He halted. The dark eyes met hers, holding them effortlessly in thrall, and to her dismay she felt a shock of totally physical desire shiver through her body. He didn’t have to touch, or even speak. The invitation was there in the way he was looking at her, and it would be easy, so fatally easy to cross the brief space which separated them, and answer that invitation with her lips, and her body.
She closed her eyes, blotting him out, rejecting him with her mind, a shudder of self disgust quivering through her.
But at least she was back in control again, and her eyes opened, unleashing at him all the scorn she could muster. She said quietly, ‘You’re despicable, and I wish with all my heart that I’d never come here.’
‘Ah, but you did,’ he said softly. ‘And the bargain between us still stands, Sophie mia.’
She said violently, ‘Well, I want no further part of it,’ and, turning, walked away out of the room and away from him, wishing that her dignity would allow her to run.
By the time the train pulled in to Bishops Wharton, Sophie was almost able to convince herself that she’d been drunk. There was no other explanation for her behaviour. She’d had that sherry, and then he’d kept topping up her glass with wine, and she wished she knew a word bad enough to call him.
She went straight round to Market Street. Miss Langton was in the shop, and she gave Sophie an indifferent nod as the shop bell tinkled.
‘He’s in the flat,’ she advised briefly. ‘Go on up.’
As Sophie obeyed, she wondered about Mark’s relationship with his aunt. As far as she could gather, each was the only relative the other had, yet there didn’t seem to be a great deal of mutual affection. And when she’d tentatively asked Mark if his aunt couldn’t lend him the money for the Jefferson partnership, he’d stared at her as if she was crazy.
‘Aunt Edwina?’ He’d laughed. ‘Darling, that glorified junk shop of hers doesn’t provide that kind of income.’
Sophie didn’t argue, but she wondered whether Mark wasn’t too dismissive of his aunt’s business. The shop was always attractive and well-stocked, and Miss Langton appeared to have a shrewd knowledge of the value of each and every item.
Mark was stretched out on the sofa, watching television, but he sat up eagerly as Sophie came in.
‘Darling.’ He drew her down to him and kissed her, his lips lingering on hers. ‘God, you look beautiful—like a million dollars.’
She smiled rather tautly, and sat down beside him. ‘While we’re on the subject of money, I went to see Angelo Marchese today.’
‘You did?’ Mark almost yelped. ‘You wonderful girl. What did he say? Is he going to help us?’
‘Up to a point.’ Sophie chose her words carefully. ‘He wants to meet you, and after that, hopefully, he’s going to talk my parents round about our marriage.’
‘Fantastic.’ Mark hugged her, his face jubilant. ‘So all I have to do is convince him I’m a solid citizen, and worth a boost in the right direction. Consider it done.’ He shook his head at her. ‘And you didn’t want to approach him.’
‘I still wish I hadn’t.’ Sophie stared down at the carpet. ‘He made a pass at me.’
‘Well, I’m not surprised,’ Mark said cheerfully. ‘You look delectable. I can hardly keep my hands off you myself,’ he added with a ferocious leer.
Sophie didn’t smile. ‘Don’t you care?’ she asked curiously.
He sighed almost impatiently. ‘Of course I care, darling, but I don’t suppose it was any big deal. You’re a member of his family now, after all. Besides, according to the papers, he has bigger fish to fry,’ he added carelessly. ‘Some dress designer woman. There was a picture of them at some nightclub last night.’ Mark slid his arm round her shoulders. ‘Now, tell me everything Marchese said.’ He paused. ‘I don’t suppose he mentioned lending you the money.’
‘No, he didn’t,’ Sophie said. ‘And I could never ask him, Mark. Please believe that.’
‘All right.’ He gave a faint shrug. ‘We’ll play it the way you want it, darling. It seems to have worked pretty well up to now. What did you do? Appeal to his better nature?’
‘I don’t think he has one,’ Sophie said bitterly. ‘No, I—I reminded him that he’d been kind to me when I was a child—that’s all.’
He grinned. ‘Well, it was certainly enough.’
More than enough, Sophie thought bitterly. It disturbed her that Mark seemed to have failed to understand her feelings in all this. He regarded the events of the day as some kind of unqualified triumph, as if all their difficulties had been swept away in one fell swoop.
Sophie, however, was far from sure about this. She had no doubt that Angelo could persuade her stepfather to do almost anything he chose—if he wished, but he had made no actual guarantees.
She said slowly, ‘Mark, perhaps it would be safer not to hope for too much.’
‘Nonsense,’ Mark said briskly. ‘Can’t you see, darling, that just to meet someone of Angelo Marchese’s stature is the biggest break I’ve ever had. It’s the kind of chance I’ve dreamed of.’
Sophie gave him an uneasy glance. ‘Still, maybe it would be better not to say anything yet to Craig Jefferson.’
He shrugged. ‘Probably not.’ He smiled at her. ‘Who knows? If I play my cards right, maybe I won’t need Jeffersons any more anyway.’
Her alarm deepened. ‘What do you mean?’
He sighed. ‘Oh, come on, Sophie. If it comes to a choice between Jeffersons and—say—the Marchese bank, then it’s no contest. Even you must be able to see that.’
‘But there is no choice,’ Sophie protested, beginning to feel desperate. Mark seemed to be disappearing out of sight suddenly.
‘Not yet. But then I haven’t met your cousin.’ Mark said almost absently. ‘When and where is this meet to take place? Should I ring the bank? Make an appointment?’
Sophie sighed. ‘No—you’ll meet him at my parents’ anniversary party. And he’s not my cousin,’ she added sharply.
He gave her an indulgent smile. ‘Don’t quibble, sweetheart. And do cheer up. After all, this is exactly what we wanted.’
‘It’s what you wanted certainly,’ Sophie said coolly. She rose, smoothing a non-existent crease in her skirt with hands that shook a little. ‘I just hope we don’t live to regret it.’
She felt no happier on the night of the anniversary party itself. She’d been on edge all day, but trying to hide it as she helped Barbara and Mrs Curzon the housekeeper to complete the final touches.
She was dreading the moment when she would have to face Angelo again. The memory of that shameful kiss he had inflicted on her was still strong, and she was unable either to laugh it off as unimportant, or shrug it away as experience. In fact, she was in danger of becoming obsessive about it, she told herself. And the most galling reflection was that Angelo would undoubtedly be highly amused if he knew of her heartsearchings over such a triviality.
She was in her room when his car swept up the drive. She caught a glimpse of the chauffeur opening the back of the Rolls, and his dark figure emerging, before whisking herself away from the window. The last thing she wanted was for him to look up and catch her peeping at him like a schoolgirl.
She took all the time in the world to bathe and dress for the party, timing her descent to the drawing room to coincide with Mark’s arrival.
She took a long look in the mirror, and nodded with qualified