Hostile engagement

Hostile Engagement - Jessica steele

The beautiful antique ring was all Lucy had left to remind her of her beloved mother, and she was horrified when she discovered that it had come —albeit legitimately — into the possession of the imperious Jud Hemmings. But there was a way in which she could get it back, he told her: if she pretended to be engaged to him, to discourage the unwanted affection of his old friend Carol Stanfield. Reluctantly, because she liked Carol, Lucy was forced to agree — and then found her feelings for Jud developing into love. But he was no more anxious to return her feelings than he had been with Carol ...

Lucy looked away, keeping her features impassive. She had seen the look that man had sent her way many times before. To give him his due his glance hadn't been as obvious as some of the 'You and I could make sweet music together' looks she had previously received, but it had been there, she was sure of it.

She had learned how to deal with such glances, had learned not to give encouragement when she had no intention of playing the game through to its ultimate end. She had been avoiding such glances ever since the promise of beauty had broken through before she had left her teens behind. But there was something about the man, she had no idea what; he didn't look very different from anyone else in the room, but something about him had her by now veiled eyes returning to him.

He wasn't looking at her—and that surprised her slightly because having expected him to seize on the opportunity to catch her eye and move on to the next surface gambit of the smile, the edging over to where she was to introduce himself, she saw that he was in conversation with an elegantly turned out older woman, a blonde girl about her own age, and Joyce Appleby, the only person in the group she knew. Lucy turned her attention away from him and listened to what Philippa Browne at the side of her was saying.

`Is your brother here?' Pippa asked. 'When I spotted you I thought Rupert might be here too.'

They were at a 'Strawberries and Champagne Morning', another of Joyce Appleby's mad ideas for raising money for charity. It was being held in the village hall and Lucy had

thought the time of the venue as much as the pricey tickets would have kept a lot of people away, but the room was crowded, so perhaps to hold it on a Bank Holiday Monday hadn't been such a mad idea—and on second thoughts, Lucy reconsidered, money would be no object to any of the people here anyway.

`Rupert couldn't make it,' Lucy told the mousy-haired girl by her side.

`Out with that Sandra Weaver, I expect,' said Pippa, looking downcast for a moment. I wish he was out with Sandra, Lucy thought; she would far rather he was out with the gay divorcee Sandra than the company he was mixed up with at the moment. 'Oh, there's Justin Arbuthnot with his parents,' said Pippa, her spirits brightening. For all she was the same age as herself Lucy thought Pippa a little immature at times, here whole thinking seeming to revolve around men. Will you excuse me, Lucy? I'll just go and have a word ...'

Left by herself, Lucy took a small sip from the champagne glass in her hand. It was her first glass and she didn't intend having another; she was only here anyway because Rupert had insisted they must keep up appearances. She dragged her mind away from that thought and looked round the room. There were plenty of people she could have gone to join, but she wasn't interested in idle chitchat. Having put in the appearance Rupert was so keen on she'd just finish her drink and go home.

She felt her eyes drawn to the man whose glance she had caught earlier and though hating not being able to resist let her gaze rove casually round the room till they rested on the group he was with. Joyce Appleby was still with them and Lucy wondered, since Joyce was well known for extending her love of humanity further than required, if she had him lined up for her next paramour. She reckoned Joyce would have her work cut out, for though he seemed to be listening with interest to what Joyce was saying, Lucy

thought she detected a sign of polite tolerance on his face that otherwise looked particularly expressionless.

Not once did he glance over to where Lucy was standing, but she was convinced she had read that first look correctly—that he hadn't looked at her again meant only that his approach was different. Since he seemed now to be captivated by what Joyce was saying, Lucy felt free to give him close scrutiny. He was taller than average, but it wasn't that that made him stand out from everyone else in the room, for stand out he did. She tried to pinpoint what it was about him that had eyes other than her own on him, but she couldn't pin it down. She hadn't seen him before—perhaps he was visiting someone in the area; she paused to wonder if he was already Joyce Appleby's lover, though she couldn't quite see him in that role. He looked the sort of man who would want more from a relationship than the surface prattle Joyce could churn out unceasingly from dawn to dusk ...

Damn, she swore silently as the subject of her thoughts raised his eyes from the women around him and caught her looking at him. Hurriedly she dropped her eyes, but not before she had seen his glance pass over her without halting—without seeming to be aware that she was in the room, causing her to wonder for the first time if she had imagined that look after all. She had been so sure ...

`Hello, Lucy—haven't seen you in an age.'

Lucy turned to find Donald Bridges at her elbow, and although she'd had cause at one time to give Donald short shrift she was suddenly glad to have someone to talk to. If the man who had just looked through her as though she didn't exist flicked his glance her way once more he would know she wasn't invisible to everybody.

`Nice to see you, Donald,' she replied with more warmth than had been in her voice the last time she had seen him.

Donald's long-toothed smile was much in evidence as he beamed at the 'no hard feelings' note in her voice. 'Sorry

I got carried away the last time you came out with me, Lucy,' he apologised, the suggestion of a smile on her face giving him the courage to bring the matter out into
the open. 'You're so beautiful !
. rather lost my head ...'

`Let's forget it, shall we?' Lucy said quickly. She knew she was letting him off lightly—he had been a veritable octopus when he'd taken her home from dinner that night, seeming to have at least four pairs of hands all going in different directions, and if there was one thing she couldn't stand, it was being pawed about by over-amorous young men.

Donald seemed as pleased as she
was to let the subject drop. Sad to hear
about your parents,' he said, his smile disappearing making his face solemn. 'I wanted to write to you after the accident, but I thought after the way we parted that night you wouldn't want the unpleasant reminder of me while grieving for your mother and father.'

Lucy's face was as solemn as his as she recalled the dreadful shock she and her brother had received when they had learned that their adored parents had been drowned 'in a sailing accident. She and Rupert had received other shocks since then, but nothing that had followed had been as great for her as that of knowing she would never see her beloved parents again.

`I didn't expect to see you here today,' Donald was going on. Half of her mind registered what he was saying and she made the correct rejoinder, she thought, but the other half of her mind was taking a line of its own as it progressed from Donald's innocent statement that he hadn't expected to see her at the charity function.

She hadn't wanted to come, had only given in to Rupert's persuasions because he was going through such a very bad time. She had got ready knowing she was going to hate every minute of it, had dressed in her silk jump suit, donning with it her own share of pride that decreed she would attend and show the people they had always considered

their friends, but who Rupert had said probably wouldn't want to know them once the news was out that the Careys were penniless that the Careys were still as good as any of them. Perhaps penniless was a bit of an exaggeration, she thought, since Rupert had an allowance doled out to him quarterly under Grandfather's will—though his allowance would barely keep them ticking over. Rupert didn't come into the whole of his inheritance from Grandfather until he was thirty and he had another five years to go before he reached that age—how they were going to manage until that time was anybody's guess. Already they had parted· with several good pieces of furniture, having found a mountain of unpaid bills and no money to settle them when their parents had died. There was little else to sell that wouldn't make it obvious to anyone who called at Brook House that it was not so well furnished as it had once been. Brook House was much larger than they needed, she mused, but Rupert refused to sell the house and move into something smaller. She couldn't blame him really, she supposed; the house meant the same to him as the antique ring that had been her mother's had meant to her—Lucy forced down the tears that rushed to her eyes as she recalled the day Rupert had told her he had lost it. He knew how much she valued it and it had been weeks before he had confessed that, he had lost it when taking it to the jewellers to have it polished and cleaned.

Hiding the sorrow of her thoughts, Lucy realised Donald had been talking to her for some minutes and she hadn't heard a word he said; ,he must have been unaware she wasn't listening, but now apparently he had said something that required an answer.

`I'm sorry,' she apologised, 'with all this racket going on I missed what you were saying.' She accompanied her words with a smile just in case he saw through her l
ie.

`I know you'll think I've got a bit of a cheek, but I was asking if you would come out with me some time?'

Lucy looked at him and decided that with or without the change in their fortunes she wouldn't have accepted his offer anyway, for all he would know better than to come over all amorous another time—but if what Rupert said was true, that she and her brother would soon be out of this set, then for pride's sake she was glad to be in the position to turn down an invitation rather than wait for invitations to stop altogether. Coming here this morning had been a final farewell in a way to all the people she had known for so long, though none of them here would know it.

She could have left Donald's offer hanging in the air, all she had to do was say 'Give me a ring some time', but she didn't 'I don't think so, Donald,' she said, and watched the expectant smile disappear from his face and almost weakened as she felt an unexpected sadness at that moment Then knowing it was the way it had to be, she smiled gently, regretfully, 'Would you excuse me Donald, I told Rupert I wouldn't be too long.'