Love in Disguise Part 6

'Those ponderous volumes you consume by the dozen?'

'I enjoy reading. It stops me from being---- ' Her voice faltered, but he finished the sentence for her.

'It stops you from being bored to death?'

'I never said so.'

'Sometimes, Miss Wilmot, your expression speaks for you!' He set down his fork and looked at her. 'For such a self-controlled woman, you disclose a great deal about yourself without being aware of it.'

She wondered when he had had the chance to study her, and the question was answered as he continued: 'I've been watching you with my visitors and my aunt. You behaved differently with each one of them. Which reminds me- Claudine left this for you. She didn't want to give it to Leggat. She says it's for you personally.'

He took a five-pound note from his pocket and Anthea's face flamed.

'I'm not in the habit of accepting tips, Mr. Allen.'

'Staff do. It's one of the reasons they like their employers to give parties.'

The truth of his statement was undeniable and she knew she was foolish to feel resentful at Mrs. Goderick's gesture. She wished she could tell him her true background. After all, he knew she was only working here as a stand-in for Miss Evans and he must surely have wondered what she normally did with herself. But even as she opened her mouth to speak, she shut it again. The background of his housekeeper-especially a temporary one-was the last thing in the world he would be interested in knowing.

'Do you wish me to return the money to Mrs. Goderick?' he enquired, holding it up again.

'That would be rude,' Anthea said composedly, and taking the note from him, put it in her pocket.

'I'm glad to see you don't intend slipping it into your corselet.'

She looked at him, startled, then saw the gleam in his eyes-or was it the reflection of the light on his glasses? 'I don't wear one,' she said coolly. 'They went out with the dodo.'

'So has the get-up you're wearing.'

She caught her breath. 'Mrs. Goodbody wore the same sort of dress.'

'Mrs. Goodbody had thirty years on you.'

A quick piece of mental arithmetic told Anthea he still believed her to be in her middle thirties. It was a depressing thought, though a triumph to her disguise.

'I'll be quite happy to wear a different sort of uniform, sir.'

'I don't want you to wear a uniform at all! This isn't an institution, you know, it's my home!'

'I can wear another colour,' she said cautiously.

He shrugged, as though bored by the conversation, and picking up his fork resumed eating.

Manfully Anthea did the same. She usually had a hearty appetite, but tonight it seemed to have disappeared, no doubt due to the embarrassment she felt at sitting opposite this difficult man. Still, he was a mortal like herself. It was ridiculous to let his wealth and position turn her into a bundle of nerves.

Resolutely she helped herself to some more meat. It was certainly nicer to eat here than in the housekeeper's sitting- room. She still could not think of it as her own domain, though perhaps this was because she knew she was only here for a short time. How would it feel to have a permanent job like this one? It would give her sufficient free time to pursue any other subject in which she was interested. She could not see her father being pleased at the idea-he would consider it a waste of her academic talents-and her stepmother would be totally disapproving. She grinned at the thought of Maude.

'What's the joke?' her employer asked.

'I-er-something personal.'

'I'm glad to hear you have something personal to smile about. You seem so reserved, I was beginning to wonder if you had any personal thoughts whatever.'

'Do you always judge a book by its cover?'

'If it's a feminine book. Your fair sex are far more interested in cover than content!' He eyed her ugly black dress with disfavour. 'Not that you appear to be of similar mind.'

'I'll buy a more summery dress on my day off,' she said promptly. 'When you come down next weekend, you won't see me in black.'

'I may be going to Deauville with Mr. and Mrs. Goderick next weekend.'

'Isn't it rather dreary out of season?'

'It's even worse in season!' He helped himself to a liberal portion of trifle. 'Actually the season has already begun there. Mrs. Goderick wouldn't be going otherwise.'

'She loves showing off.' His glasses glinted and she added hastily: 'I mean, she's extremely beautiful, isn't she?'

'Extremely.'

His tone gave nothing away, and fearing she had said too much she lapsed into silence.

'My aunt liked you,' he said unexpectedly.

'I liked her,' Anthea said warmly, 'though she wasn't what I had expected.'

'What did you expect?'

'When I heard she was coming as your hostess, I thought she was... I imagined she'd be...' Anthea drew a deep breath. 'I hadn't realised she was your aunt.'

'I would never allow a girl-friend to act as my hostess,' he said matter-of-factly. 'It might give her the wrong idea.'

'Wrong idea?'

'Marriage. That's one kind of partnership I'm not interested in.'

'Do you intend to remain a bachelor all your life?'

'Not all of it,' he said. 'I would like children. All this-' he waved his hand round the room-'would be pointless otherwise. But unfortunately one cannot have a family without the encumbrances that go with it.'

'And you regard a wife as an encumbrance?'

'I do.' His look was sardonic. 'There's no point in asking if you feel the same way about a husband. Most women see marriage as the be-all and end-all of their existence.'

'For heaven's sake!' She caught herself up. 'I'm sorry, Mr. Allen. I shouldn't have said that.'

'Don't apologise, Miss Wilmot. You are dining at my table and there's no reason why you shouldn't talk to me on equal terms.'

'We can never be equal, Mr. Allen. Your whole way of living is alien to mine. You've devoted yourself to amassing money; you have no existence outside of that.'

'Would you find it more laudable if I spent my life in the hallowed precincts of Oxbridge and devoted myself to petty quarrels with fellow dons?'

Against her will Anthea burst out laughing-a warm sound that bubbled from her throat. He gave her a surprised glance, and as she became aware of it she sobered instantly and busied herself by picking up the plates and depositing them on the sideboard.

'Have you always been a housekeeper?' he asked slowly.

'I've always kept house,' she replied, keeping her back to him. 'My mother died when I was a child and I looked after my father.'

'What does he do?'

She pretended not to hear him. 'Would you like your coffee now, Mr. Allen, or later?'

'Now.' He watched in silence as she poured it out and brought him a cup. 'Join me,' he said laconically, and again she did as he bid.

He sat quietly sipping it, looking unexpectedly tired. After the busy week he had spent in London, it would have done him more good to have had a quiet weekend and not one devoted to business. She knew from what Leggat had told her that he had been closeted until the small hours with Mr. Goderick and Mr. Frankenheim. But she did not have the right to tell him he was overworking; nor did anyone else, for that matter, if what he had said earlier was true.

He was a loner who enjoyed living his life this way.

As though aware of her scrutiny he moved his head in her direction, and the heavy rims of his glasses gave him a forbidding air.

'How long is your friend likely to be ill, Miss Wilmot?'

'Betsy, you mean? I hope she'll be able to come here in a couple of months; perhaps a little earlier.'

'Do you have another job to go to?'

'Not until October,' she said quickly.

'Is it near here?'

'Not far away.'

'You seem to like this district.'

'I've lived in this area all my life.' She hesitated. 'Where were you born, Mr. Allen?'

'In this house.' He saw her amazement and grinned, wickedly. 'Did you think mine was a rags to riches story? I'm sorry to disappoint you, Miss Wilmot, but my background is considered to be impeccable. Poor but impeccable.'

She glanced around her. 'Hardly poor, Mr. Allen.'

'The house was all we had. Two world wars killed off the senior males in the family and death duties crippled my lather. When I was seven we sold up and moved to London.'

She was startled and unable to hide it. 'But how did you... I mean, you----'

'I was able to retrieve the family fortunes,' he said blandly, 'and buy back the house when it came on the market again.'

'You're lucky it did. It's a lovely place. I can't imagine anyone wanting to sell it.'

He laughed again, and white teeth flashed in a tanned face, making him look Italian. 'When I bought out Hercules Holdings, this house was the home of its chairman!' He glanced around him. 'I keep meaning to change the furnishings, but I haven't got round to it yet.'

'A wife would do it for you,' she said demurely.

'So would an interior decorator-and far less expensive in the long run!'

Anthea smiled. He had a dry sense of humour that appealed to her. 'What is your ambition now, Mr. Allen, or have you achieved everything you want?'

'Does one ever achieve everything one wants?'

She thought of her father, content with his books and his second marriage. 'I think so,' she murmured. 'Some people do.'

'I wish I was one of them. Unfortunately I'm the driver driven.'

'I don't follow that.'

He shrugged. 'I'm driven by restlessness and that forces me into activity which makes me force others into activity too.'

'Have you never been able to relax?'

'A long time ago I could.' He stood up and began to pace the room. 'Not any more, though. It's boredom, Miss Wilmot. I do it all because of boredom.' 'You mean poverty of inner resources, Mr. Allen.'

'You have a sharp turn of phrase, Miss Wilmot! It doesn't go with your hausfrau appearance.' His words reminded her of her position and she stood up.

'Would you care for another cup of coffee, sir?' And then as he shook his head: 'In that case, perhaps you'll excuse me?'

'Of course. It was remiss of me to keep you talking so late.'

She glanced at her wristwatch and saw it was nearly eleven. Time had flown without her noticing it.

'My secretary will let you know if I'll be here next weekend,' he said, and murmured goodnight before she reached the door.

'As she went to her bedroom she tried not to be resentful of his casual dismissal; after all, she had been the one to suggest ending the evening; but she wished he had not accepted it with such alacrity. Seeing her reflection in her dressing-table mirror she giggled. No wonder he had not wanted to extend their conversation together. It was amazing he had wanted to begin it in the first place.

She took off her steel-rimmed spectacles, then took out her hairpins and shook her head. The chestnut brown plait fell past her shoulders and she undid it and started to brush it free. How much younger she looked with her hair a satin curtain round her face, and what a ridiculous contrast it was to this bunchy black dress. Tomorrow she would go into Reading and buy herself a less hideous one. Inexplicably she thought of Claudine Goderick's exquisite clothes and shook her head. Jasper was too high a price to pay for them. No amount of money could ever be compensation for spending one's life with a man one did not love. And if one did fall in love, then the money he had would be unimportant. What a pity that Mr. Allen was too cynical lo believe a woman could think that way.

CHAPTER SIX.

As he had half indicated, Mark Allen went to Deauville the following weekend, a fact reported in the gossip columns of the tabloid which Mrs. Leggat avidly read each morning. Surprisingly there was also a picture of him taken with Claudine Goderick, the caption beneath it implying that the couple were going away together for the weekend. In the fuller blurb written below, however, Jasper Goderick was stated to be in the party, and described as a wiry Australian.

'He doesn't have an Australian accent,' Mrs. Leggat muttered, and her husband nodded sagely.

'Because he's lived here the best part of his life. Here and in Canada. That's where he met his wife.'