Barbara Taylor Bradford’s 4-Book Collection. Barbara Taylor Bradford
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even as he said, ‘Look, honey, I’m sorry, I really am. The delay was unavoidable. I had to wait for a call from the Coast. An important business call. Come on, Katharine, give a guy a break.’
His smile was so sincere, and he sounded so genuinely apologetic that Katharine found herself smiling back at him. She was also shrewdly aware that it would be foolish to antagonize Victor, and by so doing put her assiduously-made plans into certain jeopardy. Need her he well might, but his goodwill was absolutely crucial to her, and since he had finally made an appearance her troubling doubts about him were subsiding, were replaced by the optimistic belief that he had not reneged on his promise to her. And so she softened her manner and her chameleon-like ability to present a different visage went into immediate play. The smile became infinitely more luminous and beguiling and the turquoise eyes were instantaneously veiled with affectionate lights.
‘I’m sorry too,’ she told him. ‘I didn’t mean to sound so sharp, but the English are very peculiar about time and the proper form and all that, as I’ve mentioned to you before.’ She returned the package to him. ‘And it was very sweet of you to bring this. Truly. But I think it would be more appropriate if you gave it to your hostess. I know she’ll appreciate your thoughtfulness. Now, come on, my darling, we’re wasting time. Let’s go in.’
Victor tucked the bottle under his arm with a jaunty flourish, glanced at himself in the Georgian mirror, adjusted his tie, and said, ‘I’m all yours, honey. Lead the way.’
Kim and Francesca stopped talking when Victor and Katharine walked into the drawing room, and Victor saw two pairs of eyes focused on him intently and with enormous interest. Considering he was a world-famous film star, and had been for a number of years, he was not unaccustomed to this kind of fixed and curious scrutiny, for everyone had their own vision of him, which was not always compatible with the man he truly was.
But what brought him up short and filled him with amazement was his consciousness of the girl in grey, seated near the fireplace, who was now slowly rising. Like a brilliant lodestar she drew him magnetically towards her, and he felt a need, indeed a compulsion, to rush over to her, was filled with an urgency not only to meet her, but to know every facet of her. He had no desire to appear foolish, even immature, and he realized, too, that this kind of behaviour would be incorrect and a rank display of that ‘bad form’ the British, and Katharine, were always muttering about. Nor did he have any intention of giving Katharine the opportunity to lecture him about his manners. Before he could take another step, the young man next to her, obviously Katharine’s boyfriend, Kim, was hurrying forward, smiling broadly.
Kimgrasped Victor’s hand. ‘I’m Kim Cunningham. Delighted you could come.’
‘So am I,’ Victor replied, shaking Kim’s hand vigorously. And he apologized and again explained his reason for being late.
‘Oh, please don’t give it another thought,’ Kim exclaimed. He grinned. ‘We’ve been very cosy here, guzzling champagne and chatting. Now, do come and meet my sister, and then I’ll get you a drink. What do you prefer? Champagne, or something else, perhaps?’
‘I’d like Scotch-on-the-rocks with a splash of soda, please.’
Kim took hold of Victor’s arm and propelled him across the room to the fireplace. ‘This is Francesca,’ he said, and, after bestowing a bright smile on them, he disappeared in the direction of the drinks chest to pour a Scotch for Victor.
‘How nice to meet you, Mr Mason,’ Francesca said.
Their hands met and held and their eyes locked, and simultaneously they exchanged a startled glance. Looking down into the delicate face upturned to him, Victor saw the shining amber-flecked eyes widen and fill with the astonishment he himself was feeling. A tremulous smile touched her mouth briefly, and was gone. I’ve never met her before, but I recognize her, he thought with incredulity. I know her. I’ve always known her, somewhere deep in my heart and soul. This strange and surprising knowledge shook him, and momentarily he was thrown off balance.
Being adroit, he swiftly pulled himself together. ‘I’m pleased to meet you too, Lady Francesca,’ he said with a slow lazy smile, but his black eyes were serious and searching, and his gaze remained unswervingly on her face.
‘Oh please, do call me Francesca.’ Two faint spots of colour stained her ivory cheeks.
‘I’ll be glad to, if you’ll call me Victor.’
She nodded and gently extracted her hand, which he was still holding tightly, and stepping back, she lowered herself into the chair. Victor remembered the package under his arm, bent forward and handed it to her, instantly wishing it were something more personal, more appropriate like – like an armful of fragile white May lilac, fragrant after a drenching of spring rain. Yes, lilac was the ideal flower for her. It suited her delicacy and freshness. He said, ‘I almost forgot. This is for you.’
Francesca looked up at him, surprised. ‘Why thank you. How very kind.’ She began to unwrap it, her head bent, her fingers moving slowly, and she wondered why she was suddenly trembling internally, not recognizing the dynamic chemistry interacting between them. However, Victor, who was wise in the ways of the world and of men and women, knew it. At least, he knew she had affected him strongly, and that he had responded to her on a variety of levels, not the least of which was sexual. He looked at her sharply, a keenness in his eyes. She appeared serene and unperturbed. Cool as a cucumber, he thought. He remembered that look of astonishment they had shared a moment ago, the startled glance exchanged. Had he imagined them? He was not sure. Perhaps the attraction had not been mutual, but merely one-sided. His side. He smiled faintly to himself.
Victor had no way of knowing that Francesca had a natural poise that belied her years, and a great measure of that special self-confidence so endemic to the English aristocracy. She rarely lost her composure. And so, despite her equally strong reaction to Victor, one she found extraordinary and baffling, she let no emotion show on her face. But she was disturbed, and understandably so. To begin with, she had had little or no experience of men, and certainly she had never encountered one of Victor Mason’s ilk. Then again, her boyfriends had been, for the most part, chums of Kim’s and the same age, and she had never taken any of them seriously. At nineteen she was sexually inexperienced, and, in comparison to her girl friends, who were much more worldly, unusually innocent for a young woman who mixed in smart London society.
In all truth, Victor Mason had unnerved Francesca. Gradually this realization began to formulate in her mind. How absurd she was being, allowing herself to become rattled by this man. Yet, she had to admit he was devastatingly attractive; she thought: If Katharine Tempest seems improbable, with her stunning beauty and allure and vivacious personality, then he is undoubtedly larger than life. And very disconcerting.
Abruptly, Victor left his position in front of the fire, and without glancing at her or addressing another word to her, he moved over to the chest. He stood talking to Kim as if they were old friends, and not total strangers from worlds so wide apart it was debatable whether they had any common ground upon which to meet. Francesca observed him through the corner of her eye, her head still bent in concentration on the package. It struck her that he looked unconcerned, as if she no longer existed, as if he had not given her those fierce stares. It was then that she wondered whether he always behaved in this manner, when first meeting women, in view of who and what he was, believing, perhaps, that it was expected of him. Although she was not the typical film fan, she was sufficiently well-informed to know that Victor Mason was idolized by women all over the world. Few men had ever been the recipients of the kind of female adulation which was showered on him. There was no doubt in her mind that he could pick and choose at will from a galaxy of women infinitely more beautiful and interesting than her, and so she concluded she had not been singled out for any special treatment. And why should she be?
Francesca swung her eyes away from Victor when Katharine’s clear laughter echoed across the room; then she could not resist focusing her attention on the three of them. Victor turned slightly, also laughing, and leaned towards Katharine, teasing her. Katharine looked up at him as she returned his banter.
Clutching the crumpled wrapping paper and the bottle