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She tried to summon up the strength to break the embrace, but he did it for her, pushing her away with a resolution that only just avoided being discourteous.
‘We’d better return to the table,’ he said.
Then he was walking off without a backward look, giving her no choice but to follow. Which was discourteous. She might have been irritated if she hadn’t had an inkling of what was troubling him. She too needed time to think about what had just happened; time to deny it.
Charlie had reached the point of talking nonsense and Teresa looked relieved to see them.
‘How did you get here?’ Roscoe said, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder with a gentleness that contradicted the roughness in his voice.
‘I hired Harry and his car. He’s waiting for us.’
‘Good. He can take you home while I take Pippa.’
‘Hey, Pippa’s with me—’
‘And the less she sees of you in this state the better. Waiter!’
In a few minutes he’d settled everything—Charlie’s bill as well as his own. They escorted Charlie out to the side road where the chauffeur was waiting. Teresa helped to settle him in the back seat, which gave Pippa the chance to mutter to Roscoe, ‘I’ll take a taxi home.’
‘You will not.’
‘But I don’t want to be a gooseberry,’ she said frantically. ‘You and she…I mean…’
‘I know exactly what you mean and kindly allow me to make my own decisions.’
‘Like you make everyone else’s?’ she snapped.
‘I won’t pretend not to understand that, but you can’t have known my brother a whole two days without realising that he’s vulnerable. I don’t want people to see him like this. Do you?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘Just let me say goodnight to him.’
But Charlie was dead to the world and she stood back while Harry drove off with him. Watching Roscoe get into the driving seat of his car, she realised that she’d seen him drink only tonic water, and after several hours in a nightclub he was stone cold sober and completely in control.
Which was typical of him, she thought crossly.
Teresa didn’t seem annoyed at having Pippa foisted on her when she would no doubt have preferred to be alone with Roscoe. As they sat together in the back she chatted merrily, mostly about Charlie, whose company she had enjoyed, especially as he had entertained her by running through some routines by another more talented comedian he’d recently seen perform.
‘He’s really good,’ she recalled.
‘You shouldn’t encourage him,’ Roscoe said over his shoulder. ‘He’s a sight too fond of playing whatever part he thinks people want.’
‘Which will surely be useful in a stockbroker,’ Pippa observed. ‘He must need various personalities, depending on whether he’s buying shares or selling them, manipulating the market, or manipulating people. With any luck, he’ll be almost as good at that as you.’
Teresa rocked with laughter. The back of Roscoe’s head was stiff and unrevealing.
Outside her apartment block, he got out and held open the door for her, a chivalrous gesture that also gave him the chance to fix her with a cool, appraising stare. She returned it in full measure.
‘I hope your evening was enjoyable, Miss Jenson.’
‘I hope yours was informative, Mr Havering.’
‘More than I could have imagined, thank you.’
‘Then all is well. Goodnight.’
Once in her apartment with the door safely shut behind her, Pippa tossed her bag aside, threw herself into a chair and kicked off her shoes, breathing out hard and long.
‘Phew! What an evening! Get him! More informative than he could have imagined. I’ll bet it was! Hello, Gran! Don’t mind me. I’m good ‘n mad.’
She was addressing the photograph that she kept on the sideboard, showing the wedding of Grandmother Dee and Grandfather Mark. Dee had once confided to her that there had been complications about that wedding.
‘I was pregnant,’ she’d said, ‘and that was scandalous in nineteen forty-three. You had to get married to stay respectable, and I wondered if he was only marrying me because he had to.’
‘And was he?’ Pippa had wanted to know.
Dee had smiled mysteriously. ‘Let’s say he had his own reasons, but it was a while before I discovered what they were. On our wedding day I still couldn’t quite believe in his love.’
Yet the young Dee in the picture was beaming happily, and in Pippa’s present mood it all looked delightfully uncomplicated.
‘Fancy having to be married before you could make love,’ she mused.
In her mind she saw Roscoe dancing with Teresa, holding her in an embrace that spoke of passion deferred, but not for long. Right this minute they were on their way to her home, or perhaps to his, where he would sweep her into the bedroom and remove her clothes without wasting a moment.
She knew the kind of lover he would be: no-nonsense, not lingering over preliminaries, but proceeding straight to the purpose, as he did with everything. As well as pleasuring his woman efficiently, he would instruct her as to his own needs, with everything done to the highest standards. Afterwards, Teresa would know she’d received attention from an expert.
For a while Pippa’s annoyance enabled her to indulge these cynical thoughts, but another memory insisted on intruding—his care for his mother, his patience, his kindness to her. All these spoke of a different man, with a gentle heart that he showed rarely. Was that gentleness also present in the lover?
‘And why am I bothering? ‘ she asked aloud. ‘Honestly, Gran, I think you had it better in your day.’
Dee’s smiling face as she nestled against her new husband seemed to say that she was right.
Pippa sighed and went to bed.
The night that followed was the strangest she’d ever known. Worn out, she had expected to sleep like a log, but the world was fractured. Two men wandered through her dreams—one gentle, protective and kind, the other a harsh authoritarian who gave his orders and assumed instant obedience. Both men were Roscoe Havering.
In this other world he danced with her, holding her close, not briefly but possessively, as though claiming her for ever. Unable to resist, she yielded, resting against him with a joy that felt like coming home. But then she awoke to find her flesh singing but herself alone.
In a fury, she threw something across the room. It was time to face facts. Roscoe had appeared at The Diamond the night before in order to study her and see if she was doing her job as a hired fancy woman. Whatever gloss he tried to put on it, that was the truth. Curse him!
Unable to lie still, she rose and began to pace the room, muttering desperately. ‘All right, so I felt something. Not here—’ she laid a hand quickly over her heart ‘—no, not there, but—’ she looked down at her marvellous body ‘—just about everywhere else. Only for a moment. And he needn’t think I’m giving in to it. I’ve done with that stuff for ever. So that’s settled. Now I need to get some more sleep.’
CHAPTER SIX
WHEN Pippa finally awoke it was to the memory of the appointment at Roscoe’s office that morning.
‘Oh, no,’ she groaned. ‘I’m not going!’
But she knew she was. The professional Miss Jenson didn’t tamely back off. She got out of bed, showered in cold water for maximum alertness and ate a hearty breakfast, calculated to enhance energy and efficiency. The fact that she was inwardly fuming was of no interest to anyone else. Certainly not Roscoe Havering.
Now that the first hint of winter snow was in the air, she chose her attire for warmth: severe suit, long coat, flat shoes. With a face free of make-up and her hair scraped firmly back, she decided that she looked just right: a lawyer, not a fancy piece, whatever a man with no manners might think.
She put in a hard morning’s work at her office, then David looked in for a quick word.
‘Off to see Roscoe? Good. You’ve probably learned all about him by now.’
‘The odd detail,’ she said, assiduously hunting for something inside her desk.
‘Then you’ll have heard that there’s nobody in the business with a higher reputation. His speciality is discretionary dealing.’
Pippa knew that some brokers simply followed their clients’ instructions, but did not give advice. Others would give advice, but not make final decisions. Most demanding of all was discretionary dealing, where the broker ascertained the clients’ long-term objectives, and then had authority to make decisions without further consultation. Only the best and most trusted brokers could do this, and it came as no surprise to know that Roscoe Havering was one of them.
‘A lot of brokers came out of the recession looking bad,’ David told her. ‘Not him. If anything, his trade has doubled because clients have flocked to him, disillusioned with the others. Plus there are rumours of a link-up with the Vanlen Corporation that would make Havering one of the richest and most powerful men in the financial world.’
Pippa mulled this over on the journey to Threadneedle Street, in the financial heart of London. Now the snow had properly started and, as she stepped out of the taxi, she pulled her coat tight, relieved that she would get her car back tomorrow.
Roscoe’s office was located in a historic building, converted to modern day requirements. Dark deeds had occurred there centuries ago. Dead bodies had once been discovered in the cellar, one of which was a man known personally to the reigning monarch of the time. But only the building’s outside reflected the dramatic past. Inside, all was corporate efficiency, bland colours and straight lines.
But I’ll bet there are still plenty of dark deeds, Pippa reflected as she hurried into the elevator. Just a different kind.
She was curious to see how well Roscoe’s establishment reflected the man, and it was no surprise to discover that he was on the top floor, with a view down on the world. As expected, she found the atmosphere subdued, even slightly haughty.
The receptionist showed her to a seat. ‘I’m afraid there’ll be a slight delay,’ she said. ‘Mr Vanlen just walked in without warning. He’s going to Los Angeles for some big international gathering, and he’s annoyed because Mr Havering won’t go too. But Mr Havering says those meetings are all talk and no substance, and he won’t budge. Vanlen did a quick detour on his way to the airport, so at least he can’t stay long.’ She made a wry face. ‘He never seems to think that other people might be busy.’
‘I know the type,’ Pippa said with feeling.
From behind a door she could hear a voice raised in argument. ‘We can’t waste time. This is a big deal for both of us. When everything’s signed we’re going to be the kings, and you want that as much as I do. What’s that? The hell with keeping my voice down! Let them know that they’ve got to be afraid of you, that’s what I say. It’s where half the pleasure lies.’
The secretary groaned. ‘You hear him. That’s how Vanlen thinks. Heaven help us all when that tie-up goes through. Mr Havering’s a tyrant now but when he—’
She stopped as Vanlen’s voice was raised again. ‘I can’t believe you’re really not coming to Los Angeles. Surely that’s—?’
‘I’d better go in,’ the secretary said hastily. ‘Mr Havering is fed up with that subject.’
She hurried over and knocked on Roscoe’s door, opening it just in time for Pippa to hear him saying harshly, ‘I’m not going and that’s final. I don’t have the time. Anyway, the conference starts tomorrow and I’d never change my mind at this late date.’
Too right, she thought. Anyone who tried to divert Roscoe from the course that suited him was in for a nasty surprise.
‘Hey! It’s you!’ The delighted voice came from Charlie who’d just appeared, his eyes shining at the sight of her. ‘Thanks heavens you’re here!’ he exclaimed, coming to sit beside her. ‘This place is doing my head in!’
‘I gather great things are afoot,’ she said.
‘You mean Vanlen? Oh, yes! We’re going to be the greatest. No one will be able to touch us or compete with us, and then Roscoe will have everything he wants.’
‘Nobody has everything they want,’ she protested.
‘That depends what they actually do want,’ Charlie pointed out. ‘If you keep your wants down to very few, it would be quite easy.’
‘And what are his wants?’ she asked curiously.
‘Him up there, you down here saying, “I obey, I obey!”’
He said the last words in a mechanical voice of such fine comical effect that she couldn’t help laughing.
‘You ought to have gone on the stage,’ she said.
‘Yes, I used to think that might be nice, to stand up there in the spotlight, with the audience in the palm of my hand, knowing they were hanging on my every word.’
‘Which means you’ve got a lot in common with Roscoe after all,’ she pointed out.
‘Yes, I suppose I do. But I want to make them laugh and love me. He wants to make them cower and fear him. And, like I said, when he’s teamed up with Vanlen, he’ll have everything he wants in the world.’
She was temped to agree, but illogically her sense of justice came to Roscoe’s defence. ‘Aren’t you being a bit unfair? What about the “other Roscoe” you told me about at The Diamond—the nicer one, with feelings?’
‘You imagined that.’
‘No, I didn’t. I remember every word you said.’
‘All right, that Roscoe exists too, but only rarely. You’ll be dealing with the strong one, so never drop your guard.’
‘Careful, Charlie, I don’t think you know him as well as you think you do.’
He eyed her shrewdly. ‘So he’s still exerting his charm over you, is he? He can do that, if he thinks it’s worth it. But beware the day when you’re no further use to him.’
This was probably good advice, she realised. She was about to ask Charlie to tell her more but he’d already tossed the subject aside to concentrate on something that interested him more.
‘Wow! Get you!’ he said, his eyes caressing her from head to toe. ‘I know what you’re doing with that severe look,’ he went on. ‘But it doesn’t work. You’re still gorgeous. Aren’t you going to take that coat off?’
It was hot in the building and she was glad to let him ease the thick garment from her shoulders. But he took advantage of the situation to slip an arm around her waist, so that she edged away, muttering, ‘Not here!’
‘Here, there and everywhere,’ he persisted. ‘There’s nobody else around.’
He managed to get both arms around her, resisting her attempts to escape. She groaned, exasperated by the silly boy who couldn’t understand that this wasn’t the time or the place.
‘Someone’s coming,’ she said frantically. ‘Charlie, stop that.’
He was reaching up to free her hair, sending it cascading in joyous beauty around her shoulders. He’d done this before, but that time had been in the privacy of his own home, with only his family there. Now it was in front of Roscoe’s door as it opened and a man emerged.
He was thin, with a face that was so pleasant and humorous that at first she couldn’t believe this was the man she’d overheard. But his grinding voice was the same, asking, ‘Am I interrupting something?’
‘Yes,’ Charlie said defensively. ‘You certainly are.’
‘Sorry.’ Vanlen held up his hands and backed off.
His glance at Pippa was appreciative and his look said all too plainly that he was a man of the world in these matters. She had met this attitude before and dealt with it too efficiently to be offended now, but she could cheerfully have throttled Charlie. Vanlen departed just as Roscoe appeared in the doorway, his eyes frosty as he regarded his brother.
‘Is this fellow bothering you, Miss Jenson?’ he demanded. ‘If so, say the word and I’ll defenestrate him.’
‘You will not,’ Charlie said, hastily getting behind a chair.
Pippa tried not to choke with laughter, and failed.
‘It means throw you out of the window,’ she assured Charlie.
‘Oh. Are you sure that’s all?’
‘Quite sure. Stop worrying.’
He returned to her side, addressing Roscoe belligerently. ‘I was just telling Miss Jenson that it’s no use her trying to hide beneath dull clothes. She’s still gorgeous beyond belief. Or perhaps you don’t think so.’
‘I think Miss Jenson looks acceptably professional,’ Roscoe said in an indifferent voice. ‘Which is exactly what I’d expect of her.’
Cheek! she thought.
He seemed strained and she wondered how long he had dallied in Teresa’s bed, and how much had she exhausted him. But he showed her courteously into his office and enquired politely after her car.
‘It took some time for my brothers to find the spare part it needed,’ she said, ‘but they finally managed it, and I’m getting the car back tomorrow.’
She and Charlie sat facing the desk, behind which Roscoe surveyed them from a position of authority, which was how, Pippa guessed, he felt most comfortable.
He pressed a buzzer and spoke to his secretary. ‘We don’t want to be disturbed.’
‘Ah—no!’ Charlie squealed. ‘I’m waiting for a call. I’ve told my secretary to fetch me.’
‘Then we’d better hurry,’ Roscoe said ironically. ‘We mustn’t keep the betting shop waiting.’
‘I got a hot tip,’ Charlie explained. ‘If it comes in, it’ll get me out of trouble on a lot of fronts.’
‘I don’t know why I bother to teach you about stocks and shares,’ Roscoe groaned. ‘You’re only happy making ridiculous bets.’
‘But surely buying stocks and shares is a kind of betting?’ Pippa observed innocently.
Charlie gave a muffled choke of laughter. Roscoe’s glance told her that he didn’t appreciate that remark.
‘All right,’ she said hastily. ‘Let’s get on. I’ve been reviewing the matter and it seems to me—’
The discussion became serious. Pippa put forward her most professional aspect, but all the time she had a strange feeling that it was a mask. There was an uneasy tension in the air, not between herself and Charlie, but between herself and the man who’d held her at a distance last night while burning her with his eyes, a man who eyed her with suppressed hostility, who challenged her every movement.
‘I’ve told the police I wasn’t in that shop,’ Charlie complained. ‘They just say, “Come on, now. Why not just admit it?”’
‘They also keep saying things like, “We know what you lads are like,”’ Roscoe said. ‘As though they were all exactly the same. What’s the matter?’
Charlie had suddenly started coughing, but he recovered in a moment. ‘Nothing, nothing,’ he said with the sudden urgent air of someone who wanted to change the subject. ‘Now, where were we?’
He plunged back into serious discussion, talking so sensibly that Pippa’s suspicions were aroused. Only one thing could make Charlie sensible, and that was the need to divert attention. She became sunk in thought and had to be recalled by Roscoe, who was staring at her in astonishment.
‘Just let me catch up with my notes,’ she said hastily. ‘Ah, yes, here—’
She got no further. The door was flung open with a crash and a wild voice said, ‘I’ve got to talk to you.’
Turning, she saw a man of about forty with a haggard face and dishevelled hair. His eyes were bloodshot and he seemed on the verge of collapse.
‘Mr Franton, I gave orders that you were not to be admitted,’ Roscoe said in a hard voice.
‘I know. I’ve been trying to see you for days, but I can’t get in. If I could just talk to you, make you understand—’
‘But I do understand,’ Roscoe interrupted him coldly. ‘You deceived me and a lot of other people, and you very nearly involved this firm in a scandal from which it might never have recovered. I’ve always made it clear that insider trading is something I wouldn’t tolerate.’
Pippa understood. Insider trading meant making a profit by the use of privileged information. If a business was on the verge of bankruptcy but only a few people knew, those people would be sorely tempted to sell their shares while they were still worth something, saving themselves financially while others were ruined. It could even happen that the sudden surge in sales precipitated a collapse that might otherwise have been avoided.
In a stockbroking firm such inside knowledge was common and often misused. A spy could earn a handsome profit by selling it on.
Yet Franton didn’t look like an evil conspirator. He seemed ordinary, slightly pathetic, and Pippa couldn’t help a surge of unwilling sympathy for him.
‘I never meant it to happen the way it did,’ he pleaded.
‘Understand me once and for all,’ Roscoe replied in a hard voice. ‘I care nothing for what you meant. I care only for what you did. And what you did was this. You ignored my specific instructions. You lied. You spread unsubstantiated rumours and caused a false rise in prices that cost a lot of people a lot of money—’
‘Including you.’ Despite his pathos, Franton couldn’t resist a spiteful sneer.
‘Yes, including me, but it’s not the money that counts. It’s my reputation that you’ve damaged and I don’t want to see you on these premises ever again. You’re out, and that’s final.’
‘But I need a job,’ Franton screamed, collapsing again. ‘I’ve got a family to support, debts—look!’
He ran to the window, pointing out to where the snow could now clearly been seen cascading down.
‘Snow,’ he cried. ‘Christmas is coming. What do I tell my children when they don’t get any presents?’
‘Don’t try playing the pathetic card with me,’ Roscoe said coldly. ‘You nearly caused a disaster throughout the financial world, and you did it by dishonesty. If you’ve brought a tragedy on yourself the responsibility is yours.’
‘You heartless swine!’
Roscoe’s face was as stony as his voice. ‘Get out,’ he said, softly threatening. ‘Get out and stay out. You’re finished.’
His last card played, Franton seemed to collapse. Slowly, he backed out, casting one last beseeching look. Roscoe didn’t even see it.
‘Now, perhaps we can finally get on,’ he said, seating himself. ‘Miss Jenson, I have some papers here—’
‘Wait a minute,’ Charlie said. ‘You’re not just going to let him go like that?’
‘He can think himself lucky I’m not doing worse.’
‘But this is Bill Franton—he’s been here for years and he’s a family friend—’
‘Not any more.’
‘Wait,’ Charlie said, dashing out in pursuit.
‘I’m afraid Charlie is too soft for his own good,’ Roscoe said. ‘One day I hope he’ll learn a sense of reality.’
‘Of course insider trading is dishonest and can’t be defended,’ Pippa agreed, ‘but that poor man—’
‘Why do you call him a “poor man”—because you saw his distress? You didn’t see the distress he caused other people, and the much worse distress that was narrowly averted.’
‘I suppose you’re right,’ she sighed.
‘But you don’t really think so, do you? I guess I’ll just have to endure the burden of your disapproval.’
‘It certainly doesn’t bother you.’
‘I’ve met it before and it’s based on sentimentality.’
‘Is it sentimental to say you can attach too much importance to money?’ she demanded indignantly.
There was an ironic humour in his eyes, as though he was enjoying a grim joke at her expense.
‘Not money, Miss Jenson,’ he said. ‘Honesty. That’s where I attach importance. Nowhere else.’
And he was right, she thought furiously. He was beyond criticism, totally honest, upright, honourable, incorruptible.
And merciless.
‘Ah, Charlie, there you are.’ Roscoe sounded coolly collected at the sight of his brother. The last few minutes might never have been.
‘Roscoe—’
‘Come and sit down.’
‘But Franton—’
‘The subject is closed.’ Roscoe’s voice was final and Pippa shivered.
She made a mental note not to get on his wrong side, but reckoned that was probably easier said than done.
Then she pushed all other thoughts aside to concentrate on the case, but now that was hard because something was causing Charlie to become uncommunicative, as though protecting a secret. When his secretary looked in, saying, ‘That call has come,’ he vanished at once.