Читать книгу Vacancy: Wife of Convenience - Jessica Steele - Страница 8

HER first interview with Silas Livingstone had been on Tuesday. By Thursday of that same week Colly’s head was beginning to spin from the effort of trying to pinpoint exactly what kind of job was in the offing that would be better discussed in ‘informal detail’ over dinner.

She still inwardly cringed whenever she thought of how, without a pennyworth of secretarial experience, she had applied for that senior secretarial job. It just went to show, she realised, how desperate she was for a job that paid well enough to afford her somewhere to live.

And that she would have to find that somewhere to live, and quickly, had been endorsed for her again last night, when Nanette had entertained a few of her rowdy friends. It was her right, of course, but the gales of laughter, male and female, that had come from the drawing room had impinged on Colly’s sensitivities. Her father had barely been dead a month.

His widow had obviously decided to be the merry sort. If that was her way of grieving, so be it, but Colly had seen little sign of genuine grief. And all she wanted to do now, she mused, as she began to clear up the debris from the previous night’s entertainment, was find a place of her own and get started on being solely independent. She knew then that whatever this job was, that was being newly created by Silas Livingstone, she would take it.

While it might not pay as well as that multilingual secretary’s job, Silas Livingstone was well aware of her circumstances, so surely he would not be considering her for this new vacancy unless the salary that went with it was an adequate living wage.

By early Friday evening Colly had reasoned that, because her only skills were in keeping a well-run house, some small knowledge of art and an ability with languages, this newly created vacancy must involve the use of her languages in some way—which, plainly, was not secretarial. But, again, why dinner? It was almost as though the job was not in his office at all! As if it were nothing to do with office life—and that was why he was interviewing her in ‘informal detail’ outside of the office.

She was getting fanciful. Colly went upstairs to shower and get dressed, ready for Silas Livingstone to call.

Because this was to all intents and purposes a business dinner, Colly opted to wear a black straight ankle-length skirt of fine wool and a heavy silk white shirt-blouse. She joined the two with a wide suede belt that emphasised her tiny waist. She brushed her long brown hair with its hint of red back from her face in an elegant knot, and when she took a slightly apprehensive glance in the full-length mirror she was rather pleased with her general appearance. It was only then that she accepted that, with no other likely-looking job being advertised in the paper this week, she was pinning a lot of hope on this interview. She did so hope she would not come home disappointed. It was just that afternoon that Nanette had bluntly asked when she was leaving.

It was her luck that when, at ten minutes to eight, with a black wool cloak over her arm, she went downstairs to wait, she should meet Nanette in the hall. ‘Where are you off to?’ Nanette asked nastily, her eyes looking her over.

‘I’m going out to dinner.’

‘What about my dinner?’ Nanette asked shrewishly.

Only just did Colly refrain from telling her that she had been her father’s housekeeper, not hers. ‘I thought you might be going out yourself,’ she replied quietly; the atmosphere in the house was hostile enough without her adding to it.

‘A—friend will be joining me later,’ Nanette snapped. And, an anticipatory gleam coming to her eyes, ‘Don’t disturb us when you come in.’

Colly went into the breakfast room to wait. It was a dark January night and she would see the car’s headlights as they swept up the drive. Now, don’t hope for too much. She attempted to calm herself down. There was every chance she might not yet be offered this job which could mean independence and a new way of life.

A minute or so later car headlights lit up the drive. Colly donned her cloak and, hoping it was Silas Livingstone and not Nanette’s ‘friend’, left the breakfast room and went out to meet him.

It was her hopefully prospective employer. He left the driver’s seat and came to open up the passenger door. ‘Hello, Colly,’ he greeted her amicably.

Well, that sounded friendly enough. She preferred Colly to Columbine. ‘Hello,’ she murmured. In no time she was seated beside him and they were motoring back down the drive. ‘You found the house all right?’ she asked politely. It was a nice house, in a very well-to-do neighbourhood.

‘Not a problem,’ he returned pleasantly, and matched her for polite conversation as he drove them to the eating establishment he had chosen, which happened to be a hotel.

He waited in the foyer while she checked her cloak. After taking a deep breath, her insides churning, she went out to join him. She gave him a smile. He smiled back, his eyes taking in her smart appearance. She had been out on dates before—but never with someone like him.

But this was not a date, she reminded herself as he escorted her to a lounge area. ‘You’re over your disappointment of last Tuesday, I hope?’ he enquired as he waited for her to be seated.

‘I blush whenever I think of my nerve in even applying,’ she answered as he took a seat facing her.

He seemed to approve of her honesty. But, when she thought that he would now begin to interview her for this other job, the newly arisen job, to her surprise did not, but merely commented, ‘You’re having a rather desperate time of it at the moment,’ and asked, ‘What would you like to drink?’

He went on to be a most courteous and pleasant companion.

‘Mr Livingstone—’ she began at one point.

Only to lose her thread completely when, ‘Silas,’ he invited—and kept up a polite flow of conversation as they transferred to the dining room.

He asked her opinion on sundry matters as they ate their way through the first course, and in fact was everything she could wish for in a platonic dinner partner. So much so that they were midway through their main course before she recalled that they were not here as friends but as prospective employer and employee.

‘This job,’ she inserted during a break in the conversation, realising only then how thoroughly at ease with him she felt. If that had been his aim he could not have done better.

‘We’ll get to that in time,’ he commented. ‘Is the steak to your liking?’

They were back in the lounge drinking coffee before Colly found another chance to introduce the subject of work without appearing to be blunt.

‘I’ve very much enjoyed this evening,’ she began politely, ‘but…’

‘But now, naturally, you’d like to know more about the vacancy.’ He favoured her with a pleasant look, and explained, rather intriguingly, she felt, ‘I wanted to get to know you a little before we embarked on a—full discussion.’

‘And—er—you feel you have?’

‘Sufficiently, I believe,’ he replied, going on, ‘I also wanted privacy to outline what I have in mind.’ His mouth quirked upwards briefly. ‘I hesitated to ask you back to my home.’

Her lovely green eyes widened somewhat. ‘You’re—um—making this sound just a little bit personal,’ she answered warily.

He considered her answer, but did not scoff that it was nothing of the sort, as she had expected him to. Doing nothing for her suddenly apprehensive feelings, he said, ‘I suppose, in an impersonal way, it could be termed personal.’

‘Do I get up and leave now?’ she enquired coldly.

‘I’d prefer you stayed until you’d heard me out,’ he replied, his dark eyes fixed on her apprehensive green ones. ‘You’re quite safe here,’ he added, glancing round what was now a deserted lounge. ‘And we have all the privacy we need in which to talk this vacancy through.’

So that was why he had not gone into detail over dinner! A few fellow diners had been within eavesdropping distance should they have cared to listen in. ‘So, you having assured me I’m not required to sing for my supper, I’m listening,’ Colly invited, relaxing again, because should this conversation go in a way she did not care for she could decline to allow him to drive her to her home, and could ask someone at Reception to get her a taxi.

To hear that she was ready for him to outline the job was all Silas Livingstone was waiting for. Though, instead of outlining the work, he first of all stated, ‘I’ve learned a little of you this evening, Colly. Sufficient, at any rate, to know that I should like to offer you this—position.’

Her heart lightened. Oh, thank heaven. She was on her way! Silas Livingstone must believe she could do the job, or he would not be willing to offer it to her. ‘Oh, that’s wonderful!’ She beamed, her overwhelming relief plain to see. She might soon be self-sufficient, have money of her own and be able to afford somewhere to rent, and not beholden to Nanette for a temporary roof over her head.

He looked at her shining green eyes. ‘You don’t know what the job is yet,’ he cautioned.

‘I don’t care what it is,’ she answered delightedly. ‘As long as it’s honest and pays well. You wouldn’t offer if—’

‘Are things really so bad for you?’ he butted in softly.

Colly took a breath to deny that things were in any way bad for her. Though when she thought of the dire state of her present finances, and then of Nanette’s daily barbs that she pack her bags and leave, Colly couldn’t think that they could be much worse.

‘What sort of work would I have to do?’ she enquired, ready to turn her hand to anything.

Silas studied her for a moment, not commenting that she had not given him a detailed account of just how awful things were at the only home she had ever known. Instead, he asked, ‘Tell me, Colly, if it were not so very essential for you to find somewhere to live and to find a job with a salary sufficient with which to pay rent, what would be an ideal scenario for you?’

Again Colly found herself wishing she knew more about the usual interviewing techniques. Though, looking into the steady dark blue eyes of Silas Livingstone, she had an idea that he would not always follow the path of what was usual anyhow.

She looked away from him. ‘I want to be independent,’ she replied. ‘I thought, a couple of years ago, that I’d like to have a place of my own…’

‘But your father wanted you to stay on as housekeeper?’

‘Nanette, the woman he married, she preferred that I stayed on.’

‘And now, now that she has inherited the house and everything else, she wants you gone.’

It was not a question but a statement. And one that Colly could not argue against. ‘So that makes my first priority to find somewhere to live and, of course, a job too.’ She shrugged, feeling more than a touch embarrassed, but, it not needing any thinking about, she went on to honestly answer his question about her ideal scenario. ‘From choice, I would prefer to do some sort of training. Perhaps take a year’s foundation course while I looked into possible careers—or even go on to university.’ She felt awkward again as she looked Silas in the eyes and confessed, ‘I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, but apart from an interest in art—though no particular talent—I have no idea what, if anything, I’m especially good at.’

Silas smiled then. He did not do it too often, but when he did she momentarily forgot what they were talking about. ‘You have a nice way with you,’ he answered. ‘You have integrity, and I have formed an opinion that I can trust you.’

Colly felt a touch pink. Was that what all that non-business chat over dinner had been about—Silas gauging from her answers, her questions, her general demeanour, what sort of a person she was? My, but he was clever. So clever she had not had a clue what he was about. ‘Yes, well,’ she mumbled, just a trifle embarrassed. ‘You must—er—trust me to have offered me the job.’ She got herself more of one piece. And, on thinking about it, considered it was more than high time that she found out more about this vacancy. ‘May I know exactly what the job entails? What my duties will be?’ she asked.

Then she discovered she would find out what she wanted to know, but only when he was good and ready—because he had not finished asking questions of his own yet. ‘First of all,’ he began, ‘tell me what you know about the firm of Livingstone Developments?’

Realising that since he was paying the piper she would have to dance to his tune, she replied, ‘That’s fairly easy. When I knew I had an interview last Tuesday, I made it my business to find out all I could about the company. I’d never been for an interview before,’ she explained, ‘so I had no idea of what sort of questions I should know the answers to.’

He accepted that as fair comment. ‘What did you discover?’ he wanted to know.

‘I discovered that Livingstone Developments—only it wasn’t called that then—was founded years and years ago by one Silas Livingstone.’

‘Sixty years ago, by my grandfather,’ Silas filled in.

‘It was only a small company then—dealing with industrial equipment, I think.’ She waited for him to interrupt. He didn’t, so she went on. ‘The firm expanded when your grandfather’s son took over.’

‘The firm made quite a progressive leap forward when my father took over,’ Silas stated. ‘Under his leadership the firm went on to become a leading international firm of consulting engineers.’

‘And when, five years ago, Borden Livingstone stepped down and you were voted to be chairman, you led the firm onwards to take in the design and manufacture of more advanced engineering products.’

‘You have done your homework,’ Silas commented when she had nothing more to add. Then, giving her a straight look, ‘All of which perhaps makes you see what a tremendous amount of hard work has gone on over the past sixty years to make Livingstone Developments into the much-respected and thriving company it is today.’ His eyes were still steady on her when quietly he added, ‘And what a colossal waste of all those years of hard labour, of effort, it would be if I can’t come up with some way to prevent the company from sinking into decline.’

Startled, Colly stared at him. ‘Livingstone Developments is in trouble?’ she gasped, forgetting about her own problems—the company employed thousands of people!

But he was shaking his head. ‘No,’ he denied. ‘We’re thriving.’

The firm was thriving, yet sixty years of effort might be wasted? It didn’t make sense. There had to be an ‘if’, and a very big ‘if’ at that. ‘But…?’ she questioned.

Silas gave her an approving look that she was keeping up with him. ‘A massive but,’ he agreed, and went on, ‘I had a meeting with my father on Monday. My father, I should explain, is the most level-headed man I know. I have never seen him panicky and have seldom seen him anything but calm. But there was no denying that on Monday he was extremely agitated about something.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,’ she murmured politely. She discovered she would like to know more, but knew Silas would not tell her, and felt it went beyond the bounds of good manners to ask.

‘No more sorry than I was to hear just why he was so disturbed,’ Silas commented.

Her curiosity was piqued, not to say her intelligence—she was suddenly realising that Silas would not have brought her here and begun to tell her what he was telling her were there not some purpose behind it.

‘I don’t want to pry,’ she began, ‘but—’

And was saved from having to pry any further when Silas interrupted to inform her, ‘All this has been a bit of a jolt for me, but I’ve had time since Monday to adjust. By the time I saw you on Tuesday I was beginning to acknowledge what had to be done, and that if the company was not ultimately going to go to the wall that it was down to me to do it.’

‘I’m trying to keep up,’ she commented. Fog? The fog was getting thicker by the minute.

‘I’m telling you this in the strictest confidence, of course.’

‘Of course,’ she answered—whatever ‘this’ was.

‘I’m also telling it very badly. Perhaps I’d better go back to the beginning,’ he decided.

‘It might be a good idea,’ she conceded. If this was the way all job interviews went, she had to confess herself intrigued!

‘To start with, my grandfather had a simply wonderful marriage.’

‘Ye-es,’ Colly said slowly, with no idea what direction they were heading in now.

‘Sadly, my grandmother died six months ago.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she murmured sensitively.

‘As you can imagine, my grandfather was devastated. But he at last seems to be coming to terms with his grief. Naturally we’ve all rallied round to try and help him at this dreadful time. My parents and my aunt Daphne—my grandfather’s daughter—particularly. In actual fact, my parents spent the weekend with him at his home in Dorset only last weekend.’ He paused, then added, ‘Which is why my father rang me the moment he got home on Sunday. I wasn’t in. He left a message saying it was of some importance that we meet without delay. I should explain—’ Silas broke off what he was saying to note ‘—that my father does not use such language unless something of very great import is going down.’

Colly’s brain was racing. ‘It was to do with Livingstone Developments having some kind of sword dangling over its head?’ was the best she could come up with.

‘Got it in one,’ Silas approved. ‘My father isn’t one to panic, as I mentioned, but he knew something serious was afoot when my grandfather told him that he wanted to talk privately to him in his study. My father came out from the study shaken to the core, still taking in what my grandfather had told him.’

Colly was desperately trying to think what any of this could have to do with her and this vacancy that had been created.

‘Your grandfather needs a housekeeper?’ She took a disappointed guess. It would be a job, and with accommodation thrown in. But did she really want to be a housekeeper for some elderly gentleman?

‘He already has a housekeeper,’ Silas informed her.

She was lost again. ‘Sorry. I’ll keep quiet until you’ve finished. Er—you haven’t finished yet?’

‘I’m getting there. The thing is that since my parents and aunt can’t be with Grandfather all the time he spends many hours alone reliving the past. And at this present time, and with the loss of my grandmother so recent, he spends a lot of time thinking of her and their long years of very happy marriage. Which,’ Silas said, ‘brings us up to Sunday, when, in his study, my grandfather spoke to my father in terms of altering his will. Instead of my cousin Kit and I inheriting his considerable holding of shares in the firm between us—as I’ve always been lead to believe will happen—he intends to leave the whole basket-load of shares to Kit—if I don’t buck my ideas up and marry.’

Colly blinked—and didn’t know which question to ask first. ‘You’re not married?’ was the first one to pop out.

‘Never have been.’

‘But your cousin—Kit—is married?’

‘Has been this last ten years.’

‘You’re not engaged or living with anyone?’ she questioned, more or less in the same way he had asked her on Tuesday.

He shook his head. ‘No, nor likely to be.’

‘Nor do you want to marry?’

‘Definitely not. And, much though I’m fond of the old chap, I resent him, just because he has this sublime respect for the institution of marriage, attempting to force me to take a wife.’

‘But unless you do you stand to be disinherited,’ she reasoned. ‘Join the club.’

‘It’s not going to happen.’

‘Your father thinks he’ll change his mind?’

‘Very doubtful. My father’s anxiety stems from the certainty that it will happen, and that all that he and I have worked for over the years will be as nothing if Kit gets a controlling interest in the firm. Which, with those shares, he most definitely will.’

‘He’s—er—not up to the job?’

‘Don’t get me wrong. Kit and I had a lot to do with each other during our growing years. I’m fond of him, despite his faults. But, as well as being no powerhouse when it comes to work—and that’s being kind—he is far too easily swayed by others. Although he’s already parted with some of the shares his mother gave him, he, like me, already has enough shares to guarantee him a seat on the board. But while we have a duty to our shareholders we also have a duty to our workforce. And I’m afraid Kit feels a duty for neither. It’s a foregone conclusion that the ship will sink if he has any hand in guiding it.’

Colly did not know much about big business, but if Silas Livingstone thought it was so, she was quite willing to believe him. ‘So…’ she brought out the best her brain could come up with ‘…either you marry and inherit a sufficient number of shares to deny your cousin control, or you ultimately have to stand by and watch him ruin all that three generations of Livingstones have worked for?’

‘Exactly,’ Silas agreed. ‘And while God forbid that anything untoward happens to my grandfather for years and years yet, I have to face the reality that he’s currently aged eighty-four. Which is why I have determined that when that awful day comes, and he’s no longer with us, I am not left hearing that unless I have been married for a year and a day the shares that should be mine have been inherited by my cousin Kit.’

By then Colly had forgotten entirely that she had only dined with Silas Livingstone to hear about a job he was now offering her. She recalled how wounded she herself had felt at the way her father had left his will. By the look of it, the shares Silas Livingstone had always been led to believe were half his would be willed elsewhere.

On thinking over all he had just said, though, she could only see one way out for him—if he was dead set on keeping the company safe. ‘I’m sorry, Silas,’ she said quietly, ‘but it seems to me that unless you’re prepared to let the company fail you’re going to have to get over your aversion to marriage and take yourself a wife.’

For ageless moments after she had spoken Silas said not a word. Then, drawing a long breath, ‘That is the only conclusion I was able to reach too,’ he said. And then, looking at no one but her, ‘Which,’ he added, ‘is where you come in.’

She stared at him. ‘Me?’ she questioned, startled.

‘You,’ he agreed.

Her brain wasn’t taking this in. ‘No,’ she said on a strangled kind of note as what he might possibly be meaning started to filter through. Then, as common sense swiftly followed, ‘I’m sorry,’ she apologised. ‘For one totally absurd moment I had this weird notion that you were asking me to marry you.’

She laughed awkwardly, feeling that she had made a fool of herself. She was on the brink of repeating her apology, only, daring to take a glance at him, certain that he must be laughing his head off, she could see not one glimmer of being highly amused about him!

Colly swallowed hard. ‘You weren’t doing that, were you?’ she asked, her voice gone all husky in shock.

‘I cannot fault the idea,’ he answered, his look steady, his expression unsmiling.

Did that mean that he was suggesting that he marry her? No, don’t be ridiculous. Good heavens, she…Colly got herself more together. Whether he was suggesting what it very much sounded as if he was suggesting or not, she thought it was time she let him know her feelings.

‘I don’t want a husband!’ she told him bluntly.

‘Good!’ was his answer, doing nothing for her feeling that she had just made one enormous fool of herself. ‘I don’t want a wife.’ She wondered if she should get up and leave right now. ‘But…’ he added—and she stayed to hear the rest of it, ‘…you and I both have a problem, wouldn’t you agree?’

‘I know what your problem is,’ she agreed.

‘And your problem is that you need somewhere to live and the wherewithal to finance your training.’

‘I hope you’re not thinking in terms of giving me money!’ she erupted proudly—and, oddly, saw a hint of a smile cross his features. ‘I shall work for any money I—’

‘Look on this as work,’ he cut in quickly.

‘This is the job you’re offering me?’ This wasn’t happening; she’d got something wrong somewhere.

He took a long breath, as if finding her uphill work. She did not care. The whole notion was absurd—that was if she had got all this right. ‘Try and see this logically,’ Silas said after some moments.

Colly looked at him levelly, took a deep breath of her own, and supposed her reaction had been more instinctive than logical. ‘So?’ she invited, as calmly as she could.

‘So in my line of business I have to work not for today but for tomorrow. Use forward planning techniques to the full.’

‘As in marrying someone before your grandfather’s will gets read?’

‘Which hopefully won’t be for years yet. But, yes. Had anyone but my level-headed father told me what the stubborn old devil intends to do I’d have paid scant attention.’

‘But your father isn’t one to panic unnecessarily?’

Silas nodded. ‘I’d twenty-four hours to take on board what he said when the daughter of a much-respected man in the engineering world was there in my office—telling me she had been disinherited…’

‘And that rang a bell?’

‘Too true it rang a bell. You then went on to say how you needed a job that paid well, and how you were going to have to find some place to live, and I find I’m suddenly going into forward planning mode.’

‘You—um…’ She couldn’t say it. She did not want to make a fool of herself again. Though she could not help but recall how he had asked her about men-friends, and if she were engaged or anything of that sort.

‘I had an idea,’ he took up. ‘An idea that I’ve had since Tuesday to look at from every angle.’

‘That idea being…?’ she questioned, and waited, barely breathing, to hear whether she had been foolhardy to think he might be meaning what she thought he was so amazingly suggesting, or whether her brain, her instincts, had got it right.

‘That idea being,’ he said, looking at no one but her, his gaze steady, unwavering, ‘to marry you.’

A small sound escaped her. Even though she had thought that might be what he meant, she could not help that small gasp of shock. ‘Thank you for dinner,’ she said, and stood up.

He was, she discovered, not a man to give up easily. He had cynically, no emotion in it, decided he would marry, case closed.

But he was on his feet too. ‘Hear me out, Colly?’ he asked of her. ‘Neither of us wants to marry, so that’s all in our favour.’

‘How on earth do you make that out?’

‘Neither of us is emotionally involved. And it’s not as if we have to live with each other.’

‘We don’t?’ she found herself questioning, even when she was just not interested.

He put a hand under her elbow and guided her from the lounge, waited while she retrieved her cloak, then escorted her out to his car. But instead of driving off once they were in his car, he turned to her and stated, ‘You too have a problem, Colly.’

She half turned to look at him. ‘I’m fully aware of that,’ she answered shortly.

‘And I’m in a position to solve your problems,’ he said. And before she could give him a curt, No, thank you, he was informing her, ‘My grandfather owns a small apartment here in London where he and my grandmother stayed whenever they came up to town. He hasn’t used it since her death, and he’s said he will never again use it. But, because of his very happy memories of times spent there, neither will he part with it. He’s asked me to keep an eye on the place, and I’ve stayed the occasional night there. But you’d be doing me a favour if you’d take it on. The place needs living in.’

Good heavens! ‘You’re offering me the tenancy?’ she exclaimed, guessing in advance that she would never be able to afford the rent.

‘What I’m offering, in return for you giving me a half-hour of your time and standing up in front of some registrar and making the appropriate responses when asked, is somewhere to live. I think you’ll be comfortable there. Further to that, I’ll undertake to fund any training you desire, be it a foundation course followed by university, or whatever you may wish to do.’

This was jaw-dropping stuff! She had come out with him for a job interview and had never expected anything like this! She just had to recap. ‘In return for an “I will” you’re prepared to…’

‘On the day you marry me,’ he replied unhesitatingly, ‘I shall arrange for ten thousand pounds to be paid into your bank, with subsequent top-ups as and when required.’

‘No!’ she said, point-blank, and, nothing to argue about, she turned to face the front.

‘Think about it,’ he returned.

‘I’d like to go home,’ she told him woodenly. She was aware of his hard scrutiny, but was relieved when after some seconds he too faced the front and started up his car.

Neither of them spoke on the way back to her home. What he was thinking about she had no idea, but her head was positively buzzing. ‘Think about it,’ he had said—how could she not?

When she was desperate for somewhere to live he was offering her free accommodation! When she had a need to train for a career—and by twenty-three most women had a toe-hold on several rungs of the career ladder—he was offering to finance her career training!

She should be snatching his hand off. But—marry him! Colly knew that to marry him was something that she could just not do.

Having been silent all the way home, it was as if Silas Livingstone had thought to give her all the space she needed to get used to the idea. Because no sooner had he driven up to her front door than he turned to her.

‘What’s it to be?’ he enquired mildly.

‘I thought I’d given you my answer.’

‘That was instinctive, spur-of-the-moment, an unanalysed reaction.’ He shrugged that away. ‘Marry me,’ he urged.

‘I—don’t even know you!’ she protested.

‘You don’t need to know me,’ he countered. ‘Just a half-hour—we need never see each other again.’

‘No,’ she repeated. ‘I can’t. I’m sorry. I know how very important this is to you, but—’

‘You’re right there,’ he cut in abruptly, causing her to stare at him. But, relenting suddenly, ‘I’ve had since Tuesday to adjust to the notion. Four days in which to weigh everything up, to mull it over and over, to get used to the idea before reaching the decision I have. On reflection, perhaps I’m not being fair, dropping it on you like this and expecting you to come back with the answer I want.’

She was about to reiterate that her answer was no. And that had she had those same four days it would not have made any difference—her answer would still be no—that she just did not need to think about it, or need to get used to the idea either. But Silas was no longer beside her. He was out of the car and had come round to the passenger door.

She stepped out and he stood with her for a moment on the gravel by the front door. He glanced down to where, in the light of the security lamps, her dark hair glowed with red lights. ‘Think about it,’ he said. ‘Think about it and I’ll call you. I’ll phone you Tuesday evening.’

Colly looked up. His expression was telling her nothing. She opened her mouth to again tell him no, that she had no need to think about it, then realised that he was not in any kind of mood to take ‘no’ from her.

‘Goodnight,’ she said, and went indoors.

Saturday and Sunday passed with Colly still trying to believe that the conversation that had taken place on Friday night had actually taken place and was not some figment of her imagination. Had Silas Livingstone really suggested they marry? Had he really told her to think about it and that he would call her for her answer?

Whatever—his astonishing proposal did achieve one thing: her head was so full of it there was small room for her to take much heed of Nanette’s spiteful barbs whenever they were within speaking distance of each other.

Though on Monday morning Nanette was at her most vicious. ‘You still here?’ she snapped when she eventually came down the stairs.

‘I’m making plans,’ Colly returned, without a plan in her head.

‘You’d better make them pretty quick, then,’ Nanette retorted, going on to inform her nastily, ‘If you’re not out of this house by the end of the week I’m having all the locks changed!’

‘You can’t do that!’ Colly gasped.

‘Who’s going to stop me? Joseph Gillingham left this house to me.’ And, with a triumphant smirk, ‘It’s mine!’

Not for the first time Colly wished that her father’s lawyer friend Henry Warren were there to advise her. Surely she could not be barred from her home of twenty-three years? Be put out in the street—just like that! But Uncle Henry was still holidaying abroad, and to seek help from some other legal representative would take money. And money was in rather short supply just then.

How short was again brought home to her when, a little while later, she went looking for a flat to rent. Prices were sky-high! She couldn’t so much as pay the first month’s rent in advance for even the lowliest bedsit!

Silas Livingstone’s proposal that she stand with him in front of some registrar suddenly started to have a weakening effect on her. She stiffened her backbone. She couldn’t do it. Marry him? Take money from him? No, it was out of the question.

She returned to her car, but had no wish to return home. It was not home any more. She began to feel all stewed up—what other options were open to her? There were none. She replayed again that morning’s spat with Nanette and could not get it out of her head. That was when Colly realised that if she dwelt on it many more times she might yet weaken completely. And she could not weaken. She could not marry Silas Livingstone.

On impulse she took out her phone. She would tell him now. She would not wait until tomorrow for him to call her. She would tell him now—while she still had the strength of mind.

She supposed she should have realised it would not be as simple as that to get in touch with him. He was a busy man. He had not even had any free time in which to take her to lunch last week, had he?

Though she did get through to his PA, and it was almost as if Ellen Rothwell had been instructed to put her through to him were she to ring, because the PA was most affable and informative when she apologised and said, ‘I’m sorry, Silas isn’t in right now. All being well, he should be in the office at some time between three and four if that’s any help?’

‘Thank you very much. I—er—may call back,’ Colly replied, and, unable to sit still, she left her car wishing that it was all over and done with.

As she walked aimlessly about so she started to blame him. It was all his fault that she was in this stew. If he had taken her at her word on Friday she would not now be wandering around fretting the pros and cons of his whole astonishing suggestion anyway.

Not that she had thought too deeply about his side of things. Though it was plain that Silas must be more than a little desperate to have put the preposterous proposal to her in the first place. He, with his forward planning, could see everything he and his father before him—and his grandfather too, come to that—had worked for going down the drain if his cousin got his hands on those controlling shares.

He knew his cousin better than she, who had never met him. But surely this Kit person was not so bad as all that? If he were, then would Grandfather Livingstone really change his will in the married Kit’s favour? She could not see it.

But suddenly then Colly was shocked into reconsidering. It had never dawned on her that she would be made homeless when her father died—but he had changed his will, hadn’t he? And, when she might have been forgiven for not expecting to be left destitute, he had left her not a penny.

Feeling a little stunned, Colly began to wish she had not started to think about this marriage proposal from Silas’s angle. Because now that she had she began to think of all those employees who would lose their livelihood, the shareholders who might have invested perhaps more than they could afford in the prosperous company—all of whom stood to suffer financially should Silas’s worst fears come to fruition. It was as weakening as knowing that she was about to be made homeless, and that come the weekend she could throw away her house keys for all the use they would be to her.

By half past two, while appearing outwardly calm, Colly had become so het-up from going over and over everything in her head that she just could not take any more. Neither could she marry him, and that was that, and the sooner she told him the better. She would phone again—oh, grief, with his tight schedule he would be too busy to take phone calls.

That was when she noticed that she was not all that far away from the Livingstone building. At five to three she was pushing through the plate glass doors.

While she knew where Silas Livingstone’s office was, there was a way of doing these things. And, anyhow, he might have someone in his office with him, which meant that she could not just bowl in there unannounced.

She went over to the desk. ‘I’m Columbine Gillingham,’ she told the receptionist. ‘Is it convenient to see…’ she got cold feet ‘…Ellen Rothwell?’

Her insides started to act up, and that was before the receptionist came off the phone to pleasantly say that Mrs Rothwell was expecting her. ‘You know the way?’

Colly hoped that by the time she reached Ellen Rothwell’s door she might have calmed down somewhat. But not a bit of it; she felt even more hot and bothered and was fast wishing that she had not come. She was recalling those steady dark blue eyes that had looked into hers—almost as if he could see into her soul.

I’m being fanciful, she scoffed. But her insides were still rampaging when she found Ellen Rothwell’s door and went in.

‘Silas isn’t back yet, but if you’d like to take a seat he won’t be long,’ Ellen informed her pleasantly.

Colly thanked her, but felt more like standing up and pacing up and down than sitting. But she went and took a seat, realising as she did so that, while it was highly unlikely Silas would have confided in his PA any of this very private business, it looked very much as if—appointments with him being like gold dust—he must have mentioned that he was prepared to take calls from Columbine Gillingham, and that if she appeared personally he would fit her in with his busy schedule somehow.

Then the outer door opened, and while her heart leapt into her mouth it quieted down again when she saw it was not the man she had come to see. This man was about the same age as Silas, and about the same tall height. But that was where any likeness ended. He was sandy-haired, and where Silas had a strong, rather nice-shaped mouth, this man’s mouth was weak—and that was before he opened it.

‘Ellen, lovely girl—is my cousin in?’ he wanted to know, his eyes skirting from her to make a meal of Colly.

‘Not yet,’ Ellen replied, but his attention was elsewhere as he turned his smile full beam on Colly.

‘Are you here to see Silas?’ he queried—and, before she could answer, ‘Kit Summers,’ he introduced himself, and held out his right hand.

It would have been churlish to ignore it. Colly shook hands with him—and wanted to pull her hand back when he held it over-long.

‘What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?’ Kit Summers asked flirtatiously.

Heaven help us! This man might be left to run the company! Colly caught Ellen doing an eye-roll to the ceiling, and felt a hysterical kind of laugh wanting to break loose.

Kit Summers was not at all put off that Colly did not answer, but, continuing to beam at her, suggested, ‘Look, Silas might not be back for ages—why don’t I take you for a cup of tea?’

Colly stared at him. This chinless wonder was married, yet by the look of it did not miss an opportunity to flirt. She was about to give him a cool, No, thank you, when Ellen Rothwell interceded.

‘Have you the figures Silas wanted?’ she enquired evenly.

That shook him sufficiently for him to take his eyes off Colly for a moment. ‘Hell, was it today he wanted them? Strewth, I’d better be going. Don’t tell him I was here,’ he said. ‘And deny any rumour you may have heard that I was on the golf course this morning!’ With that he was gone.

Colly sat there feeling stunned and with her insides churning. Silas’s cousin was a lightweight, and it showed. And if first impressions were anything to go by he was not fit to run any development company, much less an international one.

Then suddenly her mouth went dry. She heard sounds coming from the next-door office. If she wasn’t very much mistaken, Silas was back.

She was not mistaken—the intercom buzzed into life. ‘Has Kit been in?’ Silas asked.

‘Been and gone, I’m afraid,’ his PA answered, and quickly, before he could enquire about any figures, ‘Miss Gillingham is here to see you.’

The announcement was met with total silence. And, quite desperately wishing that she had written, or phoned, but certainly that she had not come in person, Colly went from hot to cold and to hot again. All at once there was movement on the other side of the door, and a moment later the door was opened and Silas Livingstone, tall, commanding, and the very opposite of his cousin, stood there.

He did not smile, or remind her that he had been going to give her a call tomorrow evening, but, ‘Hello, Colly,’ he said mildly, with his eyes fixed on hers as if he would read there what she had come in person to tell him.

Colly stood up. The time had arrived to give him the answer that would not wait until he telephoned tomorrow. He took a step back, so she should go first into his office, and following her in closed the door behind them, giving them all the privacy they needed.