His smile didn't waver. 'Perhaps you do, but I like my women to wear Joy.'
'All of them? Your wife, your mistresses and your casual girlfriends? Is that how you recognise them in the dark, by the smell of Joy?'
He frowned. 'Don't be ridiculous. Surely it isn't much to ask? Most women are delighted to wear it.'
'I am not most women. I'm sorry but I don't want it. Not only do I find it too heavy, I also object to wearing what is tantamount to a badge proclaiming to the world that I'm yours, when I'm not. I don't belong to anyone, and if the day ever comes when I find myself dressing, talking or thinking along lines dictated by you, then I'll move out.'
'Admirably independent! Where do you intend to go? Somewhere they'll look after Jessica when you want an evening on the town, I trust?'
Lisa thought for a moment and then handed back the box. 'Here you are; give it to my replacement. I'm not coming.'
'Not coming?'
'I'm sorry about the cost of the hair. I'll pay you back when you find me this elusive job. I hope you can get someone else at such short notice.'
Neal's first reaction was to take the perfume, turn her out of the cottage the next day and make quite sure no one in London gave her a job with a decent salary, thus forcing her to return to him on any terms he cared to make.
His second thought was wiser. He wanted her, and he wasn't ever going to get her by using those tactics . She'd probably rather starve than come back to him, however desperate she became. In any case, it made a change. No other woman had turned down the most expensive perfume in the world simply because it wasn't her personal favourite. In fact they were usually so overcome with delight that he came close to despising them for their greed. Lisa was different, and that was her attraction. Different to look at and different in behaviour. If he wanted a change from the Kays of the world, he'd simply have to accept her as she was… but only for the moment.
'Don't be silly,' he said softly. 'If you don't want to wear it, fine, but please keep it. You can give it away as a Christmas present.'
Now that she'd won, Lisa felt guilty. 'I wasn't trying to be awkward, I honestly don't like it. Stephanie used to drown herself in the stuff; I couldn't wear it, there are too many memories attached.'
'Did Toby ever buy it for you?' he asked quickly.
'Of course not. If I don't want it from you then obviously I wouldn't want it from him either. Besides, he didn't give me anything as expensive as Joy. He was saving up for his old age!'
'Is the nurse all right?' he asked, sitting down for a moment and wondering if she was naked beneath her robe.
'She seems fine. Jessica was hideous but she coped.' 'Good. You look well,' he added. 'Less troubled.'
'I'm feeling better. Hadn't you better leave now? I've still got loads to do.'
'Did you get the ballgown you wanted?'
'I found it in my wardrobe. Whoever picked up my things from Toby's managed to put that in. I sent it to the cleaners and it looks marvellous, but you can't see it until later.'
'I look forward to that.'
When he'd gone, Lisa was surprised to find herself shaking and had to sit on the arm of the chair. It wasn't true that Stephanie had worn Joy, she'd made up the lie on the spur of the moment because she sensed that it would make it easier for Neal to accept her decision. The entire experience of turning down his gift had been highly unpleasant, but everything in her had rebelled at the thought of wearing a perfume that he gave to every woman in his life, regardless of whether or not it suited her.
All of Dior's range suited Lisa. She liked Diorissimo best, but Miss Dior was lovely too, and she alternated between them for formal functions. Joy seemed to her a perfume for the older woman, and she thought she was probably right because most of Neal's women were naturally older than her.
Unfortunately she wasn't yet mentally fit enough for an argument, however minor . It left her drained, bringing back memories of Stephanie as well as the terrible rows with Toby. Why couldn't life be peaceful? she wondered.
'Are you all right, Ms. Walker?' asked the nurse, suddenly coming into the room.
'Yes, thank you. Really, it was nothing.'
'Mr Gueras is a very forceful man,' she continued in a quiet voice. 'His poor wife is terrified of him. Everyone has to fit in with his ideas. He doesn't encourage individuals to express their own personality, especially not his women.'
'I don't think you should discuss him like this,' said Lisa coolly. 'You're also under a slight misapprehension. I'm not one of his women.'
'I apologise. Normally I only work in Mr Gueras's homes for his family and friends.'
'I'm a friend!' laughed Lisa quickly. 'I'm only saying that it isn't any more than that. Now I must get changed.'
'No more than that!' muttered the nurse to herself. 'I wonder who she thinks she's fooling? I've seen too many like her to be taken in by that story!'
In her room, Lisa peered in the magnifying mirror and wondered if every woman's skin looked terrible when enlarged. She applied a thin layer of moisturizer and sorted out her makeup brushes while she waited for it to be absorbed.
When she was finished she took out the floor-length, peach-coloured satin gown from its cover, laying it carefully on the bed. It was outstandingly elegant with wide shoulder straps ending in a bow in the middle of her back, and a skirt that hinted at the days of the bustle with its extra fullness, plus another larger velvet bow at the base of her spine.
When she slipped into it she shivered with delight at the feel of the material against her bare skin. All that she wore beneath it was sheer silk stockings and a wisp of suspender belt in matching peach. Finally she pulled on the elbow-length cream gloves, stepped into the dyed peach shoes and gave herself a final check in the full-length mirror. Her confidence rose as she studied her reflection. She was still a trifle too thin but the shine in. Her hair lightened her expression and some of the lingering anxiety of the past months had gone. The bustle gave her extra shape, which she needed, and the colour of the gown set off her creamy skin and dark brown eyes.
Her only regret was that she'd had to sell her double strand of pearls. They were the one finishing touch the dress needed, but it was no use looking back. Feeling generally satisfied, she went downstairs just as Neal arrived.
He looked at her for a long time. 'Am I all right?' she asked, beginning to feel quit uncomfortable and annoyed that her self-confidence was so fragile.
'You look incredible,' he said slowly. 'You're quite perfect. I'll be the envy of every man in the room.'
'I doubt it , but thank you for the compliment. Shall we go?'
'I've brought you something else,' he said slowly. 'However, after the perfume I'm not sure if… But let's see. If you don't like it, I'm sure you'll tell me! Turn round and close your eyes.'
She did as he asked, although she hated closing her eyes and feeling his hands moving near her throat, just as Toby's hands had once closed round it, trying to choke…
'It's all right,' he soothed, feeling her trembling. 'I'm not going to hurt you. Now, how do you think that looks? '
Lisa opened her eyes and glanced down. There, quite unmistakably, nestled her very own double strand of pearls. She gave a squeal of excitement. 'I was just wishing I'd still got them! How on earth did you manage it?'
'I never sold them.'
'But you gave me money.'
'I sold most of the pieces,' he lied, 'but these were too good. I couldn't bring myself to part with them, even for you. I take it I did right for once?'
'Absolutely right! Oh Neal, thank you so much!' She gave him a light kiss on his cheek.
'The car's outside,' he said quickly, hoping she couldn't tell how much the gesture meant to him. 'It won't do to be late.'
Just as they arrived outside Grosvenor House he leant across and whispered, 'I like your perfume,' in her ear, so that she was smiling broadly when they descended from the car and photographer's flashlights exploded around them.
'Sur
ely they're only here for the Princess?' she said in surprise. 'Not at all. Everyone who comes tonight expects to get their picture in Tatler or Vogue.'
'Why?'
'They want the whole country to know how generous they are with their money, purchasing expensive tickets for unfortunate children.' 'The whole country doesn't read those magazines. Besides, if they didn't have a ball but simply donated the money, then the N.S.P.C.C. would benefit even more. The food and decorations must cost a fortune.'
'My dear girl, you mustn't begrudge people their chief pleasure in life!'
'What's that?'
'Dressing up and meeting each other, of course.' 'All the time?'
'Most of the time. You wait, you'll find it an addictive pastime, and these Balls do a lot of good so I don't want you turning cynical during the meal. Some of my friends might not appreciate it.'
'I promise to be good!' she laughed, and once again a flashlight popped as one of the photographers realised that here for once was a genuine beauty who was also new on the social scene, and decided to try and get an exclusive shot of her.
There were twelve people seated at their table, including themselves, and all the other women were over thirty, with one or two nearer fifty. Lisa felt very young and gauche. The men all smiled warmly at her and made conversation but she knew from the very beginning that the women were deliberately excluding her.
They were too well bred to make it obvious, but they spoke of people she didn't know and country houses she'd never heard of. Only one of them, a brunette in her mid-thirties, was overtly hostile and she made her move early on.
Princess Margaret had arrived, surprisingly petite and with glorious eyes that still had the ability to dazzle people, and the meal had begun when Bunny—as her friends called her—leant across the table to Lisa.
'Your gown's beautiful, Lisa. It is Lisa, isn't it?' She nodded. 'I've never seen one quite like it before. Tell me, did you make it yourself?' There was total silence. The men glanced at Neal, their faces frozen—particularly that of Bunny's husband—while even the women looked uneasy. Nevertheless they turned towards Lisa eagerly, awaiting her answer.
'Actually no,' she said calmly, hoping they couldn't hear the pounding of her heart or guess how horribly sick and unwanted she felt. 'It's a Victor Edelstein. I must tell him what you said. I'm sure he'll be terribly amused!'
'My dear, it was only a joke!' said Bunny quickly. 'Of course I recognised it as an Edelstein straight away. I've worn his gowns myself.'
'In that case I trust he sees the joke too!' said Neal with a distinctly chilly smile.
After that the hostility remained concealed, yet it was there all through the meal. The man on Lisa's left made valiant efforts at conversation but she found it difficult to respond. The watercress soup, the perfectly cooked saddle of lamb and the fresh strawberry mousse all tasted like cardboard to her, and most of her concentration went on forcing the food down.
When the meal was finally over and the speeches finished the ladies withdrew to repair their faces before the dancing began. Lisa was forced to accompany them but they didn't attempt to talk to her.
It was only when she was re-applying her lipstick in front of the mirror and heard the name Kay that she really started to listen to what they were saying.
'Utterly mutilated, darling. I know it's true because Graham's uncle has a friend in Interpol and he actually saw the body himself. He told Graham's uncle that there simply weren't enough rocks in that area to account for the mutilation. She'd even… ' The voice dropped and Lisa stared into the mirror. Kay. Did they mean the Kay that Neal had known, or was this another one? She doubted it, particularly when the oldest of the women present, Georgina Smythe, finally spoke directly to her.
'Did you know Kay?' she asked coldly. 'Kay who?'
'Neal Gueras's mistress.'
'I'm afraid not. Has something happened to her?'
The women raised their eyebrows and glanced knowingly at each other.
'I asked a civil question,' said Lisa forcefully. 'Obviously you intend to tell me something about her, so why don't you just get on with it instead of smirking and making half-audible remarks?'
Georgina was taken aback by the direct attack. 'Naturally we thought you knew,' she drawled.
'No you didn't, otherwise you wouldn't have bothered to start the conversation. She left Neal, didn't she?'
'She most certainly did! Her body was washed ashore in France a few weeks back. Didn't he tell you?'
'Why should he?'
'Surely you were interested in your predecessor's whereabouts?' asked Bunny aggressively. 'Or are you so bloody confident of yourself that you don't care? She'd been with him for years. We all thought that when Naomi finally… that is, if anything happened to Naomi, Kay and Neal would get married. But then you came along.'
'I'm afraid I don't see any connection between my friendship with Neal Gueras and Kay's death.'
'Then you're a great deal more stupid than you look!' snapped Georgina, and one or two women waiting their turn for the mirrors looked at her in surprise.
Lisa flushed and stood up. 'I take it Kay was a friend of yours?' 'She most certainly was.'
'Then I hope she'd have been proud of your behaviour tonight.
'Excuse me please,' and she swept out of the cloakroom.
Neal guessed something had gone wrong by Lisa's heightened colour but didn't question her. Instead he led her out on to the dance floor where couples were already enjoying the music. They danced well together. She was reasonably accomplished but Neal was very good. He was easy to follow, guiding her effortlessly round the room without holding her too tightly.
Some time later they slipped out on to one of the balconies surrounding the vast white oval ballroom and Lisa leant against the edge, her cheeks cooling in the night air. 'What happened to Kay?' she asked Neal abruptly.
He was standing just behind her but never even tensed. In fact, he put his hands lightly round her waist, while his voice was matter-of-fact and slightly regretful. 'She met with an accident shortly after she left me. I understand that she decided to take up sailing as a hobby, and contrary to all advice took a rather small boat across the Channel on a windy night. No one knows exactly what happened but she was finally washed up on the French coast a couple of weeks after she disappeared. I'm amazed she tried to do the trip alone, but you'd understand more about independent women than I would!'
'That's all there is to it?'
He bent and kissed the nape of her neck. 'What else could there be?'
'The women tonight said she'd been mutilated.'
'What a gruesome lot they are! Naturally she was mutilated. A body that's been thrown against rocks and debris for two weeks is bound to look disfigured. Victims of drowning don't reappear two weeks later in pristine condition.'
'You don't sound very upset!'
'I was, but there was nothing I could do, and it's all over now.
'What an unpleasant subject this is. Can't we change it?' 'I suppose so.'
'What did George Chapman talk about when you were dancing?'
Lisa gave a gurgle of laughter. 'The price of gold! He's worried over the South African situation.'
'He didn't tell you you were beautiful?' 'Of course not!'
'But Martin Grey did.'
'Yes, but as he's somewhat the worse for drink, that's hardly a compliment.'
'You are beautiful. The most beautiful woman here tonight.' 'Don't be silly!'
'I've already been approached by Patrick; he wants to take some studio portraits of you.'
'Patrick?'
'Never mind! Come closer and let me kiss you properly.'
Lisa pushed against his chest. 'Not here! Isn't it time we danced again?'
'If not here, then where?' he asked patiently. 'Back home.'
'Is that a promise?'
She laughed, elated by the wine and his belief in her beauty. 'Yes, it's a promise.'
'Once Princess Margaret's lef
t, we'll go.'
At three a.m. the princess and her party left, and at three minutes past , Neal and Lisa, after he had exchanged a brief word with Georgina Smythe's husband who nodded nervously. Lisa didn't say goodnight to anyone, privately resolving never to have anything to do with any of them again.
'Was the evening a success, sir?' asked Mike, opening the car door for them.
'Excellent, thank you. We'll go to the mews.'
'They thought I'd made my own dress!' laughed Lisa. Mike turned his head away to hide his amusement.
'You don't need to tell him every detail, darling,' reproved Neal, but Lisa looked out of her window and pretended not to hear.
Back at the mews, Mike drove Nurse Clarke to her small town house, leaving Lisa alone with a distinctly affectionate Neal. She tried to keep up a stream of cheerful chatter while making the coffee. 'I didn't come for coffee,' he said quietly. 'I was promised a kiss, remember?'
'How about coffee first?'
'Lisa, do stop fidgeting around in the kitchen and come and sit down. Now, did you enjoy the evening?' As he spoke he maneuvered her onto the settee and put an arm round the back of her neck .
'Not the women, but I enjoyed everything else. Why didn't they like me?'
'I don't imagine women are ever very keen on you!'
'I've always got on with other girls perfectly well. I had lots of friends at school.'
'This is real life, and these women are all fighting to keep their looks, their husband and their social position. A beautiful newcomer is hardly likely to be met with rapturous glee.'
'Why not? I don't want their grotty husbands, or their social position.'
'They don't know that.'
She felt his left hand wandering near her left breast and tried to ease away from him. 'That's not a kiss!'
'I can't kiss you when you keep turning your head away,' he protested.
Deciding that there were worse things than a kiss, and genuinely feeling affectionate towards him, Lisa turned her face up to his, but his kiss wasn't soft and caressing as she'd expected. Instead it was almost harsh, his mouth hard against hers, his tongue probing insistently between her lips until she finally opened her mouth to him.
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