The crowd in the Captain's sitting-room was small but very select and Janis knew that she would not be here but for the fact that she had been fortunate enough to be on the Captain's table. Drinks were being passed around, and delightful canapés which, thought Janis ruefully, could not be resisted despite the fact that they must inevitably spoil her appetite for dinner.
She was talking to the Captain himself when Clive walked in, with his grandmother, superbly dressed in a wine-coloured ankle-length dress with ruffles at the neck and wrists. Janis stared, likening her to Diane de Poitiers, who, it was said, had looked no more than thirty when she was in fact seventy years old. Not that Madame de Vivonne looked thirty, but she certainly didn't look a day over fifty-five, and yet she must be nearing seventy—or perhaps even older than that. She had not appeared so young when seen in the restaurant, recalled Janis and felt that the glittering lights in there had not been kind to her, since here, in the subdued lights, amber-shaded on the walls, she looked both vivacious and youthfully alert.
Her tall, dignified grandson came over, ushering his grandmother with a hand beneath her elbow, and, after a brief word of greeting to the Captain, whom he obviously knew, he introduced Madame to Janis. The Captain moved away to socialize among the others, whose chatter could be heard above the soft strains of Schubert's Serenade, and Janis found herself looking into the face of a woman whose aristocratic bearing was equally as apparent as that of Clive.
The deep-set eyes were grey and slightly veiled, the mouth too thin for compassion yet by no means unattractive. The cheek bones reflected her nationality, being high and perhaps a little too prominent for real beauty. A small nose, with nostrils seeming to flare a little; a pointed, very determined chin.
'Shall we move over to that table?' suggested Clive after the two women had sized one another up and brought a strange unfathomable glitter to Clive's eyes while they were doing so. 'It seems to be vacant and I'm sure you'd prefer to sit down, Madame?'
Madame…? Janis decided this was only another strange element of this altogether unfathomable situation in which she had become involved almost without realising it, without knowing how it had come about.
'Of course we'll sit down, Clive.' The voice was clear and musical but the accent was strongly portrayed. 'And you are here on holiday?' she was saying to Janis moments later. 'On your own, apparently.'
Janis nodded, feeling out of her element and half wishing she had made some excuse not to attend the party. But of course she'd had no idea that either Clive or his grandmother would be here as well.
'Yes, I'm alone,' she replied, taking up her glass but somehow unable to drink.
'And what do you do for a living?' The tone and gaze were patronising, to say the least, and it suddenly struck Janis that this proud and haughty woman did not approve of Clive's having become acquainted with her.
'I'm the buyer for a fashion establishment,' she returned.
The grey eyes flickered with interest.
'You're young for such a responsible post. What is the name of this establishment?'
With a deprecating little gesture Janis told her, saw the brows lift and heard the cold and casual comment,
'I'm afraid I haven't heard of it.' She looked away from Janis to her grandson and the thin mouth seemed to curve a little as if its owner were amused about something. Clive's look was challenging and his mouth had gone tight. Janis tensed involuntarily, her expression hardening as she felt herself to be caught in a net that was held at one end by the old woman and at the other by Clive.
'It isn't as well known as some firms,' she said tautly, 'but we are not altogether unknown. We buy in Paris often and we do have a shop in Old Bond Street.' Her chin was tilted; she felt she did not care if she offended these two arrogant people, who seemed to have some kind of an understanding in which she was in some way involved but yet being kept in the dark. 'I shall be in Paris the week after I've finished this cruise.'
'You'll be in Paris?' Madame sipped her brandy and regarded Janis with a frown. 'In about two or three weeks, it would seem?' The grey eyes moved slowly to meet those of her grandson. 'Interesting.' The one word was snapped out and Janis saw the woman swallow as if she were trying to clear her throat of some blockage.
'I shall be in Paris at the same time,' said Clive urbanely. 'We must make sure we meet and have a meal together.' Very quiet the voice and yet it seemed to Janis that there was an invidious quality about it… and a challenge tossed at his grandmother.
'Shall you be in Paris too?' Janis had no idea why she asked the question—unless it was just for something to say.
Madame shook her head with a swift, dismissive little gesture.
'No, I have to be in London.'
Janis looked at Clive and he smiled at her.
'I'll show you some of the sights,' he promised and at that she could not help lifting her chin any more than she could help the acid sweetness she injected into her voice.
'I'm no stranger to Paris, Clive. In fact, I know the city rather well.'
His glance of sardonic amusement was easily read as 'point taken,' and she felt the tautness of dislike suddenly affecting her spine. She felt stiff and faintly chilled, still tensed as well, and still exceedingly puzzled.
'In that case,' he said smoothly, 'you'll probably be able to show me around.' There was a hint of mocking amusement in the way he looked at her and Janis felt her cheeks beginning to burn. He was deriving some kind of pleasure from embarrassing her, but alongside this conviction Janis sensed his playing a sort of cat and mouse game with his grandmother. The old lady's lips were clamped together, her grey eyes glittering.
'It's most unlikely that you'll have time for much pleasure,' she commented at length. 'You stressed to me yesterday that you had a very tight schedule.'
He shrugged, shook his head at the steward, who having edged his way to the table, was offering tempting canapés from a silver tray.
'It would be most ungracious of me not to take Janis out to a meal one evening. I daresay I can find time for that.'
'You seem,' said Janis tartly, 'to have taken it for granted that I'm to be alone while I'm in Paris.'
Madame looked interested.
'You'll be going with someone?' she asked, almost eagerly.
'No, but I shan't be without company once I get there. I'm going on business so naturally I shall be meeting people.'
'Of course,' from Clive suavely, 'but there'll be opportunities for us to get together.'
She looked swiftly at him, her sense of bewilderment growing with every moment that passed. All the same, the prospect of having his company wasn't in any way undesirable, she realised. She had thoroughly enjoyed his company yesterday in Barbados. And this made her say,
'I shall be staying at the Hotel Crillon. You can contact me there.'
'I'll do that—' Clive stopped as a man touched him on the shoulder.
'Clive, I'd like you to meet Ralston Kendrick, an artist friend of mine. I think some of his paintings might interest you—whenever you have time to take a look at them, that is.'
Clive hesitated momentarily and then, with a polite request to his companions to be excused, he rose and followed the man to the other side of the room, walking with that smooth lithe grace which was an essential part of his individuality.
There was a pronounced atmosphere of hostility as the older woman fixed her piercing grey eyes on Janis's face. And when at length she spoke it was like an assault on the silence so that Janis gave an involuntary little start.
'I'm going to come straight to the point, Miss Morton!'
'Oh…?' Janis could think of nothing else to say.
'My grandson is almost engaged to a most charming young lady, and so you must realise that his interest in you has no depth.'
Janis's eyes opened very wide and for a long moment she was unable to do anything but stare in wordless surprise at the tightened features of the woman sitting opposite to her. But at last she found her voice.
'I hadn't supposed Clive's interest in me, as you call it, did have any depth. We scarcely know one another.' Dignity edged her voice and there was a sparkle in her eye. 'I'm at a loss as to why you should have spoken about the matter.'
Madame's teeth seemed to grit behind those compressed lips.
'In my opinion it's very necessary to speak about it. Clive is often reckless, irresponsible, and it's possible that he would embark on something rash merely in order to flaunt my wishes, my authority, and to crush my hopes.'
'Recklessness and irresponsibility are not traits I would associate with him.' Janis's voice was level, her gaze direct. 'As to his doing something rash—well, unless you explain, I am not to know what you mean, am I?' Janis marvelled at this holding her own against so arrogant and confident a woman as Laura de Vivonne. The woman could have overwhelmed her in any other circumstances, but Janis sensed that here might be the solving of the mystery—if she could goad Madame into giving something away, that was.
'He could ask you to marry him.'
'He—!' Completely taken aback, Janis found her confidence ebbing rapidly. 'Are you serious?' She couldn't for the life of her imagine a man like Clive acting in a way as rash as that! 'You're talking nonsense,' she retorted. 'Why should he ask me to marry him if he's almost engaged?'
'The girl is of my choosing,' the woman answered coolly.
'Oh—so he doesn't want to marry her, is that it?'
'He will marry her! It's the match I have planned and I don't intend that my wishes shall be thwarted by a girl like you!'
'But—I don't understand….' Janis was more bewildered than ever. She felt sure that Clive would never be forced into a marriage he did not want, even by a woman with a will as strong as that of his grandmother. She felt equally sure that he would have no need to resort to desperate measures in order to get his own way. He would merely tell Madame to go to the devil, and take her protégée with her! 'You mentioned authority,' she said swiftly as she remembered this.
The woman stared directly at her.
'I could put him out of business, Miss Morton, as easily as that!' She snapped her fingers, her lip curling in a sneer of almost malicious confidence. 'I am the supreme one in our particular field of fashion and Clive is beginning to succeed only because of my patronage. I could withdraw it and I'd not hesitate to do so if he dared to go against my wishes. Another way in which I have authority over him is that he's my sole heir, which means that he'll be a very wealthy man in the not-too-distant future… but only if he toes the line. If he dares to defy me I shall cut him off completely!'
Janis felt her nerves tightening as the sensation of being drawn further into the net rippled through her. She said after searching for words,
'You've no need to worry, Madame de Vivonne. I haven't the slightest intention of thwarting your plans. The very idea of Clive's asking me to marry him is equally as absurd as the manner in which you are speaking to me, a stranger, whom you have never met until about half an hour ago.'
The woman's eyes glinted with arrogance.
'You're impertinent, girl! People do not speak to Madame de Vivonne with disrespect!'
'You asked for it,' rejoined Janis very quietly. 'You tried to disconcert me, embarrass me, and for no reason at all that I can see.'
'For the reason that you are encouraging my grandson.'
'That's not true!' flashed Janis hotly.
'He was with you all day yesterday, and last evening.'
'He told you this?'
'How else should I know? Yes, he told me and he very subtly hinted that he was rather more than ordinarily interested in you.'
'He—did?' Tingling nerves and a sudden access of excitement. Could it be true that Clive liked her, in that particular way? But it was all too ridiculous, she was telling herself the next second. She began to doubt the woman's word.
'And so I'm warning you, miss! If Clive should marry you he'd very soon be a pauper!'
Before Janis could find any retort to that, Clive returned and she looked down, becoming absorbed in an inspection of her dainty silver kid evening shoes.
***
It was much later that he came to her as she stood on the deck enjoying the peace, and the fresh breeze on her face, teasing her hair, shaping the flimsy material of her evening dress to the alluring curves of her body.
'All alone,' he commented as he stood beside her, his eyes sliding over her from head to foot. 'I looked for you to dance with me.'
She laid a small hand on the rail and was silent for a space. And then she said tersely,
'Why are you so interested in me, Clive?'
If she thought to put him out she was disappointed.
'My grandmother was talking to you, and with some force, judging by her expression. Did she advise you not to have anything more to do with me?'
'So you were watching us?'
'What exactly did she say to you, Janis?'
She hesitated, frowning and shaking her head.
'I'd rather not—'
'I demand to know,' he broke in roughly. 'Don't prevaricate,' he went on when she again shook her head. 'I want to know—I have a right to know!'
'I wish I understood what all this is about.' Distress robbed her voice of its steadiness but she was unaware of it. Clive's arm slid about her waist and she wondered why she did not move away.
'Kindly tell me what my grandmother had to say.'
Janis felt the warmth of his palm through the thin material of her dress and compared it with the chill arrogance of his demand. She paused, but fleetingly. Slanting him a glance, noting the rock-like rigidity of the profile, she decided it might be safer to do as she was told. He had her firmly in his grip; it was lonely on deck although not dark because electric lamps were trained down onto it from above.
She began to speak and related everything.
'I seem to have become involved in a situation which, you must admit, is most embarrassing to me.'
He was angry and it showed by the taut line of his jaw, the glitter in his eyes. He moved away and she frowned, for the sensation of loss was not what she would have wanted to admit. What was the man doing to her? This moment, for instance… there was an intimacy about it that could so easily lead to a kiss… at least…
'My grandmother rarely forgets her breeding or loses her dignity, but she certainly did both tonight.' He looked down into Janis's face and added after a thoughtful pause, 'I do have a reason for being interested in you, Janis. And I suppose that, before I put my proposition to you, I had better explain a few things—' He stopped abruptly and turned to look out to sea.
'You don't like the idea of confiding in me,' she said with perception. 'There isn't any need, you know.' At which Clive turned towards her again and she saw the smile of amusement on his lips.
'I rather think you'd be more than a little disappointed if I were to take you at your word.'
She coloured and lowered her eyes.
'Perhaps you're right,' she owned. 'The situation intrigues me.' There was also this 'proposition' he had mentioned, another baffling piece in the jig-saw that was testing both nerves and patience.
'Shall we find somewhere to sit?' suggested Clive, adding that what he had to say might take some time. She walked along the deck beside him… and there was Madame, standing by the rail, her grey eyes turned towards them.
'So this is where you are,' she rasped, the quiver of her lips manifesting the emotion within her. A woman who, all her life, had managed to rule others, decided Janis, and who was now attempting to bend to her will a personality equally as strong as her own.
'Don't you find it rather chill out here, Madame?' asked Clive urbanely. 'It isn't like you to take chances with your health.'
'My health is fine,' she snapped. 'I've been looking for you and that's why I am here.' Her eyes narrowed as Clive put his arm about Janis's waist again. Janis's instinct was to pull away but those long lean fingers suddenly dug themselves into her flesh and she found herself stifling a little gasp of pain. 'I want to talk to you,' said Madame shortly. 'Come to my stateroom, now.'
The fingers dug even more deeply, the result of rising temper, thought Janis, moving a hand to seek his, and ease it away from her bruised flesh. The action did not escape the older woman but her face was a mask.
'Not just now,' answered Clive brusquely. 'Tomorrow will do; there can't be any urgency.'
Madame's mouth went tight. She was holding a silver kid evening bag and Janis saw her grip it so tightly that the knuckle bones shone white as the skin became stretched.
'I'd prefer—'
'Tomorrow,' cut in Clive and now there was a whiplash quality about his voice. 'I'll come to your stateroom immediately after breakfast. You'll be taking yours in bed, as usual, I presume?' So cold his manner, so arrogant the content of his words.
'Your presumption's correct!' With a venomous glance darted at Janis Madame swung around with the agility of a much younger woman and stalked away.
'Sorry about that,' was all Clive said as they began to walk along the deck again.
'Are we going inside?' asked Janis at length.
'No, there are some comfortable chairs just around here….' His voice trailed to silence and his body beside her became taut—or so it seemed to Janis, who was not too happy at being brought to this darkened part of the deck.
Suddenly, and before she could even begin to realise what was happening, she was in Clive's arms, being crushed against his iron-hard chest, and his mouth was moist and possessive as it closed on hers. She began to struggle, trying to free both mouth and body but her efforts were puny against the strength with which he so easily held her.
At last he released her and before she could speak he had a hand over her mouth.
'Sorry about that,' he said again. 'It was for the benefit of Madame, who was standing in the shadows, watching us.' So cool the explanation and there was a half-smile on his lips which made her want to hit him. 'I'll tell you everything,' he began when Janis snapped,
'I hope you will! I want to know what the devil you're playing at!'
