Lynn was already at the lawyer's office when Jake Grayson arrived, right on time. Intensely interested in the man, Lynn examined his features even as the introductions were being made, and it was with a little access of unexpected optimism that she found herself liking what she saw. Tall and angular, with frank blue eyes that seemed to match the ready smile that came to his lips, he had a homely, benign air about him which made her wonder how he had come to be her uncle's friend. And as the moments passed in light inconsequential chatter, she began to feel even more optimistic, finally deciding that, with the right kind of approach and persuasion, she might be able to have things going her own way.
The lawyer began to take over, doing all the talking, smoothing the way for the chat between Lynn and Jake and then, preparing to leave them together he said, turning to Jake, 'When you phoned earlier you said you'd like to take Miss Carlton out to lunch. I haven't mentioned it to her—'
'True, I did say I'd like to have lunch with her, and a long chat,' broke in Jake, then added apologetically, 'I can't manage it now as my stepson's expected to arrive at Heathrow Airport at half past two. His visit's unexpected even though he does come to see his mother and me regularly. There's no need for us to meet him,' he went on with a sudden throaty chuckle, 'but you know what mothers are like. He lives in Greece and comes over two or three times a year.'
'So you can't spare much time with Miss Carlton?' Mr Blane glanced at his watch and frowned. He seemed a trifle put out, as if he considered it incumbent on Jake Grayson to have a long chat with the girl whose financial affairs he was authorised to manage.
'Not too long, unfortunately. But I have a suggestion to make; my home's only forty miles from here and I'd like you to come over to dinner this evening. Apart from anything else, you'd meet my stepson, and make a foursome.' He glanced expectantly at Lynn and it was plain that the invitation was given in the sincere hope that it would be accepted. Lynn hesitated, but only momentarily, for Jake Grayson had made an exceedingly favourable impression on her.
'Yes, I'd like to come over to your home, Mr Grayson.'
'Call me Jake,' he said genially, 'everybody does.'
'I'm Lynn,' she smiled in response.
'I can call you Lynn?'
'Of course.'
Mr Blane left them together and they talked, Lynn losing no time in explaining how she felt about having another trustee controlling her money.
'It wasn't fair of Uncle Joseph,' she went on, a catch in her voice for effect. She was watching his expression with keen interest, and her hopes of getting her own way with this easygoing man were rising all the time. But she was profoundly aware that the battle was not yet won, and she continued by telling Jake the reason for her uncle's action in appointing another trustee. 'He did it solely because I refused to marry his son.' As she said this she saw a frown appear between the old man's eyes and felt sure she had now won the first round.
'I agree that it was most unfair—if that was the real reason why he appointed another trustee.'
'It was,' she assured him, then went on persuasively, 'I'm twenty-four, Jake, and so I should be in charge of my own fortune, don't you agree?'
'I do indeed,' he answered firmly, glancing at his watch and mentally calculating how much time he had before he must be at the airport. 'You've made me feel I've no right to interfere in your life, Lynn. Absolutely no right at all.'
Lynn lowered her lashes, hiding her expression and at the same time congratulating herself on her cleverness in handling this old man so successfully.
'I want to get married, Jake,' she told him, giving a little sigh, again for effect. 'Uncle Joseph naturally withheld his consent because he wanted me to marry his son. But you—?' She fluttered her lashes, and her lips parted in a winning smile. He was touched by what appeared to be her innocence, nodding as she added, 'I shall have to have your consent, Jake.'
'Then you have it, my dear,' was his firm and prompt rejoinder.
'And as you know, if I marry with the approval of my trustee then the whole of my fortune comes to me immediately.'
'I understand,' he smiled. 'Mr Blane explained it all to me.' Another hasty glance at his watch revealed the uneasiness he was beginning to feel. Lynn could not help thanking his unknown stepson for arriving from Greece so unexpectedly, since she felt sure that the urgency of the moment had a great deal to do with the attitude which Jake was taking. 'You shall be married whenever you want to be,' he promised, 'and then your money will be in your own hands, where it ought to be, just as you say.'
'Thank you,' she said demurely and with an emphasis on gratitude. But inwardly she was exultant, flushed with victory, congratulating herself on her clever manipulation of what she secretly decided was a softhearted, gullible old man. Not that she had cheated, she told herself; she had merely fought for her rights, and her method of fighting was of no importance, it being the end result that counted. He had been putty in her hands, just as she was expecting her husband to be.
'Here's my card,' Jake handed it to her then gave her directions about getting to his home which, she realised, must be rather like Stafford Manor. 'Perhaps you had better stay the night,' Jake went on to suggest. 'It would save you driving home late on your own. A car's the most unpredictable thing, liable to break down without warning and usually on a lonely stretch of road.'
'I don't mind taking the chance,' she began, then remembered that other occasion when Paul Loukas had stopped his car and taken her home when her own car had broken down. 'But I will stay the night,' she agreed, smiling. 'It'll be more comfortable. Thank you for asking me,' she said at her most gracious.
'That's settled, then. And may I say that I am very happy to have met you, Lynn. I find you a most charming young lady, and I'm sure my stepson will heartily agree with me.'
'Is he staying long?' inquired Lynn, more for politeness than anything else because she was not in the least interested in his stepson.
'A week, perhaps. One never knows how long he'll stay.' He glanced at his watch again. 'I really must be off,' he apologised, rising from his chair. 'Till this evening, then.'
'What time shall I come?'
'Early if you like, about seven o'clock.'
'I'll be there,' she promised. 'Good-bye, Jake, and thank you for being so understanding.'
'I could scarcely be anything else under the circumstances, could I? As you've pointed out, you're twenty-four and more than capable of managing your own affairs.'
***
She arrived at a quarter to seven to be told by a maid that Jake and his wife were still at the airport.
'Mr Grayson rang to say he was very sorry not to be here but the airplane was delayed on starting and won't arrive until six o'clock. Mr Grayson expects to be here about a quarter past seven.'
'Thank you.' Lynn had been shown into the hall and now the maid was leading the way into a sitting room of dimensions similar to those of the sitting room of Stafford Manor, her cousin's house. The thought of Victor instantly brought back something he had said to her just before she left for her visit to Jake's home. Victor had said he intended asking an old friend, Virginia Grant-Holmes, to marry him and he was optimistic that she would accept. It had not come as a complete surprise to Lynn who knew that, next to her own fortune, that of Virginia would be very useful to her cousin at this critical time when death duties were likely to drain so much from the estate.
'Would you like a drink of something?' inquired the maid, but Lynn shook her head.
'No, thank you. Mr Grayson invited me to stay overnight. My suitcase is in the car.'
'Mr Grayson did mention it,' returned the maid reassuringly. 'Would you like me to show you your room right away?'
'Yes, please.'
'I'll get your case.' She was gone on the instant and Lynn followed her into the hall. A few minutes later she was in an elegant bedroom furnished in the modern style. The carpet was rose with matching drapes, the walls and bedspread white. After taking a long and appreciative look Lynn unpacked her case and carried her toilet bag into the bathroom.
She was already dressed for dinner so she merely washed her hands and combed her hair, and used perfume spray behind her ears and on her wrists. A glance at her watch told her her host was very likely back by now so she went down again to the room into which she had been shown, and no sooner had she entered then she heard voices in the hall and glanced towards the open doorway with a smile.
'I'm so sorry we're late,' began Jake. 'I expect Sally gave you the message about the plane….' His voice trailed to an interrogating silence as Lynn's smile faded and her eyes widened in disbelief. Jake swung round to face the two people who had entered after him. And he saw the same expression of disbelief on the face of his stepson. It was Mrs Grayson who broke the silence.
'Is something wrong?' she asked, glancing from one to the other.
'Lynn—' Paul might not have heard his mother's words, so totally absorbed was he in Lynn. His dark eyes seemed to be taking in every single thing about her as he stood there, at one side of the large room while she was at the other. 'You're the girl Jake's been talking about? He said your name was Lynn but I never connected you with—' He stopped, shaking his head as if he still could not believe the evidence of his eyes. And yet his next words were, 'It's strange but, somehow, I've always known we'd meet again one day.' He was moving into the centre of the room. 'Seven years—' Again he stopped, faint mockery in the eyes that roved her curves. 'Not much change, but a little—here and there.'
Lynn coloured but could find nothing to say, so staggered was she at finding herself face to face with Paul after all this time. He seemed taller than she remembered, and even more overpowering.
'You two know each other!' exclaimed Mrs Grayson. 'What a coincidence! When did you meet, and where?'
'Yes,' murmured Lynn recovering from her surprise, 'we do know each other—slightly.'
'Slightly?' from Paul with a quirk of an eyebrow. 'We were once on the point of marriage,' he said, turning to his mother. 'But Lynn decided she would rather stay with her father.'
'We weren't on the point of marriage,' she denied. 'I was only seventeen,' she explained with a glance in her trustee's direction, 'which was not old enough for marriage, and in any case, my father would never have given his consent.'
'My son offered you marriage?' There was no mistaking the surprise in Mrs Grayson's voice. 'Well, Lynn, consider yourself honoured. Paul has declared over and over again that there is no need for a man to saddle himself with a wife these days when he can have as many affairs as he wants.' She was a thoroughly modern woman without any inhibitions, and it was Jake who appeared a trifle embarrassed by her remark. She was laughing with her big blue eyes as she turned to her son. 'You kept it secret all these years!'
He was staring at Lynn across the distance separating them and once again ignored his mother's words.
'You never married, either,' he said, an odd inflection in his finely modulated voice. 'Strange because you're a very beautiful girl.'
A small silence followed, Lynn's nerves tingling for no apparent reason. Paul's mother and stepfather were exchanging glances with one another, the oddest expression in Mrs Grayson's eyes.
'I couldn't marry. Father died a few months after you—er—we—'
'After our little affair?' There was amusement in Paul's eyes and a note of mockery in his voice.
'Father left me in the charge of a trustee who would not permit me to marry.'
'Look,' broke in Jake briskly at a sign from his wife, 'let's talk over dinner. I'm sure we're all ready for it, and I'm sure too that Mrs Young won't be pleased if we wait much longer to eat that splendid food she'll have prepared.'
'Mrs Young's our cook-housekeeper,' explained Mrs Grayson, moving gracefully toward Lynn and holding out her hand. 'How do you do, my dear? Seeing that neither my husband nor my son has the manners to introduce us then we shall do it ourselves. You're Lynn Carlton, and my husband's been appointed your trustee. I'm Helen Grayson, and Jake and I have been married for two years. I'm both happy and interested to meet the only woman my son has ever thought of marrying.' She glanced swiftly at him, a twinkle in her eyes. 'Am I right, Paul, or have you proposed marriage to other women?'
'No,' he replied, 'Lynn's the only one.'
Lynn gripped the hand extended to her, aware of her rising colour, and of the sardonic amusement in Paul's eyes as he looked at her. Lynn gave all her attention to the woman who could have been her mother-in-law. Tall and slender, with well-defined features and slightly greying hair immaculately dressed, she wore an air of elegance and distinction that instantly branded her a member of the aristocracy. No wonder Paul was something out of the ordinary, with a mother like this and a father who was Greek.
'I'm sorry about the introduction,' said Jake. 'The omission was due to learning that Paul and my—er—ward—' He stopped, a throaty chuckle escaping him. 'Is that what you are, my dear?'
Lynn made no answer, the very idea of being classed as someone's ward being irritating to her. And perhaps Jake sensed this because he changed the subject, saying again that they ought to be getting ready for dinner. Lynn's eyes had slid to Paul, whose amusement at the idea of her being his stepfather's ward was more than evident. Lynn's eyes glinted but this little show of temper only seemed to add to his amusement.
She went to her bedroom merely to see to her hair again and add a touch of colour to her cheeks. The meeting with Paul had been a shock, to say the least, but it certainly ought not to have filled her with the uneasiness that was assailing her at this moment. It was a nagging, nebulous sensation which she could not put her finger on. However, she determinedly shook off the feeling as, standing before the mirror, she reflected on the remark made by Paul about her beauty. In the long, gilt-framed mirror she saw a slender wand of a girl with a tiny waist and high breasts, round and firm. She saw a heart-shaped face framed by silky ash-brown hair, large, widely-spaced eyes beneath delicately arched brows. Her dress, low-cut to reveal a long, smoothskinned throat and sloping shoulders, was of midnight blue organza, tight-waisted, with a long, flowing skirt. It suited her to perfection, and she had felt good in it—until she came face to face with Paul Loukas. That feeling of uneasiness assailed her again, dropping like a lead weight into the pit of her stomach. She was vexed at not being able to understand it and even more vexed that it should have returned after she had managed to throw it off.
She moved from the long mirror to the dressing table to take up a comb and run it through her hair. She used the blusher and the lip-rouge, then went from the room, slowly descending the balustraded staircase leading to the hall. Sally happened to be there and she showed Lynn into a small, intimate room where a cocktail cabinet took up most of the length of one wall. It was a delightful room with tumbled cushions and faded upholstery and opened letters tucked behind the clock on the mantelpiece. For a moment or two Lynn looked around and then, feeling awkward at being alone, she turned, deciding to go back to her room for a few more minutes. But even as she took a couple of steps Paul was there, in the doorway, a tall immaculate figure, confident and distinguished, his lazy, supple frame reminiscent of a jungle cat. Lynn caught her breath involuntarily at the sheer magnificence of him and it was inevitable that she should recall those days when she had been the envy of every female who had seen her with Paul. Now, the years had given him sprinklings of grey at the temples, and the mouth that had once seemed to be made for laughter only, was full and sensuous and at the same time very stern. Yes, he had changed, she thought reflectively, but there was an added attraction in the lines of maturity she saw on his deeply bronzed face, a strikingly handsome face with aquiline features that were arrogant when seen in profile. His raven hair waved attractively; his eyes, deepest blue in some lights, black as onyx in others, were deep-set and piercing, framed by thick black lashes. He was obviously aware of her interest—it could not be otherwise—and a smile of mocking amusement lifted one corner of his mouth.
'Where were you going?' He came further into the room, a sort of splendid self-assurance in every motion. He was blocking her way and she stepped back, angry at the knowledge that colour had leapt to her cheeks. What had happened to her own confidence? she wondered. Up till now she had been able to hold her own with any man, embarrassment being foreign to her.
'There was no one here so I thought I'd go back to my room,' she managed at last, hoping her voice was as coolly impersonal as she wanted it to be.
'Well, I'm here now. Sit down and I'll get you a drink. What would you like?'
'A dry martini, please.'
'Ice?'
'Only a little.'
He went to the cabinet to pour the drinks, then placed Lynn's on a table which he drew up close to her chair.
He stood looking down at her, studying her thoughtfully.
'As I said just now, you're a beautiful girl. I believe the years have added a little more roundness in the important places but apart from that—'
'Do you mind being less personal?' she snapped, flicking strands of ash-brown hair from her face with a hand that trembled slightly.
'Apart from that,' he continued suavely, 'there isn't much difference, at least, not physically. But you've acquired a rather nasty temper, I think.'
'Will your parents be long?' she asked coldly.
'Mother's all woman; it takes her an unconscionable length of time to titivate herself up. The end result's probably worth it, though. Do you like my mother?' he asked unexpectedly.
'I don't know her but, yes, I feel I shall like her.'
'Women are strange. She was heartbroken when my father died four years ago and then only eighteen months later she had met Jake and was going about with him. They were married shortly afterward.'
'Why are you telling me this?'
'Merely for conversation, since you yourself are not contributing very much.'
'Your father left you his house in Delphi?' she said, ignoring his comment.
'He left me everything that mattered. Mother was well taken care of moneywise and so were my two sisters.' He stopped, twirling his glass by the long thin stem and staring reflectively into the amber contents. Lynn reached forward; the ice in her glass tinkled as she picked it up and put it to her lips.
'One sister was married,' she said, breaking the silence. 'The other one, is she married now?'
'She's only seventeen. No, she isn't married.' His mouth tightened as he spoke and Lynn sensed that his younger sister, Maria, had done something to displease him.
'She lives with you rather than with her mother?'
'She's too Greek to be living here. She chose to stay with me, in the home where she was born. She was fifteen at the time and it would have been a wrench to leave her friends.'
So Paul was in authority over his sister. This was usual in Greece and Lynn felt sorry for the girl for she was sure that Paul would be very stern with her, making sure she did not have even a mild affair because if such a thing did happen then the girl would have little chance of marriage.
'Doesn't she go to school?'
'She's leaving this term and wants to go to university in Athens.'
'Will you let her?'
'I don't think so.'
'There's too much temptation, is that what you're afraid of?'
'You're very astute,' he said, taking a drink.
'She has every right to go to university. I expect you did.'
'Men are different.'
'Rubbish! Why, if she's clever enough, should she be denied the opportunity of higher education?'
'Maria is rather too flighty for my liking.' Paul's jaw muscles flexed.
'Doesn't your mother have any say in whether she will go to university or not?'
'Father made me guardian to Maria.'
'I see. Nevertheless, I daresay your mother's in favour of her daughter going to university?'
'Of course; mother's English and believes in the equality of the sexes.'
'But you don't?' she queried looking at him with interest.
'I have enough Greek in me to be sure I'll be master in my own home.'
'And dominate your wife, I expect,' she returned tartly.
'If I ever have a wife.' His glance was so strange as it roved her figure and Lynn knew a sensation rather like that of a finger running along her nerves.
'I don't doubt that you'll marry one day,' she said, glancing at the door and wishing his mother and her husband would appear.
'Who knows?' Again that strange look and an odd inflection in his voice to match it. 'Tell me about yourself,' he invited, going over to a sofa and relaxing his long body into its cushions. He crossed a leg and leant back, studying her with interest. 'What have you been doing with yourself all these years?'
She told him briefly what her life had been, and saw his brows knit in a frown when she mentioned her uncle's wish that she should marry his son.
'I never met him, did I?' Paul's manner became thoughtful.
'No, he was away on holiday at the time.' How long were she and Paul together? No more than three weeks at the most, and yet in that short space of time he had decided he wanted to marry her.
'Is he married now?'
'No, but he told me today that he intends proposing to someone we both know well.'
Paul stood up, glanced at her glass and asked if she wanted another drink. 'The same again?' he added but she shook her head.
'No thank you, Paul.'
For a long moment he stared down at her before his eyes began to rove, in a blatant examination of her body.
'Yes,' he murmured almost to himself, 'a slight change—'
'I don't believe I've changed very much at all,' she broke in, wishing he wouldn't look at her like that. Russell never would have done so. There was always deep respect in his eyes when he looked at her, a sort of dog-like, worshipful respect.
'Everybody changes with the years.' He had come close to her, a towering figure with a distinction about him that made her feel small and inferior and very ordinary. She wondered if he had had many affairs and if any one of them had come near to being serious. Sensing his latent virility as she did, Lynn could not imagine him leading the celibate life—on the contrary. 'Seven years,' he mused, 'you're twenty-four, still very young.'
'Old enough to look after my own affairs—' She stopped, the statement having come out impulsively before she realised that it had nothing to do with him anyway.
'Nevertheless, Jake has been appointed as your trustee.' Without any perceptible sign he was letting her know the significance of that. Her nerves tensed and the weight dropped into the pit of her stomach again. 'It's his duty to see that you don't make any mistakes.'
'Jake's already agreed that I don't need a trustee,' she said in a tight little voice. 'We had a talk in the lawyer's office,' she added swiftly when it seemed Paul would interrupt, 'and he raised no objection to my marrying the man of my choice, and this means that I shall immediately gain full control of my money.'
'In other words,' said Paul tersely, 'Jake has relinquished all authority?'
'Yes, that's right.'
He paused, and then, 'Who is the man of your choice?'
'His name's Russell Martin.'
'Tell me about him,' invited Paul, turning to pour himself another drink.
'You can't be interested.'
'But I am, very. I once wanted to marry you myself, and so it's not unnatural for me to be interested in the man who succeeded where I failed.' There was a hint of sardonic amusement in his voice and laughter in his dark eyes as he turned, his refilled glass between his long brown fingers.
'I still don't think you'd be interested.'
'Tell me about him,' repeated Paul lifting the glass to his mouth. He sounded affable enough, and yet… There was an undertone in his voice which made her feel decidedly uncomfortable. It was almost as if he were playing a cat and mouse game with her, which was ridiculous when she gave it a little more thought.
'He's a gracious young man, with unassuming ways and…' Lynn trailed off, frowning. How did one describe a man like Russell? If it were Paul, now… She looked at him, at the burnt-sienna colour of his skin, at the deep set inscrutable eyes, the lean aquiline features, the sensuous mouth.
'Gracious,' Paul was repeating in some amusement. 'Unassuming? How very pleasant for you, and exciting—'
'There's no need for sarcasm!' snapped Lynn, glowering at him. 'Russell's nothing out of the ordinary, but he suits me!'
'Suits?' Eyebrows raised, Paul sat down, placing his glass on the table in front of him. 'Is that all you want, someone who suits you?'
'What more would I want?'
'Why are you marrying him?' Paul wanted to know, bypassing her question. 'You must have some reason.'
'What exactly do you mean?' demanded Lynn, her eyes straying to the door again. What on earth were his parents doing!
'You're obviously not in love with the man.'
'Certainly I am. Why else would I be marrying him?'
'I'm asking you—' He broke off, and to her relief Lynn saw his mother appear in the open doorway, then glide gracefully into the room. Paul had stood up; he now asked what his mother was drinking. She was in white, in an evening dress of pure silk with long full sleeves gathered into a cuff, and a high plain collar. Both mother and son exuded power and distinction and supreme self-confidence.
Jake soon followed and for the few minutes before dinner was announced the three older people chatted, at first about the delay in the arrival of the plane at Heathrow. Lynn merely listened, conscious all the time that Paul's eyes repeatedly strayed over to where she was sitting. And it was a relief when at length Sally came in to say that dinner was ready.
