In Want of a Wife? (8 page)

Dark eyes roved lazily over her body, taking in the high breasts—fuller than he would have expected in someone so slender—her thin, graceful hands and her stubborn, strong, intelligent face—which wasn’t classically beautiful but was arresting, he was finally forced to acknowledge. She had the sort of face that he felt compelled to stare at, and that irritated and amused him at the same time.

‘If you want me to remark on it, then I’m more than happy to oblige. You’re sexy. I like the way that top fits you. You really do yourself a disservice by dressing like a guy. And you should never tie your hair back, it looks good like that. Is it as soft as it looks?’ He leaned forward and twirled some strands around his fingers; for one heart-stopping moment everything inside her was thrown into frantic disarray. God, was she
attracted
to this man? Surely not? Yet her body was suddenly hot and heavy and she could feel her chest lift with every breath, her blood pounding through her veins.

‘That’s not why I’m here.’ She pointedly gathered her hair with one hand and draped it behind her. ‘I haven’t dressed like this to prove anything.’
Hadn’t she?
‘I don’t want you to find me sexy. I think we’ve already concluded that we just aren’t each other’s cup of tea. I would have been more than happy to come here in jeans and a jumper but I figured that this restaurant might have a dress code.’ He was looking at her with such unblinking, shuttered intensity that it was making her as nervous as a kitten. ‘And please stop staring at me like that!’

‘When you dress like that, you should be prepared to be stared at.’

‘I came to have a conversation about Rose. Okay, well, about Rose and Nicholas.’ Food arrived and she sat back to allow the waiter to produce her main course of
poussin
with an elaborate flourish. ‘I. What you said about Dad being in a bit of financial bother is, well, true.’ She snaked a tongue nervously over dry lips, and when she glanced across at him his expression was closed and uninviting. ‘I think he’s invested badly and he said something about having to remortgage the house. So I can understand what’s going on in your head.’

Louis maintained a steady silence. Had she known him at all, she would have known that begging missions never worked. He took a sip of wine and began eating, waiting for her to carry on.

‘You were cynical to start with and I guess that you’re even more cynical now that you’ve poked around in my father’s life and unearthed his financial situation. I suppose you’re really proud of having done that.’

‘I think we’re beginning to go over old territory here, Lizzy. And doing a background check on someone isn’t unusual. It’s always a good idea to have the full picture.’

‘You don’t
want
the full picture. You just see what you want to see!’ She made an inarticulate sound under her breath and flung her hands up in frustration.

Frankly, that should have been the cue for Louis to bring the meal to an abrupt but necessary end. Outbursts in public places, while he could not care less what people thought of him, weren’t his style.

But her cheeks were flushed and she had shoved the sleeves of her tight jumper up, exposing slim, firm hands. She didn’t seem to have noticed, but in the heat of the moment not only had her hair swung forward, tempting him to take some of the silky strands between his fingers yet again, but her knees were brushing his—and that was doing some interesting things to his body.

‘Rose doesn’t know anything about, well, about
anything.’

‘Maybe we’re getting a little over-excited here about nothing. How was the food? You don’t seem to be eating.’

‘The food’s great.’ She took a mouthful. It really was great—just a shame that she wasn’t in the mood to appreciate it. ‘And what do you mean about getting over-excited about nothing?’

‘I mean you seem to be under the illusion that Rose and Nicholas are destined for the altar.’

‘Illusion? Has Nicholas told you that he’s going to dump my sister?’

‘Nicholas hasn’t confided in me one way or another, but let’s face facts. He got sent up to Scotland to handle some of
the ground work on Crossfeld. Nicholas’s family might have their pile in the country, but he’s only ever been accustomed to life in London.’ Louis shrugged, a man-of-the-world shrug, as though every word he was saying and every assumption he was making was shot through with unarguable fact. ‘Scotland would have been like another planet. It’s natural that he would have gravitated towards the first sympathetic attractive woman he met.’

‘You’re saying that Rose is just someone to keep him company until he can get back to his normal life?’

‘I’m saying that it might be a mistake for your sister to start thinking about wedding bells—and even more of a mistake for your parents to start imagining that a rich son-in-law might bail them out of their financial difficulties.’

Lizzy thought she could detect an edge of contempt in his voice and her hackles rose. He might very well sit there, watching her with those lazy, dark, fabulous eyes, sneering at the little Scottish upstart of a woman who fancied her chances with a guy whose family owned a
pile in the country
—but when had he ever had to worry about money? ‘They’re not imagining anything of the sort.’ She defended her family stoutly, and Louis raised his eyebrows in polite disbelief.

Fetching though she might look, she wasn’t fetching enough to override the glaring evidence in front of him. Firstly, the coincidence of Nicholas falling for the beautiful damsel with the impoverished background, although it had only become clear
just
how impoverished the background was. Secondly, the fact that Rose, from everything he had witnessed, had hardly behaved like a woman in love until, mysteriously, she had decided to mount a more concentrated campaign—which naturally included engineering her way into Crossfeld and climbing into bed with Nicholas. Had her parents become a little more active in their encouragement of the relationship? Grace Sharp had certainly not been reticent in showing her delight at the match.

Granted, Lizzy might have been out of the loop in terms of the nuts and bolts of what had been going on, but was that his problem?

‘You don’t believe in love, do you?’ she asked sourly, and Louis laughed and raked his fingers through his hair.

‘I believe in lust and I believe in the institution of marriage.’

‘You mean marriage based on … what? How can you base a marriage on lust? Lust doesn’t last.’

Louis relaxed and ordered coffee. This, he discovered, was more like the conversation with her that he had had in mind. ‘But it’s an enjoyable starting point, don’t you agree? Not that I’ve given much thought to marriage one way or the other.’

Lizzy shifted awkwardly. She realised that her legs were brushing against his and she primly angled her body away from his—except, when their eyes met, she could see at a glance that he had noted the shift and was amused by it. ‘And what happens when the lust fades away?’

‘Oh, that’s why it’s so important to be practical when it comes to getting married. A decent business arrangement doesn’t allow for any nasty surprises. There’s no such thing as the perfect marriage, but there
is
such a thing as the perfect criteria for a wife, and it involves lack of hassle and no ugly suspicions of an ulterior motive. And, do me a favour, don’t get onto your soap box and start preaching to me about class differences and how we rich people have the wrong priorities.’

The perfect criteria.
A shard of pain stabbed her as she remembered Jessica’s warning about reading signs behind his bored, idle flirting, if that was what it had been. When it came to the
perfect criteria,
she was nowhere on the scale. Not that it even mattered! And yet …

‘I wasn’t about to say anything of the sort.
That
would just be stating the obvious. Actually, I was going to tell you that there’s a guy talking to the head waiter by the front door and I think he’s looking for you …’

‘Oh, good God,’ Louis muttered darkly under his breath and Lizzy looked at him incredulously.

‘You look a little uncomfortable, Louis. Are you trying to
hide?
It won’t wash. I think he’s spotted you.’

‘Of course I wasn’t trying to hide. Don’t be ridiculous.’ He glared at her and then stiffened as the young blond man approached their table and greeted him from behind.

‘Louis! Have you any idea how long it took me to find you?’ He sat down at the table and turned the full wattage of his smile on Lizzy. ‘Of course, if I’d known that you were on a hot date with a
very
sexy lady I might not have come down. I’m Freddy Dale, by the way.’

He held out his hand and Lizzy was charmed by the smile that hit her like a ray of sunshine. At a guess, he couldn’t have been more than twenty-five, but it was difficult to tell with his boyish, blond good looks and the bright-blue eyes that sparkled playfully. Next to him Louis, frowning and terse, and as dark as Freddy was fair, bristled with disapproval—which had the perverse effect of stimulating her interest. She inclined her body towards Freddy, resting her elbow on the table and cupping her chin with the palm of her hand.

‘And I’m Lizzy.’

‘As you can tell, I’m busy, Freddy. Was there something you wanted?’

‘It can wait. I’m much more eager to find out all about this delicious creature sitting here with you.’ He included Lizzy in a conspiratorial grin. ‘At the risk of sounding impertinent, you’re not exactly Louis’s type.’

‘I know.’ Lizzy couldn’t fail but smile back. ‘We’ve already established that.’

‘He goes for blondes.’

‘Freddy, I’m not in the mood, so get to the point and leave.’

Lizzy heard the authority in Louis’s voice, the hint of steel that offered her a glimpse of the man who should never be
crossed. On hearing it, too, Freddy’s smile dropped and he turned to Louis with a truculent, languid expression.

‘I thought I might have a bit of an advance on my salary.’

‘You
work
for Louis?’ Lizzy couldn’t believe it because he was just the sort of guy she could not imagine Louis employing. Not that she had any real idea what the quality of his employees was like, but she imagined them as a cowering bunch, keen to salute at the crack of the whip.

‘And why do you need an advance on your salary?’ Louis made no pretence of hiding his impatience.

Freddy flushed and slanted an uncomfortable look at Lizzy. ‘I’d really rather not discuss this in front of your delightful date.’

‘I’m not his date.’

‘No?’ This time, it was Freddy’s turn to be curious, but Louis was having none of it. He looked pointedly at his watch; regrettably—because he had actually been enjoying his sparring companion—decided that dinner would have to come to an end.

‘No,’ Lizzy began, already sympathising with the poor man who was now finding himself subjected to the full force of Louis’s powerful personality. ‘Actually.’

Louis held up one imperious hand and her voice trailed off.

‘I really don’t give a damn about what you would or would not rather do, Freddy. Just say what you came here to say and clear off.’

‘Okay. May I?’ He helped himself to a glass of what wine was left and nodded approvingly at the bottle. ‘Do you remember that girl I was dating?’

‘No.’

‘Perhaps I should leave,’ Lizzy muttered, embarrassed, but Louis waved her back into her seat without looking at her. Because even a gesture as slight as that seemed to allow no
room for disobedience, she sat back down and tried to appear insouciant as she sipped some of her coffee.

‘Eleanor King. I think you met her a couple of times,’ Freddy muttered awkwardly, talking to a profile, because Louis had inclined his head to one side and appeared to be indifferent to what was being said to him as he idly surveyed his surroundings.

Lizzy had absolutely no doubt that he was taking everything in and would probably have been able to repeat the entire conversation word for word if asked.

‘You mean the plain, overweight young girl who happened to be the heir to a massive fortune?’

Freddy’s face darkened but he was still trying to smile through his obvious resentment. ‘I’m no longer involved with her, but unfortunately I may have gone over my head when it came to spending on her. Jewellery. A couple of expensive weekends abroad; that sort of thing.’

‘And what does this have to do with me and advancing your salary?’

‘Look, I know I should live within my means—and, believe me, this won’t happen again. Do you think I
enjoy
being here, asking you to lend me money?’

Louis sighed elaborately and rubbed his eyes with his thumbs. ‘Possibly rather more than I enjoy having you here with your hand outstretched. Again. If it weren’t for the fact that I have an obligation to you, Freddy, I would have you chucked onto the street without a moment’s hesitation.’

Lizzy sneaked a sympathetic glance over to Freddy, who clearly knew when to keep his mouth shut and duck low. But after a few minutes a cheque was made out for the money he was after and shoved across the table. Which instantly restored Freddy’s good mood, although he was standing up now, eager to leave, as charming as ever as he made his departure, leaning to bring Lizzy’s hand to his lips and to tell her that he would be seeing her very soon.

‘Jessica, Nicholas’s sister, has invited me to a do her brother’s having at Crossfeld,’ he said, tucking the cheque carefully into his wallet. ‘And I can’t wait. Make a change from London.’

Louis inserted with deadly accuracy, ‘As opposed to Barbados, where you spent
last
Christmas, if I remember correctly?’

They both watched Freddy disappear out of the restaurant and then Lizzy turned to Louis and said lightly, ‘He seemed nice.’

Louis sat back and looked at her unsmilingly. ‘And you base that on
what,
exactly?’

‘Well, he’s very cheerful, and I gather from the conversation that he’s not too clued up when it comes to money.’

‘As understatements go, that one’s right up there.’

‘But, then, neither am I, as a matter of fact. I can never resist spending whatever I have as soon as the rent’s paid. By the time the end of the month rolls round, I’m usually too broke to do anything but stay inside and watch television.’