Vintage Love (146 page)

Davy Brown conducted the young man and Becky through the place and then out to inspect the gardens. They were there when Julia returned from her afternoon ride and came to join them still in her riding habit. She looked as lovely as on the day before, and tiny touches of red showed in her cheeks as she was introduced to Donald.

She studied him with her lovely black eyes and said, “I’ve been hearing a great deal about you, Mr. Woods.”

“Donald, please!” he begged her. And Becky could see that he was finding her far more attractive than he’d expected.

“Very well, Donald,” she said mischievously. “But I haven’t found out whether you are interested in horses or not.”

“I had my own horse a few years ago,” Donald said. “I used to ride a good deal. But lately I’ve given it up.”

There was an impish light in her eyes. “What a Pity!”

“I agree,” he said. “And especially since you are obviously a horsewoman.”

“I believe I can find you some riding things. We usually have some extra clothing for guests in the room over the stables. Would you like to join me in a canter through the grounds?”

Donald smiled. “I will be clumsy in my seat, I promise you.”

“That doesn’t matter,” she said, weighing her riding crop in her hands. “It will give you a chance to see all this lovely place and for us to get to know each other better.”

Donald turned to Becky and Davy to ask, “Do you wish to talk with me further?”

“No,” the older man said warmly. “Go on with Julia! She wants to test you on a horse. That’s the way she judges people—by how well they ride!”

“Father!” she said in amused protest.

“It’s more than half true,” Davy insisted.

“In that case I shall try to prove my worth,” Donald said with good humor. “Lead me to the stables, Julia.”

Becky watched after them as they walked towards the stables talking animatedly. Then she turned to Davy and smiled, “What a lovely thing youth is!”

“Aye,” he said. There was a wistfulness in his voice. “I well remember the first I saw of you—pert and pleasing and asking for a job in a tavern. Your father had just been killed in an accident in the very yard you now practically own.”

“Who would have believed it?”

“I know,” Davy said. “If Bart Woods hadn’t set his thugs on me and sold me to a ship Australia-bound, I’d have gone on working in the yards and eventually we’d have been married and had children. But I would never have become rich, nor would you. But are we any the happier for it?”

“I hope we are,” she said. “So many people would wish to be in our places.”

“True,” he agreed. “But we lost each other as man and wife.”

“We are friends, dear friends,” she said. “Surely we can be satisfied with that. We have so much else.”

“Perhaps,” he said.

“Do you like Donald?” she asked.

Davy Brown gave her a wry smile. “I was afraid that would come up. He looks remarkably like his father. But he’s an improvement on him in most every way. I like him.”

Becky’s eyes met his. “I’d say that Julia also was favorably impressed by him.”

“Aye,” Davy said grimly. “I hope he does badly on his horse. That will put her off.”

An hour later Julia burst happily into the living room where Becky and Davy were enjoying a sherry and informed them, “Donald is a fine horseman! We had a lovely time!”

“Good!” Becky said. She smiled at her, then she gave Davy a teasing look.

The big man said, “There has to be a lot more about a man than being able to ride a horse!”

“Donald has all those attributes as well,” Julia said with a mischievous twinkle in her lovely eyes. “I’m going up to change now. Donald is changing at the stable.” And she hurried out and upstairs.

Davy sighed. “I might have known we could be in trouble. That young man has a lot of charm.”

“Why worry about them?”

His eyebrows raised. “My daughter wed a son of Bart Woods? The very thought of it angers me!”

“He is in no way to blame for his father’s actions,” she said.

“Maybe not. But I could not stand for Bart Woods to be linked with my family. I’m sorry, Becky. I’ll go into business with him and his son, but I draw the line at encouraging any romance between Donald and Julia.”

“What if they fall in love?”

“I can always take Julia back to Australia,” he said. “And I will if anything like that happens.”

Becky had no doubt that he would do as he threatened. This depressed her somewhat, since she sensed the two young people liked each other. If a romance developed between them, it would end the problem of Donald wanting to marry her Anne. But it seemed that Davy would interfere, even if Donald and his daughter should fall in love.

She would have to depend on Count André in Paris to sweep Anne off her feet. This appeared to be the best hope. And from all that Anne had written her, this romance was in full strength. The Count had formally proposed to her!

Julia proved herself to be her father’s daughter, in that she persuaded Donald to stay for dinner and the night. “You and Becky can return to London together tomorrow,” she told him. “It will be ideal to give Becky company.”

Donald did not need a lot of persuading, and the two young people seemed to have a wonderful time all evening. Davy showed colored lantern slides of Australia, which were most interesting to all. And Becky noted that at one point Julia and Donald were sitting in the darkened room holding hands. She hoped that Davy was too preoccupied at the lantern to notice this.

The weekend came to a close for her and Donald after breakfast on Sunday morning. Donald told Davy that he would await the proposal for the merger from him. And Julia and Donald parted with mutual promises to see each other again. On the surface all were in the best of humor, though Becky knew that Davy was not pleased about his daughter’s sudden interest in the son of his ancient enemy. It was a complicated situation, but she hoped it might work out.

In the carriage returning to London she questioned the young man. “What do you think of the Browns?”

“Mr. Brown is a remarkable person,” Donald said. “Vigorous for his age. I wish father had half his health.”

She sighed. “True. Your father has failed a good deal of late.”

“Mr. Brown is also much more forward looking,” Donald went on. “If he offers to merge his steel mill with us I’ll fight for the deal.”

“And you shall have my support,” she assured him.

“Julia is also a most interesting girl.”

“You like her?”

“I do,” he said enthusiastically. “Frankly, if I didn’t consider your daughter and I to be engaged, I would find myself much taken with that dark-haired beauty.”

She smiled. “I could see you two got along well.”

“Fabulously,” he said.

“But you aren’t truly engaged to my Anne,” she pointed out. “You shouldn’t feel bound not to pay attention to any other attractive girl who comes your way.”

“But I do,” he insisted.

“You shouldn’t,” she said. “Anne is at least dating Count André. I can see no harm in your seeing the Brown girl or taking her out occasionally.”

The idea seemed appealing to him. He gave her a questioning glance. “You think it would be all right?”

“I’m sure it would be, and Anne would be bound to agree with me.”

Donald sat back with a relieved look on his handsome young face. “Well, it might be fun to take her around a little and show her some of London.”

“I would consider it thoughtful of you.”

“And her father might appreciate it,” Donald pointed out. “And I do hope to do business with him.”

“Whether he appreciates it or not, I’d take her out. It is the girl you’ll be entertaining. Think of her and what she’d like.”

By the time they reached London she was reasonably sure that Donald would make an attempt to see Julia Brown again. This pleased her. The hard feelings between their fathers would have to be dealt with later. Enough for the present!

Two nights before she was to leave for Paris she had her first visit from Bart Woods following his fairly long period of convalescence. She was worried by his loss or weight and the increased toll his arthritis was taking. He walked with a cane now and said it was for protection against another attack, but she was sure it was because he couldn’t manage without it.

He seemed in a badly depressed mood. He complained of unrest in the shipyard over lack of work, Donald’s arguing with him about turning to steel construction, and Vera’s near madness in pursuing her new fad of spiritualism.

She tried to comfort him and told him, “I think Anne has continued seeing that young count in France. And now Donald is showing interest in the daughter of a friend of mine.” She was careful not to name Davy.

Bart assumed it was some woman friend, and she did not bother to correct him. He said, “Then that is all to the good. Let us pray that something comes of both romances. Vera had long threatened to inform Donald that your Anne is his half-sister.”

This upset Becky. “She wouldn’t!”

“She is capable of it. But if she has no excuse, she’ll likely keep silent on the matter.”

“No matter what,” Becky said, “I wouldn’t hurt them that way. We could find some other means of separating them.”

“I would hope so,” he said with a sigh. “We now have another problem on the horizon.”

“Another?” she gasped. “I would say we had enough!”

“You will remember that Vera had a brother, James,” Bart said grimly.

“Yes. He went to America.”

“He is still there, but he threatens to return.”

“Oh?”

“Years ago, Vera’s father paid for his shares of the business. Now he is threatening to come back to sue for his rights. By the terms of the will, he doesn’t have any!”

“James was always a wastrel,” she agreed. “That could well spell trouble.”

“I think it will,” Bart said bleakly. “He has written hinting that I seized control of the company unfairly. That Mark Gregg was ill and could not have signed any agreement, and that he couldn’t have fathered Anne.”

She gasped. “He is already blackmailing you by letter.”

“Yes. I have refused him everything. Now he says he is returning to England and hiring a lawyer to represent him and press a suit against the company.”

“Oh no!”

“If he resorts to the courts, it could be a dirty case,” Bart said unhappily. “He would smear me as a possible forger, bring out that we were lovers, and reveal that Anne is our love child!”

“That must not happen!”

“I shall do all in my power to stop it from happening,” he promised.

“You must,” she begged him. “It could be our ruin. You did forge Mark’s name, though your saved his fortune in doing so.

He frowned. “I had little choice, or the yard would have gone then.”

She shrugged. “And Anne is our love child. Surely for the honor of the family James will not stir up such a mess.”

“I understand he has run through with his inheritance and now is looking for another one. Perhaps his threat is idle. He may never return. But should he come back, I wanted you to be prepared.”

She sighed. “It seems the past is to go on haunting us.”

“Haunting me!” he said. “I thought I had escaped it. No more! I know now that I was often violent and wrong in those distant days. Now I pay.”

Tactfully she asked, “Have they ever been able to track down your attacker?”

He gave her a suspicious look. Then he said, “No. I don’t expect they will.”

“Don’t you want them to?”

“Donald made a great fuss about it!”

“He is worried for you.”

Bart said, “I think it should be dropped.”

“I see,” she said quietly. “Do you want to tell me about it?”

The weary Bart shook his head. “No,” he said. “I want you in my arms!”

Two days later she left for Paris. Anne received her with delight. And in a short time she was whisked off into a wild round of socializing. There seemed to be parties for her on every side, and Anne appeared to have made friends with most of the charming people of the great city.

Becky had always considered Paris more lively than London. She loved its food, its exciting theatre and dance, and the air of romance which the great city of France always held for her. What more suitable place for her daughter to fall in love?

Count André Lemont became a successful architect. He had designed a number of fine buildings, and he was also the heir to a title and vast wealth. His widowed mother, Countess Maria, was frail but highly intelligent. She favored the match between Anne and her son.

Becky sat with her daughter in the small apartment she had rented within sight of the Eiffel Tower and listened over the breakfast table as her daughter told her all these things.

Becky sipped her tea and asked, “Then all is right here!”

“No!” Anne shook her head. “It’s all wrong! I have no right to be in love with André. Donald trusts me! You should read his letters!”

“Donald may be in the process of finding someone else whom he cares for,” she said carefully.

Anne’s eyes widened. “You think so?”

“It’s possible,” she told her daughter. I can’t say definitely. But I have to believe he is paying court to a girl from Australia. But he is held back in giving her his full attention because he feels he must be loyal to you.”

“You think he might fall in love with this other girl if I weren’t available. If we hadn’t our agreement?”

Becky said, “I don’t know what agreement you have. But it must be a foolish and easily-put-aside one. Your happiness and his are what is most important. You shouldn’t feel locked in by past promises.”

“Donald has always been like a brother to me,” Anne said tautly. “I can’t hurt him!”

“Let him remain a friend and sort of brother.”

“He wouldn’t,” Anne said unhappily. “If I turn him down, for André, he’ll hate me.”

“He might be upset for a little, but he’d get over it before too much time passed.”

Anne stared down at her empty teacup. “Susan would give everything to win Andre’.”

“But he loves you.”

“Yes.”

“And you care for him?”

Anne looked at her mother. “Yes. He is exciting.