The initial skirmish over, Serena began to relax. She had to hand it to Mrs Tonetti, whose timing proved masterly, and who she rather suspected was having the time of her life if the wicked twinkle in her eyes as she met them on their way to join yet another small batch of folk was anything to go by!
Serena didn't know when she first became aware of the scrutiny, but as she was led from group to group and small talk developed, a definite sense of being watched gradually bored into her consciousness. At first she thought she had imagined it, there were so many curious stares in her direction, but the feeling persisted so strongly she found herself glancing across the room if only to satisfy herself that her nerves were playing tricks on her, and found herself meeting the gaze of a tall man with reddish-gold hair, and she hastily looked away again. So she hadn't imagined it. With an effort she pulled her thoughts away from the man who was subjecting her to that microscopic examination and tried to concentrate on the conversation around her. She found this harder than she had thought, for a feeling of unease had crept into her senses and even though she smiled and answered a question posed by a frankly admiring young man on whether she would grant him the first dance when all the introductions were over, she was still very much aware of the stranger across the room.
It did occur to her that the man might have met her in London at one of her mother's charity balls, and if this were so, she only hoped he did not know her mother, because if he did the whole thing would go up in smoke. She bit her lip and wished she could have a few minutes alone with Mrs Tonetti and warn her of this possibility.
However, Serena was given no opportunity of communicating her fears as they had now begun the round of introductions on the other side of the room. Serena was just receiving a compliment from a portly man with a strong American accent when she heard Mrs Tonetti exclaim, 'Jordan dear, do come and meet Serena.'
Serena turned smilingly towards the newcomer and almost gasped when she found herself meeting the gaze of the man whose earlier attention had so discomfited her. His voice was deep and well-modulated and as far as looks went he was quite the handsomest man she had ever met, but Serena took particular note of the fact that his smile did not reach his eyes. They were rather striking eyes of a grey-green colour, more green than grey, she decided, and about as cold as an arctic winter.
As her hand was lost in the large strong one offered, she felt a stab of disappointment. She had been so sure she would like Jordan Kerr, but she didn't. She knew she had no right to judge him on first acquaintance and reminded herself he had been very good to Mrs Tonetti and that was really all that mattered, so when he requested the dance that was just starting Serena did not hesitate in accepting, although she knew she had promised the first dance to someone else, but she felt under the circumstances the young man in question would understand, for Jordan Kerr was, after all, her host.
When they began to dance, Serena found his hold tentative, yet not so. After the first few steps she felt as if there were a brick wall between them. His clasp on her hand was light and she received the distinct impression he would have preferred to have kept his distance.
She was a little perplexed by this treatment. As an exceptionally attractive woman, she found his attitude intriguing, to say the least. She stole a quick look at him under her lashes and saw that his features were stiff; he was plainly not enjoying the dance. For one brief second she wondered if he were shy, then instantly dismissed the thought. He was too self-assured to have such a charge levelled at him. Was it reserve? she wondered. Was he so intent on preserving his bachelor status? She almost grinned at this thought. He was so good-looking, and by all accounts wealthy, he had probably been driven to adopt such tactics. Women, she mused, would find him a definite challenge. She remembered the gossip snip she had read about him and wondered if Myrna Simpson had managed to get under his armour. One thing she did know about him, he was no playboy. A man's man, if ever she saw one.
Serena was so immersed in her thoughts that she actually jumped when he suddenly asked, 'Did you get tired of Beroni, or was it mutual?'
She was so surprised that she missed a step and almost cannoned into him, but an expert side step of his prevented the collision. Serena wondered whether she had heard aright and felt like shaking her head. Who on earth was Beroni? She cast about in her mind for some connection of the name with the fashion world, but failed. Her heart sank. It was all very well for Mrs Tonetti, she thought miserably. It appeared this was something she had not clued her up on. Deciding to play safe, she answered airily, 'Oh, it was mutual,' and hoped she had plumped for the right answer.
Judging by the way he retreated back into his ivory tower again, Serena presumed he was satisfied. She almost sighed with relief—that had been a close thing; she must somehow have a private word with Mrs Tonetti and find out what he had been talking about before she really put her foot in it.
When the dance ended, Serena knew relief, for Jordan Kerr's sake as well as her own. Neither of them had enjoyed the duty dance, for that was what it had obviously been. With studious politeness he escorted her back to Mrs Tonetti and excused himself shortly afterwards.
From then on the evening flew by for her. There was no opportunity of a quiet word with Mrs Tonetti, for as she had predicted, Serena found herself inundated with dancing partners. Returning after a succession of dances, Serena found her in the company of an elderly woman, and one glance at the expression on Mrs Tonetti's face told Serena the woman's name. Mrs Simpson was introduced, and it was not long before Serena found herself in complete agreement with Mrs Tonetti's point of view. The woman was dictatorial, inquisitive and, Serena suspected, the worst kind of snob.
Her small black eyes darted over Serena's dress and Serena knew she was mentally pricing it. Her voice was high-pitched and grating. 'Myrna's here somewhere, you know. We ought to have been here earlier, but the flight was delayed. Myrna insists on doing her shopping in New York. We nearly didn't make the ball.' She peered over at the dancers. 'Oh, there she is!' There was a note of satisfaction in her voice. 'Jordan's making up for lost time, I see.'
Serena glanced to where Mrs Simpson was looking and received a slight shock. Jordan Kerr was dancing with a fair girl—fair in every sense of the word. Mrs Tonetti had not really done her justice, Serena thought as she watched them dancing. They made a delightful pair—the girl so slight and utterly feminine, and the tall, broad-shouldered man.
It was the man who held Serena's attention, and she found it hard to believe that it was the same man who had partnered her earlier, no longer withdrawn and haughty, but now smiling down at the girl in his arms. Had she been closer, Serena was sure that his eyes would be laughing too. She felt a twinge of anger against Jordan Kerr—so he was interested in Miss Simpson; the gossip columns had been right, but it hardly excused the frigid welcome he had extended to her.
Serena's thoughts were interrupted by Mrs Tonetti's abrupt, 'He's already danced with Serena. The poor child hasn't had a moment to herself, but I knew how it would be,' she added a little maliciously.
'Jordan,' Mrs Simpson determinedly pointed out, 'practically pounced on Myrna as soon as we arrived.'
'But he's such a sweet man, isn't he?' purred Mrs Tonetti in swift reply. 'Hates anyone to be left out.'
Somewhere, thought Serena, a bell ought to be rung for seconds out! She was very much afraid her champion was backing a loser if she hoped Serena would steal some of Myrna's thunder. She had not only left the haughty Jordan Kerr cold, but positively icy!
Fortunately supper was then announced, and whatever remark Mrs Simpson had been about to retaliate with was never uttered. With a look of pure disdain she went in search of a bosom friend of hers.
'She has two days' news to catch up on,' Mrs Tonetti told Serena with twinkling eyes. 'Poor Beryl Johnson's terrified of her, for she bullies her shamefully.' She placed a hand on Serena's arm. 'Shall we find some refreshment, dear? I must say I could do with a nice iced drink.' She smiled at a young
man who had partnered Serena earlier, now hovering hesitantly near them and obviously wanting to escort Serena to the buffet room. 'Would you care to join us, Gerald?'
The request was received with a grateful smile and the offer of an arm to each lady. Serena would have preferred to take supper with Mrs Tonetti alone. If Jordan Kerr felt another duty dance was called for later in the evening, there were a few things Serena needed to know, such as who this mysterious Mr Beroni was!
A cold buffet was laid out in the supper room, and various dishes of enticing-looking food were arranged on a long table running the length of the room. Gorgeous floral displays filled spaces in between the dishes, turning an ordinary cold buffet into a work of art. Serena thought it was a pity to disturb it.
Even with such an array of tempting food, Serena was not particularly hungry, but she allowed the said Gerald to place a few exotic-looking pastries on her plate. Mrs Tonetti did not partake, but an iced drink was secured for her.
There were individual tables and chairs scattered about the room so that the food could be consumed in some degree of comfort, and seeing Mrs Tonetti's lips thin after a look down the room, Serena followed her glance and saw Myrna Simpson sitting with Jordan Kerr and was certain Mrs Tonetti was disappointed that he had not joined them for supper.
Serena had a guilty feeling she had let Mrs Tonetti down, which was ridiculous; it was hardly her fault that Jordan Kerr's affections were bespoken, and, she thought a trifle wryly, hardly Myrna's fault that she had such an unlovable grandmother! However, when several other unattached young men found an excuse to join them, making a table for four do duty for six, Serena felt a little vindicated, and Mrs Tonetti was clearly pleased with the way things were going.
The talk was general and very gay. Probes were put out as to how long Serena was staying on the island, and a general lowering of spirits when they were told the date of her departure.
'Surely,' asked a fair young man named Don, 'you could stretch it a bit longer. What's New York got, that we haven't?' he appealed to Mrs Tonetti. 'Couldn't you persuade her to stay on for a while?'
Mrs Tonetti gave a rueful smile. 'I only wish she would. I'm going to try my best, anyway.'
Serena looked up, startled at this reply, Mrs Tonetti knew very well she had to be on that Saturday flight.
Meeting her eyes, Mrs Tonetti smiled apologetically at her. 'Forgive an old lady's selfishness, Serena. Of course you have to go.' She patted her hand and turned to the disappointed admirers. 'But shell be back, you know. And next time she will stay longer, won't you, Serena?'
There was not much Serena could say to that, apart from agreeing, which she did. She only knew she wanted to come back, and very soon.
The deep voice coming from behind her did not startle her at all, for she had felt his presence long before he spoke.
'Now don't overdo it, Esme. Jake's standing by whenever you've had enough.'
Mrs Tonetti smiled up at the man standing behind Serena. 'Thank you, Jordan dear. To be honest I did think of leaving after supper. It's been a lovely evening, hasn't it, Serena?'
Serena echoed these sentiments, only too pleased that the evening had come to an end. Now there was only one more day to play out the role, and next time, she told herself, she would stick to her adopted grandmother's side like glue and avoid a repetition of further awkward questions.
Her relief was shortlived, for with some trepidation she heard Jordan Kerr smoothly suggest that she stayed on—it was a pity to deprive her of the rest of the evening's entertainment; he would see her safely back, etc.
Serena cast a look of desperation at Mrs Tonetti, who appeared to be wavering. 'It's very kind of you,' she answered hastily before Mrs Tonetti could speak. 'I've only been here a day or so,' she lied, 'and travelling always tires me, I'm quite ready to leave when Nan does.'
She was quite surprised the way the name 'Nan' came so readily, as she had anticipated having trouble over it, and thanked her lucky stars she had been alert enough to use it. She had to crane her neck to look up at Jordan towering above her, and knew by the slightly altered mouth line that he was not pleased with this information. Well, it couldn't be helped, she thought, and there was nothing he could do about it. But she soon found she had misjudged him.
'Come now,' he said a little silkily, and to her sensitive ears a little challengingly. 'You don't expect me to believe that, do you? Surely you're used to travel?' He glanced back at Mrs Tonetti. 'I appeal to you, Esme. I expect Serena is being extra thoughtful on your behalf, don't you?'
Mrs Tonetti got quite carried away, and Serena could see why; Mrs Simpson was standing a little way away and was taking more than a passing interest in the conversation. Basking in the light of success, Mrs Tonetti ignored the plain S.O.S.
Serena's eyes were sending her. Jordan had shown an interest in Serena, and all else was forgotten.
However, Serena was not beaten yet. 'I do assure you, I am tired,' she insisted, fixing a look of 'don't you dare leave me' on Mrs Tonetti.
'Nonsense, child!' Mrs Tonetti exclaimed. 'Jordan is quite right. Why shouldn't you enjoy yourself? I shall go straight to bed when I get home, anyway. So you stay, my dear. I know I can rely on Jordan to see you safely back.'
Serena was not even given the chance of a hasty few words with her before she left, as her wrap was immediately sent for, and Jake appeared saying that the car was waiting, leaving Serena feeling like a shipwrecked mariner cast ashore on a desert island.
CHAPTER FOUR
As soon as Mrs Tonetti was out of sight Gerald, determined to steal a march on his rivals, asked Serena to dance. His reign was short, for as soon as the dance was over an apprehensive Serena found Jordan Kerr waiting to claim the next one. With a smooth, 'Excuse me, old chap,' to Gerald, he whisked her on to the floor for a quickstep.
The impression she had received before was even more pronounced this time, and Serena wished she could define it. They were dancing, yes, but they might have been on opposite sides of the room. Partly to relieve her tension she attempted to make conversation. 'I do appreciate your concern for my grandmother,' she said quietly, and smiled up at him.
The smile was not returned; if anything, he seemed to freeze a degree lower. 'Do you?' he answered coldly.
The answer completely nonplussed Serena, who decided to give up. She had tried, hadn't she? What an exceedingly odd man he was. Perhaps he had a thing about brunettes 1 Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of Gerald hovering by the side of the dance floor and knew he was waiting for an opportunity to claim the next dance. The sight gave her some consolation; whatever effect she had on Jordan Kerr she was grateful it was not catching! The thought made her smile.
'Something amusing you?' asked Jordan Kerr haughtily.
Serena glanced up at him. Now she was angry and her eyes showed her feelings, but she answered airily enough, 'Just a passing thought, Mr Kerr.'
When the dance ended, Serena, meaning to show this autocratic man that she did not require any more attention from him, if it could be called that, murmured, 'If you'll excuse me,' and made a move to pass him.
As if she had not spoken, he asked abruptly, 'Are you interested in past history?'
Serena stared at him. Now what? Was he making an effort to entertain her for Mrs Tonetti's sake? She wished she could state quite categorically that she was not a bit interested in history and end the uncomfortable interlude for both of them, but she knew she was under an obligation. She had promised to help Mrs Tonetti, although, she thought darkly, the said lady really didn't deserve any such consideration, not after deserting her like that, throwing her as it were into the lion's den. She corrected that last thought on noticing the way Jordan Kerr was watching her with those extraordinary eyes of his, now more green than grey. Panther's eyes, she thought, and almost shivered.
She was quite at a loss to understand why he should want to discuss such a subject, then she remembered the Centenary. He was probably very proud of his anc
estors, and the fact that she had made a point of attending the celebrations would, from his point of view, mean she was interested. Besides, she mused, it would take his mind off other matters—such as this Mr Beroni, and any other tricky questions he might throw at her.
'Well, yes,' she replied, managing to produce a bright smile at him. 'I'm afraid I don't know a lot about the island's history. It's very kind of you…'
Before she had completed the sentence Serena found herself being guided out of the ballroom and down a long corridor, and it occurred to her that no matter what her answer had been she would still be taking this walk. She tried to quell the waves of apprehension flowing through her and told herself she was just being fanciful again. Really, she was just not cut out for this kind of masquerade.
When they reached the end of the corridor Jordan Kerr opened a door on his left and indicated that she should precede him into the room. Doing so, Serena found herself in a large room that was obviously a study. Her eyes rested on a handsome mahogany desk placed near a large bay window, then to the bookshelves that took up the whole of one wall. Her fears were now dispelled, for this would be where the books on the island's history were kept; the maps too, she thought, as her eye caught sight of an ancient-looking map framed and hung on the wall behind the desk.
Jordan Kerr closed the door behind him and selecting a chair picked it up and placed it in front of the desk. Sitting down behind the desk, he silently gestured Serena to the chair in front of him.
A variety of thoughts flashed through Serena's mind, most of them alarming. She looked at the cold handsome face of the man seated in front of her. This was no pleasant tete-a-tete, in fact it looked more in the nature of an inquisition!
Serena thought she had the answer—Mrs Tonetti had not fooled him for one moment—he knew she was an impostor! Did he think she was some kind of adventuress and meant to warn her off? She felt a kind of relief, for she would now have to tell him the whole story. She was sure Mrs Tonetti would understand and she was also sure Jordan Kerr would respect Mrs Tonetti's odd but very understandable duplicity.
Jane Corrie - The Bahamian Pirate Page 4