Nora, of course, was in seventh heaven. She was convinced that Cris really liked her and made a great fuss about her appearance and her clothes, seeming to feel that she must look well turned out and neat all the time. She never sat in the bow of the boat because it blew her hair about and her body turned only slowly brown, whereas Tressy soon had a beautiful golden tan. It was almost pathetic the way Nora put herself out to try to please Crispin, listening attentively to everything he said and always agreeing with his opinions and suggestions for their entertainment, even if it was something she knew she wasn't going to enjoy. She wasn't, for example, a terribly good sailor, but nothing on earth would have kept her away from the Chimera if Cris suggested a trip on it. And she seldom swam with them when they anchored in a bay somewhere along the coast, not because she couldn't swim, but because she didn't want to mess her hair up. Maybe she was right, maybe that was the kind of image Crispin wanted his future wife to have; Tressy didn't know, she only knew that she enjoyed herself much more when she didn't wear make-up and didn't care what her hair looked like. So perhaps she was displaying her lower class origins or something, but then she wasn't husband-chasing. And she wasn't afraid to get into an argument with Cris if she didn't agree with him, a fact that made Nora writhe in grimfaced silence until they were alone and she could have a go at Tressy, who took not the slightest notice.
Of them all, it was Michel who possibly got the most out of their outings. As a Frenchman, he picked up all the undercurrents and probably found them most amusing, but never made any remarks. And, although he knew plenty of people in the area, he seemed content to come along with them whenever Cris suggested it. Tressy wondered about Michel; he never seemed to do any work and never spoke of a career and, even though he came from a very old and aristocratic family, he didn't seem to have a great deal of money, leaving Crispin to pick up the bills nearly all the time. Perhaps he was some kind of modern gigolo, Tressy thought, intrigued. But if so why was he wasting his time on them? Nora was all too obviously gone on Cris, and Tressy hadn't any money. Only perhaps he didn't know that. The idea came as a surprise, but she supposed it could be possible that Michel had taken it for granted that because Nora was rich she was too. She grinned. It would be interesting to see how he reacted when she enlightened him.
The next day was the Friday of the Sinclairs' party.
They had invited everyone they knew on the Riviera, which included quite a few people they had only met during the past couple of weeks. They had employed caterers and extra staff for the evening, but even so Aunt Grace managed to keep Tressy on her feet all day long, helping to prepare the guest rooms for people who were staying overnight, arranging flowers, passing instructions to her uncle, much to his annoyance, and often being kept busy just because her aunt couldn't bear to see her idle.
So she was late coming down and the party was well into its second or third drink when she came down the long, curving staircase into the hall. Nora had been moved to be generous and had passed on a pale turquoise sleeveless silk shift that did nothing for her and which she imagined wouldn't do anything for Tressy either, otherwise she wouldn't have given it to her, but the colour was just right to complement Tressy's hair and show off her tan. It was a little too big for her, but the material looked better hanging in loose folds and she had fastened it with a wide gold belt round her slender waist. She wore high-heeled gold sandals to match and had put her hair up into a casual chignon from which little tendrils of hair escaped tantalizingly.
Nearly all of the guests were out in the garden or on the terrace. The trees had been hung with coloured lights and some old Chinese lanterns that they had found in a storeroom, and there were glass-protected candles poked in among the shrubs and flowers that gave a soft, pleasant glow to the atmosphere. Tressy paused by the French windows, looking out at the scene: the lights, the well-dressed guests, laughing and chatting as if lives depended upon it, everyone with a drink in their hand. She saw Crispin, in a dark dinner jacket this time, talking to the Youngs over by the pool, and wondered why Nora wasn't with him, until she saw her with Michel, being introduced to some friends he had brought with him. Tressy watched her cousin, her lips curled in genuine amusement; Nora was trying to be polite and interested, but it was obvious from the way she kept edging away from the group that she was dying to get back to claim Cris and to show him off to everyone there as her especial property.
'It's all right, Cinderella, you can come to the ball.' Tressy looked quickly round and saw that Cris had come up the steps and was holding out his hand to her. Her eyes swept back to Nora, only to see the other girl break free from her group and turn to hurry away, her face falling when she saw that Crispin had gone and becoming bleak when she saw where he had gone. Ignoring his hand, Tressy started to go down the steps. 'Cinderella,' she said coldly, 'had a ball dress and glass slippers.'
'And no doubt she looked almost as lovely as you do,' he agreed.
Tressy blinked. 'This dress is one of Nora's.'
'You swop clothes with each other?' He took a firm hold of her arm.
She laughed shortly. 'You're joking! Nora wouldn't be seen dead in anything of mine. No, this is one of her cast-offs,' she said with just a touch of bitterness. 'But you took it?'
'Of course. I'm used to wearing Nora's old clothes.
They've been passed on to me ever since I was a child.'
He stopped and took a couple of glasses of champagne from a waiter and put one into her hand. 'So you're just a secondhand Rose.'
'Something like that,' she agreed frigidly.
Lifting his glass, Cris clinked it against hers. 'Stop trying to freeze me out. It won't work.'
Her eyes flew quickly up to his face. 'What do you mean?'
I mean that nothing you say is going to shock me, so don't .. .' He broke off as Nora came up to them.
'Tressy, Mummy wants you.' Then she slipped her hand through Crispin's arm and said, 'Do come and meet these friends of ours who're staying in Cannes; they're dying to meet you.'
Cris gave Tressy a quick look to which she didn't respond, and then let himself be led away. Her aunt, of course, hadn't wanted her at all, so she talked to the people she knew and some others who introduced themselves until it was time to eat, and then Michel came to find her and took her into the dining-room where the buffet was laid out. The food was gorgeous, with no expense spared. Tressy had to admit that her aunt knew how to entertain; there was every delicacy one could imagine, including lots more of her best caviare.
She and Michel took their piled up plates out into the garden again and sat at one of the tables on the terrace.
'Are you enjoying the party?' she asked him.
'Of course, very much.' But he didn't sound particularly enthusiastic.
'I suppose you go to parties like this all the time?' 'Quite often,' he agreed, refilling her glass from a bottle of champagne that he'd stolen from a waiter.
Watching him closely, Tressy said, 'I've never been to a party like this before. You see, they don't usually ask the maid.'
He frowned. 'They have asked their maid?' 'I'm the maid,' she explained.
His eyebrows went up. 'But you are Leonora's cousin. Do I not have that right?'
'Yes, you do. But I don't have any money, you see, so Uncle Jack is paying me to be their maid and Nora's companion while they're here.'
To her surprise Michel only nodded. 'That is a very good arrangement. Very practical. We French are also very practical people. One of my aunts who lives in Paris, every year, she pays her godson to come and live in her house for the summer while he is on vacation from the Sorbonne and she comes to St Tropez for her holiday. It is good for both of them, you understand.'
Tressy looked at him rather impatiently. 'Doesn't it bother you that I'm poor, that I have no money at all?' It was his turn to be surprised. 'No, why should it?
We can't all be rich.'
'Are you? Are you rich, I mean?' she demanded bluntly.
He gav
e her a droll sort of sideways look that only a Frenchman can get away with without looking silly. 'Ah, I understand. You wish to know if I am a fortune-hunter, n'est-ce pas?' If he intended to embarrass her he didn't succeed; Tressy merely looked at him expectantly, so he smiled and said, 'No, I am not rich with money. My family had a great deal of money and estates once, but not now. So am I looking for a rich wife?' He shrugged eloquently. 'I admit that a rich wife would be very nice, but I am in no big hurry. I enjoy my life as it is, and I am lucky in that I have many friends. I am rich in my friends.'
'You mean you have rich friends like Cris to pick up the tab all the time,' Tressy translated crudely.
Michel looked affronted and opened his mouth to protest, but before he could· say anything a hand descended on Tressy's shoulder, gripping hard.
Above her, Cris said, 'Let's dance, shall we?' But he gave her no time to think about it, pulling her up from her chair and propelling her on to the lawn where a few other couples were dancing. Then he put a firm arm round her waist and began to move in time with the music.
'Do you mind?' Tressy exclaimed indignantly. 'What right do you have to drag me away from Michel to dance with you?'
'And just what right do you think you have to be damn rude to Michel?' Cris hit back, his face grim. 'Just what the hell has it got to do with you whether I pick up the tabs or not?'
At his first burst of anger, Tressy had instinctively tried to free herself and walk away, but Crispin only held her more tightly, his arm holding her slender body firmly against him. 'I don't want to dance.' She tried in vain to push him away as they moved through the pale orange light thrown by a Chinese lantern.
'All right.' They were in a dark corner of the garden now and, without warning, he moved over to the gate leading down to the beach, and went through it, keeping a firm hold on her waist so that she had to go with him, down the path through the pine and olive trees, not stopping until they reached a wider spot with a view overlooking the sea.
Then he swung round on her and said angrily, 'Michel is a friend of mine, and it's nothing to do with you which of us pays the bills. That's strictly between him and me. If it comes to that,' he said brutally, 'I don't ever see you offering to pay.'
Tressy gasped and turned to go back up the path, but Cris caught her wrist and held on to it. 'Oh, no, you don't. You're not running out on this one. Why did you say that to Michel?'
As angry now as he was, Tressy snapped back, 'Because I wanted to know if he was a fortune-hunter, that's why. I'm supposed to be looking after Nora and .. .'
'Rubbish! You couldn't care less who Nora marries,' Cris told her roundly.
'Well, I'd certainly feel sorry for her if she married you,' Tressy retorted. 'And as for not paying my way-well, that's easily remedied; I just won't go out with you again. You don't seriously think I ever wanted to, do you?' She laughed jeeringly. 'Spending day after day with you and your toffee-nosed friend certainly isn't my idea of fun!'
'No? Then why come along?'
'Because I'm paid to,' Tressy told him triumphantly. 'Uncle Jack pays me to go with Nora and make sure you don't molest his precious daughter,' she taunted him. '
'Really? Then what about his precious niece?' Too late, Tressy realised that she'd goaded him too far and tried to turn and run, but Crispin jerked her towards him and caught her in his arms. 'So I'll just have to molest you instead, won't I?' And before she could do anything to prevent him, his mouth was on hers, taking her lips with a fierce, angry passion.
Tressy made a convulsive movement to get away, but he put a hand in her hair and bent her backwards, holding her hard against him as he assaulted her mouth. She tried to beat at his chest, her hands balled into angry fists, but was pinned too tightly against him, and when she tried to move her head away he tightened his grip on her hair and hurt her. 'You pig!' She swore at him, but it only came out as a sound of fury against his mouth. He ignored her anger, trying to dominate her into submission, his lips forcefully persuasive.
But Tressy kept her mouth tightly shut, determined not to give in, hating him for his superior strength that could humble her so easily. Tears of fury came into her eyes as she fought to resist him, but his mouth moved insinuatingly against hers and there was a fleeting memory that threw her off guard. Her lips softened a little and Crispin was swift to take full advantage of her weakness, opening her mouth and kissing her with a yearning hunger that sent her senses reeling.
When at last he let her go, Tressy slowly opened her eyes and stared at him. 'It-it wasn't a dream,' she said on a long sigh of recognition.
Cris still had his hand in her hair and was looking down at her languorous eyes, her sensuously parted mouth. 'What wasn't?' he asked softly.
'You did kiss me before. In my room the night you brought me home. I thought it was a dream-until now.' A thought occurred to her and she stiffened. 'Did-did anything else happen that I don't remember?'
Crispin laughed in delighted amusement. 'The temptation to lie just to see your face is almost irresistible,' he teased her. 'But no, my sweet, nothing else happened. Only this,' he added as his eyes darkened and he bent to kiss her again.
This time she put up only a token resistance, submitting to the importunities of his mouth until his hand moved to cover her breast. Then she broke free and stepped away from him, her eyes wide as she stood and stared at him, one arm held across her body as if to shield herself.
Cris frowned and didn't try to reach for her again.
His had been only a hollow victory, and he knew it; although Tressy had submitted to his kiss, she hadn't responded or allowed him to caress her. Leaning against the wall that guarded the path from the steep fall to the rocky beach below, he took a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one, drawing on it deeply. 'I hope you're going to apologize to Michel,' he said evenly, taking up the subject again as if nothing had happened in between.
Tressy gulped and tried to answer just as matter of factly. 'Maybe.' She, too, leant against the wall, but with her elbows on it, looking out to sea.
'There's no maybe about it; you'll do it,' he told her forcefully.
She gave a derisive laugh. 'Well, that sounds more like the Crispin Fox we all know and love!'
His free hand shot out and caught her arm, gripped it hard, and for a moment she thought he was going to kiss her again, but when she flinched away he let her go, leaving red marks on her bare arm. After a moment, he said, 'Why don't we call a truce and promise not to provoke each other?'
'It wouldn't last,' Tressy answered with certainty. 'Not even for tonight?'
She turned, her head on a level with his and found him watching her intently. The memory of those kisses came back and she quickly looked away, letting her hair fall forward to screen her face.
'Very useful,' Crispin remarked. 'Ostriches do that as well.'
'Do what?' she asked, startled. 'Hide their heads in the sand.'
Tressy tossed her hair back, her eyes flashing in angry defiance. 'Go to hell!' she told him.
'Very possibly,' he said dryly. 'And in the meantime, are you going to continue to chaperone Nora and earn the wages your uncle's paying you?' She shrugged. 'I don't have any choice, I suppose.' Cris laughed harshly, 'Nicely put!'
Her eyes grew angry again. 'But I don't have to take anything from you. I'll pay my own way in future.'
He contemplated her dispassionately for a few moments, then said, much to her relief, 'When I invite you out you are my guest just as much as Nora and Michel-and I don't allow my guests to pay, whether they happen to be male or female. Understood?'
'Sure, if that's the way you want it.' Tressy wanted to go back to the party but somehow couldn't bring herself to just walk away, so instead she looked to her left across the bay to Menton with its floodlit Cathedral set high on a hill and the houses and narrow streets of the old town clustered around it. And below, on the shoreline where a long arm of the harbour wall ended in a small lighthouse, there was a glistening necklace
of lights reflected in the still sea. The moon, too, was out, giving a soft, chocolate-box atmosphere to the scene. The French Riviera by moonlight, she mused-what better place for romance? Only the way that Cris had kissed her hadn't been romantic, not in the least. She turned abruptly. 'I'm going back.'
'All right.' He tossed his cigarette end over the wall and turned to follow her, the scent of the pine trees sharp in the night air.
They had gone further than she realized and it took them several minutes to climb back up the steep path. The small group of musicians that Uncle Jack had hired for the evening were taking a break as they reached the garden and there was nothing to distract the curious eyes that watched them. And Cris didn't help matters by placing an arm round her waist as they walked across the lawn. Tressy tried to move away, but he kept her firmly by his side. She looked round, hoping that Nora wasn't anywhere near, but her cousin came out on to the terrace, obviously searching for Crispin, her face falling when she saw them together.
The Wings of Love Page 10