Tomorrow's Bride(16)

'Ah, Inés.' Kyle shook his head in mocking disappointment. 'Ever the  realist.' He pushed back his chair and stood. 'But Leigh is a true  romantic, and has every confidence in my promises, so-----' there was a  long moment while he and Inés looked at each other '-don't disillusion  her, please.'

And before she would have thought it possible they were outside in the  warm evening, walking slowly down the path towards the river. Kyle,  after asking her permission, lit up a cigar.

'Mmm. He's a good-looking young man. And very astute. Seems to me he gets right to the heart of things.'

'He is pretty well-qualified, after all.' The words came out before Leigh could stop them.

'Ah.' He draped a friendly arm about her shoulder. 'So you do know  something about him. I did wonder... And yet... that night at the  reception I got the distinct impression that you didn't know him.'

'It is quite a long time since we last saw each other, and...'

'Neither of you, I suggest, would be easily forgotten. Tell me,  Leigh-----' for a moment he held her at arm's length, staring down  through narrowed eyes '-are you blushing?'

'Of course not,' she lied. 'It's just... But you are right. I do know Patrick Cavour-used to, at least. Slightly.'

'Ah, slightly. And yet I felt I was picking up some powerful vibrations...'

'Well, as I said, it was such a long time ago.' Why on earth had she  embarked on this senseless deceit? 'When I was a student he appeared at  Oxford to do some research. That was when I met him.'

There was a longish silence before Kyle prompted quite gently, 'And then...?'

'Then nothing. It was just that I heard he had been to Harvard Law  School, and after that he worked with an American firm of attorneys. So,  you see, he would know his way around.'

'Yes.' Kyle pursed his lips. 'So it would appear. Now what, I wonder,  would bring him to Europe after seeming to be so successfully settled in  the States?'

'I couldn't say.' No point in explaining further, especially when the  question he was asking was one .she had pondered through many sleepless  nights. It had crossed her mind that he might have discovered where she  was working and had followed her, but since she was certain he had been  as shocked as she was that night there was little point in tormenting  herself with a fictional scenario complete with sugary romantic ending.  'I suppose Ines might have more detail on that than I have...' Jealousy  was like a knife-blade. 'They did look-----' now she was being spiteful  as certain ideas flitted into her mind '-remarkably friendly, don't you  think?' Then she said, before he could answer, 'Didn't you find it an  amazing coincidence, Ines appearing there the very time we were there?  The odds against that happening must be considerable.'

'Oh, I don't know.' He shrugged, drew deeply on the cigar, then blew the  smoke away from her. 'It happens all the time in Strasbourg. There it  is difficult to avoid people you know.'

'Strasbourg, yes, that's understandable-but Paris...' She frowned, more  puzzled by the random encounter now than she had been at first. 'Who was  it told you about this place, Kyle? Can you remember?'

'I think it might have been Charles Sebastian.' He frowned. 'Yes, I'm  almost sure, and maybe... Yes, there was a group of us at the time, and  I'm pretty positive Inés was there too. So there you -' he grinned  '-mystery solved.'

'Mmm.' She was unconvinced. 'I must remember to ask Ines next time I see her.' But her threat, if it was that, left him unmoved.

'You do that,' he said cheerily, stubbed out his cigar in a flowerpot  and began to lead her back along the riverbank in the direction of the  car park. 'I'm sure she'll confirm what I've said-if you think it's  important, I mean.'

The balmy evening, the idyllic setting were soothing after the fraught  time spent inside, and although there was no moon concealed lights along  the sides of the path cast shimmering reflections across the water and  made it quite seductive. There were secret sheltered corners, arbours  tucked away amid scrambling roses, even a tiny dovecote-crumbling,  picturesque, immaculate-offering privacy to passing lovers. Yes, it was  all very pretty, could have been romantic given the right companion.  What a pity Kyle did not fit the role. The very idea caused a wan smile.  Even if he hadn't a long-standing marriage with a particularly charming  woman he would never have compared with... with anyone she had ever...  ever dated.                       
       
           



       

But at least he was concerned about her, concerned and certainly  non-threatening-very nearly paternal-so that when they stopped at a tiny  spit of land, stood for a moment to watch the powerful current and he  put his arm about her shoulder again, she didn't, with her normal good  sense, move casually away. Instead she gave a shuddering sigh, deep and  wearied, leaning against him in momentary weakness.

'Something is making you sad, Leigh. I've noticed it for some time.'

'No, truly, Kyle. Nothing at all.' But his sympathy brought the sting of  tears to her eyes, and an unexpected sob was wrenched from her throat.  Eyes wide, she shook her head, till a hand beneath her chin forced her  to be still and to look into his concerned face.

'A man?' His voice was gently teasing. 'None of us is worth it, you  know.' His smile was cynical and self-mocking. 'Take it from an expert  in the field.'

'I'm sorry, Kyle.' Hastily she reached into her bag for a handkerchief.  'Just as well there's no moon-I could have blamed that.' It was an  effort even to pretend to be light-hearted, impossible to explain why  she was feeling so desperately weepy.

'But since there's no moon...'

'Don't worry about it, Kyle. I promise it's nothing but a touch of  Weltschmerz, and I also promise it will in no way affect my work.' And  to put an end to the discussion, and entirely on impulse, she leaned  forward and dropped a light kiss on his cheek, not considering what his  reaction might be.

It was precisely the reaction she ought to have expected. And one  Patrick Cavour had all the time in the world to observe as he sauntered  along the main path with his companion. For, while she was being  accommodated into the welcoming curve of Kyle Lessor's body, Leigh,  stunned into quiescence, was looking directly at the taller man.

For a moment she burned with the humiliation of the situation, then the  blood seemed to leave her head. She was weak and giddy, clinging to Kyle  from necessity rather than passion. It was the expression in Patrick's  eyes, the distaste in his manner which were so destructive, both, in  spite of distance and darkness, easy to interpret and owing nothing to  her imagination, entirely consistent with his legal training. She was  being charged, tried and convicted, and had little doubt that the  sentence would be exacted with all the severity that the law allowed.

They were, it seemed to her, cut off from then: companions. Ines, just a  step behind Patrick, appeared to be watching something further down the  river, and Kyle... Well, she had always known he was a typical  opportunist male-what else?- and he was murmuring comforting words in  her ear which she certainly had no desire to listen to...

Close at hand she heard a sudden plop, as if a fish had broken the  surface of the water, but she knew it was something else. She alone had  seen Patrick Cavour's scorn as he'd tossed a pebble into the river. For a  moment she looked at the shimmering reflections on the surface and  then, disengaging herself abruptly from Kyle's embrace, she looked up to  see Patrick following something Ines was pointing out to him. Their  heads were very close together and her hand was possessively resting on  his arm.

They were walking away, Ines chatting with great animation. The entire  scene, Leigh thought bleakly, as she and Kyle resumed then- stroll,  might have been a final comment on her relationship with Patrick. It was  as insubstantial and illusory as that.





CHAPTER SIX



THERE was no earthly reason for Leigh to go overboard for the  christening. A new hat was understandable, but she had several scarcely  worn outfits which would have served the purpose perfectly. Yes, she  conceded, the ceremony was being held in Paris and, yes, all sorts of  fashionable people would be there... But no! Tears made her eyes sting  at the very suggestion which would not stay at the back of her mind  where it belonged. No, it was nothing to do with Patrick Cavour, for  heaven's sake. Nothing whatsoever. But not all the vehemence in the  world was totally reassuring.

It was the hat which was the key to the whole outfit. A black silk  velour bombe, glossy as a guardsman's busby and with a spotted eye-veil,  it was vampish and entirely irresistible, and from the instant the  milliner had placed it on her head at that perfect angle she hadn't  tried to resist.

With the suit it was sensational. The curvy jacket was sunflower-yellow  with a black rouleau trim, not one of her usual colours, but this-  short-sleeved, nipped-in, showing her slender waist-was very chic,  entirely French. The black skirt that went with it was short-certainly  much shorter than anything else in her wardrobe, and with flattish black  pumps-she didn't want to tower too spectacularly over Holly and  Paul-black gloves and handbag, well, she couldn't remember when she had  last been so excited by her own reflection. At least... it must have  been when she had set off for the reception, and then, she thought with  complete irrelevance, she had had no idea about whom she was going to  meet.