Dark inheritance (15 page)

At the bottom she halted. "If you'll excuse me, I'll go and change."

"Won't you come and have a drink with me first?"

"I don't want a drink, thank you very much."

His jaw clenched. "Then come and watch me have one."

"I don't think "

"Please."

She hesitated. "Oh, all right. But you mustn't make me late for dinner."

He glanced at her quickly as they moved towards the bar. "Going out with Mark again this evening?"

"No," she said shortly, and they finished their walk in silence.

"Sure you won't change your mind and have something?" he asked as she sat down.

"Perhaps I will after all."

"Sherry?"

She nodded and he went up to the bar and gave his order, returning with a drink in either hand.

As he sank into the chair opposite he raised his glass. "Here's to Monte Carlo."

She raised hers. "To the Casino."

Rockwood put his glass down with deliberation. "Do I detect a note of meaning in that?"

"You do."

There was a short silence and he leant back in his chair and stroked his chin, a remote look on his face. Then as if deciding to broach a subject he would rather have left unmentioned, he leant forward and took up his glass again. "I'm sorry for what must have seemed very odd behaviour on my part last night. What led up to it is a long story. If you'll accept my apology, I'd like to tell it to you tonight."

"Tonight?"

"If you'll let me, Barbara. Will you have dinner with me ashore?"

"But I've been away from Aunt Ellie all day."

"Aunt Ellie is having dinner in bed. We went for quite a long drive this afternoon and she's tired."

Still unwilling to comply too easily, she appeared to
consider his invitation doubtfully. "I'm rather tired. Mark and I swam for quite a time this afternoon."

Rock wood set his glass down sharply. "Stop hedging, Barbara. Either you won't or you will."

"You don't leave me very much choice, do you?" She tried not to smile. "All right, Dominic, I'll come."

"Good. If you'd care to dress we can dine at the Country Club."

Changing for their dinner ashore later that evening Barbara wondered whether she had given in too easily, but comforted herself with the reflection that to have hesitated very much longer would have made herself look ridiculous. Dominic would probably have got up and left her sitting there, she thought wryly, for he was too used to getting his own way to pander to anyone
else's Foibles. That had probably been another bone of
contention between him and Gina, for Mrs. Gilderstein had struck her as the sort of woman to have a mind of her own, and with a sudden flash of resentment she wondered whether Dominic's arrogance had been tempered by his love for the actress.

Dominic was waiting for her in the lounge and she thought how much younger he looked in a white linen dinner jacket than in the conventional black attire.

"You look charming, Barbara," he said as he came towards her. "I haven't seen you in that dress before, have I?"

"I've been saving it for an occasion."

"I'm glad you thought this one warranted it."

Taking her arm he steered her out of the lounge, and although her spine tingled at the pressure of his hand she refused to allow herself to be affected by his proximity, determined not to succumb to any easy gesture on his part.

As they climbed into the tender and chugged away from the boat her soft skirts billowed out in the se breeze and she was assailed by a thrill of excitement. The twinkling lights of Monte Carlo rose to greet them and the romantic beauty of the Mediterranean softened her mood, weakening her resolutions of a moment before and making her aware that Dominic had only to hold out his arms for her to run into them.

They had dinner at the Summer Casino at the edge of the sea, dining out of doors in the restaurant overlooking the glass dance floor which was illuminated from below with a purplish light that cast rainbow reflections
on the skirts of the women as they moved round in their
partner's arms. Barbara noticed how attentive the
waiters were to Dominic, as if they too sensed his com
manding personality and knew he was a man used to having his instructions obeyed.

He ordered dinner without consulting her, explaining that he wanted it to be a meal she would remember.

"It's a sort of celebration," he added.

"To celebrate what?"

"The regaining of one freedom and possibly the loss of another," came the enigmatic reply.

He did not explain further and they said little until after the
hors d'oeuvre,
when he asked her to dance.

She rose without a word and went into his arms.

"I'm afraid my dancing's rather rusty," he apologized as they moved away from the table. "It's a long time since I've done any. You must forgive me if I make an
faux pas."

But he did not make any mistakes and danced with a
rhythm and easy grace that surprised her. Their steps matched perfectly and Barbara surrendered to the tremulous joy of feeling his arms around her. Dominic held her lightly yet firmly, but as the dance neared its end drew her closer against him as though loath to relinquish her when the music stopped.

"We get along rather well on the floor, don't we?" There was a shadow of amusement in the brown eyes.

"That's because we don't talk and there's no chance for us to disagree about anything," she replied promptly.

"As usual you have an answer for everything! You seem to enjoy being obtuse tonight, Barbara."

She refused to rise to the bait, although a dimple came and went in her cheek as she resumed her chair.

"So it
is
Dominic—I was right!" A silvery voice ran out. "I thought I saw you come in, but I wasn't sure because you've changed so much."

Barbara heard Dominic's sharp intake of breath and looked up quickly to see Gina de Courcey smiling down at them.

"Hullo, Gina," The man stood up. his face impassive. "I'd have known
you
anywhere. The years have dealt kindly with you."

Gina made a face at him. "What a back-handed compliment, but how typical of you! Not so many years, Dominic—only three or four, surely?"

"Five years and four months."

Her eyes glinted. "You flatter me by remembering the date."

"Did you expect me to forget it?"

She regarded him obliquely, but said nothing. Then: "I don't believe you've met Miss Mansfield."

A sharp smile crossed the beautiful face. "Oh, but I have—I met her with Mark at the swimming pool. You get around, Miss Mansfield."

"It's a round world, Mrs. Gildcrstein," Barbara said coolly.

Dominic's lips twitched and Gina looked faintly surprised as if a moth had bitten her. Then obviously deciding that this pleasantry was best ignored, she turned her attention back to Dominic.

"Would you care to join our party? Charles and I are sitting over there with some people." She pointed vaguely to the far corner of the terrace.

"I think not, Gina."

"Oh? Well, if you change your mind you'll know where to find us. Do look me up when you're back in London—I'd love to see you again, darting. We've so much to talk about, haven't we?"

"What have you got to talk about, my darling?"

Unnoticed, Charles Gildcrstein had come up behind
his wife and rested his arm possessively on her shoulder.
At close quarters he looked older than from a distance,
a fine net-work of lines criss-crossing under his deep-set
eyes and at the corners of his thin, wide mouth, his hair so grey that it made his skin sallow yet gave him a notable distinction.

"Just an old friend of mine, Charles," Gina replied with a trace of irritation.

"But any old friend of yours is a friend of mine," the man said with bland persistence. "Won't you introduce me?" She did so briefly, and he bowed to Barbara and shook Dominic's hand. "I've always wondered what you were like, Mr. Rockwood. Now I know."

"I never had to wonder about you," Dominic replied easily. "Your face is in the newspapers as often as your wife's."

The thin lips moved back in a smile, revealing small,
irregular teeth. 'The penance of publicity is the quickest road to fame—or notoriety. But I can sec we're breaking up your
tete-ct-tete.
I must apologize for my wife—she has a habit of intruding on other people's conversation. Come, Gina my darling, we're in the way."

"Nonsense, Charles, if I can't stop and speak to a friend—"

"But you have stopped, Gina, and now we must get back to our table." The long, thin fingers tightened on her shoulder. "Come along, my darling, everyone's waiting for us. You know very well the men won't sit down without you."

"No, of course." The petulant face cleared. "Gregory gets so impatient if he can't dance with me." She turned
to Dominic. "You won't forget to look me up, will you
darling?" And with a haunting smile for him and the briefest of nods to Barbara, she sauntered away with her husband.

Dominic sat down again and Barbara idly played
with the stem of her wine-glass to give him a chance to
compose himself.

"Look at me, Barbara."

She complied.

"I suppose Mark told you who Mrs. Gilderstein is?"

"'Yes, Gina de Courcey, the actress."

"That wasn't what I meant. Didn't Mark "

"Tell me you were engaged to her once? Yes, he told me that too."

"A pity. I wanted to tell you myself."

"There's no need for you to tell me anything. After all, everyone has something in their past they'd rather forget. Even I"

"Nonsense!" he interrupted. "You know you don't really believe that."

"But I do, Dominic. You needn't- "

He got up and stood looking down at her. "Let's go for a stroll in the gardens. Whether you want to hear it or not, there's something I want to tell you.

She followed him down into the garden with far more
composure than she felt, and he walked at such a tremendous rate that she was panting for breath by the time he halted in a small clearing overlooking the sea, sheltered at the back by the swinging fronds of palm
trees.

He led her over to a small bench and drew her down
beside him unceremoniously.

"As Mark told you, Gina and I were engaged," he began.

"Five years and four months ago."

He looked at her quickly. "Yes. Five years and four months ago. One doesn't forget a big event in one's life." He leant forward and clasped his hands over his knees, looking out across the dark water. "I wonder if you can realize how much she meant to me in those days. My home life had been unfortunate, and when I met Gina and she agreed to marry me I felt as if the Fates had suddenly stopped scowling. Seeing her today can give you no idea of what she was like when she was young and fresh. Now she is studied perfection, the work of art Gilderstein has created, but five years ago she was the loveliest thing I'd ever seen."

Barbara clenched her hands but said nothing.

"For a few months I lived in utter happiness—a
happiness so complete and full of promise that I under
stand now what they mean when they say love is blind.
I wanted to carry her off to a dream island and sit and
worship her all day, like a goddess enshrined. But I
reckoned without Gina herself. Not only had Providence
made her beautiful, it had made her ambitious as well;
and she did not see her marriage to me as one of private
happiness and fulfilment but only as a stepping-stone to achieving her ambitions on the stage."

"She wanted to go on working, then.'"

"Working?" He gave a short laugh. "I should probably have agreed to that. No, she didn't just want to go on working—she was obsessed with the idea of becoming a star. She was an unknown, inexperienced actress then, and nothing would satisfy her but reaching the highest rung of the ladder in the shortest possible time. And my money was going to buy her stardom."

"I see."

"I wonder if you do. I wonder if you know what it means to find out your idol has clay feet."

"What happened?"

He stood up and moved over to the cliffs edge. "She refused to marry me unless I promised to do everything she wanted. I refused. It was as simple as that."