"Mike and his wife live there and it's Mike who has the money. A great deal, actually."
Sara thought of the expensive restaurants to which Gavin had taken her and was filled with remorse as she remembered the way she had ordered without a glance at the cost.
"Gavin isn't a pauper," her father went on, "but he's determined not to be thought of as a fortune-hunter."
"It never entered my head that he was."
"Nor mine. If he'd been so inclined he could have been married several times over."
It was hard to conceive that no one had yet succeeded in capturing him. He was a man any woman would have been proud to have as a husband. Even thinking of this set Sara's pulses racing, and she was aware of her body in a way She had never been aware of before.
"Is Gavin coming back tonight?" Helen broke into her thoughts.
Sara shook her head. "He's coming back in the morning."
"So that's why we have the pleasure of your company. I've seen so little of you lately that I was going to write you a letter!"
"I haven't been as elusive as all that," Sara protested, and glanced at her father, who was openly smiling.
Helen noticed it too and gave an exclamation of annoyance. "I don't know why you should consider my remark amusing, William, or don't you mind Sara spending all her time with one man?"
"Not when it's Gavin," he replied. "At least I know Sara is safe with him."
"No woman is safe with any man. They're all out for what they can get."
"If you talk like that, Helen," Sara protested, "you're guaranteed to make Daddy defend Gavin. You know how men stick together."
"I certainly do!" Helen rasped. "That's about the only thing one can guarantee in this world."
"I must see what I can do to soften your mood." Sir William bent forward to pat his wife on the cheek, but she drew back sharply.
"William, don't! I can't bear being touched the whole time."
"I'm sorry," he murmured, and quietly left the room.
Sara's first impulse was to run after him, but resolutely she told herself that she must not make the quarrel her concern. However, she could not hide her expression, and Helen noticed it and gave an angry snort.
"You're angry with me, aren't you?"
"Not at all."
"Your father is."
"You are rather hard on him," Sara said quietly.
"Sometimes he gets on my nerves. I don't expect you to understand."
"I don't want to try," Sara said honestly. "When my father married you I made up my mind not to get involved."
"That's a very laudable position," Helen sneered, "but you can't stand on the sidelines all the time. One day you have to come down on one side or the other."
"Not where your marriage is concerned. That's strictly between you and my father."
Helen reached for a cigarette. She did not smoke often, saying she found it unfeminine, but she smoked now, quick angry puffs. "I suppose you've often wondered why I married him," she said abruptly. "Don't bother denying it; you'd be a fool if you hadn't."
Sara hesitated and then spoke. "I assumed you loved him."
"I did - I do." The cigarette was stubbed out. "He's an easy man to love: kind, considerate, gentle. Too gentle really. It would be better if he answered me back or shouted at me sometimes."
"I don't think my father has ever shouted at a woman in his life," Sara smiled.
"Then he's an angel - and angels can be boring!"
Unwilling to hear any more, Sara stood up. "I don't want to listen to you saying things you'll regret when your temper has died down."
"What makes you think I will regret it?"
Without replying Sara walked out, and did not return to the salon until the gong rang to announce dinner. Helen appeared to have forgotten her earlier bad temper, but Sara found herself watching her with eyes that were unusually keen. Her stepmother was drinking too much and was perceptibly thinner. Her father was not unaware of it cither, for she saw him glance covertly at his wife from time to time. Was he having any regrets about the marriage or did he think Helen was merely in a bad mood that would pass? It was impossible for her to ask him and she knew that the kindest thing she could do was pretend she did not notice the tension between them.
It was tension that only lifted when Mike dropped in for coffee. As always he greeted Sara affectionately and Helen with careful consideration. He still called her Lady Claremont, which was surprising, particularly as he was several years her senior, and Sara wondered why Helen had not asked him to call her by her first name. Because these thoughts were in her mind it was uncanny that her father chose that moment to voice them.
"You know, Mike," he said mildly, "considering you and Helen are the same generation, don't you think you could drop the formality? I'm sure Helen would be delighted."
Mike's glance slid swiftly across to the woman on his right, who nodded carelessly.
"William is right; I've been meaning to tell you for ages. I'll have to tell Gavin too."
"Helen it shall be," Mike said easily. "At prep school I played Helena in A Midsummer Night's Dream."
"That one was a fool," Helen said crisply. "If I remember my Shakespeare, she was one of his mixed-up lovers."
"Not really," Sara protested. "Everything came out all right in the end."
"Only because it was a play. In real life she would have been left high and dry. She was such a fool."
“I can't say that play is one of my favourites," Sir William said. "I prefer the histories."
"You would," Helen said good-humouredly. "I bet your favourite is Henry V."
"It's mine, too," Mike said and, to prove it, began to recite.
Quietly Sara wandered on to the terrace. It was nine- thirty and the evening stretched ahead of her. Was Gavin dining at the Embassy in Copenhagen or was he out with friends? He might even be with a girl. Jealousy washed over her and she gripped the top of the balustrade. It was foolish to feel like this about a man she had only known for a month and one who was also thirteen years her senior. Yet what did time or age matter when there was an un-definable magic ingredient between two people that drew them towards each other?
"Gavin." She whispered the name softly, afraid lest anyone should hear. How did he feel about her? Was she someone special or did he see her merely as an excellent way of installing himself in the good books of the man for whom he worked? The thought filled her with despair, I or it made all of Gavin's remarks and kindnesses seem like expedience. Pushing away such painful beliefs, she returned to the salon where Mike and Helen were deep in conversation. He looked pink and embarrassed and there was a glint in Helen's eye that made Sara hope her stepmother was not venting her temper upon him. She glanced at her father, immersed in his Times, and wondered if he was aware of his wife's boredom. Surely he realised that the difference in age alone could make Helen dissatisfied with a life which he considered complete, or did he believe that love could bridge everything, including the generation gap?
Tenderness made her move to his side and rest her face against his hair.
"My dear," he was surprised and moved. "Is anything wrong?"
"No; should there be?"
"You've been somewhat restless all evening. Missing Gavin?"
She wondered if her feelings for Gavin were obvious or whether her father still saw him as a companion. "I'm used to being with all my friends," she said. "It takes time to get used to one's own company."
"I've been meaning to talk to you about the future." Sir William put down his newspaper. "You're quite free to do anything you like - nothing at all if you prefer - but if you have any particular ambition…"
"Languages, I think," she murmured.
"You also paint well, and your music reports were excellent."
"All the attributes of a dedicated Victorian miss," she said brightly, "but hardly the burning talent of a dedicated artist or musician."
"You don't need to earn a living at it, my dear."
"That's beside the point. I should at least earn my pin money and not have to spend yours."
"You don't need to spend mine," he twinkled. "You're an heiress in your own right."
"Don't remind me. I want to forget it."
"You can't forget your heritage."
"I don't need to wave it in front of me like a banner!"
"No one could accuse you of doing that. You're the least pretentious young woman I know."
"And you know lots of young women, don't you?" she teased.
"Enough to know your assets. Though maybe it's your Aunt Grace whom I should thank for those. She had far more to do with your upbringing than I did." For an instant there was a cloud behind the grey eyes that were so like his daughter's. "Would you like to spend a few weeks with her in London?"
"I probably will, in the autumn. When you got married she wrote and said I could stay with her any time I - " Sara stopped, hoping she had not said too much, but her father was not a diplomat for nothing and knew instantly what she had left unsaid.
"How typical of Grace to offer you a home in case you weren't happy here. She was always devoted to you."
Sara nearly said "and to you too", but deemed it wiser to be silent, though she would have given a great deal to know if her father was aware that Grace loved him.
"Maybe Aunt Grace will get married now she's living on her own," she said carefully. "Keeping house for you didn't give her much opportunity for romance."
"Nonsense," her father interrupted. "I never stood in her way; she was free to come and go as she pleased."
"I rather think her name was linked with yours," Sara said daringly and, glancing at her father beneath the tangle of her eyelashes, saw him look distinctly uncomfortable.
"I must say I never realised it at the time," he murmured. "It wasn't until I became engaged to Helen that I realised friends had coupled my name with Grace. It was shortsighted of me hot to have foreseen this, but she was always so circumspect and detached that I never thought of her as anything other than your mother's cousin."
"She's a lovely, charming woman," Sara said bluntly, then picked up the newspaper and pretended to scan the crossword puzzle.
"What are our plans for the summer, William?" Helen had left Mike and drifted towards her husband and stepdaughter.
"I thought we would spend six weeks at Rokebury."
"I don't fancy sticking myself in the country for six whole weeks." Helen's eyes slid to Sara and then back to her husband. "Anyway, it isn't good for Sara. She should be in London with people of her own age."
"I have masses of friends at Rokebury," Sara said. "I always spend the summer there." As she spoke she knew that this summer she would rather be with Gavin - whether it be in London, the country or Timbuktu. Once again the knowledge of how much he had come to mean to her made her realise her own vulnerability and, afraid of giving herself away, she announced that she was going to bed.
She was halfway across the hall when the telephone rang. It was their private line and she heard Helen's voice answer it and then her own name being called.
"It's for you, Sara. It's Gavin."
"I'll take it in the hall." Sara knew her voice was breathless, but she could not prevent it, and she sped across the marble floor to the gilt console table and picked up the receiver.
Disembodied, Gavin's voice was deeper than she had remembered, but it brought a vivid picture of him to mind, of his beautifully shaped mouth close to the telephone and his brilliant blue eyes that gave the impression of seeing so much.
"I'm glad I found you in," he said.
"We're all here - Mike too."
"Mike?" Gavin queried. "Is he with you now?"
"I left him in the salon. I was going to bed when your call came."
"It's early for you to go to bed, isn't it?" His voice grew lower. "I wish I were there with you, Sara."
She went pink, not sure what he meant, and he seemed to understand her silence, for his laugh echoed softly down the line. "You look such an emancipated young woman yet you're so intrinsically shy."
"Only with you," she said, finding her tongue.
"Why just with me?"
"Because of the way you tease me and because - " her eyes sparkled mischievously though she kept her voice expressionless, "and because you belong to an older generation."
He gave a sharp exclamation. "It's a good thing you aren't within speaking distance, or you'd feel the weight of my hand!"
"I'd rather like that." She heard his breath catch.
"How flirtatious you are, Sara, when you're a safe distance from me. It will be interesting to see if you're the same when I'm with you."
"When are you coming back?" she asked.
"Tomorrow afternoon. If you don't hear from me before, I'll pick you up at eight."
Because she was intent on hiding her feelings for Gavin, Sara was unusually distant towards him when they met the following night. He was a few moments late, due to being kept by her father, and she gulped down an unaccustomed vodka and tonic, not because she wanted anything to drink but because she needed Dutch courage. She was wearing an unusually sophisticated dress, one she had bought more to please Helen than because she had liked it herself, though she had admitted - when she had put it on tonight - that it made her look aloofly beautiful, which was exactly the image she wished to present. Of Mack chiffon, it made her look taller and even more slender than she was, and emphasised the gold in her toffee-coloured hair. Excitement lent colour to her high cheekbones and sparkle to eyes which, tonight, were smoky grey, with the pupils large and dark, though she was careful to keep them veiled by her lashes as Gavin strode into the small sitting room in search of her. In a black dinner jacket he was exactly as she always thought of him: his tanned face slightly sardonic, his hair dark as night and his teeth flashing white in a smile as he came over and caught her hand.
"Lovely Sara." His deep blue eyes were appraising as they travelled her slender length, pausing on the soft curves of her young breasts and the incredibly tiny waist. His fingers tightened, and then quickly released hers. "In all the time I've taken you out, you've never kept me waiting. You must have set up some sort of record."
"Diplomats' families are taught to be punctual," she smiled.
"Have you never deliberately wanted to be late just because you were taught not to be?" he quizzed.
"Not really. I'm a very docile girl."
"So you are. That's another surprising thing about you. One would expect someone as lovely as you to be difficult and spoilt. Yet you're exactly the opposite - almost too easy-going."
"You didn't think so the first time we met," she reminded him, and saw his smile widen.
"That shows how wrong first impressions can be!" He caught hold of her hand again and lightly swung it backwards and forwards. "I haven't made any plans for tonight. I thought we would take the car and drive out of Paris." He eyed the fragile chiffon. "Though perhaps we'd better dine in town after all."
"I would much rather we went into the country. I can always put on something more serviceable."
"No. You look beautiful the way you are. Beautiful," he repeated, and moved a step nearer, stopping as Helen came into the room.
She was resplendent in one of her usual vividly-coloured dinner dresses, and Gavin dropped Sara's hand and went over to greet her.
"I'm so glad I caught you both before you left," Helen smiled. "If you haven't booked anywhere special, why not join William and myself at Valentino's?"
"We're going to have dinner in the country," Sara replied.
Helen's dark eyes moved to Gavin. "Mike and Jane are joining us. I suppose you know she returned from Yorkshire today?"
"Yes." Gavin's voice was unexpectedly husky. "But I didn't have much chance of saying anything beyond a quick hello. I only got back to the flat with enough time to change and get here." He gave Sara a quick glance and then said to Helen: "Actually I'd be delighted to accept your invitation. Sara and I can go to the country anoth
er evening."
"How lovely," Helen smiled. "I'll tell Williams secretary to get us a larger table."
Sara watched her go and determinedly refused to look at Gavin. She had looked forward to spending the evening alone with him and was incredibly hurt that he had succumbed to Helen's invitation. But pride refused to let her show it. If Gavin didn't want to be alone with her, then so be it.
"I'm sorry about that, Sara." He stood directly behind her. "There was no way I could refuse Helen without annoying her."
Sara shrugged. "It doesn't matter."
"Anyway, you've never met my sister Jane," he went on. "I'm sure you'll like her."
"I'm sure I shall," Sara said lightly, "but I'll have plenty of other opportunities to meet her. Mike dines here at least twice a week." She heard Gavin's quick intake of breath and knew her remark had been correctly interpreted.
"I couldn't refuse," he repeated. "I've got my - there are reasons why."
"What reasons?"
"None you need worry your pretty head about." He sidestepped and came to stand in front of her. "Don't be angry, Sara. We'll go out alone tomorrow night."
"I'm not free tomorrow night."
"Oh?"
It was a query, though he did not elaborate and, satisfied that she had his full attention, she said:
"I'm going out with a friend."
"Male or female?"
"Male," she lied. "You aren't the only man I know in Paris, Gavin. I have lived here before."
"I realise that." He was stiff and polite, and as she stared into his blue eyes, which were suddenly glacial, the pleasure with which she had looked forward to this evening began to ebb. If only Helen had not come in when she had! More important, if only Gavin had been strong-minded enough to turn down the invitation.
A sudden thought struck her and she was annoyed for not having considered it before; had she done so she would not have lost her temper with him. "You don't need to be frightened of Helen. My father wouldn't have been offended if you'd refused her invitation."
"I realise that."
"Then why - "
"I've told you why I accepted it," he said incisively. "I have nothing more to add."
"Well then," she said brightly, and blinked her eyes to hold back the sting of tears, "that ends that conversation, doesn't it?"
Roberta Leigh - Too Young To Love Page 4