Knight to the Rescue

by Miranda Lee

  For the first time Audrey wondered about the past women in his life. First his old girlfriends. Then his wife, Moira... Had she been beautiful? Sexy? Sophisticated? Had he loved her to distraction?

  Of course, shot back the answer.

  Audrey was startled by the intense jab of jealousy this thought brought. She hadn’t really felt jealousy when she’d found out about Diane and Russell. Only pain at what his disloyalty revealed about herself, that she was incapable of inspiring a true and deep love. Yet with Elliot she was torn with envy to think of his even being with another woman, let alone loving her.

  Did that mean she had fallen in love with him?

  She hoped not. She really hoped not. The likes of Russell were easy to get over. Elliot was a different kettle of fish entirely. A man like him came along only once in a girl’s lifetime and would be impossible to forget.

  ‘Now promise me you won’t let Lavinia dress you,’ he was saying. ‘That you’ll do what I said.’

  ‘I promise. And Elliot...thank you...’

  ‘Don’t mention it.’

  He hung up and Audrey was left clasping the receiver to her ear. Her hand began to shake as she lowered it slowly on to its cradle. Friday... It seemed a million light years away.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ‘MAY I come in, Audrey?’

  ‘No, no, Lavinia, don’t come in. I’m still getting dressed. I don’t want anyone to see me till I’m all ready.’

  ‘Really, all this mystery!’ Lavinia said peevishly through the door. ‘First you won’t tell us anything about this Elliot you’ve invited. Now you won’t let me see what you look like. I just thought you might need some help with your hair. After all, you didn’t go to the hairdresser’s with me this afternoon, even though your father arranged for you to have time off work.’

  ‘My hair’s fine,’ she called back. ‘I did it myself.’

  ‘That’s what I’m afraid of, dear. You know how—’

  ‘Lavinia!’ Audrey burst out with uncharacteristic assertiveness. ‘Just leave me be for once!’

  ‘You don’t have to take that tone with me, Audrey. Truly, I don’t know what’s got into you today. Turning twenty-one is not a licence to be rude!’

  Guilt assailed Audrey as she heard Lavinia flounce off, muttering. The impulse to go after her, call out, say something placatory was strong. But she was afraid Lavinia would say something patronising about her appearance, undermining the pleasurable confidence that was growing in Audrey every single second.

  She turned to stare at herself in the full-length mirror one more time. She could hardly believe how good she looked. The cream silk dress didn’t water down her fair complexion as Lavinia had said it would. It gave her skin a softly glowing sheen. The evidence before her eyes suggested to Audrey that the bright reds and pinks and purples Lavinia had been encouraging her to wear—supposedly to put colour in her face—had been having the opposite effect, making her looked washed-out and sickly.

  As for her hair... Audrey had never felt entirely comfortable with either the burgundy colour or the tightly curled perm which fluffed it out every which way. But Lavinia and her hairdresser had insisted on both, saying her natural brown hair was thin and mousy, that her small face needed dramatic balance, whatever that was. Despite some misgivings, she had taken their advice because they were the experts, and to give them the benefit of the doubt it was a common enough style and colour these days. Audrey had seen it to good effect on other women.

  But obviously not on her.

  Now that she had put it up, suppressing the mass into a tight chignon, with only a few curls escaping, Audrey could see that a shorter, less bulky style would suit her heaps better. Maybe a lighter, softer colour would be better too. She resolved to do something about both as soon as possible.

  The faint bong of the grandfather clock in the foyer striking seven filtered upstairs. Audrey swallowed, a burst of nerves fluttering into her stomach. Elliot would be arriving any minute, along with the other guests. She really should be going downstairs.

  Still she dithered, terrified that someone would say something critical about how she looked. It wouldn’t take much to shatter her new and fragile confidence. Maybe she didn’t look as good as she thought. Maybe she was being deceived by a minimal improvement from her previous horror.

  But it wasn’t just her own appearance that was making her nervous. Elliot’s would come as a bit of a shock, too. Both her father and Lavinia were probably picturing an effete and unprepossessing young snob, not the mature dashing figure Elliot would cut in a dinner suit. She hoped they wouldn’t appear too astonished, or ask too many awkward questions. Elliot had no idea he had been cast in the role of ardent admirer. No doubt he imagined he was coming merely as a friend.

  Quelling another flutter of nerves, Audrey took one last look in the mirror for renewed confidence and reluctantly made her way downstairs.

  ‘Why, Audrey, my dear!’ her father pronounced in surprised tones when she finally appeared in the doorway of the huge living-room. ‘You look lovely! Doesn’t she look lovely, Lavinia?’

  Audrey’s chest swelled, then tightened as Lavinia turned from where she was checking the glasses and decanters in the cocktail cabinet. Her black eyes narrowed as they travelled down then up the cream dress. ‘Yes...quite lovely,’ she agreed. But her eyes were angry.

  Audrey was once again taken aback by her stepmother’s attitude towards her, till she decided Lavinia’s nose was out of place that her judgement about the cream dress had been wrong. No one liked to be shown up, but one would have thought she’d be pleased her stepdaughter looked nice for her own birthday party.

  The front doorbell ringing distracted Audrey from her puzzled hurt.

  Elliot! she thought breathlessly.

  ‘I’ll answer that, Maree,’ she called out, stopping the maid in her tracks as she hurried across the black marble foyer towards the front door. The young woman, who’d been hired just for the night, looked hesitant for a moment, before making a shrugging retreat.

  Audrey’s heart was thudding loudly as she spun away from a sour-faced Lavinia and hastened to the front door. It wasn’t Elliot, however. It was Edward Hurley and his wife, Alice. Tall and fortyish, Edward was the sales manager for Modern Office Supplies Ltd, and Audrey’s boss. Her gaining the position as his secretary over Diane was one of the reasons behind the other girl’s jealousy. But Audrey knew she was a more efficient and better secretary than Diane and had never felt the position had gone to her merely through nepotism.

  ‘My, my,’ Edward murmured as his wide-eyed gaze ran over her, ‘you’re looking surprisingly soignée, Audrey. I hardly recognised you for a second.’

  ‘You do have a habit of giving backhanded compliments, Edward,’ his nice wife reproved. ‘But that dress does suit you, Audrey. I love your hair up. It brings attention to your lovely eyes and skin.’ Alice smiled and gave her a kiss on the cheek. ‘Happy birthday, my dear. I hope you like this little gift,’ she said, and pressed a small but beautifully packaged parcel into Audrey’s hands.

  ‘I’m sure I will,’ Audrey beamed, buoyed up by the woman’s warm and seemingly sincere compliments. Lavinia’s uncharitable reaction to her improved appearance didn’t hurt quite so much now. ‘Here, let me take your coat.’

  She had barely done as much when the doorbell rang again.

  ‘That’ll be Dwight,’ Edward said. ‘He pulled into the drive just as we reached the top step. As you can imagine, we decided not to wait for him.’

  Audrey conceded that mounting the front steps at the Farnsworth residence took some time, since there were thirty of them. The house was relatively new and, Audrey thought, far too ostentatious. Double-storeyed, but of no particular style, it had columns and curlicues all over the place, not to mention acres of Italian marble and huge open-planned rooms that gave no sense of privacy.

  She infinitely preferred the older, cosier home that had been her mother’s family residence. But no sooner ha
d Lavinia become the new Mrs Farnsworth than she had insisted on having a house built to her own taste. Audrey had come home one summer holiday from the boarding-school she’d been dispatched to, to find they had moved into this brand new edifice.

  She turned again and opened the door a second time. Dwight Liston, Modern Office Supplies’ sleek yuppie marketing manager, and his attractive blonde wife, Frances, literally gaped when they saw her. Their reaction did wonders for Audrey’s growing self-esteem. But nothing could obliterate the underlying feeling of apprehension at Elliot’s non-arrival. She threw an encompassing glance over her guests’ shoulders at the driveway and the street beyond the garden wall. There wasn’t a black Saab in sight. Surely, oh, surely he wasn’t going to let her down!

  Dwight and Frances were duly ushered inside along with Edward and Alice, their presents deposited on the special table alongside the very ornate birthday cake Lavinia had chosen. Audrey was vaguely conscious of several more lavish compliments on her appearance and a glass of champagne being pressed into her hands. But her smile was plastic, her ears straining to hear the thrum of Elliot’s car arriving. When the maid offered her an hors-d’oeuvre she took it and ate it without having any idea what it was.

  Since she didn’t hear the sound of any car arriving, the sudden jangling of the doorbell snapped her head around. ‘I take it you want to answer that too, Audrey?’ Lavinia said caustically.

  ‘I—er—yes, I do.’ She plastered a wide smile on her face, still confused by her stepmother’s new attitude. ‘It must be Elliot, since he’s the only one not here yet.’

  As she put her glass down and hurried from the room she heard Edward say, ‘Elliot? Who’s Elliot? I thought Audrey was going out with Russell.’ Apparently, office gossip hadn’t reached management yet about her and their top sales representative being a past item. Diane had been smugly tight-lipped all week. On the one occasion Russell had been obliged to come into the office for a meeting, he had avoided Audrey like poison.

  Not that she gave a hoot about either Diane or Russell at that moment. Relief was mingled with an escalating excitement as she swept to the front door. Nothing, however, could have prepared her for the feelings she had when she opened it.

  Elliot stood there in an elegant black tuxedo, looking far more devastatingly handsome than she had remembered, and with the most enormous sheaf of creamy yellow roses in his arms. Audrey simply stared, first at the flowers, then at him. For what seemed a long long moment he stared back, his face quite unreadable.

  His smile, when it came, was lop-sided and very droll. ‘There must be a career for me somewhere as a make-over man,’ he said drily. ‘Audrey, you look simply stunning.’ Bending forward, he gave her a peck on her cheek. ‘Happy birthday, Cinderella.’

  Emotions continued to bombard her heart, not the least an overwhelming gratitude. ‘Oh, Elliot,’ she choked out. ‘Thank you. For coming. For...everything.’ Tears pricked her eyes.

  ‘If you cry,’ he warned darkly, ‘I’m going to walk back down those stupid damned steps this instant. Which is no mean feat. Who designed this monstrosity of an entrance, anyway? A mountain climber?’ He stepped inside, closed the door behind him, then held out the roses.

  She didn’t cry. She laughed. With an uncharacteristic recklessness. Elliot, her friend, had come to her rescue again. She would accept his kindness once more; appreciate it; even enjoy it. She steadfastly refused to let any other feelings she had for him spoil her evening.

  Taking the roses, she hooked her free arm through his left elbow and led him swiftly inside for all her guests to see, pausing with theatrical presence in the wide archway, flowers on one arm, Elliot on the other. ‘Everyone,’ she announced, ‘this is Elliot.’

  Everyone was tellingly silent. All the men’s eyes narrowed assessingly while their wives simply stared. Lavinia’s shocked gaze recovered first to move over Elliot’s superb and elegantly clad body in a blatantly sexual scrutiny.

  Audrey’s hold tightened on Elliot’s arm as a stab of irrational fear shot through her.

  You can’t have him, her eyes and mind projected fiercely towards her stepmother.

  Lavinia’s eyes snapped her way, looking right through her before returning to Elliot, not so hungry this time, but still with undisguised interest.

  Logic was slow to intervene, but even when it did Audrey’s unreasoning panic took time to recede. Lavinia was a happily married woman, she reasoned. Not once, in the nine years she’d been Mrs Warwick Farnsworth, had Audrey seen her do more than casually flirt with a man. Surely she wouldn’t set out to deliberately seduce her stepdaughter’s supposed boyfriend. Lavinia might be a bit of a bitch, Audrey decided, but she wasn’t wicked.

  ‘So this is Elliot,’ Lavinia said, gliding forward to hold out a limply elegant hand. ‘I can’t say we know a lot about you. Audrey has been stubbornly secretive about her new admirer.’

  Audrey felt the stiffening in Elliot’s arm at this description of himself. Oh, dear, she almost panicked, and looked down.

  ‘And you must be Lavinia,’ Elliot returned suavely, dropping her hand after a cursory shake. ‘I can’t say the same for you. Audrey’s been very vocal on what a wonderful stepmama you’ve been to her, haven’t you, darling?’

  Audrey was startled by the endearment so smoothly delivered. Then deeply touched. She swallowed and turned an adoring face up at him. Oh, you kind, kind man! she thought with heart swimming.

  Although he smiled back down at her, Audrey had the impression that he was momentarily disconcerted. For a split second, as she looked at him, a worried light had gleamed deep in his fine eyes. But he quickly resumed his nonplussed air.

  Lavinia looked definitely uncomfortable. She was used to compliments about her beauty, not her mothering abilities. No compliment about her beauty, however, was forthcoming, despite her looking quite breathtaking in a royal-blue crêpe dress with a heavily beaded matching jacket.

  Instead, Elliot took Audrey’s spare hand, holding her out at arm’s length. ‘Doesn’t my girl look gorgeous tonight?’ he said, still smiling at her. ‘Now...’ He turned back towards the others. ‘Perhaps I’d better properly introduce myself while Audrey pops those flowers into water. Elliot Knight at your service. And you must be Mr Farnsworth, Audrey’s father...’

  Audrey spent the next couple of hours in a positive daze of delight. It was like a dream come true to have Elliot dancing attendance on her every whim, never leaving her side, insisting on sitting next to her at the table and generally playing the smitten lover better than she could have fantasised herself.

  Despite knowing it was all an act, Audrey revelled in every single moment. She even felt herself blossoming under his attention, her usual tongue-tied reticence giving way to occasional bursts of witty conversation that had the other men giving her surprised but admiring glances.

  It was during dessert that Audrey’s joy in the evening became in danger of being dashed. A spectacular Bombe Alaska had just been brought to the table and Frances Liston laughingly made some comment about it reminding her of the ski slopes. Almost immediately, Lavinia looked across the expansive dining table straight at Elliot. ‘Audrey mentioned you were down the slopes last weekend, Elliot. What resort did you stay at? Guthega? Thredbo? Perisher Valley?’

  Audrey wished she could come up with some clever covering remark but fear of her charade being exposed brought an instant and speechless panic. Thankfully, Elliot was an intuitive and intelligent man. And not given to blank silences, although he did throw Audrey a drily amused smile before saying, ‘None of them. I own a chalet overlooking Jindabyne Lake, which puts me within easy driving of all the nearby snowfields.’

  Audrey’s father looked impressed. Lavinia merely raised her eyebrows.

  Edward, however, was never one to let tact override his curiosity. ‘You must have a good job if you can own a chalet near the snowfields. What exactly do you do for a crust? Or shouldn’t I ask?’ he laughed.

  Audrey cringed.


  ‘I’m a corporate lawyer,’ Elliot admitted graciously. ‘I used to work for a large international company, but I recently came into a sizeable inheritance so I’m on unofficial long-service leave. I dare say when boredom sets in I’ll return to active employment. Meanwhile...’

  ‘Meanwhile?’ Lavinia probed, not so graciously.

  Audrey was fascinated, not only by this new information about Elliot, but at the way his mouth was pulling back into an incredibly charming and sensual smile. ‘Meanwhile,’ he said, turning slowly to bestow that smile on her own startled self, ‘I have found other, far more interesting things to occupy my time.’

  Colour flooded into Audrey’s cheeks. No one sitting at that table could possibly misunderstand what he meant. Embarrassment warred with a crazy pleasure. Make-believe it all might be. But even a make-believe love-affair with Elliot was exciting.

  ‘I must say I envy you,’ Dwight remarked wryly. Which brought a sharp look from his wife. ‘Not having to work, I mean,’ he added awkwardly.

  ‘Come now, Dwight,’ Warwick Farnsworth chuckled expansively, ‘you love your work. You’d go potty if you didn’t spend ten hours every day behind that shiny desk of yours thinking up ways to market our products.’

  ‘If all of you don’t stop talking about work and eat your dessert,’ Lavinia snapped, ‘it will melt.’

  They all fell to doing the dessert justice, Audrey welcoming the coolness of the ice-cream slipping down her throat. She was feeling very warm after Elliot’s pointed remark. Very, very warm.

  She couldn’t help feeling pleased, however, that no one had looked surprised at Elliot’s implication that they were lovers. Not even her father. She knew the reason too. Her improved appearance. Amazing how a woman’s looks could change the way people thought of her, especially men. For a split second it struck her that maybe Elliot’s attentions tonight were not all put on.

  But only for a split second. Even as improved as her looks were, she still fell far short of the sort of female Elliot would go after.