Comparative Strangers (6 page)

‘Oh, you wicked girl,’ she sobbed. ‘Where did you go with him? Where was this dreadful place?’

Amanda said grimly, ‘I presume they mean this house.’

Mrs Conroy clutched at her throat. ‘You mean, you brought your—paramour here? You actually used my home for your sordid—your disgusting…’

‘There’s nothing disgusting or sordid about it.’ Amanda gently shook her mother’s arm. ‘Mother— these stories are lies.’

‘You mean you never met this man?’

‘No.’ Amanda swallowed. ‘I did see him on Thursday. In fact, he spent the night here, but…’

‘Then it’s all true.’ Her mother looked at her with tragic eyes. ‘You brought him here. You...’ She nerved herself. ‘You—slept with him.’

Amanda groaned. ‘Not in the way you think. I’d had a terrible day. I’d quarrelled with Nigel, and Malory knew it. He just came to—keep me company. Then someone started ringing up, practising his heavy breathing, and my window got broken, so Malory and I finished up sharing the spare room, because I was too frightened to be on my own. But he never touched me. He just looked after me,‘ she added feebly.

Mrs Conroy snorted. ‘A likely story! If it was all so innocent, why didn’t you give Nigel a full explanation?’

Amanda flushed. ‘Because I didn’t think he deserved one,’ she said in a constricted voice. She bit her lip. ‘But Malory does. I’ll have to talk to him before he sees these stories.’

Her mother laughed harshly. ‘Are you quite mad? He’s seen them already.’ She read from her paper, “‘At his Aylesford Green luxury residence, yesterday, Malory Templeton, thirty-two, said ’No comment‘.’”

She glared at Amanda. ‘That’s what guilty people say. Why didn’t he deny these stories if they aren’t true? Oh, just listen to this. “Nigel, white and shaken, said, ’I couldn’t believe I’d lost her until she told me with her own lips that she was going to marry my brother. She was always against my rallying, and I can’t blame her for choosing comfort and security with Malory. He’s much richer than I can ever hope to be. I pray they’ll both be happy together‘.”

She shook her head. ‘Poor boy. Poor, darling Nigel. So brave, wishing you well.’

‘Is that what he’s doing?’ Amanda asked ironically. She rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand. ‘Where are the road maps? I’ve got to get to Aylesford Green.’

‘You won’t go anywhere near that man,’ Mrs Conroy said peremptorily. ‘I shall get my solicitor to phone these papers tomorrow and issue a stringent denial, and then I shall speak to Nigel myself—tell him there’s been a dreadful mistake…’

Amanda said quietly, ‘Mother, if you do any such thing, I shall leave this house, and never come back. The papers got one thing right in all this. Nigel and I are finished. Nigel knows it, and that’s why he’s produced this—piece of spite.’ She drew a breath. ‘He said he’d make me sorry, and he has.’

Nigel had been very clever, she thought later as she drove through the lanes towards Aylesford Green. He’d presented her as an out-and-out gold-digger, and Malory as a wealthy dupe, while reserving for himself the role of deceived but noble innocent. Few people who read the stories would feel anything but compassion for him, betrayed at his moment of triumph.

It was raining when she reached the village. She parked her car by the green, and stared round at the pretty cottages which bordered it. There had been a smudgy picture of Malory’s house in one of the papers, but she couldn’t relate it to any of these. Eventually, she asjked for directions from a man stalwartly walking his dog, and was guided out of the village on to a side road.

‘It’s set back a bit,’ she was advised. ‘Look out for double white gates.’

When she found them, Amanda drew her car up on the verge, and sat for a few moments, trying to marshal her thoughts. Or was she simply attempting to pluck up sufficient courage to walk up to the front door of the spacious brick and timber house she could just glimpse through the encircling trees? she asked herself derisively. It would serve her right if Malory refused point-blank to see her.

Only a matter of hours ago, he’d told her he was her friend, and they’d shaken hands on it. But today he might feel that friendship had its limitations.

She got stiffly out of the car and locked it. Well, she had no one but herself to blame for this fiasco. She’d made all the bullets for Nigel to fire with such lethal effect.

Her high-heeled boots scrunched over the wet gravel as she approached the front door, and rang the bell. Somewhere inside the house, a dog erupted into a tumult of barking, then quietened, obviously to order. The door opened, and a grey-haired woman in a neat dark overall looked at her enquiringly. ‘May I help you, miss?’

‘I’d like to see Dr Templeton, please.’

The woman gave her a formally regretful smile. ‘I’m afraid Dr Templeton isn’t seeing anyone today. You should direct any enquiries to the public relations department at the laboratories tomorrow.’

As she made to shut the door, Amanda said hastily, ‘But I’m not a reporter. I’m Amanda Conroy, and I need to see Mal… Dr Templeton urgently.’

‘Oh, Miss Conroy.’ There was a wary note in the woman’s voice. ‘Come in, please. Dr Templeton has been expecting you.’

The hall was wide, with a flagged floor on which a Persian rug took pride of place. There was a Georgian table standing against one of the pale-washed walls holding a sunburst of chrysanthemums. Amanda was taken up two steps to double glass doors opening into a large drawing-room. Logs crackled in a grate on the wide hearth, and the room was filled with music—a woman’s voice singing something dramatic and unfamiliar.

Malory was stretched out on one of the sofas which flanked the fireplace, but as Amanda came in he rose and walked over to the hi-fi system which occupied most of one wall, removing the record from the turntable.

He said laconically, The mad scene from
Lucia di Lammermoor
. It seemed—appropriate, somehow‘ He looked past Amanda to his housekeeper. ’Could you manage some coffee for us, Mrs Priddy, please?‘

‘Of course, sir.’ The doors closed behind her and they were alone together.

Malory said, ‘Why don’t you sit down, Amanda, before you fall down?’

She stumbled across to a sofa. Its cushions were as soft as thistledown, but they could have been a bed of nails as far as Amanda was concerned.

She said, ‘I had to see you to apologise—to explain…’

He said quietly, ‘When the press started calling, I was going to issue a categorical denial. Then something told me to wait. It seems I was right.’

She nodded wretchedly.

‘So, what happened?’

‘Nigel came back, after you’d gone. There was a scene, and he made some remark about us having...’ she swallowed painfully, ‘—having slept together. He was vile, and I lost my temper, and let him think it was true.’

He said, ‘I suppose I should have allowed for the red in that hair of yours. So, does Nigel simply think I should do the honourable thing by marrying you, or is there still more?’

Amanda nodded again, her hands twisting and re-twisting in her lap. ‘He said awful things about both of us. It was terrible. And then he made a gibe about—my marrying you.’ A long pause. ‘So I said I was going to.’ She sank her teeth into her lower lip. ‘It was just a way of scoring a point. Of getting rid of him. I never dreamed he’d do—this. Oh, God, it’s all my fault!’

Malory said grimly, ‘If you’re expecting a chivdenial from me, then you’re going to be disappointed. The only points you’ve scored are own goals. You’ve made us look fools, and worse than fools.’

She said, ‘You should have denied everything.’

‘And risked the papers discovering a story they could really get their teeth into?’ he queried coolly. ‘Have some sense. With luck, Nigel’s masterly misrepresentation of the facts will be a brief sensation, and soon forgotten. The damage has been done now, and if we start issuing joint denials, it will simply re-focus attention on the whole mess. I imagine you don’t want that?’

She shuddered. ‘No.’

‘Exactly. So if we go along with the story, it should die a natural death eventually’

She made herself meet his gaze. ‘What do you mean—go along with it?’

‘It’s quite simple,’ he said. ‘You’ve told the world, through Nigel, that you’re going to marry me. So—marry me you will.’

Amanda sat staring at him for a long moment, then she said shakily, ‘That mad scene you were listening to—is it infectious?’

He smiled faintly. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Then how can you possibly—possibly suggest such a thing? It’s the craziest, most ridiculous idea I’ve ever heard!‘

His brows lifted. ‘But it’s your own idea. You’ve proposed to me, Amanda, in the most public way you could have devised. Well, I’m accepting your proposal, that’s all.’

She said huskily, ‘But you can’t—I didn’t mean it.’

He gave her a meditative look. ‘So what are you planning to do about it? Jilt me, as you seem to have jilted Nigel?’ He shook his head. ‘No way, my child. Whether you intended it or not, you’ve plunged me into the middle of a
cause célebre
. It isn’t a situation I appreciate, believe me.’

She said wretchedly, ‘I know—and I’m so sorry.’

‘It’s a little late for regrets.’ He spoke gently enough, but there was an implacable note in his voice. ‘I abominate having my private life made public property, so this engagement stands as mutual camouflage until the necessity for it is past.’

Relief flooded over her in a great wave. ‘Oh, you mean we should just
pretend
?’

‘Well, I was hardly suggesting a headlong dash to the altar,’ he said with faint hauteur. He gave her a level look. ‘How has your mother reacted to all this?’

She groaned. ‘Don’t ask. She’s in a terrible state. She idolised Nigel, of course, and insists on regarding all this as some kind of little local difficulty.’

‘I presume you haven’t told her the truth?’

‘I couldn’t,’ she said bluntly.

He said rather wryly, ‘I can appreciate that. So, how are you going to explain our engagement to her? Tell her I talked you into it against your better judgement—or that I swept you helplessly off your feet?’

‘The first option, I presume,’ she said. ‘I don’t think I could even convince myself of the second…’ She stopped with a little gasp, realising what she’d said. ‘I—I didn’t mean…’

‘It really doesn’t matter,’ he said pleasantly. ‘Now, I think I hear Mrs Priddy bringing our coffee.’

“I ought to be getting back, actually.‘ Amanda was still hideously embarrassed by her gaffe. She didn’t feel equal to a continued tête-à-tête over the coffee-cups.

‘It’s quite safe to accept my hospitality, Amanda.’ His voice was dry. ‘Nothing more will be forced on you—except, perhaps, Mrs Priddy’s home-made shortbread. And Harvey’s attentions, of course.’

‘Harvey?’ Amanda felt totally out of her depth.

‘My dog. He got very wet when I took him out earlier, and he’s been drying off in the kitchen.’

Malory smiled faintly. ‘But he regards that as a kind of banishment, so no doubt he’ll be hot on Mrs Priddy’s heels.’

As the drawing-room doors opened to admit the housekeeper with her tray, a handsome Springer spaniel slid into the room in her wake, his tail a blur of quivering goodwill, his attitude tentative, as if unsure of his welcome. Malory snapped his fingers, and the dog went straight to him, sitting down obediently at his feet.