T P P Hl

by SJ

  Almost at once the small band on the stage began to play in the background, and Fleur automatically tapped her feet in time to the rhythm. She was glad she was here—with Sebastian.

  It was obviously a very rich gathering, with a mixed age group, she thought, looking around her as the meal was being served. Fleur could only imagine what the tickets for the event must have cost, because success, and the affluence that went with it, was tangible.

  ‘This is one of our main fund-raising events, and I’m glad so many have supported it this evening,’ Sebastian told her, as if reading her thoughts. He stopped speaking for a moment while a waiter filled their glasses with sparkling wine. ‘We engage an appropriate firm to arrange everything, and they always seem to come up with something special to swell the funds. Last year we did fantastically well—after dinner they set up a mock horse-racing game and everyone gambled.’ He drank from his glass. ‘We never know what they’ve planned until the night, but it’s usually great fun.’

  The man sitting next to Fleur turned towards her for a moment. ‘And what do you do in your working life, Fleur?’ he enquired politely. ‘No, let me guess. You’re a famous model…’

  Fleur smiled quickly, giving the man brief details in answer to his question, and he was clearly impressed. ‘Makes a change from what many of us in this room do all day,’ he said. He paused, glancing surreptitiously across at Sebastian, who was talking to the woman on his other side. ‘Have you…have you known Sebastian long?’ he asked curiously.

  ‘Long enough,’ she replied obliquely. Let the man make what he liked of that remark! Poor Sebastian, she thought. His personal life was obviously a matter of great interest to his colleagues. And she could guess how much he must hate it.

  The food was good and well-served and after dinner the grand auction began—this year’s special event. It got going quickly and with great enthusiasm, and Fleur was amazed at the value of everything. The list of desirable items went on and on, and bidding was fast and furious. Fleur’s breath was almost taken away by the speed of everything in the hands of the professional auctioneer, and also by the totals being achieved. She looked up at Sebastian.

  ‘I’ve never seen anything like this,’ she said over the noise in the room, and he smiled at her, obviously pleased at how much money was being raised.

  ‘At this rate, we’re going to beat last year’s total,’ he said, and she realized how genuine his concern was for the charity they were supporting.

  The atmosphere in the room had become more and more hectic and excitable, and Fleur’s head had begun to spin slightly as her wineglass was regularly refilled. But the expensive alcohol and the food had the effect of totally relaxing her, making her feel almost on another planet as she took in everything that was going on around her. She was overwhelmingly conscious of Sebastian’s closeness to her, of how he occasionally leaned forward towards her, putting his arm around her shoulders and drawing her in to him in almost a bear hug as he bid for something enthusiastically.

  Finally, everything had been spoken for, with cheques and bank notes being hurriedly counted, and the MC took the microphone.

  ‘Now then, ladies and gents,’ he said. ‘Tonight, as a somewhat novel slant to the proceedings, I’m going to ask for a volunteer from each table to come up and sing for us. Sing along with the band, I mean—anything you like—and I shall ask the rest of you to bid the money you think each singer is worth.’

  A gale of whooping and laughter greeted his words, followed by shrieks, protests and arguments as people tried to cajole others to volunteer.

  Fleur sat back languidly and looked around her at the rest of the table. One of the women would be only too happy to do it, she thought. They’d certainly all been very noisy so far during the evening, if that was anything to go by. But, surprisingly, there was a flat refusal from each one.

  ‘You can count me out,’ the tall brunette opposite said. ‘Not my scene, thanks.’ She looked across at the man sitting next to Fleur. ‘How about you, Tom? Music’s your thing, isn’t it?’

  ‘It is,’ he agreed, ‘but I only sing in the bath these days.’

  Sebastian decided to take charge of proceedings. ‘Look, it’s only a laugh,’ he said reasonably. ‘You’re not auditioning for the West End. Come on—one of you has to do it.’

  ‘How about you having a go?’ someone said. ‘I propose Sebastian!’

  ‘Not a chance,’ he replied. ‘But one of you simply must—we can’t be the only table not to take part. Come on…’

  ‘Oh, dear, Sebastian has spoken,’ one of the women said, her words slurring slightly, ‘and we all know what that can mean…’

  Suddenly, as if someone else was speaking for her, Fleur said calmly, ‘I’ll do it, if you want me to, Sebastian.’

  Afterwards, she would never know what had made her volunteer, but the look of relief on Sebastian’s face was reward enough.

  As the organizers had known, hearing unwilling victims make themselves conspicuous in this way was an inspired idea, and soon there was huge applause and ribald encouragement from the room as each singer took part, all of them crooning lustily to the latest pop number, and with hearty support from the band.

  Sebastian’s table was the last one to take part, and slowly Fleur got up from her chair, watched with mixed feelings by the other women. Sebastian stood as well and, with his arm held protectively around her waist, he led her up to the stage.

  Going across to the keyboard player, Fleur said, almost apologetically, ‘I don’t really sing pop…but…do you know Mancini’s Moon River?’

  The man smiled up at her. ‘Course I do,’ he said. ‘Lovely number.’ And at once he played the introduction to the well-known song.

  Feeling again as if she wasn’t here at all, but drifting along several feet in the air, Fleur began the first notes of the sad, nostalgic tune, with its evocative lyrics. Almost at once the room fell silent as she sang, with no one calling out or shifting in their seats…. ‘Moon River, wider than a mile, I’m crossing you in style, some day…’ her voice, pure and note perfect, echoed wistfully around the room ‘…we’re after the same rainbow’s end, waiting round the bend, my huckleberry friend, moon river…and me.’

  As the last notes died away, there was a complete hush, apart from someone blowing their nose quietly as the wistfulness of the number touched a nerve. This was unexpected, unlike anything else that had been sung, and it had the effect of stunning everyone into momentary silence. But not for long. The reception Fleur got was huge, with some people getting to their feet and shouting for an encore, but at once Sebastian held out his hand to help her off the stage before leading her back to the table.

  The money raised exceeded every expectation. Each singer had to stand up to be recognized again as people shouted their bids from all around the room and when Fleur got to her feet the bidding reached a crescendo.

  Sebastian leaned towards her to whisper in her ear. ‘I think you can safely say you were the hit of the evening, Fleur. And you certainly earned your dinner. Very many thanks for stepping in.’ He paused. ‘You were…fantastic.’ He paused. ‘I was…so proud of you.’

  Fleur sipped again at her glass, thinking—did I really do that? What came over me? And she realized that it was the first time she’d sung in public for years. And it had seemed such a natural thing for her to do.

  Soon, that part of the evening was over and the dancing began, and immediately Sebastian stood up.

  ‘Come on,’ he said, as Fleur stood as well, ‘it takes someone to start the ball rolling,’ and immediately he took her in his arms and together they went onto the dance floor. And as they swayed there together, with Sebastian’s arms supporting her firmly, Fleur felt as if this definitely was all a dream. She looked up at him and he gazed into her eyes and suddenly, remembering that she had a job to do, and that they were being watched by more than one or two, she closed her eyes and raised her lips, inviting him to kiss her. He seized the opportunity at on
ce, closing his mouth over her parted lips and holding her captive for several mind-numbing seconds. Suddenly Fleur wasn’t acting a part any longer—she was engaged in something far more realistic, far more subtle, far more true to herself. She was doing—allowing Sebastian to do—something which she’d been subconsciously yearning for, and the enormity of that silent admission was almost too much for her. This wasn’t the way things were meant to be! Getting involved, getting cornered, how would it all end?

  He seemed to sense her sudden tenseness and looked down at her as she pulled away from him. ‘What is it? Are you OK?’ he asked, not letting her go, still holding her body against his.

  ‘I’m fine,’ she answered shakily. ‘Just a bit warm, that’s all.’

  ‘Then we’ll sit down,’ he said, leading her by the hand over to the side of the room, where there were some chairs.

  Fleur knew she was trembling and, to cover her confusion, she said, ‘Well, how am I doing? Am I succeeding in my task for tonight?’

  He stared down at her for a second, not understanding what she meant. ‘Your task?’

  ‘Am I providing sufficient armour for you against all the women lusting for you, Sebastian? Am I heading them off? Have they got the message?’

  Now he did understand her and his expression darkened, his eyes glittering and thoughtful. ‘I think I can say that you are fulfilling all the criteria in every particular,’ he said slowly. ‘And I’m sure I’m the object of much envy amongst my colleagues.’ He paused, turning to face her and taking her hand in his. ‘But, despite what you may think, you are not here because Mia left you no option, Fleur, but because I wanted you to be here. I wanted your company. I…I wanted you…I hope you’ll believe that.’

  And, looking at him longingly, Fleur did believe that. Because she wanted to believe it. And because she knew that Sebastian Conway did not make such statements lightly. But it did nothing to solve her long-standing problem—that she intended never to tread the same path as her mother had done all her life. Yet where did love, and passion, and physical need come in that plan? Those finer feelings were beginning to become vital components in an existence which had seemed so straightforward and clear-cut before she’d set foot in Pengarroth Hall. Where was she to go from here? she asked herself desperately.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ‘FLEUR? Hi! Hope I haven’t got you out of bed…I just had to ring and find out how you enjoyed last night. Was it fantastic?’

  Fleur, still mooning around in her dressing gown sipping a cup of coffee, smiled briefly. She might have known that Mia would want all the details—because she couldn’t rid herself of the suspicion that her friend was trying her hand at matchmaking.

  ‘Hi, Mia—yes, it was a very grand affair, and I think a lot of money was raised.’

  Mia sighed impatiently. ‘Never mind about all that—what did you wear? I bet you looked stunning—and how about my brother? Was he in a “Seb” mood or a “Sebastian Conway” mood?’

  ‘I wore my red dress,’ Fleur replied, ‘which I don’t think you can have seen because I’ve only worn it once before…’ She paused. ‘And Sebastian was…’ How was she going to put this? Was she going to say that he was the most drop-dead gorgeous man in the room and that he’d been utterly attentive towards her—attentive and charming and so desirable that she’d wanted him to kiss her. Had invited him to kiss her right there in the middle of the dance floor with everyone watching! She couldn’t possibly say all that—especially as this morning she felt somehow dejected and confused.

  ‘Sebastian was exemplary in every way,’ she said neatly.

  ‘What time did it finish?’ Mia wanted to know.

  ‘Oh, about one o’clock,’ Fleur replied ‘Sebastian came home with me in the cab, and then dropped me off.’

  There was a pause. ‘He didn’t spend the night on the sofa bed, then?’ Mia asked mischievously.

  ‘He certainly did not,’ Fleur replied. ‘What made you think that?’

  ‘Oh, just a feeling I had…’ Mia said obliquely, then decided not to pursue that train of thought. She knew very well that Fleur was sensitive on the matter of relationships, but she also knew her brother well enough to realize that he liked Fleur—liked her a lot. In fact, she could have put it more strongly than that but thought she wouldn’t tempt fate by assuming anything. ‘Anyway, I knew you’d enjoy yourself—Seb knows how to give a woman a good time,’ she said lightly.

  They chatted casually for a while, making plans to meet later in the week before hanging up. It was only a few minutes later when the phone rang again. Fleur paused before picking it up… She knew who it would be this time.

  ‘Morning, Fleur. I hope you slept better than I did.’

  Sebastian certainly did sound gruff-voiced today, she thought. But that would be the effect of rather too much alcohol. ‘I slept well, thanks,’ she said. ‘In fact, I’m not even up and dressed yet and I feel very lazy.’

  There was a pause for a moment, then Sebastian said, ‘I just wanted to thank you for…accompanying…me last night, Fleur. I hope you enjoyed yourself.’ Well, he knew very well that she’d enjoyed herself—and he’d loved every minute of being by her side. And when, unbelievably, she’d stood up on the stage and sung that beautiful song, she had captivated many other hearts beside his own. It had seemed to put the crowning glory on his thoughts about her, demonstrating her gentleness and inherent goodness. She was the sort of woman whom any man would feel happy to trust with his future—qualities which he’d been quick to recognize almost from the moment he’d met her. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that, somehow, he had to convince her that she might be able to commit herself to him without all the nagging doubts and anxieties she clearly had about the opposite sex—her fear of being controlled and manipulated. But he knew he had to be careful. One wrong move too soon, and he’d lose her—it would be like trying to catch a dainty butterfly without crushing a wing, he thought. But he was determined to do it. Determined to succeed.

  ‘I did enjoy myself—very much, thank you, Sebastian,’ she replied. ‘I…I only hope that making something of an exhibition of myself on stage didn’t embarrass you,’ she added.

  ‘Not a chance, and I was very impressed. You…you’ve got a lovely voice, Fleur.’

  ‘Well, anyway, I didn’t notice any unwelcome females throwing themselves at you, so at least I must have been of some practical value,’ she said.

  ‘I wish you wouldn’t think of it like that,’ Sebastian said, his voice harsh for a second. ‘I told you—I wanted you there. And I’m quite able to look out for myself, in any case. I don’t need that kind of protection from another human being.’

  Fleur was quick to notice the change in his tone. How could anyone think that he wasn’t master of the situation—whatever it might happen to be?

  ‘Actually,’ he went on, changing the subject, ‘I know you said you haven’t finished painting your kitchen yet.’ He paused. ‘How about this afternoon…or maybe one evening in the week? I’m not too busy for a few days, as it happens.’

  Fleur sighed inwardly. She knew she could not put him off with any old excuse, and it was good of him to offer. She’d better agree, and get it over with. Even if she had made up her mind that she wasn’t going to see him again.

  ‘I don’t think I could face it today, Sebastian,’ she said, ‘but…next Saturday seems a better option…if you’re sure you don’t mind.’

  ‘If I minded, I wouldn’t be offering,’ he said flatly, ‘and next Saturday’s fine by me too.’

  After she’d put the phone down, Fleur stood for a moment, looking out of her bedroom window. She knew it was not going to be easy to keep him at arm’s length, even though she told herself that that was the best thing to do. It was hard to be negative and choosy where Sebastian Conway was concerned, especially as she was honest enough to admit that for the first time in several years she felt a growing excitement inside, a feeling of anticipation—a feeling that life had a lot mo
re to offer.

  She went into the bathroom and switched on the shower. It was only six days before next Saturday…

  ‘Something smells good,’ Sebastian said appreciatively as he followed Fleur into the sitting room. ‘See—I’ve come well prepared this time, brought my own brushes in case yours aren’t suitable.’

  It was the following Saturday afternoon, and Fleur had already prepared and cooked a curry for them to eat later. She felt that the least she could do was to offer him supper, and it would be easy to heat the curry up and boil some rice later. She smiled at him.

  ‘I hope you like curry,’ she said. ‘The one I make is a special recipe given to me by an Indian lady I work with.’

  ‘I like anything—and I certainly like curry.’ He went into the kitchen to look around and assess everything. ‘I approve of the colour you’ve chosen,’ he said as he examined the pots of paint, ‘and the white gloss will look good against it.’ He shrugged off his jacket, taking the grimy apron from Fleur, and set to work at once.

  ‘I think decorating is quite a therapeutic occupation,’ he said, glancing down at her from the ladder. ‘I don’t do much of it at Pengarroth Hall, because we usually employ people, and Pat’s jolly good at it and often insists on doing the honours.’ He stretched upwards, drawing the brush firmly along the expanse of the wall. ‘But when I’m living there permanently, I’ll have more time. There’ll be all sorts of things I’ll be able to help out with.’

  Fleur went out, leaving him to it—well, he’d get on quicker if she wasn’t there, she thought, when suddenly she heard his mobile ring.

  ‘Answer that, Fleur,’ Sebastian called. ‘The phone’s in my coat pocket.’

  ‘Hello, this is Sebastian Conway’s number…’ Fleur said obediently.

  The female voice which answered was quiet and well-modulated, and its owner was obviously surprised not to hear Sebastian. ‘Oh…is…is Sebastian there?’ There was a moment’s hesitation. ‘This is his grandmother speaking.’