And was it possible that she had just thrown away the perfect opportunity to show how forgiving she could be? The treacherous thought was difficult to accommodate. Last night. A shudder ran through her as various scenes forced themselves into her mind. Last night had been a graphic illustration of what was missing from her life, and she had spent the greater part of the day confidently predicting a change in her lifestyle.
And yet... and yet if he had been willing, and she had absolutely no reason to imagine he hadn't been, what was there to stop her repeating what had happened last night? To put it crudely, what was to stop her using Patrick Cavour just as she vast planning to use other men? Yes, and to be used by them-she wasn't foolish enough to ignore that aspect of such a relationship. As she once heard in a corny old film, why settle a penny candle when you could reach for the moon?
Ah, well, films were one thing, but now, after seeing him, even after having that stand-up row with him, she knew it was all wishful thinking, She was no more free now to exploit, to keep her notional life separate, than she had been all those years ago. Less, in fact, much, much less, for last night had been clear proof that she had never quite escaped. And now she was forced to ask herself if it had all been worth it, for pride certainly didn't keep you warm at night. How bitter to begin to recognise the perfect scenario about five years too late.
CHAPTER FIVE
AT LEAST that was one worry she could dismiss from her mind. Vigorously Leigh cleaned her teeth, wide eyes scrutinising her reflection in the bathroom mirror, wondering why she didn't feel a more positive sense of relief.
Her head was hidden by a white towel wrapped turban-style about her newly shampooed hair. Possibly that was why she looked so woebegone, but it certainly wasn't due to the time of the month. It was... Hastily she turned away, went to the bedroom and took a moment plugging in the hairdrier. It was almost as if there was some half-buried disappointment that she didn't, after all, find herself pregnant with Patrick Cavour's child.
Incredible. She made a lukewarm attempt to laugh at herself. For the three days since that awful scene with him she had been desperately worried, toying with all sorts of impractical plans, wondering how her parents would react-with dismay and disappointment, that was one certainty. She knew other women who had chosen to bring up children on their own, but when she had visualised herself in the mother role there had always been some man there alongside her. Impatient with herself, she carelessly dragged at a strand of hair. Oh, why not be completely honest...? One man by her side-not some man. Always the same man...
That, of course, could explain a lot. Her questioning violet eyes were shadowy with pain. Had she, perhaps, been harbouring a secret fantasy of confronting Patrick, telling him that in spite of her earlier assurances she did find that she was expecting his child, and what did he suggest they should do?
It wasn't, was not, as if she had had any idea that he might suggest marriage. Of course not. Even if they had been in a permanent relationship she would neither have expected nor wished for such a thing, but... He would most likely have been frightfully decent and correct, would have assured her that she need not worry, that he would assume full responsibility, that she need have no worries about finances and...
Tears stung unexpectedly at her eyes. She blinked several times and sniffed. And naturally it would have given her enormous pleasure to refuse, to say that of course she would manage perfectly, that she was informing him solely because he had been so insistent about it.
In an effort at distraction she ran her fingers through her hair approvingly. What a relief to be self-approving for once, to like the way it shone with cleanliness, the way it floated softly about her head. She shrugged off her towelling robe and reached for her clean things. Anyway, it was a great relief to consign that particular worry to history. Tonight she planned to go to the nearest bistro and eat a pleasant meal. A pity she would be on her own-she had thought of calling Holly, but there was no way she was going to risk an invitation to that particular apartment...
When the telephone shrilled, she jumped, sighed when she realised how shot to pieces her nerves were, and walked into the hallway to pick up the receiver.
'Oh, Kyle.' It was a relief to hear her employer's voice. 'I didn't expect-----Is there anything wrong?'
'Nothing at all, love. I just wondered... I had to come to Paris unexpectedly, and now I f hid I have the evening free. I'm booked back on a late flight but I wondered-can I persuade you to take pity on me and come out to dinner? There's a new place I've just heard of, should be worth a visit, and you know I always hate the idea of eating alone. So, how about it?'
'Oh, Kyle.' Her immediate reaction was reluctance. 'I was just about to pop down to Verdier's on the corner.'
'Change your mind! The place I have in mind is an old mill-house on the river; on a balmy evening like this it must be worth going to. You could bring me up to date on the last few days and I promise to get you back before midnight.' 'I'd rather bring you up to date during working hours, if you don't mind, and I would like to be back here long before midnight, but...' She wavered, knowing instinctively that the worst thing for her in her present mood would be too much of her own undiluted company.
'Go on.' Sensing her weakening, he pressed his advantage. 'You shall come home the moment it suits you.'
'And you promise you won't talk shop?'
'I promise. Thanks, Leigh; I'll pick you up in about thirty minutes.' And he rang off, leaving her wondering why she had given in so easily.
However, when they reached the small, elegant restaurant, having strolled across beautifully clipped turf to the little terrace on the banks of the Seine, and when they had lingered a while over clinking glasses of Campari and soda, she found that her mood was very nearly mellow.
It was a positive relief not to be dining on her own, and Kyle was just the land of undemanding male companion who suited the occasion. They got on well together, and if at one time he had rather given the impression that their relationship could develop into something warmer, at least he had quickly picked up the message that she wasn't into entanglements with married men and had moved on. There were rumours about him and a number of his colleagues, but she had never troubled to find out if they were true. Now his manner towards her was that of a good friend as well as employer, and that suited both of them.
Another plus was that the prospect of dinner in a smart restaurant had forced her to take a little more trouble with her appearance, which meant that her morale had risen slightly. At least, she was confident that the aquamarine shirt suited her and the navy patterned skirt wasn't too casual. Round her neck she had linked a short string of glass beads, blue shot through in a variety of shades, which gave the entire outfit a lift.
'Ah.' When he had come into the flat to collect her, Kyle had allowed an appreciative gaze to skim over her. 'You're looking better.' He had smiled amiably. 'I was beginning to worry about you.'
'You needn't.' Her tone had been very slightly sharp, possibly because she had known he was right. There had been shadows beneath her eyes- too many sleepless nights, she imagined-but it was amazing what a few moments with paint and powder could do to restore one's credibility. And a good blast of that delicious perfume she had bought the other day.
Inside the restaurant, amazingly busy for an evening mid-week, they were shown to a large round table with four place-settings, two of which were speedily whisked away. A waiter flicked once or twice at the immaculate pink linen before they were seated and offered menus.
'Mmm.' Realising she was very hungry, Leigh studied the list with interest. 'Clever of you to find this place, Kyle. Who told you about it?'
'Hmm? What?' He glanced across at her. 'Oh... must have been someone in Strasbourg. I can't remember exactly who, but you know how interested they all are in food.'
'I am too, right now. And I've made up my mind.' She laid aside her menu, waited while Kyle had a conference with the waiter, then gave her order. 'I suppose Anna is still in Strasbourg?'
'Anna?' For just a split-second the comment, casual as it was, appeared to throw him. 'Yes, so far as I know. Though at this time in the evening--' he glanced at his watch and shrugged '-who knows?'
'Mmm. I confess I'm not sure what she does in her free time.' First courses arrived, napkins were shaken out, draped across knees. 'We meet from time to time, but since we live at opposite ends of the town...'