by Sara Craven
Paige, who’d crammed an entire day’s work into a morning in order to arrive punctually, bit her lip hard. She told herself resolutely that it was not all Denise’s fault. She hadn’t been trained to run a large house and cope with difficult guests. Yet on her marriage she’d found she was expected to step straight into the shoes of her late mother-in-law, who’d been a charming and competent hostess and who would have sailed serenely through the current situation.
And the fact that Toby was apparently so jumpy was no help at all, she thought frowningly as she unpacked her bag in her room. What on earth was going on?
She unwrapped the dress she was going to wear at dinner from its enveloping tissue and hung it in the wardrobe. It was a simple sheath in heavy cream silk, the neckline demurely brushing her collarbones at the front but plunging daringly at the back. It was clearly designer chic, yet she’d picked it up for little more than a song at her favourite charity shop, where a number of Knightsbridge ladies brought their expensive mistakes. It seemed the previous owner had worn it to a party where she’d had a terminal quarrel with her husband and had wanted to rid herself of a painful reminder.
So, Paige thought, smoothing the silky folds with a wry hand, it’s just as well I’m not superstitious.
A tap on the door announced Denise, looking fraught and carrying a bowl of freesias.
‘He’s just arrived,’ she said in a stage whisper. ‘Put these in his room for me, Paige. Toby will kill me if I’m not there to welcome him.’ She eyed Paige’s olive linen pants and collarless white shirt. ‘Is that what you’re going to wear?’
‘That was the plan, yes,’ Paige agreed levelly. ‘Is something wrong?’
Denise hesitated. ‘It may look as if you haven’t made much of an effort.’
‘Which could be marginally better than trying too hard.’
‘Well, I don’t know what Toby and your father will say,’ Denise said petulantly. ‘It’s so important this weekend goes well for us all, and you’re supposed to be helping.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ Paige said with irritation. ‘What a ridiculous fuss. Just who the hell is this guy?’
But Denise had already flitted away, muttering distractedly.
Left alone again, Paige ran a comb through her hair and added a touch of coral lustre to her mouth. She was not, however, prepared to change her clothes. The guest of the year would just have to take her as he found her, she decided with a shrug.
Yet not all Denise’s instincts were wrong, Paige thought appreciatively as she let herself into the Blue Room a few minutes later. It was at the back of the house, overlooking the formal garden, and she’d always thought it much the nicest of the guest rooms, especially when filled with late-afternoon sunlight as it was now.
The walls were painted in a soft Wedgwood blue colour, and the curtains and bedcover were in a similar shade, over-laid with the tracery of a delicate floral pattern in pink, dark green and gold. The furniture was in polished rosewood.
Paige set down the freesias with care on the top of the tallboy, then crossed to the window to open it a few inches further. Birds were singing, and she could smell the scent of new-mown grass.
She drew a deep breath of contentment.
If this financial wizard didn’t think he was in paradise then there was no hope for him, and Harrington Holdings was better off without him.
As she turned towards the door she heard voices outside, and halted in dismay.
Hell, Toby had brought the newcomer straight upstairs instead of offering him tea in the drawing room as she’d expected. And the last thing she wanted was to be found loitering in his bedroom.
For an absurd moment she contemplated hiding in the bathroom, but common sense reminded her that this was probably the first place the wizard would make for, and would simply make an awkward situation worse.
Far better, she thought, to pass the whole thing off with a smile. After all, she had nothing to apologise for, even though this wasn’t the introduction she’d had in mind.
As the door opened she lifted her chin, arranging her features pleasantly.
‘We do hope you’ll be comfortable here,’ Toby was saying in the unctuous tone he sometimes adopted, and which always grated on her.
‘Thank you. I’m sure I shall be.’ The deep, husky drawl was instantly, shockingly recognisable.
Paige stood, rooted to the spot, her lips parting in a gasp of pure horror and disbelief. But there was no mistake. Not even the hallucination she was silently praying for.
Because standing beside Toby in the doorway, his dark eyes brilliant with amusement, was her tormentor from the wine bar.
‘My every need is clearly going to be catered for,’ he added silkily, and Paige felt the swift burn of embarrassment over her skin.
Toby was frowning. ‘Paige—what on earth are you doing in here?’
‘Just checking for Denise that everything’s in place.’ Her voice sounded as if she was being strangled.
Toby turned to his companion. ‘I don’t think you’ve met my sister. Paige—this is Nicholas Destry of Maitland Destry.’
Paige squared her shoulders. Her smile felt as if she’d nailed it there. ‘How do you do, Mr Destry?’ Keep it polite, keep it formal, and maybe he’ll play along, she thought frantically.
‘Actually, Miss Harrington, we’ve met before.’ Nicholas Destry was enjoying his own game. He turned to Toby. ‘Your sister approached me once over a financial transaction, but it fell through. Something I’ve always regretted,’ he added meditatively.
‘Really?’ Toby was surprised. ‘You never mentioned it, Sis.’
She said, ‘I didn’t make the connection before—Mr Destry. Something I shall always regret too.’
‘Please,’ he said, ‘call me Nick.’ He paused. ‘After all, we’re practically old friends.’
She longed to tell him to go to hell, with suitable embellishments, but she couldn’t. If he was here to do an important deal then she would have to hang in there and endure all the jibes that were coming her way. And she couldn’t doubt there’d be plenty, she thought, her heart sinking. Not an opportunity missed to ruffle her feathers, if she was any judge.
She wondered what excuse she could come up with to cut her visit short and return to London, then saw his swift grin and realised he’d read her mind with total accuracy.
She would have to stay and tough it out, she thought with bitter resignation.
‘Well—er—Nick, we’ll leave you in peace to unpack,’ Toby said, breaking the taut silence with an uneasy attempt at joviality. ‘Join us in the drawing room when you’re ready.’
Nick Destry was still watching Paige, an unholy glint in his eyes. ‘You wouldn’t like to stay, Miss Harrington—and give me a hand?’ He picked up his travel bag and tossed it on to the wide bed.
Somehow he made it sound a perfectly reasonable request. Only Paige picked up and resented the covert innuendo—just as he’d intended, she acknowledged, seething.
‘Well, of course,’ Toby said with some bewilderment, ‘if Paige can be of assistance…’
She sent Nick Destry an inimical glance. She said, coolly and clearly, ‘I think my sister-in-law is waiting for me, Mr Destry, but I’ll be glad to send our housekeeper to you if you feel you need help unpacking.’
His grin widened. ‘I’ll struggle through somehow.’
‘I’m sure,’ Paige said stonily. ‘Now, please excuse me.’
Toby caught up with her on the stairs. ‘What was all that about? And where did you meet Nick Destry?’ he demanded suspiciously.
She shrugged. ‘At some City do, I think. Who knows? His memory’s clearly much better than mine,’ she added lightly.
‘Well, you certainly seem to have made an impression.’ He was frowning slightly. ‘Maybe we can capitalise on that.’ He paused. ‘You won’t forget how important this weekend is for all of us, will you?’
‘I doubt I’ll get the chance,’ Paige returned grimly. ‘Everyone
seems to be falling over themselves to remind me.’ She gave him a sidelong glance. ‘What’s been going on at Harrington Holdings, Toby? What kind of problem do we have that needs someone like Nick Destry to provide a solution. The whole thing worries me.’
‘Well, it needn’t,’ he said instantly. ‘We’ve had a few setbacks, I admit, but nothing we can’t overcome if we all pull together.’
‘You don’t feel like describing these “setbacks” in detail for me—just so that I know what we’re up against?’
‘Now isn’t really a good time,’ he said dismissively. ‘And you’ve never taken a searching interest before in the company’s affairs.’
‘No,’ Paige said slowly. ‘And I’m beginning to see that could have been a mistake.’
At the drawing room door, she hesitated. ‘Toby, don’t rely on me to win over Nick Destry’s heart and mind. Please believe that we’re never likely to be friends.’
He said heavily, ‘But neither can we afford to have him as an enemy. Perhaps you, in turn, should remember that.’
And he walked away, leaving her staring after him, new uneasiness churning in her stomach.
Tea was not the easiest meal Paige had ever sat through, but she had to admit that Nick Destry’s company manners seemed impeccable. There were no edged remarks for her to smart under. Instead he talked amusingly and intelligently on a variety of subjects, so that even Denise began to relax a little under the onslaught of his charm.
To hear him you’d think this was simply a social occasion, Paige thought, chewing an inoffensive cucumber sandwich as if it had been constructed from cement. And yet she knew that it wasn’t true. That this weekend represented big business. And that she wasn’t content merely to serve as decoration.
Perhaps I should have taken more of an interest in the company business, she thought restively. But I’ve never actually been encouraged to do so. To trespass on what has always been a man’s world.
The fact that it was now the twenty-first century had done nothing to alter the entrenched attitudes of the Harrington males. She was the first girl to be born into the family since old Crispin’s time, and she’d been petted and spoiled, and kindly excluded from what was seen as the real business of life—the prime building developments that Harringtons had always specialised in.
The fact that she’d found a job in magazine journalism and established herself as an independent woman had been regarded as some strange aberration.
If we’re in serious trouble, Paige thought—and I can’t see any other reason for Maitland Destry to become involved—then maybe it’s time I made them take me seriously too.
As she reached across to put her empty cup on the table she was suddenly conscious that she was being watched. She glanced up and met Nick Destry’s contemplative gaze. There was a faint smile playing around his firm mouth that suggested he found his thoughts pleasant, and an odd, almost primeval shiver rippled down her spine in response.
For a brief moment the laughter and chat in the room faded away to nothing, and Paige was aware of him and nothing but him, as if they were enclosed together in some glass case. Locked in intimacy for all eternity.
She felt her mouth go dry. She moved jerkily, picking up a plate of cake and offering it to her father. Anything—anything—to break the spell, she thought almost frantically.
And it occurred to her, with sudden appalling clarity, that, whatever trouble Harringtons might be in, her own most serious problem could be right here in this room.
She hesitated for a long time that evening before changing into the cream dress, then told herself she was being ridiculous. She was dressing for herself, and certainly not for Nick Destry.
She’d completely overreacted downstairs, she realised. She was still too conscious of the humiliation she’d suffered at his hands at their first meeting. That was the only explanation, and it was something she’d have to deal with, given the opportunity.
And she looked good, she thought with a touch of defiance. She’d skilfully softened the rather taut lines of her face with cosmetics, and her newly washed hair was piled on top of her head in a loose topknot, with just a few silky tendrils allowed to hang free.
‘You’ll do,’ she told her reflection with an approving nod.
She went slowly downstairs, and paused outside the drawing room door to take a deep, steadying breath. A good move, as it happened, because the room was empty apart from Nick Destry himself, who was standing by the French windows looking into the garden.
His back was turned to her, and he appeared to be deep in thought. Paige checked instantly, wondering whether she could manage a strategic withdrawal before she was noticed.
Without looking round, he said, ‘I seem to be every hostess’s worst nightmare—the guest who comes down first.’
‘No—no, really.’ Paige came unwillingly forward, cursing under her breath. ‘I can’t think where the others are,’ she added, looking round her as if she might find them hiding behind sofas, or under one of the Pembroke tables.
‘Holding a council of war somewhere, I imagine.’ He turned, the dark gaze sharpening into intensity as it dwelt on her. The formality of dinner jacket and black tie only accentuated his formidable attraction, she recognised reluctantly. But it did nothing to disguise the sheer raw energy of the man, however tightly he kept it leashed. And that was what confused and disturbed her—her conviction that all the elegance and charm was only a façade, and that underneath was pure tiger.
‘You haven’t been invited to join in their deliberations?’ he went on.
‘No,’ she said. ‘Should I?’
‘You’re a member of the Harrington board.’
‘Yes, but that’s pretty meaningless in my case,’ she said. ‘If you’re a member of the family there’s no escape. Great-grandfather Crispin saw to that.’
He said softly, ‘Indeed he did. Does anyone know why?’
‘Because he was determined that the company should stay in the hands of his descendants and not be hijacked by outsiders, however rich and powerful.’ She paused to allow that to sink in, then offered him a limpid smile. ‘Can I get you a drink?’
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I’d like a Scotch with a little plain water.’
Paige moved to the side table, where the decanters were placed, and poured a measure of whisky into one of the plain heavy-bottomed glasses, adding a judicious amount of water. She turned to find Nick had crossed the room and was standing just behind her.
‘Oh.’ She jumped slightly, then steadied herself as she handed him the glass. ‘I hope that’s all right.’
‘It looks fine.’ He watched as she poured herself a modest dry sherry. ‘What shall we drink to?’
Paige lifted her glass. ‘Why not Great-grandfather Crispin?’
‘As you wish.’ He sounded faintly amused, but he drank. ‘You don’t find his attitude a little unreasonable—in this day and age?’
‘Not particularly,’ Paige lied. ‘As long as there are Harringtons around, why shouldn’t they run their own company? After all, you come here from Maitland Destry. I presume there’s still a Maitland?’
‘Certainly—the last time I looked. A couple of them.’
‘Well, there you are.’ Paige took a fortifying sip of sherry. ‘And I’m sure you’ll expect your son to take over from you when the time comes.’
He said slowly, ‘I suspect that will remain up to my son—if I ever have one.’
‘You don’t want a family?’
‘Some day. But the usual preliminary to that is finding a wife. And so far I’ve been too busy.’
Paige tutted. ‘Careful, Mr Destry. You know what they say about all work and no play.’
He smiled, taking a reflective mouthful of Scotch. ‘Oh, I play, Miss Harrington, when—and how—I want.’ His eyes wandered over her, slowly, lingeringly, and Paige felt her skin warm under his scrutiny.
She walked hurriedly away to the wide empty fireplace and stood on one side of it, as
if she was taking guard. Nick followed her, occupying the opposite position. She’d wanted an opportunity to confront him, and this was clearly it.
She thought, En garde.
Aloud, she said, ‘Actually, I have to thank you.’
His brows lifted. ‘You amaze me,’ he drawled. ‘Why?’
‘For not telling my family the truth about our first meeting.’ She allowed herself a rueful smile and a shrug. Offering amends with charm and sincerity, she thought cynically. Wiping the slate clean. ‘Not one of my golden memories. And I do apologise for all that girl-power nonsense,’ she added quickly. ‘I’m afraid we’d had too much to drink.’
‘Your companions certainly had.’
Paige’s heart skipped a beat. Just how closely had he been watching them? she asked herself.
Her voice took on a slight edge. ‘What I’m trying to say is that I don’t make a habit of accosting total strangers and asking them to kiss me.’
‘It was a first for me, too,’ Nick said calmly. ‘However—a word of advice. Your success rate might be higher if you didn’t wave your money around like a battle flag.’ His gaze rested on her parted lips. ‘All you really had to do was—ask.’
For a moment the silence between them flared into tension. Then Paige recovered herself.
‘Thank you,’ she said coldly. ‘But I shan’t be accepting any more girly dares in the foreseeable future.’
He gave her an unabashed grin. ‘And life will be the poorer for it. Remember—all work and no play…’
Paige sipped her sherry as if it was hemlock. And then the door opened and her father came in.
‘My dear chap, I’m so sorry. Quite unforgivable to keep you waiting.’ Francis Harrington beamed at them. ‘I hope Paige has been looking after you?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Nick Destry said softly. ‘I’ve been well entertained. Thank you.’
‘Excellent. Let me freshen your drink. I see we’re promised fine weather tomorrow. Did my son mention we have a tennis court? Perhaps you young people might find time for a few sets.’