Rose in the Bud (17 page)

“Oh
!”
Cathleen exclaimed, the clear eyes he had referred to beginning to resemble the over-bright but still slightly bewildered stars as she lifted them to his face.

“Darling
!”
he responded, once more carrying her hand up to his lips. He attempted to marshal his scattered thoughts. “Where was I
?
Oh, yes, I was telling you about Arlette ... and I am happy to make the discovery that you are not now attempting to fight me!”

She felt his arm slip round her shoulders, and she was drawn close against him. The taxi-man concentrated on negotiating the various twists and bends of the park.

“Do you think, before we go on, I might be permitted to hear you say one thing?” Edouard enquired, with much humbleness, while she attempted to hide her face against him.

“What is that?” she whispered into his coat collar.

“That you were not really angry because I took you away from your employer, and that in spite of everything you do love me, as much as I love you!
”

He tilted her chin so that he could see into her eyes, and the canopy of leaves that formed a roof for the taxi swam round her, as well as the ceiling of the vehicle itself. She had an impression of rather worn leather dipping and turning, and then Edouard’s lean dark face came between her and these distractions and his mouth devoured hers. For a full half minute her breath was snatched away from her as the kiss proclaimed his desperation and the anguish he, too, had felt when she slipped away from Venice without his knowing, and after that he was covering the rest of her face with kisses, and she felt his heart thundering against her like a wild thing.

“You are so unutterably adorable,” he told her. “You are so heady and sweet that on me you have the same effect as a magnum of champagne ... only more so!” She saw his teeth gleaming as he smiled at her tenderly. “I won’t be happy until we are married, and then, if you ever try to run away from me—!”

“Are you really asking me to marry you?” she breathed huskily, quite unable—despite his kisses—to believe that he was doing anything of the kind.

His face darkened. For a moment she thought she had offended him mortally.

“Why is it that you are so difficult to convince?” he demanded. “Is it because you are stupid? Because you have not the least idea of your own charms, or because you have no real faith in me? What was it Bianca told you about me that made you view me in such an unfavourable light?”

She did her utmost to soothe his indignation.

“I think Bianca is feeling resentful because it is quite obvious she—she likes you rather a lot herself,” she explained. “And she said that there had been other women—many women who had fallen in love with you, but whom you turned down one after another. She also seemed to think that Nicola—”

“Ah, Nicola!” he exclaimed brusquely, as if here was enlightenment. “It was a pity that I ran into Nicola that last time in Paris, because it made it a comparatively simple matter for Bianca to turn you against me. Nicola is the kind of minx I wouldn’t marry if she was the only member of her sex left in the world, and Bianca is well aware of that. She said what she did about Nicola to hurt me—and you!”

“But,” Cathleen reminded him, once more lowering her cheek until it rested against him, “she did seem to be on very good terms with you that night you brought her to the di Rini
palazzo,
and I saw her kiss you myself—”

“Kiss!” he exclaimed. “What a simpleton you are, little one, that it never struck you Nicola was going out of her way to put on an act designed to impress you with the closeness of our relationship. Actually, Nicola is no more interested in me than she is in any other man, but I have grown accustomed to the idea that my tide—which is old and good—is an attraction to rich women, and my possessions to the ones who are not so well off. I was particularly anxious you should not discover I possessed one ... not because I thought it might tempt you, but because I preferred that you should not know.”

Cathleen couldn’t refrain from smiling into his
neck
.

“Which means you were a little afraid it might
tempt me,” she murmured.

He turned his face towards her and studied her intently.

“Were you attracted by the di Rini ti
tl
e?”

“Never,” she answered.

“You know that your sister Arlette was?”

“I expect so.”

“Arlette is a typical example of a young woman who has been spoiled,” he observed. “And I’ve no doubt your mother was the one who spoiled her, while you appear to have escaped! The first time I met Arlette at the Palazzo di Rini I realised she was out to marry Paul—to involve him if necessary. I warned the Contessa, my godmother, that this was likely to happen, and Arlette had actually received notice of
dismissal
when the Contessa died. After that I became a little sorry for your sister, because I think she was genuinely rather fond of Paul, and when she was asked—in fact, Bianca insisted—to leave the
palazzo
it was not a very comfortable moment for her. She came to me to borrow money, and I found her a room in a hotel where she could stay for a while, until she found herself a job, and in the meantime I offered to paint her. I suppose, though I despised her, her looks attracted me, and when I saw you—with Arlette’s looks plus something quite out of this world!—I was more or less prepared to fall in love with you. You had the lovely colouring I had been consigning to canvas, and perhaps I had dreamed a little while I did so
...
Anyway, Arlette was well rewarded for posing for me,
and
then by great good luck I renewed my acquaintance with a family—a French family—who were willing to employ her.

“Arlette is at this moment in Paris, settling down perfectly comfortably in the household I selected for her, and no doubt flirting outrageously with the good-looking elder son of the household, who may or may not become involved with her. If he does, perhaps it will help matters a little when we are married, and if he is serious about her we can settle a handsome dowry on her.”

“You—you would do that?” Cathleen interposed, gazing at him with eyes that contained an almost awed expression.

“But of course, my darling—for you!” He tilted her chin again. “Do you not want to know how it was that I found you so easily?”

“Bianca gave you my address?”

“Certainly not. Bianca would never be so co-operative.”

“Paul? Although I don’t think he knew it!”

“Not Paul. At the moment he is hot-foot in pursuit of Nicola ... largely for her money, of course!”

And that caused her to remember something else. “How did you-—find out about the size of my legacy?”

He smiled.

“In the beginning I suspected that it wasn’t very large, and then—I don’t know quite why—I became convinced. You were always so secretive about it, for one thing.” His smile became gently teasing. “Naturally, I didn’t wish to become involved with a multimillionairess, so I had to find out. I had to find out a lot of things about you. I flew to London from Paris and saw your mother, after obtaining your address from the hotel in Venice. They were good enough to provide me with it because they knew me. Well, your
mother turned out to be pretty much as I pictured her... ”

She gazed at him incredulously.

“You
saw
my mother? No wonder she was so nice to me when I arrived home
!”

The Comte de Moroc shrugged his elegant shoulders.

“
Mignonne
,
she could not very well be anything else. I told her that I intended to marry you, and I think I convinced her I should be perfectly well able to take care of you. She seemed entirely satisfied.”

Cathleen gasped.

“I don’t wonder! My mother has the snob attitude towards titles ... she thinks they’re wonderful!”

“And you?”

“I—I’ve never thought very much about them.”

He kissed her lingeringly.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re adorable. But is there anything else about which you would like to be informed
?
”

“Only whether it was my mother who gave you the address of the shop
?
”

“But of course! She is expecting us back for dinner this evening, and in the meantime I am free to take you wherever I wish. My main desire is to be alone with you, not to take you anywhere, and this taxi is full of charm and no one can interfere with us. But I’m afraid we cannot make many more journeys around the park. I suggest that we stop at my hotel. There I can buy you a drink, and we can talk.”

She glanced downwards at her simple cotton dress. “But I’m not dressed for hotels!” A horrified thought occurred to her: “And I expect yours is a very smart one
?
”

“The Ritz,” he replied. “I normally stay there when
I’m in London, although occasionally I put up at the Savoy.”

“Then I’m afraid we’ll either have to continue in the taxi, or go home to my mother’s f
l
at,” she said decisively. “I couldn’t, and wouldn’t, appear at the Ritz in this dress. For one thing it’s smeared with ink because I was doing some ledger work this morning.”

He smiled at her, half humorously, half quizzically. “So already you defy me, little one,” he said. “You say you love me—you agree to marry me—”

“As a matter of fact, you haven’t actually asked me yet,” she said shyly, but with a twinkle in her over-bright eyes.

H
e seemed amused.

“Is it absolutely essential that I go down on my knees to you, despite the fact that I have your mother’s permission
?
Well, a taxi is no place for that. But you shall have the full treatment later. For the moment, although you look utterly enchanting to me, I will defer to your wishes and take you home to your mother. If she will grant us the use of her sitting-room, or drawing-room, I will tell you a few things that I have yet to tell you
...”
his eyes devoured her in anticipation—“and to-night we will make plans for our wedding. It had better, I suppose, be in London.”

“I don’t really know where you live for most of the year,” she reminded him in the same shy tone.

“Not Venice,” caressing her cheek with his long finger, and then ligh
tl
y kissing her hair. “It is too dank except at the height of the season. But I think you will like my
palazzo
just the same, when we do stay there. But for most of the year, as you phrase it, I live in Paris. I think you told me once that you don’t know Paris...
?
”

She shook her head.

“For that I am glad, because it will make me happy introducing you to it for the first time. But in France I have two other houses, and I hope you will like those as well.
”

She closed her eyes for a moment, and then opened them rather wide.

“Tell me,” she begged, “am I awake or dreaming
?
”

“You are awake, my little one—my dearest.” He glanced again at the taxi-driver’s back—it gave away little or nothing. The park also seemed extraordinarily deserted for that hour of the day. He took her in his arms, rather violently. “Kiss me, my sweet,” he begged, “in the same way that you kissed me once in Venice!”

And then they were clinging to one another rather helplessly. Later he lifted his head. His eyes were dark and deep with emotion, and somewhere deep at the heart of them they glowed redly.

“Do you know how I have always thought of you
?
” he asked. “Ever since that morning when I sent you red roses...
?
”

“
You
sent the red roses?”

“Who else?”

She let out a breathless sigh of pure happiness. “I’m so glad!”

“I know you thought Paul sent them, but it didn’t trouble me. Paul is unimaginative, and red roses are, I suppose, unimaginative. For you the very palest pink rosebud imaginable would have been more suitable.”

“Like the one you likened me to that morning in St. Mark’s Square.”

“So you didn’t forget that?”

“Of course not. It was the loveliest thing that was ever said to me.”

He gave her his solemn assurance that she would have many more lovely things said to her in the course of her lifetime, and then remembered to explain to her why it was he had offended her with that airline ticket at his
palazzo
.

“I wanted to be absolutely certain of you,” he said, with a curious look of intensity on his face. “You see, I wasn’t sure whether you wanted to marry Paul.”

Her blue eyes reproached him. Before tapping on the glass to regain the taxi-driver’s attention he made amends by snatching her passionately back into his arms.