Roberta Leigh - In Name Only Page 3

  With the conscious realisation of her attachment to Nicholas she became increasingly aware of the difficulty of her position, and for the next few days was on tenterhooks in case Sir Angus guessed at her feelings. But he acted towards her in his usual half abrupt, half jesting manner, and gradually she relaxed, confident that she had not given herself away.

  But in this she was doing her employer an injustice, for he had not built his press empire on hard work alone: intuition had played a large part too, and it was this intuition that made him aware - before Jane herself had realized it -of the impact his son was having on her. To begin with he had been amused by it, but as he saw the impact Jane was having on Nicholas - an impact of which his son was totally unaware - he started to consider the implications and the more he did so the better he liked them. It would be an ideal marriage. Quiet Jane, whose iron will was hidden by a thick velvet glove, would make the ideal wife for Nicholas. Indeed it was Jane whom he could thank for his son's decision to learn everything he could about the Company — a request which had always been ignored when he himself had made it. Yes, the more he thought about such a marriage, the more he liked it. The only thing left was to hope that Nicholas had the sense to realize it.

  Sir Angus was so intent on considering the position from his own point of view that he paid no attention to what Jane might do, and he was totally unprepared when she came to him one morning in the middle of January and said she wished to leave.

  "But why?" he asked, at a loss for words.-

  "Because I'm in love with your son."

  He tried but failed to stop his look of surprise. "Honest Jane," he said abruptly. "So you've finally realized how you feel?"

  "You mean you knew?"

  "Yes." Then seeing the fear in her face, he shook his head. "But Nicholas hasn't guessed. I promise you that."

  "I must go before he does."

  "What makes you think he will?"

  "He's his father's son!"

  "Then if he is he'll have enough sense to realize you're the best thing that's ever happened to him!"

  It was her turn to be surprised. "Wouldn't you mind? I'd have thought you would have wanted him to marry -"

  "A foreign countess or a socialite with background and no money?" he interrupted. "Credit me with more sense than that, my child! I wasn't born with my title, Jane. I'm a self-made man and I've no respect for anyone who forgets his background. If you had a million pounds and a royal crest you couldn't be a better match for Nicholas."

  Tears filled her eyes and she blinked them away. "Unfortunately he doesn't even know I exist - as a woman, that is. That's the main reason I've made the decision to leave. When I first realised how I felt about him I'd hoped that… but now I see it's impossible. He's gone out with some of the most beautiful girls in the world, and for me to try and compete-"

  "There's no question of your competing. What you're offering him is something quite different. As for your looks - well, to me you're a bonny girl." She smiled sadly and Sir Angus went on gruffly, "Don't you think you're being a bit too dramatic? If Nicholas is treating you like a sister, perhaps it's a form of self-defence? After all, until he knew for certain he was going to get better, there wasn't much point in him thinking of a woman at all."

  This was something Jane had never considered, and a rush of colour tinged her cheeks, making Sir Angus laugh. "Don't be in such a hurry to resign, my dear. Besides, even if my son doesn't need you, I do." Unexpectedly he caught her hand. It was the first time they had ever made physical contact and she was dismayed that despite the strength of his grasp there was a perceptible tremor in his hold. It reminded her of what his doctor had said about his health and she knew that to leave him now would place an additional burden on him that her conscience would not allow.

  "Don't worry," she whispered. "I won't leave you. But don't ask me to come to Orme Square."

  "You'll be a fool if you don't. Nicholas is on the mend and now is the time when you should be with him. If you love him you'll do everything you can to make him aware of you."

  "I couldn't."

  "Rubbish! I'm not asking you to fight another woman. I'm just telling you to make sure you're there when he starts to realize he's still a man with a man's desires."

  Once again colour stained her face. "You make it sound so - so clinical."

  "If I made it romantic you'd blush even more! For such a forthright girl you're decidedly behind the times." She smiled at this and he went on more confidently, "Take my advice, Jane, and leave things as they are."

  "When you put it like that I can't very well refuse."

  As February gave way to March, Jane allowed her present way of life to continue and gradually she found that what Sir Angus had said about his son's emotional reawakening was true, for as his health increased so did his dependence on Jane. Yet a subtle change was apparent in his attitude towards her, a growing awareness of her appearance - which occasionally drew compliments from nun - and of her intelligence which he delighted in testing.

  Each evening he would wait for her to go to his room so that she could be by his side as he made the difficult descent to the dining-room, and even when she knew he could easily have walked down the stairs alone, he still insisted on waiting for her to come for him.

  But despite his progress she was unprepared when she entered his room one late March evening to find him standing with only the aid of a stick.

  Frightened, she hurried forward. "Are you sure you're not overdoing it, Nicholas ?"

  "I've got Manders-Jones' approval," he retorted. "You don't think I would leave myself open to your bullying!" He caught her arm. "Come on. It should be easier to negotiate the stairs now."

  Throughout dinner he was in excellent form and watching him it was hard to believe he was the same bitter young man she had first met. Yet had it not been for his accident they might never have met at all, and momentarily she pondered on the problem of fate and pure chance. But why waste time trying to analyse the impossible? What did it matter whether fate or chance had put opportunity her way, giving her - as Sir Angus had so rightly said - a chance to find a happiness she had never expected ?

  As though reading her thoughts, Sir Angus glanced at her and as their eyes met he lifted his wine glass in a silent gesture.

  When dinner was over they moved into the library for coffee, but on the threshold Sir Angus pleaded tiredness and bidding them a quick good-night, left them alone.

  Knowing the reason for his behaviour, Jane found it difficult to hide her embarrassment, but Nicholas appeared totally unaware of it and plied her with questions about the office, for he had grown into the habit of using her in order to keep up with the day-to-day events of the Company.

  "You've got a less biased view than my father," he had explained when he had first started to question her a few months ago. "And because of that you see things more clearly than he does."

  "I'm sure Sir Angus would appreciate that remark!"

  "He already knows what I think," Nicholas had grinned. "So until I'm up and about myself, I'll have to rely on you."

  Jane had done her best to comply with his request and had always found him an attentive and questioning listener. But tonight he was more restless, and unexpectedly - when she was half-way through her account of his father's latest confrontation with one of his largest shareholders - he waved his hand to stop her talking.

  "Not any more, Jane. In another month I'll be well enough to join the rat-race myself. For the next few weeks I'm going to be on holiday."

  Disappointment filled her like lead, weighing her down with depression. But when she spoke her voice was bright and she was thankful for it. "Where will it be? Madeira, 'Florida, Bermuda?"

  "I'm not ready for those places yet," he replied. "Besides,

  I'm not even sure I'd enjoy them any more." His eyes, almost dark in the glow of the firelight, looked puzzled. "The accident's changed me, Jane. I don't know why, but I feel differently about things."

 
; "You've settled down," she said sedately.

  "That's a remark guaranteed to make me react violently against it!"

  "You'd react just as violently if I'd made the pretence of disagreeing with you!" Unable to bear his proximity, she stood up and walked over to the curtains, making a pretence of straightening them. "Of course you've changed! You wouldn't be human if you hadn't. But it'll be interesting to see if you change back again when you're completely well."

  There was a creak of springs, then movement across the carpet, so that when he spoke she was not surprised to find his breath against her face.

  "Do you think I will, Jane?" His hand was on her chin, turning her face so that she was looking directly at him. "Sweet Jane," he said, and leaning forward placed his lips on hers.

  It was a moment she had dreamed of, a moment she had analysed so deeply that she had been certain how she would react. But now that the dream was reality her carefully planned behaviour dissolved, and putting her arms around his neck she drew him close, responding with a passion which took him by surprise. Momentarily he drew back, then he caught her closer and kissed her again and again, the fierceness in his embrace indicating the months of unaccustomed celibacy.

  It was Jane who drew away first, and refusing to look at him, she moved across to the grate, busying herself with adding unnecessary coal.

  "Running away from me ? " he asked in amusement.

  "Not at all," she replied without turning round.

  "Then stop messing about with the fife and sit next to me!"

  She stood up and dusted her hands. He was back again in the corner of the settee, his head tilted towards her, a faint smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

  "Come and sit next to me," he repeated. "Then I'll believe you aren't scared."

  Slowly she did as he bid. "No girl is scared of a man these days."

  "You are," he said promptly. "You're not a girl from this day and age, Jane, you're an anachronism."

  She smiled. "You once called me a little nun."

  "You weren't so nun-like a moment ago," he teased, and went to kiss her again.

  But this time she drew back, knowing instinctively that it was important not to give way to him. Common sense told her that his desire was only propelled by physical need, and determined not to let him know how desperately she longed for it to be otherwise, she pretended to a lighthearted-ness she did not feel

  "Have a heart, Nicholas," she mocked. "You're not very good for my blood pressure!"

  "You're exceptionally good for mine!" Once more he went to pull her close, but with a quick movement she stood up.

  "No love ?" he asked quizzically.

  "No lovemaking," she retorted.

  His eyebrows raised and with a sense of triumph she knew he had noticed the difference in her own use of the word "love".

  "So you don't?" he said, more as a statement than a question.

  "No, I don't." She hesitated. "I supposed that strikes you as very old-fashioned?"

  "It does. But that doesn't mean I don't approve. It's just unusual for me to meet a girl like you."

  "Unfortunate too," she could not help saying with an imp of mischief. "Right now I suppose you could do with the exact opposite!"

  Expecting a quick and witty response she was unprepared for his silence, and even more unprepared for his answer. "Funnily enough I couldn't. Sexual desire on its own doesn't seem worth the effort." He shook his head in perplexity. "Perhaps I'm getting too old." He patted the seat beside him. "Come and sit down, Jane, I want to talk to you. Don't be afraid," he said as he saw her hesitate. "I promise not to kiss you - unless you ask me!"

  Once more she sat on the settee and gently he lifted her hand and rubbed his fingers along the soft skin of her palm. "You've no idea how much I've appreciated all you've done for me since my accident."

  "I've done nothing at all."

  He shook his head. "If it hadn't been for you I doubt if I'd even be walking. There's so much I'd like to say to you, yet I can't seem to find the words."

  "Don't try. It isn't necessary."

  "But it is." He frowned. "I'm confused, Jane. Confused and worried."

  "About what? If you're scared you'll have a relapse -"

  "It's nothing to do with my health. It's you. You've become an important part of my life, but I don't know how I feel about you. It's never happened to me before, and I can't figure it out."

  "Why bother?" she said, keeping her voice low to hide its shakiness. "Just because you kissed me doesn't mean you've got to start analysing the reason for it." She forced a laugh. "Anyway, the reason was obvious."

  "For the first kiss," he acknowledged. "But not the other ones." His grip on her hand tightened. "The only good thing that's come out of my accident is that it gave me the chance of meeting you. You once said I'd got no real friends, and you were right. My life only began when you came into it."

  Jane's heart was beating so loudly she was afraid he might notice the quickness of her breathing. But he was so engrossed in his own thoughts that he was unaware of anything outside them, and seeing the perplexity on his face she was suddenly and unaccountably depressed. Poor Nicholas. He was trying to analyse how he felt about her yet at the same time he was afraid to admit the truth to himself; afraid that his illness and dependence on her might have prejudiced his feelings.

  Intuition told her that she had only to force the situation to have him admit he loved her, but even as the idea came into her mind, she resisted it. His admission of love - when and if it came - must be completely voluntary and not prompted by gratitude or loneliness.

  "Can't we Just forget what happened?" she said with a coolness she did not feel. "You kissed me and - and we both enjoyed it. Let's leave it at that."

  "Such a practical remark," he said with a half smile, and placed her hand back in her lap. "But then you always are practical."

  "I try to be," she said evenly.

  "Very well. We'll leave it for the moment." His seriousness disappeared and amusement took its place. "But don't throw away every opportunity I give you!"

  "This is only the first one," she replied, and joined in his laughter, glad he did not know how false her own laughter was.

  Later that night as she lay sleepless in bed she wondered if she had been foolish to throw away what might have been her only chance of getting Nicholas to ask her to marry him. Yet had he really loved her he would not have been afraid that his attraction towards her was born out of gratitude or propinquity. It was a truth she found bitter to accept, but there was no going back on what had been done; all she could do now was to hope and pray she would be given a second chance.

  As spring gave way to early summer it seemed as though Jane's hopes would be fulfilled, for though Nicholas returned to a normal life he now spent most of his time learning the day-to-day running of the Company and remained as mentally close to Jane as before, Most of her weekends were still spent at the house in Orme Square, and she dined there at least twice during the week, afterwards listening to music with Nicholas, or occasionally going with him to the cinema or theatre.

  He made no effort to renew the friendships he had had before his accident, although on one occasion she had come to the house to find the drawing-room thronged with his friends, and Nicholas himself the centre of a crowd of girls whose dresses ranged from the most courageous Courreges to the demurest Balmain.

  In the act of beating a hasty retreat she had been caught at the door by a thin young man with red hair and freckles.

  "I haven't seen you around before," he said, handing her one of the drinks he was carrying.

  "No. I'm just going."

  "But we've only met! I'm Alec Morris."

  She recognised the name. He had been at school with Nicholas and immediately after the accident had made several attempts to see him, all of which Nicholas had turned down. Yet despite this he had written long, chatty letters to Nicholas each week, and had finally resulted in persuading Nicholas to see him. He had
visited the house on the one weekend that Jane had gone home to see her parents, but remembering how good-humoured Nicholas had been after seeing Alec Morris she now gave him her most beaming smile, startling the young man into spilling part of his drink.

  "That's better," he said. "Now you don't look so fierce."

  "Don't be misled by the smile," she said solemnly, and held out her hand. "I'm Jane Roberts."

  His bushy eyebrows rose. "I'd never have recognised you from Nicholas's description. He called you the -" He stopped, his skin turning the same colour as his hair.

  "The little nun," Jane finished for him.

  Alec Morris grinned. "I don't think it's a very apt description."

  "Neither do I," she grinned back.

  For the rest of the evening Alec Morris monopolized her, but all the time she was aware of how disagreeable she found everyone else around her. From the frequent snatches of conversation she overheard they epitomised the group of light-hearted, rich socialities she had always despised. If these were the people Nicholas called his friends, no wonder he had not wanted them to see him in. a wheelchair. Apart from Alec Morris and possibly a few others in the room there was not one person with whom she would have chosen to share a headache, let alone a deeper tragedy.

  But now of course the tragedy was over and she wondered whether the evening presaged the future. But luckily Jane's fears proved unfounded, for Nicholas himself had become quickly aware that his accident had changed him too much for him ever to go back to his former social life and, apart from Alec, he saw no one else. But with the return of health he was too vital a person to be content with a quiet life, and soon the house was filled with a new set of people: politicians, artists, writers and intellectuals from most of the creative spheres. He always made a point of inviting Jane to the frequent dinner parties he gave, but she was careful only to accept the occasional invitation, for she was still determined not to let him think she was running after him. Indeed it was one such refusal which led to their first real argument.