The Seduction of Suzanne (27 page)

“My turn,” came another voice, this one as deep as Justin’s. She was released and passed on to a second pair of arms, unquestionably male. He gave her a friendly squeeze and then pulled back and looked down at her as she gazed up, seeing a broader and mo
re rugged version of his brother’s classic features. His frame was more burly as well, and his hair mid-brown rather than blonde like his siblings.

“I’m Graham. Pleased to meet you,” he said, the polite salutation a little incongruous after the warm hug.

“The feeling is entirely mutual,” she murmured with a faint smile, and he grinned in response.

“Well don’t stop there,” urged a pleasant tenor voice. “You’ve yet to reach the pick of the bunch.”

Graham rolled his eyes and stepped back, letting himself be shouldered aside by yet another tall Walker male.

Suzanne
gaped a little at this man, the youngest of the three. He was of slighter build than his two brothers, but not by much. If she had thought that Justin was handsome, the last-born of the family out-stripped him for sheer masculine beauty. His eyes were like blue crystal, and his golden hair curled gently, giving him the look of some Greek God. Apollo perhaps, or Eros.

With boyish charm he beamed at her, as bright as sunshine. “Pretty,” he said appreciatively. “I think I’ll have a kiss rather than a hug.” He bent down and bussed her quickly, before she had time to react, a light touch of lips against hers.

She couldn’t help her blush. She wasn’t used to being kissed by strangers.

“Alright, okay, enough of that. Hands off,” said Justin, his hands on her shoulders, hard body pressed full-length against her back.

His brother lifted his hands in mock-surrender.

“You must be Adam,” said
Suzanne dryly.

“At your service, milady.” He recaptured her fingers, and brought them elegantly to his lips.

“This one,” said Graham derisively, “fancies himself a Lothario.”

Immediately Adam flung his hand up against his forehead in an exaggerated pose of despair.

“Everywhere there are critics,” he exclaimed.

Suzanne
smiled at his clowning. He returned it cheerfully, and then stepped away to claim another pastry from a nearby tray.

Just then they all heard the doorbell ringing.

“That’ll be your guests,” said Constancia. “Now shoo out of my kitchen and leave me in peace.” She waved her hands at them expressively, and they left, pausing only for a quick pillage from a large plate of assorted hors d’oeuvres. The cook’s muttered imprecations followed them down the hallway.

Suzanne
took the opportunity to separate herself from Justin. He dropped a hand onto her shoulder and she pried it off and flung it away like an insect, trotting to catch up with his siblings.

“
Suzanne,” he called, his voice grim. She ignored him, linking an arm with Amanda, who was quick to accept the gesture with a friendly pat on the elbow.

Oh, they were a physical family indeed, casually touching. It explained Justin’s hands-on approach.

She didn’t want to know what conclusion he had drawn from their wild lovemaking that morning. All she wanted was to avoid him until she could get some time to herself, to think things through. Maybe she could slip away some time in the evening, and go to a hotel. Being here was already
intense, and now she would have all these strangers to deals with too. And Justin’s family.

It was giving her a headache, and the evening had barely started.

The first guests had indeed arrived, and were obviously people the family knew well. Barely had Suzanne been introduced, when the bell rang again. After that the door was simply left open, with Cathy and another two young women in staff uniforms standing by to receive coats and wraps. Before long there was a press of people spilling out of the hall and into virtually all the downstairs rooms. The weight of numbers allowed Suzanne to guess how very popular the Walkers were, if a party of theirs could draw so many on such short notice. Everyone seemed beautifully dressed, confident and self-assured. Voices rang out as individuals spotted friends and acquaintances.

Justin’s parents and siblings appeared to be everywhere, their cheerful presence keeping the mood exuberant. Now that she had met all of Justin’s family, she could see why he tended to have such a good natured, light-hearted approach to life. It would be difficult to be sober for long when growing up with such vibrant, happy people always about.

Yet he’d also learnt to tell a well-turned lie here, too. And the confidence she had admired in him – even while she was bewildered by it – made much more sense as the arrogance of someone raised with a silver spoon in his mouth.

After nearly an hour of clinging close to other people and having intense conversations to avoid interruption by a hovering Justin,
Suzanne witnessed him finally lose his patience. He broke into the middle of her companion’s loving description of his sailboat, murmuring politely – although through gritted teeth: “Yes, it’s a beautiful boat, and Suzanne probably
would
love to see it sometime, Morris. But I have to borrow her just now, sorry. Excuse us.” He wrapped his arm around her waist, clasping her elbow on the opposite side, and steered her deftly through the crowd.

“I have nothing to say to you,” she hissed.

“Then just listen. There’s someone here you need to meet.”

“Listen, mate, I don’t need to do anything you say. I-”

“Yes, I know, can we take it as a given you’ve said a bunch of nasty things to me and just leave it at that for the moment?” He pinched the bridge of his nose between the thumb and forefinger of his free hand, then gave her a tired and exasperated sideways look. “If you could just quit acting like I’d murdered someone you love, the curator of your exhibition is here, and wants to meet you.”

Suzanne
glared at him through narrowed eyes, but stopped pulling away, letting him direct her until they reached a bald man of medium height. His face was tanned, and there were attractive crinkled lines at the sides of his eyes when he smiled, as he did at first sight of her, showing very white, even teeth.

“Hello,” he said, holding out his hand to shake. “You must be
Suzanne Turlin. My name is Haden Chancery. You’ll be displaying at my gallery.”

“Surely you need to see my paintings first though? Before you agree to anything?” asked
Suzanne hesitantly, thinking that things couldn’t possibly be that easy.

“Well of course I want to see them up close,” said Haden urbanely, “So if we could . . .” he trailed off meaningfully, his eyebrows raised as he looked between the couple.

“I’ve spread some of them out in one of the rooms upstairs,” said Justin. “We can certainly go up now.”

He turned and led the way up the main staircase and to the left, an area of the house that was new to
Suzanne. The third door on the right he opened, and walked in. Suzanne followed him, coming into an empty, cream-coloured room which was utterly devoid of furniture, though as she looked, she could see faint depressions in the carpet which indicated that the room had only recently been cleared.

The bright overhead lights shone down on six of her painted canvases, which had been laid down in a line on the floor, with enough space between them that each could be viewed separately.

Haden Chancery hurried eagerly to look down on them. He walked from one canvas to the next without saying anything. Suzanne stood by with hands anxiously clasped together, her eyes fixed on this man.

Here was a professional in the art world. Someone who made money out of his expertise, his well-trained perceptions and instinct about that world. He was just one man, but if he looked disappointed or
sneered she . . . well, she would be crushed. There had been enough blows today. She wasn’t sure she could take yet another.

Justin stood at right angles to
Suzanne, his hands in his pockets and a smugly expectant look on his face. He had taken a few steps away from her and she was glad of the space. Yet she felt very alone, waiting for judgment.

When he had looked at every image, Haden came back and started from the beginning. This second time he took even longer, lingering in silence over each painting, drifting from one to another, and then back again for yet more long minutes.

Finally Suzanne could bear the suspense no longer.

“So . . . um, what do you think?” she asked, with the slightest quaver.

The art dealer seemed to shake himself, as bringing his mind back from wherever it had been.

“I can’t quite believe it,” he murmured dreamily. “These paintings are exquisite, perfect, utterly incredible.”

“Do you think you can sell them?” she asked cautiously.

“Can I sell them?” He turned on her. “Can I sell them! You can’t be serious. People are going to be lining up for more! I cannot believe I’ve never heard of your work!” In his enthusiasm he grasped her shoulders, beaming beatifically at her. “Where have you come from, you miraculous creature?”

“Uh . . . New Zealand,” she said, bemused. Beside her Justin snorted.

“No wonder I’ve never heard of you. Well I can tell you that you’re going to be phenomenal, once people have seen these paintings of yours. Are there more? Will you let me sell them for you? Please say yes!”

“Actually, I think that this is about, um, one eighth of the canvases I brought with me.” She looked at Justin for confirmation, and he nodded.

“Yes. I only unpacked a few. I thought that would probably be enough.”

“So there are how many?” said Haden Chancery incredulously. “Fifty? Sixty?”

“About that, yes,” murmured
Suzanne.

“I think I need to sit down,” the art dealer whispered, and actually swayed on his feet.

“I take it that you’ll be happy to display her work,” said Justin.

“Happy?” Haden looked at him as if he were completely mad. “Happy doesn’t begin to describe it. My dear,” he turned to
Suzanne, “I’ll make you famous, you’ll make me rich . . . and yourself as well,” he added quickly as Justin’s brow began to lower. “We’ll be wonderful together.”

Suzanne
smiled a wide, relieved smile. Just like that. So simple. Another life boundary swept away. She could work as an artist. A real, professional artist. Wow.

“You’ll have to come to the openings of course. People will be dying to meet you. Oh, this is so exciting!”

“You two can get together and talk out the details later,” said Justin calmly. “But we need to get back to the party.”

“Of course. Yes. I won’t keep you,” Haden said, his eyes already turning hungrily back to the spread canvases.

“We’ll see you later then,” said Justin. As they left, Haden was already walking back towards her paintings, lost in his ecstatic daydreams.

Suzanne
realised Justin wasn’t surprised by the whole conversation. He was calmly accepting of Haden’s accolades. He had faith in his own discernment. And of course it didn’t mean nearly as much to him as it did to her.

For her own part, dazed and dizzied by wonder and elation piled on top of everything else, she didn’t want to go back and join the party. There was no way she could sustain intelligent small talk. Not now.

Yet she panicked when Justin paused in the corridor and said: “Now, Suzanne, we really need to-”

“No! Leave me alone!” she gasped, cutting him off, and then ran headlong back to the safety of the
main staircase and all the people around it. Amazingly it was easier to run on her toes in those wretched shoes than to walk in them. She reached the top of the stairs several lengths in front of him, and hurried down as swiftly as she could manage without a nasty fall.

At the bottom she looked back up. He was staring grimly down at her, looking like some avenging archangel, still on the upper storey. She turned away and walked swiftly to hide in the crowd, dodging through one room after another until she’d nearly made an entire circuit of the lower floor.

The groups of people merged, eddied, flowed together and apart again. Several members of the extra staff who had apparently been hired for the evening – or were they permanent staff she hadn’t yet met? – circulated with platters of hors d’oeuvres, and there was also a buffet laid out on the enormous table in the dining room. It was the table she had expected to see that morning at breakfast, and here it was in a grandiose room built to scale.

Suzanne
looked instead for an unobtrusive spot in one of the crowded reception rooms. Eventually she found a corner with a chair in one of the smaller ones, deliberately masking herself behind a small group of four gossiping women, so she could duck out of sight if Justin appeared. The women ignored her completely, and she did the same for them, until her attention was caught as Justin’s name was spoken.

“No, I haven’t seen him anywhere,” replied a short woman clutching a martini glass.

“Have you heard he’s come back with some hick from Australia?”

“Yes. Only I was told it’s New Zealand.”

“As if there’s a difference.”