be here, so I’m leaving now. I’ll see you soon.’

Charlie and Angela came with her to the gate, but Roscoe stayed back, declaring curtly that he had work to do. At the last minute he pushed a scrap of paper into Pippa’s hand and turned away to climb the stairs.

As the taxi drew away she strained to read what was on the paper, mystified by Roscoe. When her hair flowed free she’d caught a glimpse of his face, full of shock as though he’d been stunned. But that made no sense. He’d seen her hair the night before. There was nothing to surprise him. Yet a man who’d been punched in the stomach might have looked like that.

Now he was giving her secret notes, and she wondered if his stern facade had melted long enough for him to send her a personal message. Could he be reacting to her as a man to a woman? She found herself hoping so. There was something about him that made her want to know more. In another moment she would find out.

Then she passed under a street lamp long enough to see what he’d written to her.

It was the address of his client’s computer firm.

CHAPTER FIVE

NEXT morning Roscoe’s secretary called and they set up the appointment at his office for the following day. An hour later Charlie came on the line, wanting to see her that night. Since there was still much she needed to discover she reluctantly agreed to let him take her to The Diamond, although a night-club wasn’t the place she would have chosen.

She supposed she should notify Roscoe, but she stopped her hand on the way to the phone. He was just a tad too controlling for her taste, and yielding to it would only make him worse. She would make a report afterwards.

That evening she dressed carefully, choosing a fairly sedate black satin gown with a long hem and modest neck. She’d beguiled Charlie enough to secure his attention, but she had no wish to entice him further.

Downstairs, he had a car waiting, complete with chauffeur.

‘I hired it for the evening,’ he said, getting in beside her. ‘I don’t want to drive, I want to concentrate on you, now I have you all to myself.’

‘That’s lovely,’ she said. ‘Just you, me and my notebook.’

‘Notebook?’

‘Well, this is a professional consultation, isn’t it? You’re going to fill me in on any aspects of the case that were overlooked before.’

He grimaced.

At The Diamond she had to admit that he was a skilled host, recommending dishes from the elaborate menu, knowing which wine to order. He seemed in a chirpy mood, but at last she looked up to find his face pervaded by a wry, almost hangdog look.

‘I guess you were right about Ginevra,’ he said. ‘I tried to call her. I know you told me not to, but I had to try.’

‘What happened?’

‘She hung up. I can’t believe I was taken in so easily. But at least now I’ve got you. You’re my friend, aren’t you? Really my friend, not just because Roscoe has hired your legal skills?’

‘Roscoe does a lot for you,’ she reminded him.

‘I know I should be grateful to him. He’s always looked after me, but…but he does too much, so that sometimes I feel I don’t know who I really am. What would I do if I was left to myself? Stupid things, probably.’

‘Why don’t you tell me about it?’

Once Charlie started to talk, it all came tumbling out—the years of growing up in the shadow of tragedy, the crushing awareness that he was all his mother lived for, the feeling that he could never be free.

‘My dad killed himself,’ he said sombrely, ‘but Roscoe won’t allow it to be mentioned, especially to Mum. That’s his way. “Do this, Charlie, don’t do that. Join the firm, Charlie—”’

‘Did he make you join his firm?’

‘He suggested it, and what Roscoe “suggests” tends to happen.’

‘Couldn’t you have held out against him? ‘

‘I suppose. Actually, I feel a bit guilty about Roscoe. I get mad at him, but I do know the truth.’

‘Which is?’

‘That he’s always had the rough end of the stick. I think Mum blames him for Dad’s death, not openly but she says things like, “If only he hadn’t been so tired that day, he might not have crashed.” And she says other things—so that I just know she thinks Roscoe wasn’t pulling his weight.’

‘Do you believe that?’

‘No, not now I’m in the firm and know a bit about how it works. Roscoe was the same age I am now, still learning the business, and there was only so much he could have done. And I’ve talked to people who were there at that time and they all say there was a big crash coming, and nobody could believe “that kid” could avoid it.’

‘“That kid,”’ she murmured. ‘It’s hard to see him like that.’

‘I know, but that’s how they thought of him back then. And they were all astounded when he got them through. I respect him—you have to—but I can see what it made him. Sometimes I feel guilty. He saved the rest of us but it damaged him terribly, and Mum just blames him because…well…’

‘Maybe she needs someone to blame,’ Pippa suggested gently.

‘Something like that. And it’s so unfair that I feel sorry for him. Hey, don’t tell him I said that. He’d murder me!’

‘And then he’d murder me’ she agreed. ‘Promise.’ She laid a finger over her lips.

‘The reason I don’t deal with Roscoe very well is that I’m always in two minds about him. I admire him to bits for what he’s achieved in the firm, and the way he puts up with Mum’s behaviour without complaining.’

‘Does he mind about her very much?’

‘Oh, yes. He doesn’t say anything but I see his face sometimes, and it hurts him.’

‘Have you tried talking to him about it?’

‘Yes, and I’ve been slapped down. He shuts it away inside himself, and I resent that. He’s been a good brother to me, but he won’t let me be a good brother to him. That’s what I was saying; one moment I admire him and sympathise with him. The next moment I want to thump him for being a tyrant. I’m afraid his tyrant side outweighs the other one by about ten to one.’

‘If you weren’t a stockbroker, what would you have liked to do?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know. Something colourful where I didn’t have to wear a formal suit.’ He gave a comical sigh. ‘I guess I’m just a lost cause.’

She smiled, feeling as sympathetic as she would have done with a younger brother. Beneath the frivolous boy, she could detect the makings of a generous, thoughtful man with, strangely, a lot in common with his brother. Charlie wasn’t the weakling she’d first thought. He had much inner strength. It was just a different kind of strength from Roscoe.

‘You’re not a lost cause,’ she said, reaching over the table and laying her hands on his shoulders. ‘I say you’re not, and what I say goes.’

He grinned. ‘Now you sound just like Roscoe.’

‘Well, I am like Roscoe.’ Briefly, she enclosed his face between her hands. ‘He’s not the only one who can give orders, and my orders to you are to cheer up because I’m going to make things all right.’

She dropped her hands but gave him a comforting sisterly smile.

‘D’you know, I really believe you can,’ he mused. ‘I think you could take on even Roscoe and win.’

‘Well, somewhere in this world there has to be someone who can crush him beneath her heels.’

‘His fiancée couldn’t.’

‘His fiancée?’ Pippa echoed, startled. Since learning that Roscoe lived alone, she had somehow never connected him with romantic entanglements.

‘It was a few years back. Her name was Verity and she was terribly “suitable”. She worked in the firm, and Roscoe used to say that she knew as much about finance as he did.’

‘I dare say she’d need to,’ Pippa said, nodding.

‘Right. It makes you wonder what they talked about when they were alone. The latest exchange rate? What the Dow-Jones index was doing?’

‘What did she look like?’

‘Pretty enough, but I think it was chiefly her mental qualities he admired.’

‘Charlie, a man doesn’t ask a woman to marry him because of her mental qualities.’

‘Roscoe isn’t like other men. Beauty passes him by.’

‘Then why did you warn me against going up to his room yesterday?’

‘I was only joking. I knew he had no interest in you that way. Don’t you remember? He said so himself.’

‘Yes,’ she murmured. ‘He did, didn’t he?’

After that, she relapsed into thought.

Another bottle of wine was served and Charlie drank deeply, making Pippa glad he wasn’t driving.

‘Was he very much in love with her?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know. Like I said, he doesn’t talk about his feelings. He wanted her in his way. The rest of us look at a beautiful woman and think Wow! Roscoe thinks, Will she do me credit? I don’t think he’s ever thought Wow! in his life.’

Oh, yes, he has, she thought, gazing silently into her glass.

Noticing nothing, Charlie continued, ‘She could be relied on to know what was important—money, propriety, making the world bow down before you. And she’d give him intelligent children who would eventually go into the business. What more could he want?’

‘Surely you’re being unfair?’

‘Well, losing her didn’t seem to break his heart. He didn’t even tell us at the time. One day I mentioned that we hadn’t seen her for a while and then he said they’d broken up weeks ago. Any normal man would drown his sorrows in the pub with his mates, but not him. He just fired her and she ceased to exist.’

‘He actually fired her?’ Pippa was startled.

‘Well, he said she’d left the firm, but I reckon he made her understand that she’d better leave.’

She felt as though someone had struck her over the heart, which was surely absurd? From the start, she’d sensed that Roscoe was a harsh, controlling man, indifferent to the feelings of others as long as his rule was unchallenged. So why should she care if her worst opinion was confirmed?

Because she’d also thought she saw another side to him—warmer, more human. And because Charlie himself had spoken of that softer side. But the moment had passed. Charlie had switched back from the sympathetic brother to the rebellious kid, and in doing so he’d changed the light on Roscoe who was now, once more, the tyrant.

She knew a glimmer of sadness, but suppressed it. Much better to be realistic.

It was time for the cabaret. Dancers skipped across the stage, a crooner crooned, a comedian strutted his stuff. She thought him fairly amusing but Charlie was more critical.

‘His performance was a mess,’ he said as the space was cleared for dancing. ‘Listen.’

To her surprise, he rattled through the last joke, word perfect and superbly timed. Then he went back and repeated an earlier part of the act, also exactly right, as far as she could judge.

‘I’m impressed,’ she said. ‘I’ve never come across such a memory.’

He shrugged. ‘It convinced Roscoe that I was bright enough to be a stockbroker, so you might say it ruined my life.’

He made a comical face. She smiled back, meaning to console rather than beguile him. But the next moment her face lit up and she cried out in pleasure, ‘Lee Renton, you devious so-and-so! How lovely to see you.’

A large man in his forties was bearing down on them, hands extended. He was attractive, and would have been even more so if he could manage to lose some weight.

‘“Devious so-and-so!”’ he mocked. ‘Is that any way to address your favourite client?’

‘That’s not what I say to my favourite client. To him, I say, “Sir, how generous of you to double the bill!”’

Lee roared with laughter before saying, ‘Actually, I’ll gladly pay twice the bill after what you did for me.’ He seemed to notice Charlie for the first time. ‘I’m Lee Renton. Any friend of Pippa’s is a friend of mine.’ He pumped Charlie’s hand and sat down without waiting to be invited.

‘I did a court appearance for Lee the other day,’ Pippa told Charlie. ‘It went fairly well.’

‘Don’t act modest,’ Lee protested. ‘You’re the tops and you know it.’

‘Meaning that I saved you some money?’

‘What else?’ he asked innocently.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘My firm provided the entertainment here tonight, and I’ll probably buy the place. I’ll call you about that.’ He blew her a kiss. ‘You look ravishing, queen of my heart.’

‘Oh, stop your nonsense!’

‘Do you say that as a woman or as the lawyer who recently handled my divorce?’

‘I say it as the lawyer who’ll probably draw up your next pre-nuptial agreement.’

He bellowed with laughter. A passing waiter caught Charlie’s attention and he turned, giving Renton a chance to lower his voice and say, ‘Quite a performer, your companion—I overheard him retelling those jokes and he was a sight better than the original comedian. Does he do it professionally?’

‘No, he’s a stockbroker.’

‘You’re having a laugh.’

‘Really. He’s actually a client and we were discussing his case.’

‘Yeah, right. This is just the perfect place for it. All right, I’m going. I have work to do. Stockbroker, eh?’ He thumped Charlie on the shoulder and departed.

Charlie frowned, turning back from the waiter. ‘Lee Renton? I’ve heard that name somewhere.’

‘He’s very big in entertainment. He buys things, he promotes, he owns a television studio.’

‘That Lee Renton? Wow! I wish I’d known.’

He looked around, managing to spot Lee in the distance, deep in conversation with a man whom he overwhelmed by flinging an arm around his shoulders and sweeping him off until they both vanished in the crowd.

The waiter brought more wine and he drank it thoughtfully. ‘Do you know him well?’

‘Well enough. I’ll introduce you another time.’

He drained his glass. ‘Come on, let’s dance.’

He was a natural dancer, and together they went enjoyably mad. The other dancers backed off to watch them, and when they finished the crowd applauded.

Charlie’s eyes were brilliant, his cheeks flushed, and Pippa guessed she must look much the same. In a moment of crazy delight, he put his hands on either side of her face, just as she had briefly done to him at the table. But when he tried to kiss her she fended him off.

‘That’s enough,’ she said when she could speak. ‘Bad boy!’

‘Sorry, ma’am!’ He assumed a clowning expression of penitence.

‘We’re going back to the table and you’re going to behave,’ she said firmly.

Then she saw Roscoe.

He was sitting at a table on the edge of the dance floor, regarding her with his head slightly tilted and an unreadable expression on his face. Beside him sat a woman of great beauty in a low-cut evening gown of gold satin, with flaming red hair. Pippa saw her lean towards him, touching his hand gently so that he turned back to her, all attention, as though everyone else had ceased to exist.

‘What’s up?’ Charlie asked, turning. ‘What? Damn him!’

He hurried her to the table, muttering, ‘Let’s hope he doesn’t see us. What’s he doing here? ‘

‘Who’s that with him?’

‘I don’t know. Never seen her.’

‘Did you tell him you were coming?’

‘No way!’

‘Then perhaps it’s just bad luck.’

‘Not with Roscoe. I’ve heard him say that the man who relies on luck is a fool.’

‘Yes, in stockbroking—’

‘In everything. He never does anything by chance. He’s a control freak.’

Pippa had no answer. She, whose presence here was a result of Roscoe’s commands, knew better than anyone that Charlie was right. She shivered.

Now she could see Roscoe leading the woman into the dance. The band was playing a smoochy tune and they moved slowly, locked in a close embrace. Pippa shifted her seat so that she had her back to them and began to chatter brightly about nothing. Words came out of her mouth but her mind was on the dance floor, picturing the movements that she’d avoided seeing with her eyes.

At last the music ended and Charlie groaned, ‘Oh, no, he’s coming over.’

Roscoe and his partner were bearing down on them. Without waiting to be invited, they sat at the table.

‘Fancy seeing you here!’ Roscoe exclaimed in a voice of such cheerful surprise that Pippa’s suspicions were confirmed. This was no accidental meeting.

He introduced everyone, giving the woman’s name as Teresa Blaketon. Charlie was immediately on his best behaviour in the presence of beauty, Pippa was amused to notice.

‘I think we should dance,’ Roscoe said, rising.

It would have been satisfying to ignore the hand he held out so imperiously, but that was hardly an option now, so she let him draw her to her feet and lead her back to the floor, where a waltz had just begun. She decided that there was nothing for it but to endure his putting an arm about her and drawing her close.

But he didn’t. Taking her right hand in his left, he laid his right hand on the side of her waist and proceeded to dance with nearly a foot of air between them. It was polite, formal and Pippa knew she should have been glad. Yet, remembering how close he’d held his lady friend, she felt that this was practically a snub.

‘I’m glad to see that you’re taking your duties seriously,’ he said. ‘For you to spend an evening with Charlie is more than I’d hoped for.’

‘Don’t worry, it’ll appear on the bill,’ she said cheerfully. ‘And, as it’s my own time, I’ll charge extra. Triple at least.’

‘Don’t I get a discount for the meal he bought you, and the first class champagne?’

‘Certainly not. I drank that champagne out of courtesy.’

‘I see you know how to cost every minute,’ he said softly.

‘Of course. As a man of finance, you should appreciate that.’

‘There are some things outside my experience.’

‘That I simply don’t believe,’ she said defiantly, raising her head to meet his eyes.

He was looking down on her with a fixed gaze that made her suddenly glad her dress was high and unrevealing. Yet she had the disconcerting sense that he could see right through the material. Even Charlie hadn’t looked like that, and for a moment she trembled.

‘You flatter me,’ he said. ‘The truth is, I’m mystified by you. When I think I understand you, you do the opposite to what I was expecting.’

‘Just like the financial markets,’ she observed saucily. ‘You manage well enough with them.’

‘Sooner or later, the financial markets always revert to type. With you, I’m not so sure.’

‘Perhaps that’s because you don’t really know what my type is. Or you think you know, and you’re mistaken.’

‘No—’ he shook his head ‘—I’m not arrogant enough to think I know.’

‘Then let me tell you, I’m devoted to my job and to nothing else. I promised to get to know Charlie and “beguile” him, but I couldn’t have done that in an office. It was necessary to work “above and beyond the call of duty.”’

‘And how is your case going? ‘

‘Fairly well. He’s seen through Ginevra.’

‘And if you can persuade him to grow up, he’s all set for a serious career.’

‘You mean in the firm with you? Suppose that isn’t what he wants?’

‘He’ll thank me in the end, when he’s a successful man and he realises I helped to guide him that way.’

‘Perhaps you should stop guiding him and let him find his own path.’

‘Into a police cell, you mean?’

That silenced her.

After a moment he said, ‘Why are you frowning?’

‘I’m just wondering about your methods.’

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘You don’t really expect me to believe this is coincidence, do you? You knew Charlie was going to be here.’

‘I see. I’m supposed to have every room bugged, and to bribe half the staff to bring me information. Shame on you, Pippa.’

She blushed, feeling foolish for her wild fantasies.

‘I suppose I might be the evil spy of your imagination, if I needed to be,’ he said in a considering tone, ‘but when my brother conducts every phone call at the top of his voice I simply don’t need to be. I happened to be passing his office when he booked the table.’

‘And you made immediate arrangements to put him under surveillance. Or me.’

‘I made immediate arrangements to have an enjoyable night out.’

‘Teresa must have been surprised to be summoned at the last minute.’

‘Teresa is a lovely woman, and she enjoys nightclubs. It gives her a chance to display her beauty, which, you must admit, is exceptional.’

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if he’d hired his companion as he’d hired her, but her courage failed her. Besides, the memory of how he and Teresa had practically embraced as they danced, was all the answer she needed. It seemed to underline his sedate demeanour with herself.

She wasn’t used to that. Men usually seized the opportunity to make contact with her body. One who behaved like a Victorian clergyman was unusual. Interesting.

Annoying.

The floor was getting crowded. Dancers jostled each other until suddenly one of them stumbled, crashing into Pippa, driving her forward against Roscoe, cancelling the distance he’d kept so determinedly between them. Taken by surprise, she had no time to erect barriers that might have saved her from the sudden intense awareness of his body—lithe, hard, powerful.

It was too late now. Something had made her doubly aware of her own body, singing with new life as it pressed up to his, and the sensation seemed to invade her totally—endless, unforgettable. Shocking.

She tried to summon up the strength to break the embrace, but he did it for her, pushing her away with a resolution that only just avoided being discourteous.

‘We’d better return to the table,’ he said.

Then he was walking off without a backward look, giving her no choice but to follow. Which was discourteous. She might have been irritated if she hadn’t had an inkling of what was troubling him. She too needed time to think about what had just happened; time to deny it.

Charlie had reached the point of talking nonsense and Teresa looked relieved to see them.

‘How did you get here?’ Roscoe said, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder with a gentleness that contradicted the roughness in his voice.

‘I hired Harry and his car. He’s waiting for us.’

‘Good. He can take you home while I take Pippa.’

‘Hey, Pippa’s with me—’

‘And the less she sees of you in this state the better. Waiter!’

In a few minutes he’d settled everything—Charlie’s bill as well as his own. They escorted Charlie out to the side road where the chauffeur was waiting. Teresa helped to settle him in the back seat, which gave Pippa the chance to mutter to Roscoe, ‘I’ll take a taxi home.’

‘You will not.’

‘But I don’t want to be a gooseberry,’ she said frantically. ‘You and she…I mean…’

‘I know exactly what you mean and kindly allow me to make my own decisions.’

‘Like you make everyone else’s?’ she snapped.

‘I won’t pretend not to understand that, but you can’t have known my brother a whole two days without realising that he’s vulnerable. I don’t want people to see him like this. Do you?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘Just let me say goodnight to him.’

But Charlie was dead to the world and she stood back while Harry drove off with him. Watching Roscoe get into the driving seat of his car, she realised that she’d seen him drink only tonic water, and after several hours in a nightclub he was stone cold sober and completely in control.

Which was typical of him, she thought crossly.

Teresa didn’t seem annoyed at having Pippa foisted on her when she would no doubt have preferred to be alone with Roscoe. As they sat together in the back she chatted merrily, mostly about Charlie, whose company she had enjoyed, especially as he had entertained her by running through some routines by another more talented comedian he’d recently seen perform.

‘He’s really good,’ she recalled.

‘You shouldn’t encourage him,’ Roscoe said over his shoulder. ‘He’s a sight too fond of playing whatever part he thinks people want.’

‘Which will surely be useful in a stockbroker,’ Pippa observed. ‘He must need various personalities, depending on whether he’s buying shares or selling them, manipulating the market, or manipulating people. With any luck, he’ll be almost as good at that as you.’

Teresa rocked with laughter. The back of Roscoe’s head was stiff and unrevealing.

Outside her apartment block, he got out and held open the door for her, a chivalrous gesture that also gave him the chance to fix her with a cool, appraising stare. She returned it in full measure.

‘I hope your evening was enjoyable, Miss Jenson.’

‘I hope yours was informative, Mr Havering.’

‘More than I could have imagined, thank you.’

‘Then all is well. Goodnight.’

Once in her apartment with the door safely shut behind her, Pippa tossed her bag aside, threw herself into a chair and kicked off her shoes, breathing out hard and long.

‘Phew! What an evening! Get him! More informative than he could have imagined. I’ll bet it was! Hello, Gran! Don’t mind me. I’m good ‘n mad.’

She was addressing the photograph that she kept on the sideboard, showing the wedding of Grandmother Dee and Grandfather Mark. Dee had once confided to her that there had been complications about that wedding.

‘I was pregnant,’ she’d said, ‘and that was scandalous in nineteen forty-three. You had to get married to stay respectable, and I wondered if he was only marrying me because he had to.’

‘And was he?’ Pippa had wanted to know.

Dee had smiled mysteriously. ‘Let’s say he had his own reasons, but it was a while before I discovered what they were. On our wedding day I still couldn’t quite believe in his love.’

Yet the young Dee in the picture was beaming happily, and in Pippa’s present mood it all looked delightfully uncomplicated.

‘Fancy having to be married before you could make love,’ she mused.

In her mind she saw Roscoe dancing with Teresa, holding her in an embrace that spoke of passion deferred, but not for long. Right this minute they were on their way to her home, or perhaps to his, where he would sweep her into the bedroom and remove her clothes without wasting a moment.

She knew the kind of lover he would be: no-nonsense, not lingering over preliminaries, but proceeding straight to the purpose, as he did with everything. As well as pleasuring his woman efficiently, he would instruct her as to his own needs, with everything done to the highest standards. Afterwards, Teresa would know she’d received attention from an expert.

For a while Pippa’s annoyance enabled her to indulge these cynical thoughts, but another memory insisted on intruding—his care for his mother, his patience, his kindness to her. All these spoke of a different man, with a gentle heart that he showed rarely. Was that gentleness also present in the lover?

‘And why am I bothering? ‘ she asked aloud. ‘Honestly, Gran, I think you had it better in your day.’

Dee’s smiling face as she nestled against her new husband seemed to say that she was right.

Pippa sighed and went to bed.

The night that followed was the strangest she’d ever known. Worn out, she had expected to sleep like a log, but the world was fractured. Two men wandered through her dreams—one gentle, protective and kind, the other a harsh authoritarian who gave his orders and assumed instant obedience. Both men were Roscoe Havering.

In this other world he danced with her, holding her close, not briefly but possessively, as though claiming her for ever. Unable to resist, she yielded, resting against him with a joy that felt like coming home. But then she awoke to find her flesh singing but herself alone.

In a fury, she threw something across the room. It was time to face facts. Roscoe had appeared at The Diamond the night before in order to study her and see if she was doing her job as a hired fancy woman. Whatever gloss he tried to put on it, that was the truth. Curse him!

Unable to lie still, she rose and began to pace the room, muttering desperately. ‘All right, so I felt something. Not here—’ she laid a hand quickly over her heart ‘—no, not there, but—’ she looked down at her marvellous body ‘—just about everywhere else. Only for a moment. And he needn’t think I’m giving in to it. I’ve done with that stuff for ever. So that’s settled. Now I need to get some more sleep.’

CHAPTER SIX

WHEN Pippa finally awoke it was to the memory of the appointment at Roscoe’s office that morning.

‘Oh, no,’ she groaned. ‘I’m not going!’

But she knew she was. The professional Miss Jenson didn’t tamely back off. She got out of bed, showered in cold water for maximum alertness and ate a hearty breakfast, calculated to enhance energy and efficiency. The fact that she was inwardly fuming was of no interest to anyone else. Certainly not Roscoe Havering.

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