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When they were left alone, she said, ‘Where is my father?’
‘He couldn’t make it.’ His smile was equable. ‘I’m taking his place.’
‘Not,’ she said, her voice shaking, ‘in this lifetime.’ She reached for her bag. ‘I’m going.’
‘I’m aware you have a predilection for making scenes,’ he said softly. ‘But I hardly think you want to start one here, where you’re so well-known. Not if you ever want to come back, anyway.’ He allowed that to sink in for a heartbeat, the continued evenly, ‘So I suggest you bite on the bullet, Miss Langton, and stay exactly where you are.’
Slowly, unwillingly, she let go of her bag. Looked at him, her enemy, elegant in his dark blue suit with the discreetly striped silk tie. Found herself noticing reluctantly the long, dark lashes that fringed the vivid blue gaze—the cool, sculpted line of the hard mouth.
She took a breath. ‘Why are you doing this?’
‘Because I don’t have a choice. If you’d spent the weekend at Kings Whitnall, this interview could have been conducted in private. That was certainly your father’s initial wish.’
‘I thought he took my absence far too well,’ she said bitterly. ‘I should have known that he’d be planning something.’ She paused. ‘And what interview, precisely?’
‘Maybe we should order first,’ he said. ‘Some discussions should be avoided on an empty stomach.’
‘Then I’ll have the red-pepper soup,’ she said, barely glancing at the menu. ‘Followed by Dover sole, and a green salad.’
Joel beckoned to a hovering waiter. ‘I’ll have the vegetable terrine, and the sea bass,’ he added, having given her order. ‘And the Chablis.’ He glanced at Darcy, sitting rigidly across the table, bright spots of colour flaring in her pale cheeks. ‘Also some still water, right away, please.’
‘You think I might need it?’ she asked sarcastically as the waiter left.
‘I’m still learning your reactions,’ he said. ‘And this is new territory.’
‘Then here’s a response to be going on with.’ She kept her voice low and fierce. ‘I do not want to be here with you. I hoped I would never see you again. I would like you to go away now. Is that clear enough?’
‘Your father’s wishes are rather different,’ he said. ‘And he’s still the boss. And this is the scenario as he sees it. I stay, and we enjoy a pleasant lunch together. Tomorrow, I get my secretary to send you flowers. At the end of the week, I call you personally and invite you to dinner. After that, I have tickets for a play you want to see.
‘And on we go for three months, say, when I arrange dinner à deux, probably at my flat, produce a very expensive diamond ring, and ask you to be my wife.’
She stared at him. ‘You’re quite insane,’ she said flatly. ‘You must be.’
‘As I said, it’s your father’s script, not mine. And certainly not yours.’
‘No.’ She bit the word.
‘Then why don’t we save a lot of time and wasted effort? Scrub the meaningless courtship rituals, and cut to the chase.’ The blue gaze dwelt on her dispassionately. ‘Your father intends you to marry me, Miss Langton. So, what’s it to be? Yes—or no?’
CHAPTER FOUR
THE NOISE and movement around them faded to some unknown distance. Darcy could hear nothing but the echo of his words in her head. Could see nothing but the watchful blue eyes.
From somewhere, she found her voice. Made it work.
‘No. No. Of course not. Obviously. You—you couldn’t possibly think …’
She drew a breath. Moved her hands in a quick, angry gesture. ‘My God, no.’
He nodded. ‘You don’t think you should give the proposition some reasoned consideration?’ His tone was almost meditative.
‘Reasoned?’ she echoed derisively. ‘I think my father, and you, must have taken leave of your collective senses.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Isn’t it apparent?’ She took a quick breath. ‘I loathed you on sight, Mr Castille, and first impressions count with me. And, of all the women in the world, I must be the last one you’d ever seriously consider as a wife. So why don’t you simply tell my father so, and put a final end to this nonsense?’
‘On the other hand,’ he said softly, ‘why don’t you tell him the grounds for your dislike of me? I’m sure he’d be fascinated.’
There was a tense silence, then Darcy said, ‘Are you daring to blackmail me, Mr Castille?’
‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘Just pointing out that your continued hostility could lead to explanations we’d both find awkward.’ He paused. ‘Your aunt already has her suspicions.’
‘Thanks,’ she said, ‘to you.’
There was an enforced pause while one waiter brought the water to the table, another arrived with a wine cooler and someone else came with a basket of home-made bread.
Darcy drank some of her spritzer, hoping vainly it would ease the dryness of her mouth, or, at least, calm her whirling thoughts.
This is a bad dream, she thought. One of those waking ones that leaves you with a headache for the rest of the morning. And, presently, I shall open my eyes and find I’m still in bed in Chelsea, and if that happens I’ll happily take aspirin for the next week.
But then the flurry of activity round the table ceased, and she was once again alone with her tormentor.
She put her glass down, hoping that he hadn’t noticed that her hand had been shaking.
She said, ‘Who thought up this sick joke?’
‘It evolved. Your father’s a realist, and he knows that his decision to bring me into the company hasn’t met with universal favour. The board might decide it prefers another outsider. Someone less inclined to upset the status quo. But as Gavin’s son-in-law, a member of the family, I’d be in a much stronger position when he finally stands down.’
He gave her a level look. ‘Think about it. Your father entrusts not only his company to me, but also his precious only child. That indicates a certain amount of faith, wouldn’t you say? And it might tip the balance in my favour, if it came to a showdown.’
He paused. ‘And our marriage could have other positive advantages, too.’
‘Really?’ The query was taut. ‘I’m unable to think of a single one.’
Joel drank some water. ‘He was telling me at the weekend that you’d once had an idea about going to university.’
‘Did he also tell you he’d made sure it didn’t happen? That he warned me he’d block any application I made for a student loan—tell the banks I was a bad risk?’ Her voice was bitter. ‘As far as my father’s concerned, all I’m fit for is to act as his hostess, on occasion. My God, he’d prefer me to have a career as a table decoration.’
His tone was laconic. ‘You do it well.’
‘Thank you,’ she said, quivering with temper.
‘In between,’ he continued as if she hadn’t spoken, ‘you’ve filled your time with a series of dead-end jobs that pay peanuts. Not that it matters, because you get an allowance, approved by the board, for your services. You also have the use of the house in Chelsea.’
He rearranged his cutlery. ‘But that happy state of affairs is about to end. Your father is retiring, which leaves you out of regular work, and out on a limb.’
‘On the contrary.’ Darcy lifted her chin coldly, ‘I have every intention of getting a full-time job. Even without a degree.’
‘In London?’
‘Perhaps.’
He nodded meditatively. ‘And where do you plan to live?’
‘I’ll continue to live in Chelsea. It’s just as much my home as Kings Whitnall.’
‘Actually, no.’ His eyes met hers. ‘The Chelsea house is owned officially by Werner Langton. A glamorous London pied-à-terre for the chairman, reflecting his status, as well as somewhere to entertain clients, especially those who dislike hotel life.’
He paused. ‘Of course, that’s never really mattered while your father’s been managing director, and chairman. He’s treated it as a second home, and allowed you to do so. I can see where the confusion has arisen.’
He smiled at her. ‘But once he stands down as chairman, that will no longer apply. It will revert to being a company residence. And I don’t think you can afford the rent, especially without your allowance. And I’m not sure I want a lodger, anyway.’
She sat motionless, staring at him, as their first courses arrived.
I didn’t know, she thought. I assumed it was our house. Why did my father never tell me the real situation?
She picked up her spoon, and began to eat her soup. It was very hot, and subtly spiced, helping to dispel some of the growing chill inside her. Some, but not all.
‘This terrine is delicious,’ he commented, breaking the taut silence. ‘Like to try some?’
Mutely, she shook her head.
He studied her with faint amusement. ‘Cheer up,’ he said. ‘You’re not going to be made to starve in the gutter. When we’re married, your upkeep will become my responsibility.’ He paused. ‘I think you’ll find me reasonably generous,’ he added lightly.
She put down the spoon. She said thickly, ‘You talk as if this—thing was a done deal.’
‘Oh, we’re a fair way from that,’ he said. ‘But I live in hope.’
The waiters returned to clear away their plates, and bring the next course. Darcy sat with a forced smile as her fish was removed from the bone, wine was poured and vegetables handed.
When they were left to themselves again, she said, ‘Disregarding personalities, why on earth should you wish to get married at all? You seem to me to be a perennial bachelor.’
‘Based, naturally, on your vast experience of men.’ His tone was cutting. ‘But all husbands were single once. That’s how it works.’
He paused. ‘I’ve spent a lot of my time travelling—working in the field. Now that I’m putting down roots, maybe I’ve begun to realise the value of a well-run home.’
‘But you’ll have that,’ she said swiftly. ‘I presume Mrs Inman is also a Werner Langton employee, who goes with the house, and, as you’ve already discovered, she’s a treasure. You’ll hardly let her go.’
‘Certainly not. But I think she prefers receiving orders to acting on her own initiative. And I have little time for domestic minutiae. I need someone who knows how the household works, and what instructions to give. Who can deal with sometimes difficult and demanding people.’
Darcy lifted her eyebrows. ‘Do you include yourself in that category, Mr Castille?’ she asked caustically.
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘If I don’t get my own way. But I’m sure you’re already accustomed to that in your family circle,’ he added silkily.
‘And there is another consideration,’ he went on, ignoring her mutinous glare. ‘Mrs Inman is a worthy soul, but I wouldn’t want to look at her on the other side of my table every night.’
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