Читать книгу A Marriage Betrayed - Emma Darcy, Emma Darcy - Страница 8

CHAPTER TWO

WHAT melodramatic nonsense! Kristy thought, determinedly blocking irrational impressions out of her mind and switching it onto a sane, sensible level.

Such an accident might be uncommon in this grand hotel, but staff would be snapping into action, cleaning away the mess fast and efficiently, sweeping it out of sight, out of mind, as though it had never been. Breakage and spillage hardly constituted a terrible scandal.

She decided not to offer any further comment as the elevator travelled up to her floor. Clearly she and the bellboy were not on any common wavelength. Besides, she was still shaken by the sheer force of what she’d felt coming from the man.

She had never experienced anything like it. Perhaps a culmination of grief, stress and fatigue had affected her nervous system, throwing her emotions out of kilter. Even the impulse to come here now looked foolish. Certainly ill-considered, given her reception by the staff. Or was she putting too much emphasis on that, too, blowing niggly little feelings out of proportion?

As for the man who’d triggered such a vivid range of emotions... was there such a thing as knowing someone from another life? She shook her head in wry bemusement. Perhaps it was this hotel making her fanciful...Betty’s and John’s honeymoon hotel. Her strong fixation on the attractive foreigner must have coloured her perception, making her see things differently to the actual reality.

The woman he was with could have said something to upset him. Then he’d probably found Kristy’s staring at him offensive, especially when he’d knocked things over. No one liked having witnesses to an embarrassing scene. It was stupid to read any more into the incident than that.

The elevator stopped. The doors opened. Having recollected herself, Kristy stepped out, resolving not to be flustered by anything else on this one-night stopover in Paris.

The bellboy ushered her into a room which had no pretensions to being the least bit cheap. Her heart quailed a little at the price she might have to pay for it tomorrow, but then she sternly told herself she was here to soak up and enjoy the atmosphere and ambience around her. Cost was to be discounted.

She searched her handbag for a few coins to tip the bellboy. It was a futile exercise. He scuttled away with a rapidity which was startling. Apparently official courtesy ended at the door, now she was safely tucked away from causing any public displeasure.

Sighing away her vexation at being treated like some second-class citizen, Kristy set out on her own tour of the accommodation she had insisted upon. At least, she was on her own here. She wouldn’t bother anyone and no-one would bother her.

The bedroom was lovely. The colour scheme of off-white, beige and brown, smartly contrasted with black, was very stylish and Parisian. It was also too modern to have been in place forty years ago. Reason told her the furnishings had probably been changed many times since Betty and John had stayed here, but she was sure they had been just as delighted with their room as she was with hers. Of course, being in love had probably made it even more delightful.

The marble bathroom was utter luxury. Kristy could well imagine Betty revelling in what she would consider the height of delicious decadence. Sumptuous plumbing was not a feature of the third-world countries where John had frequently been posted throughout his army career. Not that Betty had ever complained about primitive facilities, but whenever they had returned to “civilization”, it was a well appointed bathroom that defined “civilization.”

Kristy was moving to unpack and settle in when a quiet rap on the door drew her attention. She opened it to a distinguished-looking gentleman in a pinstripe suit. His cheeks were full, well-fed and although he was no taller than Kristy, which put him at barely average height for a man, he exuded an air of benign authority.

“Madame, a word with you,” he appealed softly.

She flashed him a smile. “And you are...whom?”

He returned her smile. “A good jest, Madame,” he replied with a jovial little chuckle.

Kristy wondered what the joke was.

“May I come in?” he asked, gesturing an eloquent appeal to her good nature.

Kristy frowned over the request. A stranger was a stranger in her book, especially one who acted strangely. “What for?” she demanded suspiciously.

He made an apologetic grimace. “This room... there has been an error. If you will allow me to rearrange...”

“Oh!” She instantly slotted him into place. He was management. Had he come to tell her this room wasn’t the cheapest available, or was she going to be thrown out of the hotel after all?

He laced his hands together, revealing some anxiety over her possible displeasure. “A most unfortunate, regrettable error . . .”

Kristy stared back stonily, wondering whether it was worth the effort of making a fuss. If all the staff had a down on her, her stay here could be made too unpleasant to persist with it.

“I must...” the voice of authority continued affably, “. . . if you’ll forgive me...insist you vacate it.”

Kristy felt herself bridling and struggled to remain calm. She could stand her ground, perhaps even demand compensation for the hotel’s error, but was it worth fighting about? As much as she despised snobbery, there was not much joy in bucking a system which remained immutable no matter how many little victories could be scored against it. At least she hadn’t unpacked, so she didn’t have to suffer the humiliation of repacking.

“Please allow me, Madame, to escort you to somewhere more suitable...uh...to your needs,” her ejector said with exquisite politeness. It was a very civilized way of putting her in her place.

“You are a master of tact, Monsieur,” Kristy said dryly.

He completely missed the irony edging her words. He positively preened, beaming his appreciation of her compliment. “We have—may I say it—a worldwide reputation for tact and... uh... understanding. Thank you.”

“This place you wish to escort me to...I hope it is cheap, Monsieur,” Kristy said with blunt directness. There was no onus on her to play with subtleties. “You see, I don’t have a lot of money...”

“Say no more, Madame. Discretion. Appeasement. Understanding. With my experience...” He spread his hands in a gesture that embraced a whole world of discretion and appeasement and understanding.

“In that case,” Kristy said decisively, “I may as well get going right now. If you will excuse me, I’ll just collect my bag.” She didn’t want the services of another bellboy, not in this hotel.

“Non, non, Madame. Allow me to carry it for you.”

It surprised Kristy. She would have thought it was beneath his dignity to act as her porter. In a tearing hurry to get her out of his hotel, she thought with bitter cynicism.

She stepped back, waving a careless invitation for him to enter. He collected her canvas carryall while she retrieved her handbag. Coming here had been a silly daydream, Kristy told herself as they vacated the room. The past was gone and could never be truly recaptured. At least she’d seen the place. In the circumstances, that was quite enough.

The manager led her along the corridor. He only went a short way before putting down her bag and producing a set of keys which he flourished as though he was St. Peter about to open the portals of heaven. Kristy did a swift rethink. He couldn’t be throwing her out of the hotel after all, so this must be a cheaper room.

He unlocked the door before them, swung it open like an impresario, and eloquently gestured Kristy forward. “Madame, your room,” he announced with almost smug satisfaction.

Kristy took several steps, saw what was in front of her, and stopped dead. Was this some kind of joke? To take her out of a room and lead her to what was clearly a luxurious suite had to be the height of perversity when she had made such a point of revealing a very real need not to be extravagant.

“I can’t afford this,” she protested.

The manager looked offended. “Madame is our guest. Of course Madame is not expected to pay for anything while she is our guest.” His voice had a touch of outrage at her failure to understand his understanding.

“I think,” said Kristy forcefully, “there is some mistake.”

“Madame...uh...Holloway . . .” He gave another little jovial chuckle and added a conspiratorial wink. “The mistake has been rectified.”

He marched into the huge sitting room—complete with a conservatory and a private terrace—and into a dressing-room where he deposited her canvas carryall, thereby emphasizing her accepted status here. Kristy watched him doubtfully, certain there had been some ridiculous mix-up. On the other hand, he had called her by her own name although why he persisted with Madame was beyond her. He could not have failed to notice she wasn’t wearing any rings.

“Are you sure this is the right place for me, Monsieur? ” she asked, feeling the need to get this pinned down to something concrete.

He beamed supreme confidence. “Certainement”

Kristy gave up. She didn’t need the stress of sorting out this madness, or getting a room in another hotel. This was some management bungle and they could pay for it. She’d made her terms absolutely clear, and after all this hassle, no way was she going to be shifted again.

“One last thing, Madame Holloway . . .”

“Yes?”

The manager went to a door on the other side of the sitting room, took a key from the flourished key ring, and inserted it in the lock. “For your use only,” he said solemnly.

Kristy looked at him blankly. What did he mean by that?

He gave the key a dramatic twist. “Unlocked,” he said. Then he turned the key the other way. “Locked,” he said. “I will leave it to Madame’s discretion.”

“Monsieur . . .” Kristy expostulated, totally bewildered by the whole sequence of events.

“Say no more. Say no more. Tact. Diplomacy. Understanding. We know all these things.”

He withdrew the key from the lock, came across the room, and pressed it into her hand. It was too much for Kristy. Altogether too much.

“Monsieur . . .”

“Enough. You are our guest You pay for nothing. If this...er...delicate situation can be fortunately resolved... uh...please remember me.”

And so saying, he bowed his way out of the room, leaving her with another of his jovial little laughs, to which he seemed addicted.

Of one thing Kristy was absolutely certain. There was some mistake here of gigantic proportions. It was equally clear it was someone else’s mistake. She had nothing whatsoever to do with it.

She frowned over his parting words...this delicate situation. What was he referring to? She didn’t have a clue. It just seemed that ever since the hotel doorman had laid eyes on her, the world had shifted out of kilter.

Discretion said she should get out of here as soon as possible. Retreat. Retire before some ghastly disaster occurred. Un scandale terrible!

The over-the-top thought evoked a burst of somewhat hysterical laughter. Which suggested, after she’d sobered up again, that her nerves were in a bad way. The experience of this hotel was definitely not soothing, as she had anticipated it would be. The depression of being totally alone hit her again, whispering that her trip to Geneva would probably be a failure, too.

The energy that had driven her to this journey drained away. Let the hotel management discover its mistake, she decided listlessly. There was no need for her to pre-empt any action. She had tried to protest, to explain, to set the situation straight. None of this was her fault. No doubt she would receive another visit soon and everything would be resolved properly, so there was no point in unpacking her bag.

Meanwhile, she had this key in her hand. Kristy eyed the interconnecting door which could be locked or unlocked with the burning-question key. Maybe the answers, or some answer to this delicate situation, lay on the other side of the door. It was none of her business, of course. On the other hand, she had somehow got involved.

She thought of Pandora who opened the lid of the box which let loose all the troubles of the world. Curiosity was a terrible thing and it could be very dangerous. Better to let it go and not risk adding more trouble to trouble.

Kristy set the key down on a coffee table and turned her back on it. She walked out to the private terrace, deciding she might as well enjoy all this luxury while she could because she couldn’t see it lasting for long. This was not the place for her and that key could only lead to something even more out of bounds.

The view was the kind which sold postcards; the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, and the Place de la Concorde, all spread out for her to admire and wonder at the genius which had planned such a magnificent vista. Kristy, however, could not concentrate her mind on it. A sense of restlessness drove her back into the sitting room.

The key kept drawing her gaze. It had a powerful fascination. Caught on a seesaw of temptation, she almost leapt out of her skin when a knock came on the door. But it wasn’t on that door. It was on the one which led in from the corridor.

They’ve discovered the mistake, she thought, relieved that she hadn’t surrendered to the curiosity which would have led her into a very awkward indiscretion.

Anticipating a return of the manager, she was surprised when a maid entered, bearing an elegant vase of long-stemmed roses. It was placed on the table beside the key. I’m getting in deeper, Kristy thought. She weakly thanked the maid who withdrew without comment.

Her inner tension moved up a notch when a second knock came. It heralded another maid who carried in a bottle of champagne and an artistically arranged platter of fruit. Kristy stared at both offerings as though they were deadly poison. Why was she such an honoured guest? What was behind all this?

A third knock brought a third maid bearing gift boxes of eau de toilette and soaps.

It was as good as a birthday, Kristy thought ruefully, except she wasn’t enjoying it. Impossible to shake off the feeling that the gifts were connected to that key. She eyed it balefully. Would it unlock the door to the mystery of why she was here and suddenly being treated like royalty? Maybe she should find out what she could before she became even more entrenched in this weird situation.

She picked up the key.

I’ll take just a little peep, she thought.

It’s none of your business, her mind chided.

Yes, it is, another part responded. I’m already in this up to my neck. I didn’t ask to be involved but I am. I definitely am. And I’ve got every right to find out.

She listened to the other side of her mind in case it wanted to pull her back behind the safe cautious line.

No response.

The argument was perfectly sound.

After all, the manager had left the decision in her hands, and she wasn’t doing anything wrong. She did have every reason to take a little peek into the room beyond that door. She had been invited to unlock it at will.

Her fingers closed tightly around the key as her legs moved forward. Determinedly ignoring the burning feeling in her palm and the apprehensive hammering of her heart, Kristy reached the door, fitted the key to the lock and turned it with a swift decisive twist. Then taking a deep breath to calm her leaping nerves, and telling herself she was acting positively and purposefully, she opened the door.

She half-expected some monster to be on the other side but there was no reaction to the door’s opening. No sound. No movement. Nothing. Taking courage at finding no repercussions to her initial trespass, Kristy pushed the door fully ajar. It revealed another sitting room, similar to hers.

She stood motionless for several seconds, listening intently. Still no sounds of occupation. No signs of occupation, either. She took the first step over the threshold. The need to find some answer to this extra accommodation urged her on.

The click of a key in a lock made her freeze halfway across the room. She stared in horror at the door which gave access to the corridor outside. Her throat constricted, her heart thumped in wild apprehension as the door opened. Her eyes widened in shock as she instantly identified the man who stepped inside.

It was the man from the lobby, the man who’d transfixed her with his knowing eyes, the elegant aristocratic man who had inelegantly broken up the romantic interlude with his companion, creating un scandale terrible!

Kristy’s mind dazedly registered the fact that he did not look shocked at seeing her. He actually smiled at her, but it was not the brilliant smile of pleasure that had lit his face for his companion in the lobby. It was a cold cynical curl of his lips, a knowing little smile. Whatever knowledge was behind it gave him no pleasure at all.

He shut the door without a word, without a crack in his composure. Everything in his manner projected he had anticipated her being here.

Yet how could he?

And what could he know about her?

A sense of weird unreality gripped Kristy, holding her in tense waiting for what would come next.