by Vaso
'You knew?' Valentine felt laughter bubbling up inside her.
'Sure. My memory isn't that short.' Salome shrugged again. 'Anyway, that Philip .. . I'll tell you a secret. I didn't like him. He treated us employees as if his family was doing us a favour, but how would Fleurmont continue to function without people like Freddie and Maude and me, I'd like to know? It was a tragedy for everyone, of course, but you were right not to yield to the pressure he was obviously applying. He was a weak one. A strong, spirited girl like you needs a real man . . . someone like Mr Irvine!'
And I know it, Valentine thought sadly.
CHAPTER SIX
THE last visitors that day were a party of Australians and their South African hosts, and since they were from Australia's own wine-producing region, they answered as well as asked questions, appreciating Valentine's re-, ciprocal interest. Finally, she laughingly refused their various invitations to dinner, waved to them as they departed and made sure that Maude had removed the glasses before going across to the house.
Kemp was headed the same way, coming from the office, at the same time as Emma drove up in her little red car.
'She's very early if she's come to dinner,' Valentine commented amusedly, having crossed swiftly to Kemp's side. 'I suppose she just couldn't wait to see you.'
He smiled at her mimicry of Emma's voice. 'Sometimes I wonder why we apply the word bitch to women like you, sweetheart. You're much more like a cat, all claws and malice and sensuality.'
'That's probably why I adore cats, darling,' she said lightly.
'Do you? There's something I want to tell you about a cat some day, but it will keep.'
'Yes, we must go and welcome our guest,' she agreed facetiously. 'Do you mind if I hold your arm?'
'I don't mind,' he replied meaningly. 'But I do wonder why you should want to.'
Valentine clapped one dramatic hand to her brow, curved the other round Kemp's arm at the level of his elbow and swayed like a graceful willow on her high heels. 'Suddenly, quite suddenly,, you understand, I feel faint.',
He laughed, his eyes gleaming. 'What an act, ranging from high tragedy to pure farce! What are you like when
you're not giving a performance?'
She met his eyes with a wickedly mysterious look in her own. 'This one isn't for your benefit, Kemp.' 'Emma's, of course?' he guessed smoothly. Valentine gave the other girl an assessing look as she got out of her car.
'Now there's one bitch who's all bitch,' she murmured suddenly, her fingers tightening against the warm inside hollow of his elbow. 'Emma?'
'No, silly!' She laughed delicately. 'Emma is a very nice girl who'd make a good wife for a wine farmer. I meant that dog of hers.'
'Queenie?' He glanced at the fat golden spaniel who accompanied Emma. 'She's a harmless old lump.'
'She loathes me.' Valentine smiled up at him quite brilliantly. 'She probably senses Emma's dislike of me and reacts accordingly. Dogs can be quite stupidly loyal, can't they? Incidentally, I found out today that Salome has known who I was all along.'
'She's a shrewd woman. I take it you don't suspect her of having sent those newspaper cuttings?'
'Oh, no, of course not.' Valentine widened her eyes and turned them on the approaching Ernma, and she heard Kemp draw a sharp breath.
'Behave yourself,' he muttered warningly. She gave him another meltingly innocent smile which Emma noted with a pout. Her wide grey eyes looked hurt as she reached them, but she spoke cheerfully enough: 'Hullo, Kemp. I thought I'd come over early and get a ride on Undine.' She indicated the vanity case she was carrying and the riding clothes in which she was clad. 'And you'll ride Oriel, won't you? Adam will be over later, Valentine.'
'Adam?' Valentine looked vague as she slowly moved her slender fingers caressingly up and down Kemp's inside elbow, making sure Emma had noticed before desisting. If the girl was in fact responsible for those newspaper cuttings, she was not going to have the satisfaction of knowing the harm they had caused. 'Oh, Adam! Of course. My mind was on other things. Kemp and I have just stopped work for the day. Why is that animal growling at me?'
'She won't hurt you,' Emma said scornfully. 'Not if you don't show your fear.'
'She certainly does seem to dislike you,' Kemp commented amusedly.
'I can't understand it,' Emma said guilelessly. 'She likes absolutely everyone else. They're odd, intelligent creatures, dogs . . . They have an uncanny instinct for the truth about people.'
Valentine looked at her speculatively from beneath her long eyelashes. To what truth was Emma referring?
'Can't you control her, Emma?- Kemp asked. 'I don't think you've ever, given her much training, have you?'
'Oh, I know!' Emma smiled deprecatingly as the dog's growls subsided. 'I suppose I'm just too soft.'
'Like a marshmallow?' Valentine asked interestedly, and Emma looked hurt, her bottom lip quivering as she looked appealingly at Kemp.
'She's just trying to get you to join the club, Emma,' he said dismissively. 'I once called her a meringue.'
Emma giggled. 'But why, Kemp?'
'Oh!'
It was from Valentine that the exclamation came. Unnoticed by any of them, Queenie had silently circled them until she was behind Valentine, when she proceeded to gently fasten her teeth round the smooth curve of her leg just above the ankle.
'Queenie!' At the sound of Kemp's voice, Queenie bolted in the direction of Rufus and Chet who had just appeared. 'Are you all right, Valli?'
'Yes. I got a fright, that's all,' she said a little shakily, standing precariously on one leg and looking over her shoulder at the other for signs of injury. Kemp crouched beside her to examine it, running his fingers lightly over
the faintly throbbing area, and Valentine steadied herself by placing a hand on his shoulder.
She glanced sharply at Emma, noted the perplexed dissatisfaction marring her face, and knew that Kemp's use of the old name was responsible. Valentine bit down hard on an irresistible smile. Poor Emma! She could pity her even in the midst of her growing conviction that the girl had been responsible for sending those press cuttings.
'The skin isn't broken.' Kemp released her leg, straightening up, and Valentine clutched his arm again, smiling demurely at him and registering the sharp amusement glinting in his eyes. 'You really should do something about that dog, Emma.'
Emma looked sulky. 'I don't know what Valentine is making such a fuss about,' she said loftily. 'As you said, the skin isn't even broken.'
Valentine's eyes flew open. 'But I'm not making a fuss, Emma,' she denied gently and truthfully. 'But it was very ... sly of your dog, wasn't it? Underhand, in a sense, to sneak round behind me instead of attacking openly. Our dogs wouldn't do it that way, would they, Kemp? But then they've nicer natures than Queenie.'
'Possibly because they're males,' Kemp suggested drily, and his quick glance warned her that he thought she was going too far.
Valentine leaned against him deliberately, watching the spectacle of Emma's chagrin'. The girl's acutely uncomfortable reaction to her use of certain words had confirmed her suspicions.
'Why don't you two go and have your ride now, darling?' she suggested smoothly. Til take your little case inside, Emma.'
'You won't join us?' Kemp invited as she released his arm. 'You ride Idun, don't you?'
'As Emma will certainly tell you, if I don't, I couldn't keep up with you, Kemp,' she explained easily, taking the vanity case from the girl's nerveless fingers. Til have drinks waiting for you when you return.'
'Your riding has made so little progress in six months, Valentine,' Emma said spitefully. 'You're really a city girl, aren't you? Country life doesn't seem to suit you.'
'Goodness, Emma, you always talk as if we were living in the real biindu,' Valentine said, feigning amused surprise. 'As a matter of fact, life here in the wine region is more civilised and sophisticated than anything I've been accustomed to.'
Emma scowled. 'Come on, Kemp, let's go,' she said impatiently.
She was stalking away and Valentine looked at Kemp with sparkling eyes, her mouth shaping the words, 'Thank you.'
He shook his head slightly, his lips twisting. Til accept your thanks some other time, Valli. Remember that.'
Then he was following Emma, and Valentine went slowly towards the house, making a wide circle round Queenie who, with the other dogs, had reappeared, and wondering if Rufus and Chet would leap to her defence if the bitch attacked her again.
Once inside, she forgot the dogs. Just why had Kemp chosen to support the act she had put on for Emma's benefit? Valentine felt a little uneasy. It must have been in line with some purpose of his own to do it, otherwise he would have refused to play—but what?
Emma's presence had implanted in her a mischievous desire to appear at her most exotic that evening, but when she stripped and stepped into the shower she realised that the bruises on her shoulders had not yet faded, so shoestring straps were out of the question. In the end, after much -deliberation, she donned a dress of oyster georgette, her favourite fabric, carefully twisting and turning in front of the mirror to make sure that the cleavage revealing vee-neck didn't disclose any bruises. Her shoulders, though, were covered, since the dress had loose sleeves ending just above the elbow; about her slender waist she clasped a wide gold belt to match her high sandals; and the skirt was a graceful thing of soft folds ending at her
knees. It had been designed to be worn with a petticoat of some sort, but Valentine disliked the effect of rigging showing through its semi-transparency, and went bra-less as well so that the dark tips of her breasts were occasionally visible and when she stood in the light the entire outline of her figure was revealed.
Adam Ducaine had arrived by the time she drifted along the passage to the hall, taking her time and breathing appreciatively the fragrance of Yves St Laurent's Opium which she often wore, deriving a purely sensuous pleasure from both it and the smooth soft touch of her dress against her-skin. It was so light, and so were her sandals, and she played with the fancy that she was weightless, floating along—
Kemp met her in the hall. 'I was coming to look for you,' he said, and then—'Lead me away and lay me down! We're going to have fun tonight. Is that for Adam's benefit?'
Valentine tilted her head, saying facetiously, 'Am I to gather that you appreciate my subtle allure?'
'Subtle!' he laughed. 'It's a good thing some of my television colleagues aren't around to see you. Subtle isn't the word they'd use . . . But all right, subtle in one sense, sweetheart, but in another sense, definitely not.'
She was pleased with the impact she had made. It added to her confidence and truly, the soft shade was subtle, and the only truly flarriboyant colour about her was the red of her lips and nails.
'In fact, I thought the whole effect rather bridal,' she murmured, touching the tiny artificial flowers of stiff oyster-coloured silk which nestled against the dark curls at the back of her head. A few extra tendrils were allowed to frame her face and tiny gold studs adorned her earlobes.
'Bridal? In my experience, that of an observer only, I hasten to add, brides are generally concealed from head to toe, whereas you're not hiding a thing.' His amused blue eyes travelled over her from head down to scarlet toenails, lingering longest over those areas which the dress covered but didn't conceal. 'But what subconscious yearnings can have brought such an image to your mind? Do you believe in marriage, Valentine?'
'Definitely!' She gave him a dazzling smile. 'As I told you last night, I'm the last of the great idealists.'
'Happily-ever-after and all that?' he derided.
'Not quite, but a travelling on together, two people growing and learning from each other, perhaps having a child or two, but remaining primarily husband and wife even when they become parents . . .' Her voice died away and she wondered if she had said too much. To admit to a belief in marriage was perhaps to give him yet one more weapon to use against her in his self-confessed quest for revenge.
'Who would have believed it?' -Kemp drawled.
Valentine forced the sparkle back into her eyes and fluttered her eyelashes. 'Adam and Emma will be wondering what's keeping us ... Emma especially. Shall we join them?'
'I can't wait to see Adam's face.'
Adam's reaction would have proved gratifying had Valentine noticed it, but it was Emma who interested her, and she saw the girl's shock, followed by a look incorporating both jealousy and hatred, and felt a mixture of amusement and regret. It was something she was accustomed to, the dislike of other women, and while she occasionally wished it could be otherwise, she knew that female nature would never change. Besides, Emma looked very pretty in her lemon yellow chiffon—and anyway, Valentine reminded herself, she deserved to suffer a little if she was the person who had posted those newspaper cuttings to Kemp. Why couldn't she have told him to his face?
While her own suffering as a result of the situation that had. arisen out of her own cowardice was never far from the surface, Valentine possessed a natural resilience, plus a conviction that all things had to be endured, however
painful, and she enjoyed the evening. Just the sound of Kemp's beautiful voice could give her pleasure, but he was also an intelligent, sophisticated and interesting host once again, and Adam too, with his polished suavity, fitted into the milieu with the utmost ease.
When she had invited Adam to dinner, Valentine had intended questioning him in an attempt to find out if Emma could possibly be the person responsible for sending those cuttings. Now she no longer felt the need to do so, since she was virtually sure of it. Nevertheless, when Adam, with his sister's rather obvious approval, suggested that he and .Valentine go outside 'for a stroll' as he platitudinously put it, she accepted with an enquiring lift of one eyebrow when she saw Kemp's sardonic smile.
She let Adam hold her hand and they walked in the garden for a while until she made an excuse about her dress being too thin to make the night air pleasant. He wanted to put his arms round her and warm her then, and a wish to kiss her naturally followed, but she turned her head so that his lips only met the smoothness of her cheek.
'You'll smudge my lipstick,' she said lightly, pouting a little, and he sighed resignedly. 'Let's go in. I'm sure that hound of your sister's is lurking about somewhere, waiting to attack me!'
Emma was sitting beside Kerrtp on the sofa—it had been Valentine's place—looking soft-eyed and very pleased with herself when they went in, and Valentine's red lips puckered in amusement. Kemp dealt very gently with the girl, but she was almost sure his interest in Emma was minimal. When he loved it would be someone as strong as he was, and worthy of him, and he was not the man to contemplate a match simply because it was suitable.
Her own exchanges with Kemp won a hawklike observance from Emma, Valentine noticed, and not without cause: she was in one of her best social moods tonight and he was not averse to letting her have her head, although she suspected there was a reckoning to come. It was strange, but now that Kemp knew the appalling truth about her, she felt more confident in his company. She had nothing left to hide from him—except her pain.
Later, long after Salome and Maude had retired to their quarters for the night, Valentine stood up gracefully.
'Shall I make some more coffee?' Sympathetically, she noticed Emma's resentment of her adoption of the hostess's role. 'Come and help me, Emma.'
A warning glance came from Kemp as she passed him, but Valentine merely shook her head slightly, smiling faintly.
In the kitchen Emma silently gave her a little halfhearted assistance, then stood and watched her unhappily.
'You can stop wondering, Emma,' Valentine said eventually, giving her a direct look. 'Yes, Kemp did receive your sordid little contribution to the truth.'
'I ... I don't know what you're talking about,' Emma muttered, flushing deeply.
'It's been exercising your mind all evening, hasn't it?' Valentine went on coldly. 'You couldn't understand why, if he knew the truth, I should still be here . . . We
ll, thanks to you, he does now know the truth, but as you've observed for yourself, it hasn't changed a thing.'
'I don't believe you. If he knew, he'd hate you . . .' Emma's veice died.
'One thing worries me,' Valentine continued, uninterested in the girl's reaction. 'From-whose scrapbook did those cuttings come? Not yours, surely?'
'All right, I'll tell you,' Emma granted with sudden viciousness. 'I've an old great-aunt in Cape Town who takes an interest in such things, scandals ... I had a look through her collection once. That's why, after a while, I realised who you were. I put them in an envelope when I visited her last Saturday and she was to post them for me. I suppose you even stoop to intercepting mail——'
'Kemp has seen them,' Valentine interrupted quietly. 'Why, Emma?'
'Why?' Emma flung out a hand. 'Look at you, dressed like a tart, flaunting yourself . . . You're no good for Kemp. You'll take him away from Fleurmont . . . I'll do anything to free him from you. You'd destroy him as you did Philip de Villiers.'
'The woman isn't breathing who can destroy Kemp Irvine,' Valentine stated with proud conviction.
'I don't understand what men see in you,' Emma rushed on tearfully. 'You're . . . you look cheap!'
'Perhaps you simply don't understand men,' Valentine suggested. 'Listen to me, Emma. I am . . . me. I display the assets I was granted by nature to their besf advantage or I become a hypocrite. But it's not always easy or pleasant. Women often share your opinion regarding the way I look; men don't.'.
T bet they all think you're easy, though,' Emma said spitefully. 'And you probably are.'
'Strangely enough, most men accord me a certain degree of respect,' Valentine said with a shrug. 'People value you by the value you place on yourself, you know. Come, the coffee is ready and since you're not prepared to listen to me, we may as well end this discussion.'
Til tell Kemp how . . . how horrible you've been to me,' Emma threatened.
'Do,' Valentine advised contemptuously, and led the way back to the sitting-room.
But Emma didn't tell him. Instead, by means of look and manner she made it clear that she had had her feelings hurt, and Kemp was very kind to her.