A Different Kind of Love

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A Different Kind of Love Page 11

by Jean Saunders


  “For God’s sake, calm down!” Luke said quickly. “What sort of a man do you think I am? I’ve no intention of molesting you, my dear girl, and my reputation would soon be shot if word got about that I lured young girls to my studio to seduce them.”

  He let her go and backed slightly away from her, as if fearful that she was about to call “rape” to whoever might be in the vicinity. Kate suddenly saw the foolishness of her action in treating a gentleman as if he came out of the same mould as that snake Jenkins.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I know I reacted in a very stupid way. But it was far too impulsive of me to take you at your word and rush off to London without even contacting you properly beforehand. I’ve probably given you quite the wrong impression of me, Luke. I’m not fast, and I’m not ready for – for – well, I can’t—”

  “You don’t have to apologise, or say anything by way of explanation until or unless you feel ready to do so. I just hope that when that time comes, I’ll be the one you confide in. As for taking me at my word, it was exactly what I wanted you to do. I never say anything I don’t mean.”

  She felt quite unable to answer. Apart from her family, the men of her acquaintance hadn’t been so understanding of her emotions. Walter had only been thinking about himself as always, and Jenkins had been just as bad in seeing what he could get out of the heartbreak of a vulnerable girl. Luke deserved more than that. He deserved better than her.

  She went down in the doldrums so quickly it almost left her reeling. What was wrong with her, for pity’s sake? If Walter had gone through with the marriage, she would have had to face a horrific future, and at least she had been saved from that. And this good and kind man was obviously fond of her, and she had really enjoyed his company at the Charlton Hotel. Yet the first time he had made the mildest sort of pass at her, she had felt herself freeze. Vi had had a word for that, sniggering at a woman at work who’d had such a problem. Frigid, Vi called it. It happened to some women who had had a bad experience with a man, putting them off the good things in life for good and all. Kate knew that what Vi meant was being intimate with a man. But being frigid wasn’t going to happen to her! It couldn’t. She had a loving nature, and it had so nearly been her downfall. She had loved too wantonly and too well, and she had responded to her lover with all the passion he could ever have desired. She had never considered that Walter’s actions might have left her incapable of responding to another man. And she didn’t want to think of it now.

  “I think we should go out and get some fresh air,” she heard Luke saying now. “A walk in the park sounds favourite. What do you say, Kate? There’s plenty of time. Mrs Wood’s promised us a splendid Sunday dinner at two o’clock.”

  “Sounds good to me,” she mumbled, even if Sunday dinner at two o’clock in the afternoon seemed a very rakish time to be eating. But nothing here was as she had expected it to be, so maybe nothing should surprise her any more.

  Once outside the darkroom she felt even more exposed. At least in there she had been comparatively hidden by the very low lighting. She felt as if every foolish thought in her head was etched on her face.

  “You must think me very naive, Luke,” she muttered.

  “I think you’re very young, and very charming. And if that’s being naive, then I hope you never lose that quality.” He made his voice lighter, seeing that her face was still showing signs of distress. “Anyway, you wouldn’t really want to be as hard-bitten as Doris and Faye, would you?”

  For a moment, she couldn’t think who he meant, and then recalled the two girls at Mrs Wood’s boarding house.

  “They seemed very nice,” she protested.

  “Oh yes, so they are, but anybody with half an eye can see that they’re on the prowl for husbands, and that’s enough to put any man off.”

  “Well, at least you know that doesn’t apply to me.”

  She remembered what one of the girls had said about not having to work again if she had a man to look after her, and knew that Luke’s words were probably true. It didn’t alter her opinion that the girls were a refreshing change after some of the toffee-nosed women guests she’d seen at the Charlton Hotel.

  “I do know it, so now let’s forget it and go and take the air like real Sunday morning people, shall we?” he said with a grin.

  But if he thought she was labouring the point, at least he now knew where he stood, thought Kate. It wasn’t that she didn’t like him, or sensed that liking could easily turn to something more, it was simply that she was afraid to let her feelings show any more. It had been her downfall once already. Besides, it was too soon. It was much too soon even to think about the intimacies of love with someone else, or to wonder if she was capable of it any more. And right now, she was too afraid and still too vulnerable to find out.

  They drove to the park in Luke’s car, and when they merged into the crowds of elegant folk strolling about, Kate’s spirits began to soar. It was a different world to her country life, but there were similarities in the earthy scents of foliage and the sweetness of full-blown summer flowers. There was a glitter of sunlight on the expanse of water Luke told her was called the Serpentine because of its shape. On it stately swans glided, and ducks swam trailing their busy little families behind them. It was all as heady and familiar to a country girl as the warm summer air.

  “It’s far more beautiful than I had expected,” she exclaimed, her gauchness evaporating in her delight. “I thought it would be all blackened buildings with no air between them and no sight of the sky.”

  She gazed upwards as she spoke to where a drift of fluffy white clouds was the only thing to mar the blueness of the heavens. She was far more beautiful than Luke had remembered, with a tug of desire in his loins that wouldn’t be denied, no matter how much he tried. But it was obvious that something or someone had hurt her very badly. He knew human nature well enough to know that if he tried to reveal his feelings for her too fast, he would frighten her away for good. As it was, he could hardly believe that she had actually come to London when he’d never expected to see her again, and he blessed the luck that had kept him safe all through the war, and was still on his side now. For all that she had called herself a country hick, she could fit in anywhere, he thought, in admiration. She held herself so tall and straight, and that shimmering golden hair which she wore long and loose caught the sunlight as if it were made out of spun gold. It wasn’t a fashionable style, but on Kate it looked stunning.

  The glances of people passing-by told him that plenty of others were appreciating her too, even if she was quite oblivious of their glances. It wouldn’t surprise him if some of them were wondering whether she was an actress or a member of some European royalty.

  “You’re staring at me,” she said, breaking into his musing. “Do I have a smudge on my nose or something?”

  “You do not.” He laughed. “I was just wondering if you knew how much attention you were attracting.”

  “Why?” she said in a fright.

  “Because, my dear Mrs Radcliffe,” he spoke formally once more as he tucked her hand inside the crook of his arm more tightly, “you light up this old park with your beauty, and I’m not saying that with any ulterior motive, but simply because it’s true.”

  “Stop it, Luke. I’ve seen so many beautiful ladies in the park this morning that I know you’re just teasing.”

  “I assure you I’m not. See those two gentlemen on that park bench over there. They were deep in discussion until you came near, and now they can’t take their eyes off you.”

  She looked, and as she did so, the two gentlemen rose to their feet and tipped their hats to her. Without thinking, Kate inclined her head towards them with a small smile and then continued walking with her eyes straight ahead.

  “And from the way you handled that little scene, you’re either a consummate actress, or you were born to it. Are you sure you’re all that you seem, Mrs Radcliffe?” Luke said, with barely concealed mirth.

  Her preening van
ished at once. “Of course I am! I’m exactly what you see. And I’ve asked you before not to call me by that name.”

  “Why not, if it’s your rightful name? It’s the one you signed on the register at the Charlton Hotel,” he said, with more curiosity than censure.

  “It’s the name of the man I expected to marry,” Kate said in a rush. She knew she couldn’t go on deceiving him for ever, providing she only gave him enough information to satisfy him.

  Luke decided not to examine this startling comment further, but he couldn’t leave it entirely.

  “So why do you hold on to it? You’re free of him now, presumably, so am I allowed to know your real name?”

  “It’s Kate Sullivan,” she said abruptly.

  “Maybe you should revert to it then, unless you feel a loyalty to the Radcliffe name. Kate Sullivan would look very well on your portraits and on any commissions we get together.”

  It all sounded so grand and important. Somehow he made things so easy for her, putting everything into perspective. He didn’t know whether Walter was alive or dead, but his innocent use of that one word “loyalty” had made her see that she didn’t owe Walter a thing.

  “You’re right,” she said. “So I’ll be Kate Sullivan again, and gladly so.”

  And one day, Luke thought silently, if I have my way, you’ll be Kate Halliday.

  Her thoughts were winging ahead, and she went on speaking quickly. “But just for the moment, Luke, for Mrs Wood’s benefit, I’ll keep the Radcliffe name, since that’s how she knows me – and the other lodgers too. It would cause too much curiosity if I suddenly reverted to my old name on such short acquaintance. But for business purposes I’ll be Kate Sullivan. Is that all right?”

  “Of course it is.”

  After they had admired the riders in Rotten Row, and strolled among the morning walkers, they left the park, and Luke took her to see Buckingham Palace as he’d promised. Kate stared at it silently, with a huge sense of disappointment in its sombre appearance.

  “I don’t know what I expected, really. But I suppose it was something more like the palaces in Maura and Aileen’s picture-books, all romantic fairy-tale spires and turrets,” she said, half-seriously, and feeling rather foolish.

  Luke laughed. “Not in smoky old London, I’m afraid, although the Tower is a little more like you’ve described. If you want to see turrets, and a building with a beautiful façade, then you’ll like the Tower.”

  “Will I? Isn’t that where they imprisoned the little Princes?” she said, dredging up her village school history lessons, so that she didn’t seem like a complete dummy. “It doesn’t sound like a very romantic place to me!”

  “Well, maybe one of these days I’ll take you to France and show you what a real château looks like. That will certainly satisfy your romantic little heart.”

  “You’d better explain what that is,” she said at once.

  “A château is just the French word for a castle. Some of them were used as army barracks during the war, though I was never lucky enough to be housed in such a splendid place, and had to make the best of it in a disused monastery for much of my time there.”

  He carried on talking normally, turning the conversation away from the pleasurable thought of taking this delightful girl to France. It would be a perfect place for a honeymoon, and Luke found it difficult for a few minutes to get the erotic connotations out of his mind. But he knew that the thought of a honeymoon would be the least desirable thing on Kate’s agenda.

  If he could have read her thoughts, he’d have been surprised. She was thinking bitterly that Walter obviously hadn’t been billeted in a château in France either, or she would undoubtedly have heard him boasting about it to anyone who would listen. He had always been a bragger, she thought now, she’d just never seen it.

  “Shall we go back to Mrs Wood’s yet, or do you want to see anything more?” he asked.

  “Since I don’t know what else there is to see, I’ll have to leave it up to you,” she said.

  “Well, just as they say that Rome wasn’t built in a day, you can’t see London in a day, either, so we’ll leave any more sightseeing for another time. And you still have to meet Thomas Lord Tannersley.”

  Hearing the name, Kate took fright at once as they waked back to the car.

  “Who’s this Lord person when he’s at home?” she said, once Luke had started up the Bentley, using one of Vi’s favourite expressions. “I know I won’t be any good at meeting titled folk, Luke. Is he one of your clients, or what?”

  “Calm down, you goose. Lord is supposedly the old rogue’s middle name, that’s all, though I’m quite sure he bestowed it on himself to make himself seem more respectable.”

  “Well, isn’t he?”

  Luke laughed. “He’s what’s known as one of nature’s gentlemen, despite the way he looks. He has what he grandly calls an antiques stall in Portobello Road, though it’s what most people would call a bric-a-brac and junk stall. But he’s a real character, Kate, and you’ll like him, I promise you.”

  And that was just the kind of remark guaranteed to make you think exactly the opposite, Kate thought.

  “When do I have to meet him, then? I’m not sure I can cope with all these new experiences at once!”

  Luke laughed again. “You can hardly avoid it, since you’re living in the same house.”

  The penny dropped. “He’s the other lodger, then?” she exclaimed. “The one the girls were giggling about? I thought there must be something odd about him. Has he got two heads or something?”

  “No, but you’ll find him a little outrageous to say the least. He once fancied himself as a thespian, and puts all his energies into promoting the theatrical image. It helps to bring the crowds to his stall, and he doesn’t do too badly on it, either, despite some of the rubbish he sells.”

  “And you admire him,” Kate said, stating the obvious.

  “Why not? He’s an entrepreneur, the same as me.”

  “And what’s that?” she said, not bothering to disguise the fact that she didn’t understand the word.

  The thought flitted through her mind that she was no longer defensive about admitting it. Not with Luke, anyway. She didn’t have his education, or his polished way of speaking, but it didn’t seem to matter. And if he didn’t bother about such things, why should she? And that was a lesson you didn’t learn at school.

  “You could describe it as somebody who seizes opportunities when they arise, and acts on them. Just like you did, Kate, in coming to London.”

  She began to laugh. “I hardly think you could call me an entre – whatever you said! I think I took the easy way out of a difficult situation.”

  She clamped her lips together, knowing she was on the verge of saying too much.

  But Luke interpreted it in his own way. “It’s never easy facing the world again after a bad experience. That’s why so many people have to get right away and make a fresh start. The past is the past.”

  “But if you don’t face up to it, there’s always a danger that the past will come back to haunt you,” she said slowly, reminded of some of her recurring dreams about Walter, and it was as though a shadow of premonition threatened to cloud this lovely day. “You can’t escape what is past, Luke. It’s part of what you are.”

  “What a little philosopher you’ve become all of a sudden,” he teased.

  “I have, haven’t I?” she said, pushing the unpleasant thoughts away, and rather liking the sound of this. Kate Sullivan, philosopher indeed! It sounded far too grand for the likes of her … but just like the flamboyant-sounding Thomas Lord Tannersley, she could be anything she liked, here in the anonymity of the big city.

  “I’m glad the thought of it seems to have cheered you up, anyway. I thought those glooms were going to attack you again.”

  “Never!” she said, her eyes determinedly bright. “I refuse to let them.”

  “Good.”

  Luke brought the car to a smooth halt outside the do
or of 84, Jubilee Terrace. “Then let’s see what Mrs Wood has got cooking for us.”

  The house seemed full to bursting as they entered the parlour. Doris and Faye were listening to the outpourings of a very large man who dominated the room. He wore a yellow waistcoat over a green shirt and green-checked trousers. His shoes were of brown and white patent leather, just like the co-respondent’s shoes in the picture shows, Kate thought daringly, with a wild urge to giggle. His hair was long, and he sported a flamboyant moustache and neat goatee beard. He wouldn’t have looked out of place at one of the visiting travelling fairs that the countryfolk flocked to.

  He turned to the newcomers at once, his face brightening as soon as he saw Kate. He came towards her with his hands outstretched, and she automatically placed her own in his, while he looked her up and down approvingly.

  “Ah, at last I meet my beautiful Rapunzel with the glorious golden hair,” he said in a booming voice. “And now that I have, my heart is instantly smitten. Would that I could turn this frog into a prince and rescue you from your captive prison and make you mine for ever,” he went on grandly, mixing his fairy tales with grand and careless abandon.

  He raised her hands to his lips, and Kate felt another wild urge to giggle at such theatricals. It was impossible to dislike him, even though she had never been in such company in her life before. The girls were giggling too, clearly anticipating her reaction and relishing it. And although Luke had already warned her, he was so much more everything than she could ever have imagined. Why hadn’t Luke ever photographed him, she thought! Or maybe he had. Surely he had.

  “Ah, Luke, me boy,” Thomas said sorrowfully now, as he released Kate’s hands. “If I had met this lovely lady first, I would have carried her off to my lair, and you would have had no chance at all with her, I promise you.”

  “I’m not sure I have any chance with her now,” Luke said, with a grin, enjoying the whole bohemian atmosphere of the house, and especially the way he could see how Kate was relaxing more by the minute.

 

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