The Devil at Archangel (16 page)

quite well, Tina? You look pale.'

She seized on his words with relief. 'Actually, I have a headache. I

think it's the punch. I'm not really used to alcohol, you see.'

'Naturally not. One forgets how potent our drinks can be to someone

who has not yet acquired a head for them. I'll take you home. It is time

we were making a move anyway, or Grand'mere will be worrying

about us.'

Christina felt confused as he ushered her solicitously to the door. She

had expected some sort of tantrum. He had been certainly spoiling for

one before he had been called away to the telephone. Perhaps he'd

had time to think calmly and reason out that Devlin was only trying to

needle him some known truths. All she wanted to do was escape

upstairs to solitude, but that was denied her.

Theo was urging her towards the salon. They would have some

coffee, he directed imperiously, and Madame Christophe would bring

her a painkiller for her headache. Christina gave way reluctantly,

after a half-hearted protest. She did not want a further
tete-a-tete
with

Theo that night, and she was conscious of a feeling of relief when she

saw that Mrs Brandon was still up, sitting waiting for them with the

inevitable embroidery in her lap.

Theo sat down beside her, kissed her hands and launched himself into

a recital of the evening's events that bore little relation to Christina's

own memories of it. For one thing, he mentioned a long list of people

who had been at the hotel and afterwards at the Beguine in a way that

suggested that she and Theo had been members of a large group

instead of studiously on their own. The one name he did not speak

was Devlin's, and Christina gathered with growing amazement that

that particular part of the evening was to be regarded as not having

happened.

The arrival of Madame Christophe with the coffee tray was Mrs

Brandon's signal to depart. She rose slowly and painfully from the

sofa and made her way to the door, after kissing Theo affectionately

and bestowing a slightly more punctilious goodnight on Christina.

As soon as the door had closed behind her and they were alone,

Christina turned to Theo, openly indignant. 'Why didn't you tell her

the truth?'

'Because that was not what she would have wanted to hear.' Theo

lifted his shoulders in a gesture of insouciance. 'What harm has been

done? You must not be so scrupulous, Tina. When you have been

with us longer, you will discover the best way to handle Grand'mere.'

Christina bit back the instinctive retort that boiled up in bier. She

picked up the small medicine cup from the tray, and swallowed the

tablet it contained with a mouthful of coffee. Theo leaned back

against the sofa and watched her through half-closed eyes.

'She was very happy tonight,' he went on after a pause. 'I could see

she thought we made a handsome couple. It is charming that you

should be fair while I am dark. We look good together, Tina, don't

you think?'

Christina set the cup back on the tray, her hand trembling a little.

Theo seemed to be building up to a flirtation —the one thing she had

wanted to avoid.

'I don't think I've ever been invited out on aesthetic grounds before,'

she commented, keeping her voice light. 'I'm sure you're quite aware

of your own good looks, Theo. You don't need any reassurance from

me.'

He replaced his own cup on the tray and moved closer to her. She

tried to edge away imperceptibly, but his hand shot out and gripped

the fold of her skirt.

'Not reassurance, maybe, but I have other needs, Tina. I need love—a

woman's affection.'

She sat very still, her mind working furiously. She tried to smile.

'Well, I'll be fond of you, Theo, if you'd let me go to bed. I'm worn

out.'

'That is unfortunate,' he said, and there was a snap in his voice. 'But I

am not ready to go to bed yet. Don't play hard to get with me, Tina.'

She gasped with indignation. 'Of all the damned cheek

'

she

began, and glanced down, startled. His hand was moving the fold of

silk, pushing it away from her knee up towards her thigh. 'And you

can stop that now!' She slapped him hard.

'You say that—you do that to me.' His voice was harsh, his face set

and suddenly ugly. 'But
ce brave
Devlin—he is another matter, non?

Do you not think I saw the way you looked at him? The way you

moved your body inside your dress while you were dancing for him.'

He lunged at her, pinning her against the sofa back. His mouth sought

hers greedily, and she tried vainly to turn her head away to escape his

wet, seeking lips. His hands were on her breasts, squeezing them so

that she gasped in pain, then his fingers were pulling at her skirt

again. For a moment she lay still, too horrified by this sudden display

of passion to resist. Then summoning all her strength, she pushed at

him wildly, violently. He was off balance, half kneeling over her, and

her move sent him sprawling on to the floor. For a moment he lay

there glaring at her, then suddenly he turned over on to his stomach

and began to cry. Her lips parted in disbelief as she stared down at

him, prostrate at her feet, his whole body shaking with sobs.

'Theo, for God's sake.' She felt totally helpless. 'What in the world's

come over you? You must, stop this—stop crying.'

He raised his head and looked at her. His handsome face was blotched

and swollen with tears. He looked very young.

'How can I not cry, when you are so cruel to me?' he demanded.

'Don't talk such nonsense,' she said angrily. 'Did you really think that

I was going to let you ...' she paused, searching for the right words.

She couldn't say 'make love'. To use those words in respect of that

brutal, selfish assault would be a desecration. 'Let you—use me in

return for a night out?'

'No, no.' He got up on to his knees. 'You don't understand. I lost

control of myself and I regret that—I can't tell you how much. But if I

did, Tina, don't blame me too much. It's only because I love you ...'

'Stop it!' she jumped to her feet, her face white. 'I'm not going to let

you talk like that. It's ridiculous!'

'Just now you were angry because I did not speak the truth. Now you

are angry because I do. Tina, forgive me. I did not mean to tell you

yet, but when I saw you with Devlin tonight, when I knew how he

schemed to get you away from me, I was so jealous.'

^You've no right to be jealous—and no reason either.'This was a bad

dream, and soon, soon, please God, she would wake from it.

'No?' He rose to his feet and faced her. 'When I got to the telephone

my caller' had conveniently rung off, and when I returned you had

gone—with him. At once it was clear. That call was just a ruse to get

me away from the table—one of his friends playing a trick. Always

he has envied me—envied me this plantation—because Grand'- mere

preferred me. And now he envies me my woman.'

'Let us get one thing quite clear,' Christina said very steadily. 'I am not

your woman.'

There was a long electric pause, then Theo turned, away, thrusting his

hands petulantly into his trousers pockets.

'You are saying that to hurt me,' he flung at her over his shoulder.

'No, Theo, it's the truth.' She made herself speak gently. With a kind

of detached anguish, she realised that one of the straps on her dress

was broken, and she lifted a fold of the bodice to cover her breast.

Someone had said—a long time ago—that it was hard to tell where

the dress ended and her skin began. She felt a sob rising in her throat,

and bit it back. 'If I've ever given you cause to think anything else, I'm

sorry. I—I realise in the circumstances it was a mistake to go out with

you this evening, but it won't happen again. Goodnight.'

As
she walked to the door, she knew a moment's fear that he would

come after her, but he made no attempt to move. She closed the door

and stood for a moment leaning against it, trying to regain her calm.

Then she made herself walk without hurrying up the stairs to her

room.

She was thankful there was no one around to see her. One glance in

her mirror told the whole story. As well as her torn dress, some of her

hair had become loosened from its knot during the struggle and was

hanging untidily around her ears, and her lip gloss was smudged. She

felt dirty all over, and she shuddered.

Shedding her clothes, she walked into the bathroom and ran hot water

into the tub. As she scrubbed and rinsed her skin, she began almost

insensibly to feel better, but she knew at the same time that her

feelings were the least of her problems. She was faced with the

unpalatable fact that Dev Brandon seemed to be right, after all.

She was sure that nothing she had said or done could have led Theo to

think that he had some claim on her. Therefore his belief must have

been prompted by some outside agency, and Mrs Brandon was the

obvious—indeed, the only choice. Christina had always felt disturbed

by her employer's willing acceptance of her grandson's interest in her.

She was not of their world, and she had no money, and she was not so

naive as to believe these things did not matter. There was no way in

which she could be considered a suitable bride for the heir to

Archangel, unless they had fallen deeply and passionately in love

with each other.

Did Theo love her? She got out of the bath and began to dry herself on

one of the big towelling bath sheets provided for the purpose. She

tried to consider the matter objectively. He admired her, and had

made no secret of it— but love? There had been few signs of that.

There had been no tenderness, no desire to seek a corresponding

arousal in his behaviour downstairs. For one brief heart-thudding

instant, she recalled another mouth on hers, other hands touching her

in intimate exploration, then she determinedly put that memory away

from her too. That had nothing to do with love either—just an

arrogant wish to add her name to his apparently endless list of

conquests. She could only be thankful she had come to her senses

before being carried away on that sweet golden tide of wantonness.

At the same time, some inner demon muttered that if she had

succumbed to Devlin, at least her present predicament would not

exist. Maybe that was what he had intended all along, and his

lovemaking had been prompted less by desire for her than a wish to

make mischief as Theo had suggested.

With a groan, she dropped the bath sheet in a damp crumpled heap

and walked through into the bedroom. She stood for a moment, taking

a long hard look at herself in | the mirror. She was slim—indeed, if

one was being critical, skinny might even be the word—or

underdeveloped, she thought, biting her lip. Her breasts were small,

and the curve of her hips gently rounded rather than voluptuous. She

gazed for a few seconds more before turning away and reaching for

her gingham nightgown. Nothing there, she thought, to drive any man

wild with desire, as she would do well to remind herself.

Devlin Brandon's motives seemed clear enough, she decided, stifling

the instinctive pain that brought in its train. What had Mrs Brandon

said? 'No respecter of innocence'. It was shaming to think that she had

almost been prepared to sacrifice that innocence to gratify a man with

little but malice on his mind.

But Theo's motivation was more difficult to conjecture. It was not the

pass he had made—she supposed rather wearily she might have seen

that coming—but the avowal of love and the expectation of some sort

of prolonged relationship that had followed it were its most

disturbing features.

Only one thing seemed certain—she would have to get away, and

fast. So first thing tomorrow, she would see Mrs Brandon and hand in

her notice. She sighed. There seemed nothing for it but to write to Mr

Frith, explaining her situation and begging a temporary loan to enable

her to get back to England. She was sure he would help her even

though he would be surprised to get an appeal for help so close on the

heels of her other communication which had been couched in

thoroughly optimistic terms. Once she was back in England, she

would have to take whatever work was going and pay him back

somehow. It was a frankly depressing prospect, especially when she

had thought she had left those sort of worries behind her.

She put a hand to her head. The fictitious headache had become a

factual one, and bed
seemed suddenly very inviting, although she did