Rose in the Bud (13 page)

Cathleen lowered her hands.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded stiffly.

He shrugged. His dark eyes were unkindly amused. “What are
you
doing here, if it comes to that
?
And I don’t mean what are you doing here in Paul’s library, because at this jaded hour of the night it’s one of the pleasantest rooms in the Palazzo di Rini. No, I literally mean ... what are you doing here
?
”

She managed to slip her feet back into her shoes, and instead of curling up on the settee, as she had intended, she sat very stiffly, while he took the vacant place beside her. He offered her his cigarette-case, but she refused.

“Are you hoping to succeed where Arlette failed?” he enquired with a kind of dry interest. “You know, of course, that she did
try
to become the next Contessa di Rini. But Paul’s aunt’s will took care of that. If he married a penniless girl—even if she was of good family—her own possessions would never become his. And Paul has always lived here, and what would he do if he was turned out? So, of course, it was goodbye to Arlette!”

“Then he
was
interested in her?” Cathleen sat up very straight, and tried to ignore the fact that they were only inches apart.

“Of course.” Edouard’s slim brown fingers reached out, and he lifted the rubies as they lay against her neck. “But Arlette, in some ways, wasn’t as clever as you are.”

“What do you mean?” withdrawing along the couch to escape his touch.

“You have already been presented with these rubies. I suppose you do realise that they’re valuable?”

“I’ve been given to understand that they’re valuable.”

She spoke breathlessly, and his dark eyes—that reminded her to-night of fathomless dark pools—regarded her contemptuously.

“Do you know,” he said, as if he was communing with himself, “I wouldn’t have believed it of you! I thought you were exactly what you seemed on the surface, a charming young Englishwoman who had come to Venice for a quite legitimate purpose, and would never be tempted by baubles such as these.”

He flicked once more at the necklace, and then stood up and started to pace about the room.

“I’m not,” she assured him, in the same breathless tone.

He turned and glanced at her.

“Then why do you wear them?”

She swallowed. He was making her feel as if she had committed a crime.

“Bianca insisted that I wear them,” she explained, a little weakly. “She also insisted that I borrow one of her dresses.”

“Why?”

“I—I don’t know.” She stared up at him bewilderedly as he towered above her. All at once he was frowning very blackly indeed, and his eyes had narrowed so thoughtfully that they appeared to have acquired an
Asiatic
slant. “She just—asked me to wear them.”

“But you have clothes of your own.”

“Yes, but she said there would be some very smart women here to-night, and my frocks are not very expensive. She said that she would take me shopping —introduce me to her own dressmaker—and that until then I must wear some of her things. I rather gathered that she didn’t want me to—well, feel shabby amongst the rest of her guests.”

His frown grew blacker than ever. He reached down and fairly pulled her to her feet.

“Listen to me, you absurd little one,” he said, and much of the contempt had vanished from his eyes. Indeed, for one wonderful, breathless moment she thought they were caressing. “Paul and Bianca di Rini are not the type of people with whom you should become involved. They are far too clever for you ... and you must take my word for it they are not philanthropists
!
Bianca has never been known to perform a single philanthropic action in her life, and Paul is very similar to his sister. It is true he would have married Arlette if even a reasonable amount of money had gone with her, but there was none, and so he let her go. You could say he cast her off!... Now, take my advice, before it is too late, and go home to England
!
Go home and wait for something really wonderful to happen to you, not a superficial piece of playacting like this ensnaring of you by the di Rinis! And it could be that it isn’t play-acting! In any case go home!”

She tried to keep her face averted from him, but he was holding her strongly, and all at once even his voice changed. It grew warm, and a little thick, as well as faintly pleading.

“Cathleen, look at me!” He forced her to look by turning her face towards him. “You are so young and stupid that at times I feel I ought to beat you, and then ... I don’t want to beat you!” His voice grew decidedly husky. “I don’t want to alter my opinion of you, Cathleen, and you must go home, please
!”

“Why
?
” she demanded, venturing to look full into his eyes.

“Because it is the best thing for you.”

“Because you want me to go home
?
”

“I have told you it is the best thing for you!”

“And you want me to go home?”
She gave each word particular emphasis, and he sighed and dropped his hands from her shoulders, and then once more started to pace about the room.

After a minute he came back to her.

“Yes; I want you to go home,” he admitted.

She swallowed. For one moment, while his hands were holding her, she had been prepared to let them close right round her, and the desire to have his dark face lowered to her own shook her as nothing in life had ever shaken her before. But she was not all weakness, and she had been humiliated enough by him.

“I see,” she said, biting a slightly unsteady lower lip.

He put a lean finger under her chin and lifted it, forcing her to meet his eyes again. To her amazement they were swimming with tenderness.

“Little one,” he told her, “life is not always what it seems on the surface, and you must believe me that I have your best interests at heart when I ask you not merely to leave here, but to go back where you belong. For the time being, at least! Cathleen ...” She was reasonably certain that he was about to clasp her by the shoulders again, and incredible though it was that tenderness in his eyes had increased so much that it actually caused her to catch her breath. But as he was about to say something more, and his fingers bit almost fiercely into her soft flesh, the door was thrust inwards without ceremony, and Nicola Brent, the American girl, stood surveying them from the opening.

Her eyebrows arched, and she looked amused.

“Well, well
!
” she said.

Edouard’s hands fell to his sides, his whole expression underwent a complete change, and he said as if he was consumed with impatience, and nothing more:

“Do as I advise, Cathy, and continue your sightseeing elsewhere. That is if you won’t go home! But I think you’d be wise to go home!”

As if she was vastly intrigued Nicola stepped forward into the room, looked from Cathleen to Edouard, and then from Edouard back to Cathleen, and finally shook her head at her.

“And if you’re anything like me you won’t listen to that advice,” she observed. “You’ll do exactly as you please!” She advanced to Edouard and in a completely natural manner wound her arms about his neck and stood on tiptoe to kiss the tip of his square chin. “Bully!” she exclaimed. “Because the poor girl hasn’t anyone to champion her you
think
you can inflict your advice on her. But I hope she won’t listen to you ... after all, why should she
?
” with sublime casualness, as if only half her mind was concentrating on the problem of Cathleen, and it wasn’t a very important one in any case. “Don’t be so bossy, darling,”
and she rubbed her cheek against his shaven one.

“Take me back to my hotel, Edouard,” she requested. “I may or may not be coming back here to stay, but I’ll certainly be at your
palazzo
bright and early in the morning. If you can spare him, let Giovanni come and pick me up.”

While she was still standing on tiptoe and running her fingers through his hair Cathleen made good her escape, and she did indeed feel as if she had escaped from something singularly unpleasant and unforgettably humiliating by the time she reached her own room.

She had no intention whatsoever of facing any member of the family that night, and she even started to pack a bag in preparation for her departure in the morning before getting into bed. The only reason why she refrained from completing her packing was because Bianca knocked lightly on the door and then came in swiftly, looking almost sympathetic at the sight of the open suitcases in the middle of the floor.

“My dear child,” she said gently and soothingly, as Cathleen looked round at her resentfully—apparently so long as she was a guest at the Palazzo di Rini she was not to be permitted any real privacy. “My sweet child, what do you think you’re doing
?
”

Cathleen, who had rid herself of the ruby bracelet and necklace and placed them on her dressing-table, where they blazed like fire in the Venetian splendour of the room, answered almost curtly.

“I’m going home, Bianca. I’ve decided that it’s high time I went back.”

Bianca advanced to her and placed a hand lightly on her shoulder.

“Nonsense,
cara
,”
she chided. “That would be a foolish thing to do, and Paul and I have plans for you.
Besides,” her voice dropping a little, and her dark eyes growing darker, “you have not yet discovered what has happened to your sister, and just because Edouard annoyed you ... he did something to annoy you, yes
?
” she inquired softly.

Cathleen denied it.

“It’s just that I want to go home.”

Bianca put back an end of her bright hair from her brow.

“Listen,
cara
,” she said soothingly, “Paul and I are your friends, and you cannot just walk out on us. If Edouard has upset you you must remember that he has upset numberless young women like you since he discovered the appeal he has for our sex, and if you want to know the truth about Nicola Brent she, too, has tried hard to marry him. Of all the women he has known I think he admires Nicola more than any other, and if he ever does marry it will be she who will become the Comtesse de Moroc—”

“Comtesse
?
” Cathleen interrupted in some surprise.

Bianca smiled at her.

“You didn’t know?” She sounded almost sympathetic. “My poor child, Edouard really is a prize, for he is almost vulgarly rich, and his title is one of the oldest in France. True, he doesn’t always use it, but most of his friends know about his houses in France, his flat in Paris and villa in Rome—in addition to the
palazzo
you have already seen.” She sighed suddenly. “I suppose we have all tried to ensnare
him
at some time or other, but he is as elusive as air and as unrepentant as a man without a heart. Nicola, being
born
American, and with very little sensibility, has pursued him more openly than most, and in her case he really does seem to be attracted ... at any rate, she seems to wield some power over him.” The expression of her face changed—it looked almost contorted for a moment, and her eyes were sullenly resentful. “If you are like me you will not wear your heart on your sleeve,” as if she had long ago seen through Cathleen’s pitiful little pretence, “and to run away home to England would be to make it appear that you are so affected by Edouard that you cannot remain in Venice and be near him. Whereas, if you do remain, and if you behave cleverly, you will convince him in time that you have got over him without the smallest difficulty. And would not that be more of a comfort to you when you get back to your cold, grey England than the knowledge that you let him see only too clearly how you felt
?
”

Cathleen stared at her. She had never heard Bianca make such a long and impassioned speech before, and she felt mildly hypnotised by the other’s powerfully expressed argument.

“But I really will have to go home before very long—” she argued.

Bianca agreed.

“But not yet,
cara
.
Paul and I do not wish to part with you yet.” Once more her white hand came to rest on Cathleen’s shoulder. “And as for Edouard, tomorrow it is all arranged that we lunch with him at his
palazzo,
and you must be one of us, of course. Just behave as if you could not care less about Edouard, and Paul and I will help you. Treat him with disdain. Tell him, if you like, that you are thinking of marrying Paul
!”

“But that is absolute nonsense!” Cathleen exclaimed. “You know very well that your brother and I—”

Bianca smiled at her with extraordinary sweetness.

“Go to bed, child,” she advised, “and forget everything. In the morning you will probably look at things as I do.”

She went across to the dressing-table and collected the rubies.

“I will return these to the safe,” she said, “but they are yours when you wish to wear them ... the bracelet really is yours! Paul,” she emphasised, “wishes you to have it. You may not be in love with him, but he,” smiling archly, “is very much in love with you!”