Roberta Leigh - Not a Marrying Man Read online

  'Don't you?'

  'At least my business is saving human lives.'

  'And mine is making those lives happier!' An angry snort followed the words. 'All you do is give sick old ladies a few more years to live. I give pleasure to millions of women.'

  'And make millions out of it!'

  'It's lucky for you I do. How else could I afford your fees?'

  Dr Kovaks chuckled. Those fees I get from you, my dear Madame, enable me to run my private clinic without charging the patients.' He swung round to Sara. 'If Madame Rosa stays here, she will need a day and night nurse. I will arrange it.'

  'Don't make a fuss over nothing,' Madame grunted.

  'You are everything to a great number of people,' the doctor said quietly, and put a hand on the arthritic shoulder. 'I will be in to see you later. Meanwhile rest quietly.'

  He went out and Sara, interpreting his glance, followed him.

  'How bad is it?' she asked.

  'I can't tell until I have seen the E.C.G. But certainly she must do nothing for six weeks and afterwards she'll have to cut down on her responsibilities.'

  'She'll die before she does that.'

  'She'll die if she doesn't. She's only young in spirit, you know. I don't know her exact age, but———'

  'No one does,' Sara said.

  'About seventy,' Dr Kovaks added. They reached the hall, but he made no attempt to leave. 'Does Madame have any family apart from her nephew?'

  'No.'

  'Then it might be as well to get him over.'

  'She's more ill than you've told me,' Sara said at once.

  'No, no,' he said quickly. 'I merely made the suggestion as a means of safeguarding her health. I know she's made him her heir, and if he's anxious to prolong her life he'll have to persuade her to abdicate and give him the kingdom now.'

  'You mean she must stop work completely?'

  That would be a miracle. I'll be content just to have her ease up. She needs someone here to take some of the responsibilities from her shoulders.'

  'She'll worry just as much if there's no one taking care of the New York office,' Sara pointed out.

  'No one is indispensable. If only people would realise it before they are struck down.'

  'I'll telephone Mr Lyn right away. If I ask Madame's permission she might refuse to give it.'

  Without stopping to think she hurried into the living- room and dialled the New York number again, hoping desperately that Bruno Lyn would still be there. She closed her mind to what he might be doing and knew a faint sense of relief when a masculine voice answered the call. Without wasting time she told him what had happened.

  'I'll make arrangements to fly back at once,' he said. 'I've a big conference on at the moment, but——-'

  'I know.'

  'Of course. I was forgetting you're my aunt's right hand.' His voice quickened. 'I'm sorry we've never met, but you've always been out of town when I was in London.'

  'I'm not sure it's strictly necessary for you to fly over right away.' She returned to the purpose of her call. 'I just wanted to let you know.'

  'I'm glad you did. And I'll come back tomorrow. Which reminds me, who'll be staying with my aunt until I get there?'

  The doctor arranged for a day and night nurse.'

  'But no family.' It was a mutter more to himself than to her, but Sara responded to it.

  'I'll be happy to stay until you arrive, Mr Lyn. I've been here this weekend, as a matter of fact.'

  'Good. Give her my love and tell her I'll be with her as soon as I can.'

  The phone went down and Sara replaced the receiver, knowing she had done the right thing in making the call, yet knowing too that Bruno Lyn's return to England would change things for the company and for herself.

  It was not until later that evening—after tests had shown that Madame Rosa's heart attack had been a mild one—that Sara told her Bruno Lyn was returning to England next day. Madame's lined face beamed with pleasure, then broke into a scowl as she recollected the sales conference.

  'He can't come back until it's over. You had no business asking him. I'll call him myself and tell him there's no rush.'

  'But he's anxious to see you.'

  'I'll still be here in two weeks! I'm not dying, Sara, and don't let that fool doctor tell you otherwise. Now give me the telephone.'

  Madame Rosa's call to her nephew resulted in his agreeing not to come to England until the conference was over, though he warned her he would keep in constant touch with her doctor and would return at once if medical opinion considered it necessary.

  'You're an incorrigibly bossy woman,' Sara informed her when the call was over.

  That's why I'm the boss and you're a worker! Now get pencil and paper and we'll decide what to tell the Press about me. Shall we say I'm having a face-lift?'

  'Not until you really have one—which you can't.'

  'I've never had one. Lines give character to an old face. The only women who should have face-lifts are those who look prematurely old.'

  Sara was too busy writing to reply, and shortly afterwards read out a carefully worded statement saying Madame Rosa was suffering from a mild attack of jaundice and was cancelling all her engagements for the next few months.

  Only to Nevil, several days later—he had been in Paris with a client—did she confide the truth, at the same time warning him not to mention it to anyone else.

  'It may be a blessing in disguise,' he said after a short pause of shock. 'It might show her she can't last for ever. Let's hope the nephew persuades her to start delegating. You've never met him, have you?'

  'No. When he was living here I was only a copy typist, and by the time I was sufficiently important for him to talk to, he was in America.'

  'It's a good thing he's coming back. Madame Rosa runs this place as though it's the secret service.'

  'In a way it is. So much of what we do has to be guarded.'

  'I'm not talking about your love potions and what have you,' he said impatiently. 'Rosalyn is a big business and it should be run as such, with an acting board of directors not one grande dame at the top and a lot of dummies underneath.'

  'Thanks said Sara dryly.

  'Not you, angel. You're the only person around here who isn't afraid to answer her back. And even you don't have a seat on the board. It's time she realised your worth.'

  'I'm happy as I am,' Sara assured him.

  'Well, you shouldn't be. And when Bruno Lyn gets back, you should tell him so.'

  'I might not go on working here.' Her reply was impulsive and she regretted it when she saw the surprise in Nevil's face.

  'But you don't know him,' he said.

  'I don't like what I've heard.'

  Then come to me.'

  It was her turn to be surprised. 'Are you offering me a job?'

  'As my wife.' He fingered his moustache. 'I didn't mean to propose quite like this, I was going to lead up to it with champagne and dinner by candlelight.' He looked around the office. 'I suppose it's more fitting for me to propose to you here. After all, it's where we met.'

  'We met in Madame's office,' she contradicted.

  'And you were wearing black. It made your hair look silver.'

  'It probably was silver at that time,' she said prosaically. 'Two years ago we launched Silver Mist and I was using it.'

  He laughed. 'How unromantic you insist on being! I think it's part of your charm.' He touched the heavy swathe of hair that fell to her shoulders. 'I prefer this colour. It's more you.'

  'It is me,' she replied. 'It's my real shade.'

  He touched a strand to his lips. 'Cool blonde with undertones of warmth.'

  Sensing his desire to kiss her, she pulled back. 'I've a mass of work to do, Nevil. I hope you won't mind if I push you out.'

  'I'm going. Are you free to have dinner with me tonight?'

  'I'm staying with Madame Rosa.'

  'There's no reason why you can't dine out.'

  'Very well,' she said, knowing
that if she remained at the penthouse Madame would insist on talking business the whole evening. 'But I want to be back by ten. I like to see Madame before she goes to sleep for the night.'

  Promising to call for her at eight, Nevil left and Sara stared at the papers piled on her desk. It was amazing the number of problems awaiting Madame Rosa's decision. Sooner or later someone would have to solve them and if Mr Lyn didn't arrive, then she herself would have to do it.

  Impatiently she tapped her hand on the desk, the long, oval-shaped nails making a sharp tattoo. It was five days since she had spoken to him and he had still not put in an appearance. She knew he spoke to Madame each day and that he had also called Dr Kovaks. But he had never spoken to anyone at the office nor mentioned to his aunt when he would be coming to England. She debated whether or not to call him again, then crossly decided against it. Nevil was right about the company being a one-woman business. No one here was capable of stepping into Madame's shoes—even on a temporary basis. In fact she herself was the only one who could even attempt to do so, and if the heir apparent did not put in an appearance by next Monday, she would have no choice.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Sara did not have anything suitable to wear for dinner with Nevil and on the way to the penthouse called in at her own apartment to collect some more of her things. When she arrived at Park Lane she went straight to Madame's room and found her sitting up in bed sipping a glass of champagne.

  'I'm sure you shouldn't be drinking that,' Sara accused.

  'Dr Kovaks gave me permission.'

  'You must have twisted both his arms!' Sara looked at the nurse, who smiled slightly.

  'Dr Kovaks did gave Madame Rosa permission, but only for a small glass—and she's already had two.'

  'Then you can finish the rest.' Sara picked up the bottle from its ice bucket and dumped it into the nurse's arms. Taking it as a signal to leave the room, the nurse did so and Sara perched on the arm of a chair and swung one shapely leg in front of the other.

  'You look tired,' Madame Rosa commented. 'You should have drunk the champagne, not given it to the nurse.'

  'Champagne gives me a headache. Anyway, I am tired.'

  'But you shouldn't look it. If you wore a pinker foundation———'

  'I don't like a pink foundation. I think blondes look more interesting when they're pale.'

  'Sometimes you look icy,' Madame grunted. 'You need a man to warm you up.'

  'Are you suggesting marriage?' Sara smiled.

  'A love affair at least. I'm not sure you're the type for marriage. You might let it interfere with your work.'

  Sara burst out laughing. 'You're honest if nothing else. But don't worry, I've no intention of getting married and depriving you of my excellent services.'

  'You are one of the best assistants I have,' Madame said slowly. 'You know as much about the business as Bruno and you can be as tough as me. Not many women can, you know, without becoming aggressive at the same time.'

  'A few more compliments and I'll be asking for a raise!'

  'I gave you one three months ago.'

  'I wasn't hinting,' Sara said quickly. 'Just making a rather poor joke.'

  'If you aren't satisfied, you must tell me. There are many things we can quarrel about, Sara, but I never want it to be about money.'

  'I honestly wasn't hinting,' Sara insisted. 'You pay me more than generously.'

  The company is your life,' Madame replied. 'I could never pay you enough for that.' She moved the champagne goblet between her gnarled fingers. 'Sometimes I think you love Rosalyn even more than Bruno does. Sometimes I think he'd be happy to give it all up and devote himself to pleasure.'

  Sara did not think he was doing too badly at the moment, but wisely refrained from saying so. However, the look on her face gave her away, for the tip of Madame's nose quivered and seemed to grow longer.

  'I wasn't referring to pleasures of the flesh, Sara. There are other Kinds, you know. Music, painting, sculpture. Bruno has the soul of an artist even though he isn't a creator. In another era he would have employed his own artists to work for him. He's just like———'

  She stopped abruptly and handed her empty glass to Sara, who put it on the side table. Never had she heard

  Madame speak in these terms of her nephew, and she wondered whether she had been prompted by loneliness for his presence.

  'If your nephew loves beautiful things then you should hold yourself responsible,' she said lightly. 'You brought him up from the time he was a child.'

  'He had a mother,' Madame said sharply.

  'But she lived with you.'

  'In the kitchen most of the time,' came the sour answer. 'She turned down the chance of working in Rosalyn. If I hadn't taken Bruno in hand she'd have brought him up to be a cook! At least I've made a business man of him.' Restlessly the dark head, still showing barely any grey, moved on the pillow: a pale lemon one trimmed with 6cru lace that matched the fine lace coverlet thrown across the bed. 'He hasn't called me today.'

  'It's early yet,' Sara reassured her.

  'He calls me every day at two o'clock before I settle down for my afternoon nap. Nap!' she said scornfully. 'How I hate that word. If Kovaks thinks he's going to keep me in bed for another two weeks he'd better think again. I'm getting up tomorrow.'

  'No. you aren't.'

  'How will you stop me?'

  'By leaving yon. I couldn't work for someone whose intelligence I didn't respect.'

  'Aha!' It was a sound of admiration. 'I've taught you well, Sara, Sometimes I feel you could be my daughter.'

  'It's a pity you never married and had children.'

  'My business is my child,' Madame Rosa said sharply. 'And I had Louise and Bruno. Why did I need a son of my own?'

  Seeing the twin spots of colour on Madame's cheekbones, Sara considered it time to end the conversation and, murmuring that she wanted to change because she was dining with Nevil, she went to the door.

  'I'm glad you're going out,' Madame called after her. 'But I wish it wasn't with that milksop!'

  'Just because he doesn't answer you back ..

  'And don't you answer me back either,' Madame snapped. 'Get dressed and come in and see me before you go.'

  'Yes, boss!'

  'And wear a pinker foundation,' Madame called as the door closed.

  Smiling, Sara went to her room. Like all those in the penthouse it had silk-draped walls and a deep pile carpet. The furniture was antique and ornate and the predominant colours of her room, blue and white, were echoed in the bowls of hothouse irises and narcissi which scented the air-conditioned atmosphere. She was glad she had given herself time to have a leisurely bath and she lay soaking in the perfumed water before reaching out for a fluffy towel.

  As she draped it around her she saw her reflection many times over in the intricately faceted mirror that lined one wall of the bathroom and was suddenly reminded of the Three Graces. With her long blonde hair pinned roughly on top of her head and her rounded limbs, smooth and shiny from the water, she could easily have passed for one of them. But a few more pounds on her slender frame would not come amiss either, she thought critically, and straightened her shoulders. It made her breasts tilt upwards provocatively. It was a pity no man had seen her like this, and though there was no one she particularly thought of, she felt a need to be looked at with tenderness; to feel the sensuous pleasure of a man's touch, a man's hand on her body.

  But not Nevil. It was odd that she could not envisage a life with Nevil. Was it because his lovemaking frightened her? She had asked herself the question many times before without being able to answer it and this occasion was no different. Pushing it out of her mind.

  she put on filmy underclothes and a clinging black silk dress. It made her look more fragile than ever, emphasising the supple limbs and greyhound lines of her body. Her hair looked more silver than gold tonight and she brushed it away from her face.

  Following Madame's dictum she used a pink foundation, applauding
her employer's eye when she saw its effect. Eschewing any make-up other than mascara on the eyelashes that framed her slanting green eyes and a translucent lipstick that drew attention to the soft curve of her mouth, she picked up the fur coat and, as requested, went to obtain Madame's approval.

  'You need jewellery with that dress.' The comment was made after the black eyes had studied her in silence. 'All that black is too stark for you.'

  'It's sophisticated, not stark. And I dislike costume jewellery.'

  Then wear mine. I've offered you a choice often enough.'

  'And I appreciate it,' Sara said softly, moving over to the bed to touch the ring-laden hand. 'But your jewels are you, Madame. I would feel uncomfortable if I wore them.'

  'Then let me give you some of your own.'

  'You know I couldn't accept such a thing.'

  "Why not? If you were genuinely fond of me you would let me treat you like a daughter.'

  'Please.' Sara said swiftly. 'I couldn't accept valuable gifts from you.'

  Then at least wear my pearls.'

  'But——-'

  'Don't keep arguing, child. Take them for tonight.'

  Sara went to the wardrobe that ran one entire length of a wall. From a small safe in the back she removed a metal box. It held a mere fraction of Madame's fabulous collection of jewellery, but even so its contents were worth a king's ransom.

  'I'm still scared when I think of you keeping all this jewellery here,' Sara told her.

  'Most of it's in the bank.'

  'This stuff should go there too.'

  'I buy jewels to wear, not as an investment,' Madame snapped, and held out her arms for the box.

  She lifted the lid and removed several tiers before finding what she wanted: two entwined strands of large, perfectly matched pearls, one black and one creamy pink.

  'I won't feel right wearing them,' Sara muttered.

  'Put them on,' Madame Rosa ordered.

  Sara obeyed, but before she could turn to look at herself in the mirror, Madame shook her head.

  'No, pearls don't suit you. You need something brighter. This, I think.' She held out a shimmering river of light and Sara recoiled.

  'I couldn't wear a diamond collide!'

  'Yes, you can. Put it on.'