'For what?' Her voice was tight, she could hear it. She was in no doubt that Melissa had jumped to the right conclusion—but why did it hurt? She hadn't supposed for one minute that Demetrius led a celibate life. He had everything going for him; wealth, sophistication, experience, looks—and an apartment in London, an apartment he wasn't going to give up just because he had a place in the country.
'For being tactless. Demetrius is always telling me that tact is not my strongest point. I didn't mean…well, I know he was out with you last night and—'
'And nothing,' Grace put in. 'That was no big deal, don't let your vivid imagination run riot, Melissa.' It was good advice; she should listen to it herself. 'It doesn't mean a thing,' she went on. 'Yes, you can come over this evening, but I warn you now, I'm having a heavy day and I shall want an early night.'
It was a heavy day, one that was spoiled by that phone call. Still, it was as well that she knew where she stood, as well to understand that she was not the only female in Demetrius Knight's life.
The telephone was ringing as she walked through the front door of the manor a few hours later. The housekeeper was on her way to answer it, but Grace told her not to bother. 'That's OK, Matty, I'll get it.' She picked up the receiver, knowing it would not be Demetrius but hoping it was.
'Grace? It's me.'
She sighed inwardly at the familiar tones of Rodney Feather stone's voice. 'Hello, love. What's new?'
'I'll tell you what's new—tickets to that musical I was supposed to take you to—acquired at short notice and therefore at great expense. So don't tell me you can't make it.'
'When?'
'Monday.'
She didn't hesitate. 'I can make it,' she said, putting a smile into her voice. 'I'll look forward to it, Rodney.'
'I wish you meant that,' he said softly.
'But I do! Now, would it make life easier for you if I met you in London?'
'As it happens, no. I won't be in the office on Monday, I'll be out with a client during the afternoon so I'll pick you up.'
They chatted for a while before hanging up, at which point Grace stood, looking at her reflection in the hall mirror. She smiled, feeling satisfied, almost childishly so. What was good for the goose was good for the gander. If Demetrius wanted to take her out on Monday—it was hard luck.
Demetrius did ask her out on Monday. He called her at work at nine that morning—and he did not sound pleased on learning that she wasn't available. 'You have other arrangements? But I thought we'd agreed—'
'We didn't agree anything, Demetrius, just that we'd go out this week.'
'Early this week,' he amended. There was a silence. Grace did nothing to fill it. 'What's wrong with you?' he asked at length, when it was clear she wasn't volunteering any further information about her plans.
'Wrong?' she said casually. 'Nothing at all.'
'Like hell. You're playing games, and I'll tell you now, I don't like it.'
'I don't know what you're talking about, Demetrius.'
She heard the click of his tongue, the impatient release of breath. 'All right, Grace, I've got the message—you don't like being taken for granted.'
That she should feel guilty suddenly was ludicrous, and yet she did. 'It isn't that,' she said hastily. 'Honestly. It's—I'm going to the theatre with a friend, it was planned some time ago so there's nothing I can do about it. The tickets—'
'You're not going to see the new Stoppard play by any chance?'
'No, I—'
'Good. Because I've got us tickets for that for Wednesday. In the meantime, come and have lunch with me.'
'Today?'
'Of course today.'
'Oh, Demetrius, I can't, I'm sorry.' She was sorry, she was longing to see him—whether it was wise or not. 'My appointment book is absolutely full, I'll be lucky if I can grab a sandwich today. I—how about tomorrow?'
'I can't manage lunch.' There was a smile in his voice when he went on, much to her relief, 'So I'll pick you up for dinner. Eight o'clock.'
'Eight o'clock tomorrow,' she said. 'I'll look forward to it.'
When she put the receiver down, her eyes closed of their own accord. Something told her she was fighting a losing battle, that, much as she wished to play it cool with Demetrius, she wasn't going to succeed. The idea of seeing Rodney tonight did nothing for her, whereas tomorrow—tomorrow, she knew, she would be feeling very differently…
CHAPTER SIX
'But it's such a long drive back to Windsor!' Rodney complained, reaching for her in the confines of his sports car. Grace's dates with him always ended with a kiss, but there was nothing exciting about them. In a way, she regarded Rodney like a brother; he had known Thomas for years and had at one time been a regular houseguest at the manor.
'Don't be ridiculous, Rodney, it's twenty minutes down the motorway.' She was laughing at him, he had just invited himself in for a cup of coffee and, while this was nothing unusual, she wasn't in the mood tonight. He would keep her up, talking, about his work in advertising in the West End, about his social life, his family. The Featherstone family all lived in Windsor, Rodney in a small bachelor pad not far from the family home—but far enough so he was guaranteed privacy.
Grace had enjoyed her evening with him, as she always did, but Demetrius had been constantly in the back of her mind even while she'd been watching the musical—not very far back, either.
'There's something different about you tonight, Grace.' It wasn't the first time Rodney had said it, but he wasn't laughing this time, he wasn't teasing her, he was asking her to explain. 'Why is that? What gives?'
'Just because I'm not inviting you in, you mean?'
He shook his head, his thick sandy hair shifting across his forehead. He was grinning. 'Don't play cat and mouse with me, I know you too well. You're a woman with a secret. Share it with me.'
A secret? She looked at him blankly, wondering in what way he perceived her as different. If Rodney had his way, they would see a lot more of each other; her feelings towards him might be sisterly, but his feelings towards her had changed some years ago. Whereas once she had been regarded as the pesky younger sister of his friend Thomas, when Grace had moved back to Allinson Manor after her training, after the Raymond Ferris episode, Rodney had changed towards her. After having been absent from his orbit for a couple of years, he had then begun to see her as a woman, an attractive and interesting woman.
'What have you been up to since I last saw you?' he persisted. 'Now let me guess… you're thinking of opening another branch of The Beauty Parlour? Or two?'
With a shake of her head, she smiled at him. He would think in those terms; he was ambitious in his own career and seemed to think Grace more ambitious than she actually was. Indeed, the continued success of her business had lost some of its importance to her now, now she had proved herself, to herself and to her father, now she had had his acknowledgement, now they were friends again. She enjoyed it, always had and always would because she believed in what she was doing, the service she provided, but it had suddenly ceased to be the obsession it used to be.
'No. And I haven't been up to anything at all,' she said firmly. 'Now give me a kiss and get moving, you villain. You're not coming in for coffee be-cause you'll keep me talking half the night and I'm tired.'
It was Demetrius she was thinking of as Rodney kissed her goodnight, him with whom she was comparing Rodney. Even the lightest touch from his lips was enough to inflame her—while Rodney's kiss did nothing to her. Why was it that one man's kiss could send the blood storming through her veins, while another's left her cold?
Kissing Rodney might have left her cold, but it had quite a different effect on him. 'Grace?' He put a hand to her cheek, turning her face in an effort to look in to her eyes. 'You've never kissed me like that before. I have to say, I like it!'
She felt awful, guilty. She had kissed him back while thinking of another man—and she had known very well what she was doing. Of course she had. She had been… experi
menting, in a way, trying to see whether, if she put a little more effort into it, she could respond to Rodney's kisses the way she responded to Demetrius'. There was a part of her which did not want to feel the way she felt when she was in Demetrius' arms; discovering how strongly she was attracted to him was something she hadn't adjusted to.
Now Rodney was reaching for her again, and she had to get away from him. Encouraging him, albeit unwittingly, was unfair. 'I must go, love.' She opened the passenger door quickly, startling him. 'Sorry, but I really am whacked.'
'Wait a minute!' He got out of the car and caught up with her. 'Will I see you this weekend? It's Easter and I thought—'
'No. I'm committed. I told you, Daddy's bringing his girlfriend to meet me and Thomas.
She'll be here all weekend and I feel I should stick around.'
He nodded, a reluctant but accepting gesture. 'I suppose so. What day is Thomas coming home?'
'Thursday.'
He nodded again, shrugging. 'All right. I'll be in touch.'
Grace made her escape, thinking she should stop seeing Rodney altogether. In a way, she had used him tonight, she disliked herself for that; she had wanted simply to be unavailable to Demetrius, to show him she was not at his beck and call, to be taken out only when it suited him… but she had learned that there was no escaping Demetrius Knight. When she wasn't with him, she was thinking about him just the same.
Thoughts of him kept her awake, anticipating tomorrow evening, until at length she grew impatient with herself. Not since Raymond Ferris had any man occupied her thoughts so much. Apart from Rodney there had been no one in her life since Raymond, no one, nothing except her business, only the odd night out with a girlfriend who lived in Reading, an ex-school friend. Oh, there had been the occasional date as well, certainly, but no one she had wanted to see on a regular basis… until Demetrius.
She glanced at the clock on her bedside table, counting the hours till she would see him. Counting the hours and wondering why he had had such an impact on her in so short a time.
'And how was your evening at the theatre?' It was the first thing Demetrius asked her the following evening when he picked her up.
'Super, thank you.'
'You didn't mention who you were going with,' he said, as he handed her into the passenger seat of his car. Fortunately he didn't wait for her response, but closed the door and walked round to the driver's seat. It gave Grace a few seconds in which to think. Until this moment, she had every intention of telling him who she had been out with. Why shouldn't she?
Why shouldn't she? she asked herself again, as she struggled with her feelings. On the one hand, she wanted very much to tell him who she had been out with, but on the other hand… something was warning her not to mention Rodney's name. Unable to pinpoint the reason for this, she told herself she simply didn't want to risk spoiling the evening.
'Grace? I was saying, you didn't mention who you were going to the theatre with.'
'Oh, just a friend,' she said casually, reaching to smooth back her hair. She had left it loose tonight, because Demetrius had told her he preferred it that way.
Her action did not go unnoticed, in spite of his driving the car. 'Very nice, too. And you're wearing that delicious perfume.'
Inwardly, she breathed a sigh of relief. The subject of her night out didn't get mentioned again. As they drove to the restaurant, they talked generalities for a while—until Demetrius asked her how her weekend with her father had gone.
'I'll tell you about it later,' she said. She had asked Demetrius to take her to the restaurant they had been to the previous week, and she waited until they were settled, until they had been served with cocktails and had ordered their meal. 'The weekend went beautifully,' she said then, 'and Daddy told me all about Phyllis Radcliffe. He's bringing her to your housewarming party,' she added, before realising that Demetrius probably knew this already. She picked up her cocktail, raised the glass in the air and smiled. 'Here's to my father and his lady-friend, then.'
Demetrius drank the toast, but he cautioned her not to be premature. 'She's a charming woman but—well, don't make too much of it at this stage.'
'So you have met her.'
'Yes. I couldn't say anything to you before, you do see that? Your father specifically asked me not to.'
Grace saw a lot of things; she could work out the rest, the little details she hadn't actually been told by anyone. Demetrius had met Phyllis Radcliffe, Councillor Mrs Radcliffe, with whom Sir Nigel was involved in London, but he had been unable to mention the fact to Grace. According to her father, Mrs Radcliffe was a widow, fifty-two years old and not just charming, but very charming.
Grace knew, now, why her father hadn't mentioned Mrs Radcliffe's existence. She had had a very successful weekend with him and they had, at her instigation, talked about the past.
Sir Nigel had been obviously relieved, pleased. 'I've always felt you'd never forgiven me,' he'd said, 'even though you knew Raymond Ferris was just a golddigger.'
'Just a golddigger.' Grace had repeated the words. 'Yes, he was no more than that. But you were right, I hadn't forgiven you, I see that now, though I believed I had. Oh, I realised long since that you only did what was best for me but—well, I think I've resented your daring to interfere. I thought I was perfectly grown up and should have been allowed to do what I wanted, which serves nicely to demonstrate how very immature I was, since I was going to marry Raymond!'
'Quite.'
Grace smiled. 'You're forgiven, Daddy, I want you to know that. Resenting the past had become a habit with me, just as we've got into the habit of not communicating with one another. It was only when I was talking to Demetrius that I realised…' She had gone on to put him fully in the picture about their neighbours, had told him everything there was to tell. Well, almost everything…
It had been on the Sunday that Sir Nigel mentioned Mrs Radcliffe. It had provoked another lengthy talk, which had been a good thing, had brought them even closer.
Grace had admonished her father, gently. 'It was silly of you not to tell me. I suspected, in any case. She even answered the phone once when I called you in London. I can't say you're good at keeping your women secret!'
But her father hadn't laughed, he had looked sheepish, more like a schoolboy than the powerful man he was. 'I didn't know how you'd react, Grace.'
'What does that mean?'
'Well, your mother… it's less than four years since she died.'
Grace's heart went out to him. She felt tears spring to her eyes and did nothing to prevent them. It was, just less than four years, but four years was a long time. She said as much. It was difficult to say more, difficult actually to voice what she was thinking, because her voice seemed to have deserted her. How lonely her father must have been all that time! He had been devoted to her mother, they had been devoted to one another. Her death had brought about a reconciliation between Grace and her father, but it had been only a partial reconciliation. Until now. She had moved back into the manor with him—but in many ways they had been strangers. His son had been away at Cambridge all that time and…yes, her father must have been lonely, must have missed his wife terribly.
'Oh, Daddy!' Grace's voice had cracked at that point. She went over to him and put her arms around him. 'Life's too short, isn't it, for all these misunderstandings and complications?'
'Yes,' he said quietly. 'It is.'
'Bring your lady here to meet me, Daddy. You'll see how I react, you goose! I shall welcome her with open arms.'
'Hey! Now don't start imagining wedding bells, it's early days yet!'
They had laughed then. Together. For the first time in a long time.
Grace shared it all with Demetrius over dinner; she told him of her conversations with her father because she felt close enough to him to be able to do so. He appreciated it, too, she could tell.
'So he's bringing Phyllis to the party.' He was smiling.
'She's spending the weekend with us, arrivin
g on Good Friday.' And the party was on Saturday. Melissa was catering for it, from choice. Demetrius had offered to bring professional caterers in, but she had declined because she wanted to do it herself and she was excited about it.
'Your father can kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. Your brother Thomas is definitely coming home, isn't he?'
'Yes, I spoke to him on the phone today, actually. He was delighted at the idea of Daddy having a girlfriend. He will be coming to the party, by the way.'
Demetrius nodded, glancing around. 'If I'd known the trio weren't playing here tonight, I'd have taken you somewhere else.' He turned back to look at her closely then, as if her response was important. 'Why did you want to come back here, Grace?'
'Because we enjoyed it so much last week, I told you it's one of my favourite—'
'I know what you told me,' he cut in quietly, his eyes fixed on hers, 'but I wonder whether there's more to it than that.'
'I don't know what you mean.' Nor did she. Was he really put out because there was no live music tonight? She shrugged, grinning mischievously. 'What's the matter, do you think I'm avoiding dancing with you or something?'
She meant it as a joke, but it did not have the desired effect. He leaned closer to her, suddenly very serious. 'I'll tell you what I think—or rather, what I suspect. You've just told me what you said to Nigel—that resenting the past had become a habit with you.'
'Yes?'
'And Nigel told me there's been no serious boyfriend in your life since Raymond Ferris.'
'So? I don't know what you're getting at.'
In a rare, typically continental gesture, he spread his hands, palms up, fingers splayed. 'Think about it, about all of that. To what extent has your past, your experience with Ferris, affected you?'
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