on my knees to you before you will consent to get into the
car? Be reasonable, Miss Caulfield. Let me drive you home so
that we can talk quietly without causing a scene.”
She looked around and saw several passers-by halting,
watching them curiously. Very pink, feeling very silly, she
gave up the unequal struggle and allowed him to help her
into the car. He climbed in and silently started the engine.
Purring smoothly, the car moved away up the road.
“I wanted to apologise to you,” he said quietly, staring at
the road ahead.
She looked sideways at him. The long, arrogant profile was
turned towards her, the droop of the eyelids hiding the
expression of the hard eyes.
Since she did not reply, he shot her another of his amused
looks, one eyebrow quirked. “You want your pound of flesh
before you will relent, I see. Well, that is your privilege. Miss
Caulfield. I unreservedly apologise. I was quite wrong in my
accusations. I am very sorry for any hurt or offence I caused
you or your brother.”
She was too dumbfounded to speak yet, and he turned his
head again, smiling at her. At the charm of that smile she
felt a peculiar leap of the heart.
“Why have you changed your mind?” she asked huskily.
“I had a long talk with Miss Carter, who explained to me
how much she had to do with my sister’s visits to your home,
and, by the way, reinforced your comments about Pallas,
although more politely, I must add.”
She flushed. “I ... I’m sorry I was so rude. I lost my
temper.”
“So I observed,” he said blandly. “But I am grateful to you
for your kindness to my sister. You were very perceptive. I
should have realised what was wrong myself. The trouble is,
my mother has been in delicate health for a long time, and I
have been too busy to take much notice of Pallas. But I had a
long talk with her last night, after I had seen Miss Carter,
and I hope I shall do better in the future.”
“You mean to leave her at Cheddall, then?” she asked.
“Yes, I do. I cannot pretend to approve of the peculiar
clothes she now wears, or her new hairstyle. She looks just
like any untidy, long-haired student we get in Greece. But I
did appreciate what you said about letting her become a
normal adolescent, and I am prepared to put up with all this
for a while.” His smile was derisive. “I presume it will not
last too long? I cannot guarantee a long-term indulgence.”
She smiled back. “Oh, I think you can be sure that she’ll
grow out of it, eventually.”
His eyes mocked her. “That last word was intended to
frighten me, I think?”
Kate laughed. “Perhaps a little.”
“You think I need to be frightened?”
“Don’t we all need it, at some time or another? Pallas, at
the moment, needs to be part of the scene.”
He raised an enquiring eyebrow. “Translate that, please. I
am not au fait with current slang.”
“She needs to feel like every other person of her age—to be
accepted, to merge with her background. At school, of course,
she will wear school uniform, and she accepts that as normal.
Out of school she wants to dress like the other kids—and
that’s normal, too. It’s all a question of convention, although
you may not think so at first sight. Long hair, jeans and
bright colours are the teenage uniform.”
“So that what I took for a gesture of rebellion is, in fact,
sheep-like following of fashion?”
“Precisely,” Kate said, smiling. She looked round and
realised that they had been parked outside her home for
some time. “I must go, now. Goodbye, Mr. Lillitos.”
“Wait!” He reached across and held on to the door handle,
his face close to hers. She could see faint specks of yellow
around the black centres of his eyes. “I have something else I
wish to discuss with you, Miss Caulfield—another matter
concerning Pallas. Will you dine with me tonight?”
“I’m sorry,” she said politely, “I have another
engagement.”
He released the door and she opened it and got out.
He leant forward, smiling with that surprising charm. “I
am sure you can break your appointment just this once. I
leave for Greece tomorrow and I will not have another
chance to talk to you.”
“Well, I ...” she began, intending to refuse firmly.
“Good,” he broke in, before she had finished. “I’ll pick you
up at seven-thirty.”
The door slammed shut and before she could speak again,
the car had drawn silently away.
Kate stared after it, clenching her fists like a child. “Well!”
she exploded. “He’s the most insufferable, high-handed man
I ever met!”
She had had a date with Peter that night. They had intended
to see a local amateur production of Carmen. When she rang
him to explain he was irritatingly complacent.
“That’s all right. I was not that keen myself. I want to
finish reading Howard Carter’s book on the discovery of
Tutankhamen’s tomb, anyway. Make sure this chap buys
you a decent meal. Oh, by the way, I think I’ve persuaded
Colonel Feather to leave his collection of flints to the
museum. Isn’t that wonderful?”
She agreed flatly that it was, and rang off. Her mother
looked up as she drifted into the kitchen.
“You look upset, dear. Did Peter object to you dining
with Mr. Lillitos?”
“Far from it,” Kate sighed. “He seemed quite pleased to
have a free night to read archaeology.”
Mrs. Caulfield smiled, but watched her with concern.
She often wondered if Peter were the right man for Kate.
They were more like brother and sister than lovers. Peter
was nice enough, but rather too wrapped up in his work,
and Kate was an impulsive, warmhearted girl. It would be
a tragedy if she married a man who could never respond to
her. Sometimes Mrs. Caulfield had a nightmare in which
Kate was buried alive, under dusty tomes, and Peter
worked on, deaf to her cries for help. She shook herself
mentally, and began to whip up a cream sponge. The twins
would be back from school soon, ravenous and noisy.
“What are you going to wear?” she asked Kate, beating
the mixture lightly.
“Goodness knows. I haven’t got a dress which is even
remotely suitable for dinner with a millionaire.”
“Your pink one is pretty,” her mother suggested.
Kate laughed at her. “My pink one, Mother, is the only
formal dress I possess, as you perfectly well know!” She
shrugged her shoulders. “But so what? I’m not trying to
compete with the glamour girls he usually takes around,
am I? It doesn’t matter what he thinks of my dress.”
Sam, putting his head around the door, grinned. “There
was a false ring to that remark. What are you talking
about?”
Kate put out her tongue, but told him.
Sam whistled. “You must have penetrated that thick hide
of his, after all! It’s your big blue eyes and Goldilocks hair,
Sis.”
Kate was angry to feel herself blushing. “Don’t be silly,”
she told him severely, and went upstairs to have a bath.
She took her time over her preparations and it was almost
seven when she looked at herself in the mirror for the last
time. Her dress was very simple, a high-waisted pink crepe,
with a scooped neckline and long, wide sleeves which floated
as she moved her arms. With her blonde hair in a smooth
chignon, a matching pink lipstick and her favourite false
eyelashes, she decided she looked passable.
If only she did not look so maddeningly young! She
suddenly longed for a glittering sophistication. She would
have liked to sweep downstairs and see his eyes open in
stunned admiration.
Then she made a face at herself. What silly nonsense!
They were ships, passing in the night. What did it matter
what he thought of her?
She touched behind her ears with some scent, tucked back
a wandering hair, and then heard his voice below. He was
early! Kate felt her heart flip over peculiarly, as it had once
before that day, and ordered herself to be calm and collected.
As she approached the sitting-room she heard him refuse
quietly. He turned to look at her, his expression inscrutable.
“Ah, there you are,” he said calmly. “I am afraid I am
rather early.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she stammered, conscious of his gaze.
He took her arm and smiled at her mother. “Good night,
Mrs. Caulfield.”
As they drove away he said, “I thought we would dine at
the Black Swan. Do you know it?”
She did, but had never been there, since it was the most
expensive hotel for miles around. They drove for a quarter of
an hour before reaching the high gates. The hotel was set
back in its own grounds, the drive bordered by masses of
rhododendron bushes which, in summer, were a blaze of
colour. Now they were dimly visible, in the car headlights.
They pulled up in front of the hotel. He came round and
helped her out of the car and they walked round to the
brilliantly lit porch.
They were escorted to their table by an obsequious head
waiter who used her host’s name ostentatiously. Kate
guessed that even the Black Swan was not accustomed to the
patronage of such wealthy customers. Not many people in
Greyford came into the supertax bracket and there were no
local millionaires.
She found the punctilious attentions embarrassing.
Flushed and irritable, she avoided Marc Lillitos’s eyes. Was
this how he was always treated? With hovering waiters;
flattering, bowing and scraping; continual observation by the
other guests, curious whispers at each move he made? It
must be abominable.
But if it was, perhaps it went some way to explaining his
air of arrogant self-assurance. How often had someone said
no to him? How many times had he heard angry voices? Been
told the truth? In his way, he was as warped as Pallas had
been, twisted out of shape by the pressures his money
created around him.
She was so embarrassed that she barely tasted the
meal, but it was beautifully prepared and presented. She
shook her head when her host asked her to choose, and
left it all to him. He ran a quick eye over the menu and
chose shrimp cocktail; duck, green peas, orange sauce
and game chips followed for her by a creme caramel and
for himself with cheese.
She ate in almost total silence, answering only when
he asked her a question, painfully aware of the stares of
the other diners, and wishing herself anywhere but
there.
The dining-room emptied as they reached the coffee
stage and he leaned over to offer a cigarette, which she
refused. He asked if she would mind if he smoked. She
said that she did not, and watched him light his cigarette
and push the lighter back into his pocket.
He had long, slender, shapely hands, beautifully cared
for, and she stared at them with almost hypnotised
awareness.
“Now,” he said quietly, “shall we discuss my sister?”
Kate stared and glanced up from her contemplation of
his hands, her eyes wide. “Oh, yes ... of course.”
His look held hers for a second, one dark brow raised
quizzically. Then he smiled slightly. “Part of the problem
is that I have no experience of young girls. Had she been
a boy I might have understood her better. My mother, as
I said, is bed-ridden for much of the time. My sister-in-
law lives in America and only visits us occasionally.” He
spread his hands in an expressive gesture. “So Pallas is
very lonely when she is at home.”
“Surely you have some young friends?” she asked,
surprised.
He shook his head. “I am a very busy man. My friends are
all business acquaintances.”
“Doesn’t Pallas have any friends of her own?” She was not
aware of the shocked disbelief of her own voice, but he looked
hard at her.
“You find that strange? Yes, it is, I suppose. When she was
small she used to play with the island children, but most of
Our girls mature early.”
“No wonder Pallas feels cut off,” Kate said slowly. “She’s
sent away to school while the girls she grew up with are
regarded as adult women! When she first came to Cheddall
she looked so sad—a young girl dressed like a middle-aged
woman, very quiet and aloof. She was marooned on an island
at a time when she should have been having fun with people
of her own age.”
“She had her music,” he protested.
“Which you don’t take seriously!”
He met her eyes. “She told you that?” And when Kate
nodded, he said, “She was wrong, but that can wait. First, I
want to know if you really like my sister, or if you are only
sorry for her.”
“I like her,” Kate said. “I’m sorry for her, too, but there’s
something appealing about her. She’s so ... eager. She wants
to be happy. It’s touching.”
“Good, I am glad you like her. I want you and Sam to visit
her during the Easter holiday.”
She was shocked into an exclamation. “What?” Then,
flushing, “I’m sorry, I was rather surprised ...”
He smiled, a little teasingly, which surprised her again.
She had not thought he could look so human, the dark face
relaxed and friendly. “You do respond impulsively, don’t you?
But will you come? Our home is on Kianthos, a small Greek
island. I have a private plane which will fly you there and
back. Our villa is very secluded, but we have an excellent
private beach, tennis courts, swimming pool—all the things
young people like for a holiday.”
She stared at him, feeling as unreal as a dream. “It’s very
kind of you ...” she began, but again he cut her off.
“It will be a kindness in you to accept.”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, but it’s impossible. I’ve
already planned my Easter holiday.”
He stubbed out his cigarette. “I would, of course, be happy
to compensate you for any expense you might incur ...”
“Please!” she broke in angrily. “You don’t understand. I’m
going on a dig in Sussex, with my fiancé. I couldn’t break off
the arrangements now.”
He leaned back, his hands lying very still on the table,
palms down. “Your fiancé?” he repeated, his eyes narrowed.
Kate held up her ring finger so that he could see the
Victorian opals gleaming. She and Peter had chosen the ring
together. He had liked the massive gold hoop, set with milky
stones, and, although Kate had preferred a small sapphire
ring, she had been happy to wear the one Peter liked.
Marc Lillitos stared at the ring, face impassive. “Did you say
you were going on a dig?” he repeated.
“Yes, Peter is an archaeologist. We always spend our
holidays at archaeological sites.”
He raised a sardonic brow. “How unusual!” The smoothly
derisive tone infuriated her once more.
“We like it!” she shot back angrily.
His smile doubted her, but he only said, “If your fiancé
cares to come, too, he will be very welcome.”
She shook her head. “That’s very kind of you, but I’m
afraid Peter wouldn’t be interested.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Pallas would have been so happy to
have you there, but I am sure she will understand that you
prefer to be with your real friends.”
“That isn’t fair,” she said hotly. “I like her very much, but
Peter is my fiancé, after all ...”
“Don’t worry,” he said blandly, “I’ll explain it to her.”
“I bet you will!” she seethed, “and hurt her feelings badly
in the process.” She stood up. “Will you take me home now? I
think we’ve said enough.”
He did not argue. They drove home in a frozen silence.
When he stopped the car she fumbled with the door and he
leaned over and put his hand over hers. “I’ll do it,” he
murmured, looking down at her with the teasing smile which
had surprised her earlier.
Kate angrily realised that her heart had once again