‘You’re going to have to. I invited them to join us tonight.’
‘They won’t miss me.’
‘On the contrary, your absence would be impossible to attribute to anything other than...pique.’
‘Pique?’
‘Jealousy is such a nasty word.’
Lizzie frowned. Jealous? She had always imagined jealousy to be a sour, hateful emotion. This hollow, empty feeling had none of that. But there was no time to consider the matter as Noah claimed her attention.
‘You will be charming to Francesca, you will behave towards Peter like the doting little sister he has doubtless portrayed you as to his wife, and you will treat me...’ He said nothing for a moment, but as they slowed and came to a halt for the motorway roundabout he raised heavy lids to run an assessing glance over her. It was unnerving.
Something in that look—the slightest darkening of a pair of steely eyes—brought a fierce glow to her cheeks and played havoc with her pulse, sending it crashing into overdrive. Whatever he wanted from her, she didn’t think she was going to like it.
A blast on a car horn behind them made her jump. Noah raised an apologetic hand and turned his attention back to the road.
‘What?’ Lizzie demanded.
‘You will treat me as if we are lovers,’ he said with absolute conviction.
Lizzie swallowed, hard. She’d been right. She didn’t like it one bit. ‘And how am I supposed to do that from the end of a bargepole?’
‘You can safely leave all the details to me.’ If Noah had meant to be reassuring he failed signally. His kiss still burned like a brand on her lips, and the suggestion that there was more to come sent a tremor of apprehension rippling through her midriff. ‘So?’ he asked once he had negotiated the slip-road. ‘What do you plan to do with yourself in London?’
‘I haven’t had much time to make plans,’ she said.
‘But surely you...?’ Then he went on, ‘No, of course you wouldn’t have made any plans for London. You were planning on a trip to New York with young Mr Hallam.’ His chiselled features were rock-hard. ‘Well, Olivia asked me to make sure you had some fun.’ He made it sound like hard labour. ‘I’m sure I’ll think of something. I’ll have to. It’s clear that you’ve never had to stand on your own two feet.’
Her denial was whipped away by the wind as he put his foot down and the Bentley cruised majestically past a row of lorries. It couldn’t matter less, Lizzie thought, but he was so wrong about her. She had stood very firmly on her own two feet ever since her mother had died. And she had been a very firm prop for her father too.
‘That really won’t be necessary, Noah. I shall be staying with my friend until I find somewhere to live. And I’m quite capable of keeping myself occupied.’
At least money wouldn’t be a problem. She had hardly touched the allowance that her father had given her since she had taken over the running of the house, and her mother had left her some money. A dowry, she had called it. Well, she wouldn’t be needing a dowry now. But she needed somewhere to live as a matter of urgency.
It was impossible to conduct a conversation in an open car travelling at high speed, but even when they reached the end of the motorway and slowed for London traffic Noah seemed disinclined to resume their conversation, deep in his own brooding thoughts. Finally she was driven to break the silence.
‘Islington was that way,’ she pointed out as they passed a road sign.
‘If I ever need a navigator I’ll bear you in mind. But we’re not going to Islington.’
‘You may not be... I certainly am.’ He ignored her. ‘You disabled my car so that I was forced to come with you,’ she went on a little desperately. ‘Now you must take me to my friend’s flat, or drop me at the nearest underground station if you prefer. I can easily make my own way from there.’
‘Must?’ For a moment the word hung between them, then, with the slightest shrug, he let it go. ‘It’s a sunny Saturday evening in August, Elizabeth. Do you suppose your friend is sitting at home on the off chance that you might decide to descend upon her and demand a bed for the night?’
The thought had already crossed her own mind, but she had no intention of admitting it. She would rather stay at a hotel than accept this man’s hospitality. ‘She’s always inviting me to come up for the weekend,’ she protested.
‘But, since she’s not expecting you, you have to address the possibility that she may be out.’
‘She’ll come back.’
‘This is London, Elizabeth, not some leafy country village. Sitting around on doorsteps surrounded by your baggage is not to be recommended. And I did promise your father...’ He clearly wished he hadn’t. ‘Besides, you and I have a date with a lady called Tosca.’
‘I told you—’
‘You told me that you loathe the opera,’ he interrupted a touch acerbically. ‘The collection of records and CDs in your room is simply for decoration?’
She bitterly regretted her impetuous lie as it came back to haunt her. ‘No,’ she admitted.
‘No,’ he agreed, with an assurance that set her teeth on edge. ‘I had planned to take you to see a show, but Olivia said you would much prefer the opera.’
Olivia. How clever of her. But she wasn’t to be won over that easily. As Noah brought his car to a halt Lizzie looked up at the impressive terrace—anywhere rather than face those all-seeing eyes. The façade was as polished as the man. Even the tubs of brilliant flowers that flanked the doorway shone as if they had just been dusted. She distrusted such perfection. ‘I would prefer it if you took me to my friend’s flat,’ she persisted stubbornly.
‘Nonsense. One night in a crowded bedsit, sharing a bathroom with heaven knows how many other people, would drive you mad. You’re simply not used to it. Besides, your invitation was for a weekend. What will you do then? If you think you can go creeping back to Daddy...’
Go back? She could never go back. She might be invited for the odd weekend, or Sunday lunch. But Dove Court would never be her home again. ‘I intend to find a job, somewhere to live in London.’
‘And how long do you imagine that will take? Or do you believe employers will be falling over themselves to offer you work?’ he mocked.
‘No, but...’ But what? Still she didn’t move, unwilling to put her main objection into words. She had seen the heads turn as they’d left the wedding. One or two raised eyebrows. And his kiss was still burned into her memory. And it was his stated intention to convince Peter that he was her lover. It might be ridiculous... It was ridiculous...
Noah had no such inhibitions. He lightly touched her cheek, turning her to face him. ‘If I were in the market for a girl on the rebound, Elizabeth, I can assure you that I would have had you eating out of my hand by now.’
Her blue eyes widened and, ignoring the odd little tremor low in her stomach, which had been provoked by the touch of his hand against her skin, she managed a small laugh. ‘You’re remarkably confident of your attraction,’ she said.
He regarded her solemnly. ‘Don’t you believe I could do it?’
And then he smiled. All the way up until little pouches creased beneath his eyes. Impossible to fake that. And his mouth was bracketed by strong, deep lines carved into his cheeks. She swallowed hard.
‘Just what are you in the market for, Noah?’ she asked, a little shakily, avoiding the need to give him a direct answer.
The smile abruptly disappeared, and he removed his hand from her chin. ‘Nothing. My life is exactly the way I like it. Except for you.’ He got out of the car and came