Roberta Leigh - And Then Came Love Read online

  That night he took her to dinner at a club in Knightsbridge and over the meal plied her with questions about her family. It was the first time he had done so since the evening they had met, and this time she answered more willingly.

  "It's a trite story," she explained. "At least as long as you're not involved personally — the way I am."

  "Your father died poor, you mean," Matthew said in his usual outspoken manner.

  She nodded. "I was just seven and Adrian was four. Mother had to bring us both up on her pension and it wasn't easy."

  "A Foreign Office pension is a sight more than _ most folk get!"

  "It depends how one wants to live," Stella retorted.

  "I take it your mother found living hard?"

  "Extremely. I wanted to study music but we couldn't afford it, and now Adrian's in the same position."

  Matthew sipped- his brandy. "Wouldn't he get a student grant?"

  "It isn't only the fees. It's the extras. And we simply haven't got the money."

  "So what will he do?"

  "Get a job. He's bitter about it, and I can't say I blame him. It wasn't until last term that he found out how hard up we were. Mother always insisted he shouldn't know the truth."

  "Then she was a fool," Matthew said with his usual bluntness.

  "She was foolish," Stella corrected. "There's a difference." She shook her head. "I only hope Adrian faces facts. He's intelligent but spoilt."

  "No son of mine would be spoilt at eighteen!" came the retort.

  "That's an easy flung to say. But not so easy to carry out."

  "You'r fond of your brother, aren't you?"

  She nodded. "We were together a lot. My parents were abroad for many years and Adrian and I lived with a cousin. She was quite nice with me, but she didn't seem to like little boys. Poor Adrian had a tough time."

  Matthew's face softened. "You've never spoken with such love in your voice. I like to hear it."

  "I'm not made of stone, you know."

  "I didn't mean that." He drained his glass. "Ifs late. We must be going."

  Sitting next to him in the taxi she was more aware of his proximity than ever, his bulk looking so large that she gave an involuntary shiver.

  "Cold?"

  "A little," she Ked.

  "I'll close the window." He did so, and as he settled back, put an arm around her shoulders. "You're too thin, lass."

  Stella knew he wanted to kiss ,her, and though filled with uneasiness at the thought, she could not restrain a willing acquiescence as he drew her against him.

  "I've wanted to hold you like this for such a long time!"

  He placed his lips gently on hers, but fired by the touch of her mouth the pressure increased and his kiss deepened. For a moment she resisted, then with a sigh relaxed against him, feeling that in this big, tender embrace she could find the security and strength she was seeking.

  Slowly he drew away and rubbed his cheek against hers, the skin hard and rough. "I didn't know you could kiss like that."

  She laughed awkwardly. "Neither did I."

  "Seems like, we've wasted a lot of time. It's nearly seven weeks since we met."

  -"You've been up North for most of them."

  "I've seen you twelve tunes," he insisted.

  "Do you keep a diary?"

  "I don't have to where you're concerned. I remember." He leaned towards her. "I'm going back in the morning."

  She was surprised. "That's sudden, isn't it? I thought you were staying until the end of the week."

  "I meant to, but there's trouble in one of the factories, and I must deal with it. But I'll be down again as quickly as I can. Will you miss me?"

  "Of course." Her eyes twinkled. "And I'll miss your funny accent!"

  "Yours sounds just as funny to me."

  "I suppose it must. We're not alike even in the way we speak."

  Her innocent remark seemed to sober him, and he regarded her intently through the gloom of the cab. "I daresay not, on the surface. I'm hoping we are underneath."

  She moved uneasily. "How portentous that sounds!"

  "It was meant to. If we"— darn it, we're at your flat already. The cab was quicker than I thought. Do you mind if I come in for a while?"

  "It's very late," she temporised.

  "Alright." He helped Her put and kept the door open. "But you won't always be able to get rid of me. I'll be seeing you, Stella. Don't forget me."

  "I won't," she promised, and moved hurriedly to the steps, watching from a safe distance as he climbed into the taxi and was driven away.

  To her surprise a light was still burning in the drawing-room, and she went in to find her mother sitting in front of the fire. "I thought you'd have been in bed ages ago."

  "I want to talk to you, Stella."

  "H it's about Matthew —"

  "It's more important than that — it's Adrian. He's home."

  "But term doesn’t end for another month!"

  "He's got it into his head that it's useless to stay on. As he can't go to the Academy he says he wants to get a job without wasting any more time."

  "Surely he could have waited another few weeks and left decently!"

  "He says he can get a job over Christmas jf he starts looking for one now."

  "Delivering Christmas cards, I suppose? He's pulling your leg."

  "No, he isn't. Really, Stella, I wonder whether you understand your brother as well as you say you do! You know all he cares about is music, yet you make a remark like that This Matthew person isn't having a good influence on you."

  "I don't see what Matthew's got to do with it. Anyway, he's going back to Leeds tomorrow."

  "At least that’s one worry out of the way! For a while I thought you were serious about him."

  "Would you mind?"

  "Would I mind? I'd rather have no son-in-law than one like him!"

  "He's very wealthy," Stella said indifferently. "H I married him it might solve a lot of problems, including Adrian."

  Her mother stared at her in consternation. "I know we'd both do a lot for Adrian, but I won't have you selling yourself to the highest bidder!"

  Stella burst out laughing. "You make me sound like a prize at an auction! Don't forget no one else has put in a bid for me, with the exception of Charles."

  "You could do worse than take him."

  "I don't love him. Going out with Matthew has at least made me realise that."

  “You surely j don't love this Matthew creature?" her mother said sarcastically.

  "I don't know."

  "You don't know?" Mrs. Percy was aghast. "How far has this gone?"

  "He hasn't asked me to marry him, if that's what you mean."

  "1 should hope not!" Mrs. Percy walked agitatedly round the room. "He's so uncouth I don't know how you can bear him. He might be presentable to look at, but the minute he opens his mouth… Really, . Stella, people would think you were desperate if you married a man like that!"

  "You're such a snob," Stella said mildly. "He's very attractive once you get to know him."

  "I knew it," Mrs. Percy shri6ked. "It's sex-appeal!-That's the only way a man like that could attract a girl like you."

  "What's wrong with using sex appeal?"

  Her mother sniffed. "Charles wouldn't."

  "He hasn't got any to use!"

  "He's a gentleman. Which is something this — this factory manager could never be!"

  Holding on to her temper, Stella walked to the door. "You're adept at destroying illusions, Mother."

  "Illusions are better destroyed. Only the very rich or the very poor can afford them."

  Getting ready for .bed, Stella pondered over her mother's tirade against Matthew. Although he could not help his brusque manner and lack of social graces, it was true they were totally unsuited to each other. One. might be swept away by a few kisses, but marriage was a different matter, and lying wakeful in bed she experienced a complete revulsion against him. They had nothing in common, no basis on whic
h to meet except desire, and she was glad he was going back to Leeds in the morning. By the time he returned she would be able to refuse his invitations with impunity.

  The moment Stella went in to breakfast the following morning she knew by the sudden silence that Adrian and her mother had been talking about her.

  "Hullo, darling, lovely to see you." She kissed her brother, then sat down and took a piece of toast.

  "Still as skinny as ever!" Adrian grinned.

  "So are you. What made you leave school ahead of time?"

  He was studiedly off-hand. "Term's over bar the shouting, and I couldn't see the point of wasting time. If I've got to go into an office I might as well start as soon as possible -— unless you can find a rich man to get us out of this hole!"

  "Adrian, be quiet and finish your breakfast!" Mrs. Percy said sharply.

  "Sorry, Ma," he winked, and bent over his plate.

  Stella's eyes rested on him speculatively. From Adrian's point of view it would be easy for her to marry a wealthy man and help them; young boys were so egotistical they did not care how they got what they wanted. Yet looking at him, she felt a stab of compassion that he should be deprived of the chance of using his talent.

  With his incessant pounding at the piano and his untidiness and noise, Adrian brought the flat to life, and Stella felt younger and less troubled. That he was curious about Matthew she was well aware, for she caught him pumping Charles one evening when she went into the living-room and as they drove off in his car he mentioned it.

  "Adrian seems very interested in Armstrong. Has he reason to be?"

  "I haven't seen him for weeks. Certainly not."

  "A fortnight," he corrected.

  "Have you been keeping count?"

  He changed gears. "It's a fortnight since you last stood me up."

  "But I explained that was because Matthew had come down expressly to see me —"

  "I don't see why he should have done that —unless you encouraged him." ,

  "Aren't you being childish?" Stella said quietly. "After all, he's quite unimportant."

  "If I was sure of that I wouldn't argue. But Adrian thinks —"

  "Adrian's got no right to think anything! I've never even discussed Matthew with him."

  "Even so, he knows you pretty well."

  "Not well enough to read my mind! Honestly . Charles, you should have more sense than to listen to a school boy."

  Charles slowed down. "I'm sorry, my dear. If you tell me there's nothing to worry about, I'll take your word." He lifted her hand on to his knee. "Let's enjoy our evening and no more bickering, eh?"

  Stella smiled at him, but inwardly she was fuming with anger. How dare Adrian discuss her affairs with “Charles? It might end his problems if she became Matthew's wife but it would undoubtedly begin hers! And no matter how much she cared about her brother's future, she had no intention of sacrificing her life to help him achieve his musical ambition. And that was what marriage to Matthew would be: a sacrifice.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  MATTHEW Armstrong relaxed in the corner of the first-class carriage and let out a gusty sigh. He was on his way to London and Stella. It was nearly a month since he had seen her, a month of continual effort to avert a strike. For the moment things were calm, and if he could settle the position between himself and Stella he would be able to go ahead with a dear mind.

  Arriving in London he went straight to his hotel, bribed and changed and then toot a taxi to her home. Only when he was half-way there did he remember he had not telephoned first, then characteristically bragged the thought away. At five o'clock in the evening of a bitterly cold that it was unlikely she would be anywhere except home, and he smiled as fee imagined her surprise when he walked in.

  He felt like an excited schoolboy when he rang the bell of the shabby front door, his hands moist as footsteps crossed the hall and the door opened to reveal a slim lad with Stella's straight fair hair and brown eyes.

  "I bet you're Adrian!" Matthew extended his hand. "You look like your sister. My name's Armstrong."

  Adrian smiled charmingly. "Not the Mr. Armstrong?"

  "Is there more than one?"

  "Not as far as my sister's concerned. Do come in."

  Matthew walked into the hall, and Adrian threw open the living-room door and announced in stentorian tones: "Mr. Matthew Armstrong!"

  There was a gasp of surprise, but Matthew walked straight over to Stella, looking as if he was about to catch her in a bear-like hug.

  She side-stepped quickly. "Mother, you remember Matthew?"

  Mrs. Percy smiled with difficulty. "I thought you were in Yorkshire?"

  "I'm here now!"

  "You're lucky you can leave your business so often."

  “I’ve business here, too." He turned to Stella. "I'd like to talk to you alone."

  Mrs. Percy stood up. "If I'm in the way —"

  "I didn't mean that," he said hastily. "It was just may way of asking Stella to come out with me."

  With a tight smile Mrs. Percy sat down again, and Matthew looked at Stella so appealingly that she stood up.

  "I'll get my coat"

  Relief flooded his face. "That'll be grand!"

  Freshening her make-up, Stella wondered irritably why Matthew had to put his foot in it the minute he arrived. Surely he had enough sense to telephone before coming, instead of repeating his last faux pas and blundering in without warning? She went back to the living-room to find him still sitting uncomfortably in the upright chair, his coat over his knees, the thick belt trailing on the floor.

  "Let me take your coat and we'll have a drink before we go," she said abruptly.

  "I've already offered Mr. Armstrong a drink," her mother put in, "but he doesn't like sherry."

  Adrian breached the awkward pause that followed. "Do you live in Leeds itself, Mr. Armstrong?"

  "A little bit outside, lad. On the Harrogate Road."

  "I suppose you're what they call an industrial magnate?"

  Matthew grinned. "Yes. But I'd rather be a personal one!"

  No one had any reply to make to this and Adrian offered him a cigarette. "How many factories do you have?" hs asked blandly.

  "Six." Matthew held out his lighter. "These are made in one of them."

  "How dull!"

  "The man who gets his wage packet doesn't think so."

  'I'd hate it myself- Music's all I care about."

  "Some people would find piano-playing dull."

  "There's not much likelihood I will," Adrian said , ruefully. "I might even come to you for a job."

  "I might even give you one!"

  Adrian looked at his mother. "Hear that, Ma? Who said I'd never get a job?"

  "Come along, Matthew," Stella broke in. "Lets go-"

  They left the flat in silence, Stella well aware that the moment the door closed, Adrian and her mother would settle down to a critical discussion of her escort. They stepped out on to the pavement and a cold wind blew against them.

  “I’m afraid I didn't ask the cab to wait," Matthew apologized. "I reckoned on having a chat at your place. Never mind, though, I'll find another one."

  This was easier said than done and they had to walk the length of Knightsbridge before they managed to flag one down. Stella climbed in quickly and sat shivering in the corner.

  “I’m sorry you're cold, lass."

  "Why didn't you keep your cab? A ticking meter's never worried you before." She checked herself. “I’m sorry, that was beastly of me."

  Instantly he smiled. "You're annoyed with me because I didn't telephone. But I was so anxious to see you…" He caught her hand. "I hoped you'd be pleased to see me?"

  "Of course I'm pleased."

  "Are you really?" He leant eagerly towards her and she edged away, relieved as the taxi-driver pushed back the ommunicating window and asked where they wanted to go.

  "Better make it the Savoy."

  "Again?" Stella said acidly.

  "Well, I'm staying there,
but if you'd rather go somewhere else, just name the place."

  "It's usual for one's escort to arrange the evening."

  He looked at her uncertainly, then his face hardened and he turned back to the cabby. "The Savoy," he repeated.

  Not having booked a table, they were placed near the door directly in the path of the hurrying waiters, and neither the food nor the wine could quell Stella's irritation.

  Arriving at the theatre after dinner she was even more annoyed to find their seats were behind a pillar, and craning her neck to see the stage made her head ache so badly that she was glad when the performance was over.

  "Would you like to go somewhere for coffee?" Matthew asked solicitously as they made their way into the foyer.

  "It's late. We'd better go home."

  "We've been later than this before."

  "I know, but I'm tired."

  He was immediately concerned. "You should have said so, lass, and we wouldn't have stayed through the show. It was awful anyway."

  She moved impatiently ahead of him and waited with chattering teeth while he tried to procure a taxi, watching him lumber up the street only to have it taken by someone else. At last he managed to get one and shouted to her to follow him.

  "Come on, lass, it's warmer inside than out!"

  She trailed up the. street, biting her lip with mortification at the amused glances of several passers-by. "Was there any need to make such a noise?" she snapped as she came abreast of him. "I could see you'd got a cab, you didn't have to shout."

  "I didn't shout, I only called." He climbed in. "Do you still want to go home?"

  "Yes."

  They drove back to Knightsbridge in silence, Stella longing for the evening to be over and to be rid of this man. She had had enough. It was time she told him not to bother her any more.

  Out of the darkness a big hand dosed over hers. "Don't be cross, sweetheart. I know everything's gone wrong this evening."

  She was touched in spite of herself. "That's all right It wasn't your fault. I'm just in a bad mood."

  "I'm afraid I put you in it."

  She did not contradict him and he lapsed into silence until they drew up at the flat. "Will you have lunch-with me tomorrow?"

  "I'm busy," she lied.

  "Please, Stella. Don't refuse me."