‘No, I’m afraid not. I have a long-standing appointment. With destiny.’
‘Destiny?’ Dolly’s brow puckered in puzzlement. ‘I don’t think I know her.’
Paul kept his face absolutely straight. ‘I don’t believe you do, Dolly.’
Dolly shrugged. ‘One can’t be acquainted with everyone in London, I suppose. Do excuse me. I must circulate, my darlings.’
Paul leaned closer to Emma, his face sober. ‘I am, aren’t I?’
‘You are what?’
‘Lunching with destiny.’
She looked up at him and smiled, that unique smile that illuminated her face with incandescent radiance. ‘I thought you were lunching with Frank and me,’ she said.
Frank said, ‘Why are you doing this, Emma?’
‘Doing what, dear?’
‘You know exactly what I mean. Leaving London so unexpectedly.’
‘I only intended to stay in town for a few days. I’ve been here two weeks. I have to go back to Yorkshire.’
‘I never thought I would see my sister running away.’
‘I’m not running away.’
‘Yes, you are. It’s Paul McGill, isn’t it?’
Emma looked at him and bit her lip. She sighed. ‘Yes, it is.’
‘I guessed as much. But I still don’t understand why you are rushing off.’
‘Because he’s getting to be a nuisance and, anyway, I don’t particularly like him.’
‘Emma! How can you say that! If you don’t like him, why have you spent so much time with him? Every night, as far as I can gather. The theatre, dinners, parties, and luncheons, too. I’ve hardly seen you alone, and I must say you have certainly given the impression you are mesmerized by him.’
‘That’s not true, Frank Harte!’
Frank shook his head and looked out of the taxi window. He brought his eyes back to Emma. After a moment’s reflection he said, ‘He’s fallen for you like a ton of bricks.’
‘Oh, phooey!’
‘Yes, he has. I can tell. Everyone who sees the two of you together can tell. He positively devours you with his eyes. And I know you like him, Emma.’
‘Frank, will you please leave me alone.’
‘Give me a good reason why you don’t want to see him any more.’
‘Because he’s too charming, too handsome, too fascinating. And too much – for me to handle. Besides—’ She broke off, her voice faltering.
‘Besides what?’
‘I’m afraid I’ll get more involved if I stay.’
‘I knew it! But surely you mean fall in love with him, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’ Her voice was a whisper.
Frank took her hand. ‘Does he know you’re leaving?’
‘No. There’s a note for him at the Ritz. He’ll get it tonight when he comes to collect me.’
‘That wasn’t a very nice thing to do to the poor chap.’
‘It was the only thing to do. Now, darling, please shut up about Paul McGill. And tell the taxi driver to hurry. I’ll miss my train.’
Calculating of brain though she was, Emma could be impulsive of heart and especially when her deepest emotions were involved, and she had acted on impulse the day she had returned with such abruptness to Yorkshire. Recognizing that she was falling under the spell of the magnetic Paul McGill, she had fled, propelled by panic and fear.
Long ago, Emma had come to the conclusion that she was unlucky where men were concerned. They either hurt her or she hurt them. Her relationships had never been balanced. She doubted that she could ever inflict pain on the self-assured Paul McGill, but he was a terrible threat to her. Contentment with her life, such as it was at this moment, was at stake. She could not afford to risk emotional upheaval. Only in business was she prepared to gamble.
But now, after two days, she was beginning to feel perplexed by his total silence. Aren’t you also a little disappointed? a small voice nudged at the back of her mind, and she smiled wryly, her eyes straying to the telephone. Perhaps you are, but you’re also relieved, she said inwardly, and looked down at the latest report from the Emeremm Company. Almost immediately her attention wandered again, her thoughts returning to Paul.
He had danced attendance on her every day for two weeks. He had been charming, gallant, and amusing, and a gentleman, more or less. He had taken her in his arms and his kisses had been sensual and his passions had been fully inflamed. She knew that he was aware that he had aroused the same desire in her, but ultimately he held himself in check. He had made no untoward proposals or attempted to seduce her, and his constraint had baffled her, despite her profound relief at this display of chivalry.
She shivered, recalling his amorous embraces, and instantly crushed down the memory of him. He had apparently forgotten her immediately. Or perhaps he was stinging from the blow to his pride. For a proud devil he was and his self-esteem had more than likely been seriously damaged. She was positive no other woman had ever run out on him. So much for Major McGill, she thought. He’s dangerous and disturbing. Nevertheless, disappointment flared again and she shook her head, musing on her own inconsistencies, and then brought her eyes back to the papers. Her business needed her undivided attention.
Gladys knocked and came in quietly, looking pink and flustered. ‘You have a visitor, Mrs Harte,’ she said, hovering in front of the desk.
‘I don’t have any appointments this morning.’ Emma frowned. ‘What’s the matter, Gladys? You look very fluttery—’ Emma paused and her heart missed a beat. She guessed what Gladys would say. Only one person in this world could bring that special look to a woman’s eyes.
‘It’s a Major McGill, Mrs Harte. He said you weren’t expecting him but that you would see him anyway.’
Emma nodded, her face inscrutable. ‘Yes, of course I will see him, Gladys.’
He strode in, closed the door firmly behind him, and leaned against it. He was wearing a trench coat over his uniform and his cap was pushed rakishly to one side. He was carrying a picnic basket in one hand but he was no longer using the stick.
Paul gave Emma a hard look. ‘Coward,’ he said.
‘What are you doing in Yorkshire?’ Emma managed unsteadily. Her heart was pounding and her legs had turned to water.
‘I’ve come to have lunch with you.’ He held up his hand and wagged a finger at her. ‘I know, don’t say it. You always eat lunch in the office.’ He glanced down at the basket. ‘I anticipated that and brought a picnic. So you have no excuse. I can’t answer for the Metropole’s food, but the champagne is Dom Pérignon.’
‘That’s very enterprising of you,’ she said quietly, recovering some of her composure.
‘Yes, isn’t it just!’ He put the basket on the chair, threw his cap after it, and limped across the floor. He put both of his hands on the desk and leaned forward, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on her pale face. ‘You ran away. You were frightened,’ he said.
Unable to deny it, she did not respond.
‘Who were you afraid of? Me? Or yourself?’ he demanded, his voice unexpectedly harsh.