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Authors: Anne Weale

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BOOK: Never to Love
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“I am so glad. When one’s happy oneself, one wants everyone else to be,” Jill said, squeezing Nick’s hand and giving him an adoring look. “Perhaps you’ll be married before us. I mean, Justin has a house already. You won’t have to slog around looking for somewhere to live.”

“I shouldn’t think you’ll have to slog over anything,” Nick said dryly.

“No, of course not. Imagine, you’ll be able to buy your clothes in Paris and have a maid to wash out your undies and no bother about meals. Has he given you a ring yet?” Jill asked.

“We’re going to choose one tomorrow,” Andrea said, embarrassed by Jill’s enthusiasm. For the first time she realized that it was going to be difficult to hide the truth from the younger girl, but somehow she would have to do it. Jill was a wholehearted romantic and would be appalled at the thought of marrying for anything less than love.

Watching Nick, who was lighting his pipe, Andrea wondered if he suspected that her engagement was very different from his own. If he did, would he tell Jill?

“This is going to make quite a story. The
Mirror
will
probably come out with a banner headline ‘Model to Wed Steel Magnate,’
” he said.

“But it isn’t public yet,” she said anxiously
.

“Don’t worry, I won’t give it away. No doubt Templar will put a notice in the
Times
tomorrow. But once it’s out, you’ll probably be inundated with photographers and columnists.”

Andrea bit her lip. If the newspapers decided to publicize the engagement, they might uproot the facts of her past. She could imagine how much more colorful the story would be then. All the old
cliché
s about Cinderella marrying Prince Charming and the girl from the wrong side of the tracks breaking into society would be splashed over the front page of the popular papers. They might even print a picture of the Briggs Lane basement and one of the house in Syon Place.

For a moment she was tempted to phone Justin and ask if they could keep their engagement a secret, but then she realized that the news would be bound to leak out eventually and they could scarcely conceal their marriage. There was nothing to do but hope that some more important event would overshadow the engagement.

She
was a little late
for their luncheon appointment the next day, and apologized so concernedly that Justin was amused.

“If you never keep me waiting longer than five minutes, I will be an unusually fortunate man,” he said smiling.

When they had been shown to a table overlooking the Thames, and he had ordered the food and wines, Andrea found herself stricken with shyness. She could think of nothing to say and her replies to his remarks became more and more stilted.

“Does your soup taste unpleasant?” he asked, seeing her taut face.

“No, of course not. It’s delicious.” She colored slightly. “It’s just that I’m not quite used to this yet.”

“By ‘this,’ do you mean being my future wife?” he inquired a shade quizzically.

“Yes.”

“Does that mean you want a long engagement to accustom yourself to the idea? Personally I can see no point in prolonged engagements once one has made up one’s mind to marry. But if there are any lingering doubts in your mind
...”

He left the sentence unfinished, watching her with a rather hard expression.

“Oh, no, I didn’t mean that,” she said hurriedly.

“You’re quite sure?”

“Yes.”

“Then I suggest we set the date at the end of March. Where would you like to spend a honeymoon?”

“I hadn’t thought about it. Wherever you like.”

“Paris is very pleasant in the spring. We can follow the sun later in the year.”

“Paris would be lovely. I’ve never been there,” she said.

“In that case, you needn’t bother about a trousseau. My sister tells me the French designers are superior to the British. Are you busy this afternoon?”

Andrea shook her head.

“Then when we’ve bought your ring, I’ll take you to meet Madeline.”

“Does she know about me?”

“Yes, I told her last night.”

Andrea wondered how his sister had received the news. Although she had only seen her from across the church on Christmas Day in Cornwall she had an uneasy
f
eeling that her future sister-in-law might not welcome the engagement.

After lunch they went to one of London’s most exclusive jewelers where the manager, an august personage in morning dress, greeted Justin with the deference due to a valued customer. He ushered them into a small anteroom and gave instructions to one of his staff.

“Had you any particular stone in mind, Miss Fleming?” he asked Andrea as they sat down at a table covered with a black velvet cloth.

She said she had not.

“I suggest an emerald to match your eyes,” Justin said, and she gave him a surprised glance, for he had spoken in a tone that was quite different from his normal one.

In a few moments the assistant arrived with a large flat case.

As Mr. Hampton lifted the lid, Andrea gave an involuntary gasp, for the rings that lay on the white satin bed were the most beautiful she had ever seen.


How about that one?” Justin said, indicating a large square-cut emerald surrounded by diamonds.

“Yes, that is a particularly fine stone, Mr. Templar,” said Mr. Hampton, slipping it over the third finger of Andrea’s left hand.

She gazed at it wordlessly, spellbound by its glowing color.

“Do you like it?” Justin asked.

“It’s beautiful,” she said dazedly.

“Then we’ll have it, Hampton,” he said as calmly as if he were buying some cheap trinket instead of a ring that she knew must cost several hundred pounds.

As they left the shop and walked back to the car, which was parked in a side street, Andrea said, “It’s a wonderful ring, Justin. Thank you very much.”

“I’m glad you like it.” His voice was back to its normal clipped tone.

It was then that she realized why he had sounded
different
in the shop. He had looked at and spoken to her as if they were like other engaged couples, as if he loved her.

His sister lived in Knightsbridge and they were shown into the drawing room by a prim-faced maid in a dark green uniform.

“I think I told you that Madeline had a passion for interior decoration,” Justin said dryly as they sat down on a sofa covered with thick white tweed. “What do you think of it?”

Andrea surveyed the white carpet, the white curtains and
the white walls. The only notes of color were the lime green cushions and some African tribal masks on the walls
.
“It’s very unusual,” she said politely.

“Personally it reminds me of an arctic waste,” he said derisively. “The next time we call I’ve no doubt everything will be a funeral black. Madeline is a creature of whims.”

At that moment they heard high heels tapping down the
hall and Madeline Laverick came into the room. She was wearing a dull yellow dress, which Andrea recognized as a Lanvin-Catillo model, with a long chain of amber beads looped around her throat.

Justin rose, drawing Andrea to her feet and keeping hold of her hand.

“Madeline, this is Andrea,” he said quietly.

Whatever Andrea had expected, it was not for Mrs. Laverick to glide forward with a brilliant smile and say warmly, “I’m delighted to meet you at last, my dear. I can’t imagine why Justin hasn’t brought you to see me before, but, as you’ve probably discovered, he’s an eccentric creature. You know I’ve seen your pictures so often that I feel I know you already. I can’t tell you how pleased I was when Justin broke the news. I had quite despaired of him getting married unless it was to some terribly serious girl who would think me a shocking scatterbrain.”

Before Andrea had had time to recover from her surprise at this effusive reception she found herself back on the sofa with Mrs. Laverick beside her.

“Now tell me all your plans. When is the wedding to be?”

“The end of next month,” Justin said.

“So soon? My dear child, you’ll be rushed off your feet. Never mind, Justin told me your parents were dead, so it will be my job to help you with all the preparations. We will have to start at once.”

“Perhaps Andrea would rather have a quiet wedding,” Justin suggested.

She was about to say that she would, but his sister got in first.

“What nonsense! Every girl wants a proper wedding, and Andrea will make such a lovely bride—” another brilliant smile “—that it would be quite criminal to have one of these makeshift affairs. However, the first thing is the engagement party. I’ve invited the rest of the family to dinner on Friday and afterward we’ll have an informal dance.”

For the next ten minutes Madeline prattled on with plans and suggestions, so that by the time the maid wheeled in a
tea wagon and she paused for breath, Andrea had lost the courage to say that she did not want an elaborate wedding.

While they had tea and Madeline continued to monopolize the conversation she was conscious that Justin was again making a pretense of being what she mentally termed “a proper
fiancé
.” The
way he smiled at her, the way he lighted her cigarette, the way he said her name—all these were deliberately calculated to make his sister think he was in love with her.

She was both embarrassed and confused, and it was a relief when he said they must leave. His sister saw them out to the car, but it was too cold for her to stay talking through the window for long.

As they drove back to the apartment, Justin said, “Madeline has a flair for organization; you leave most of the planning to her. I hope you don’t mind this party she’s fixed up. Most of my relatives are quite harmless.”

“I hope they will approve of me,” Andrea said uncertainly.

“Why shouldn’t they?” He bit back an expletive as a cyclist suddenly swung out a few feet in front of his nearside fende
r.
“What would you like to do tonight?”

“I was wondering if you’d care to have supper with us.
It will only be potluck,” she added, remembering the fish pie she had planned for their evening meal.

“Thank you. I would like to
,”
he said.

The evening was remarkably successful, and when Nick arrived just as they were finishing the dishes, Andrea was relieved to see that the two men seemed to take to each other. By the time she and Jill had put away the dishes and powdered their noses the others were ensconced in the sitting room, discussing foreign policy in the Middle East. Andrea passed the sofa intending to sit on a leather pouffe by the fire, but Justin caught her wrist and drew her down beside him. He did it quite naturally without breaking off his remark to Nick, and she did
n
ot think anyone noticed her heightened color. Presently the conversation turned to lighter topics, and from time to time Justin glanced down at her with a smile. He was an incredibly good actor. Anyone watching him would have thought him
a charmingly attentive lover. He continued to hold her hand in a light clasp, and after a while she felt less self
-
conscious and was able to talk more easily.

Toward ten o’clock Jill bestirred herself to make coffee and toast and Nick went to help her. As soon as the kitchen door had closed, Justin got up on the pretext of emptying an ashtray into the fire.

They had not bothered to put on the lights, and as he stood with his back to the hearth his face was in shadow, but she felt him watching her. It was a disconcerting sensation, and after a moment or two she jumped up and put on the light.

“There’s something we ought to have talked about before. Come here a minute,” Justin said as she wandered aimlessly about the room.

Wondering what was coming she went back to the sofa and he sat down beside her.

“Look, my dear, our motives for getting married are entirely our business,” he said
,
keeping his voice down so that it would not be overheard in the kitchen. “At the same time, I don’t see reason to advertise any ... peculiarities in our relationship, so when we’re with other people I will behave in the accepted way, and I’d like you to try to do the same.” He paused, and there was a glint of laughter in his eyes. “Don’t worry. My mother was Spanish, but I’m enough of an Englishman not to be particularly demonstrative in public. Now, do you think you can manage to look a little more at ease with me? I don’t bite, you know.”

“I’m sorry,” she said stiffly. “I’ll try to do better.”

Madeline’s dinner party
was less of an ordeal than Andrea had anticipated. In spite of his habit of clearing his throat every few seconds, she found herself liking Robert Laverick. He was a quiet man, completely overshadowed by his volatile wife. He was at least twenty years Madeline’s senior and they seemed an oddly matched pair.

BOOK: Never to Love
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