No Gentle Possession. Anne Mather
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‘No. No, he goes on to say that – he knows his wife is being unfaithful to him, and that she’s – the mistress of the son of the man who has been systematically trying to ruin him!’
Alexis finished his Scotch and replaced the glass on the tray, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. For a few minutes he said nothing, and then, when his father was beginning to get agitated, he asked: ‘Have you seen this letter?’
Howard Whitney frowned. ‘What kind of a fool do you think I am? Of course I’ve seen the letter.’
‘When?’
‘Yesterday evening. In my office.’
‘You mean Janie Knight walked into your office with the actual letter her husband wrote?’ Alexis gave his father an old-fashioned look. ‘Wasn’t she afraid you’d take it from her?’
Howard sighed. ‘She wasn’t alone.’
‘You mean someone else knows about this?’
‘Yes. That chap Lorrimer – her lawyer.’
‘Philip Lorrimer?’ Alexis shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him!’
‘Maybe not, but there it is.’
‘But how can you be sure the letter was written by Knight?’
‘If it wasn’t, it’s a damn good facsimile. Good enough to fool me!’
‘But not good enough to fool a handwriting expert.’
‘My God, Alex, what good is that? Even if the whole thing is a hoax, even if we take them to court and prove it’s a hoax, it’s going to cause a God-awful stink, and that’s something I could do without right now.’
‘Oh, yes.’ Alexis was bitter. ‘It wouldn’t do to jeopardize your knighthood for services to industry, would it? That’s quite a pun, isn’t it?’
‘Shut up, Alex! If it wasn’t for you there’d be no mess.’
‘What do you mean?’ Alexis was indignant. ‘I wasn’t responsible for buying up the shares in Knight’s company – you were.’
‘I know it, I know it. But don’t you see, if Janie Knight wasn’t so infatuated with you, she’d never have contacted me the way she did. She’d have been just as eager to hush up a scandal as I am.’
‘So what’s the deal?’ Alexis was wary.
‘It’s quite simple really. She wants you back again.’
‘You can’t be serious!’ Alexis was half amused.
‘Can’t I?’ But Howard was not joking. ‘She said you love her – you love one another! You only gave her up because Knight’s company was practically ruined, and I told you to do so.’
‘Nobody tells me what to do,’ muttered Alexis grimly.
His father made a frustrated gesture. ‘I did tell her that, but to no avail, I’m afraid. You must have done your job well. I only asked for information – not recruits!’
But Alexis was not amused. ‘Well, whatever her terms, they’re unacceptable.’
‘I was afraid you’d say that. Alex—’
‘No, Howard! Not now – not ever!’
Howard sank down wearily into his chair. ‘She’ll give it to the press.’
‘If there is a letter. Personally, I have my doubts. It’s too convenient. Anyway, let her do it. I know who’ll come off worst in the long run. Besides, what she did, she did for herself, not for me.’
Howard shook his head. ‘And what do you intend to do?’
‘Me? About this? Nothing.’
Howard riffled through his papers. ‘I think it would be a good idea if you returned to Austria. With you out of the way, I might be able to salvage something from the mess.’
‘I do not intend to return to Austria!’ stated Alexis coldly. ‘Quite honestly, I’m sick of the whole bloody round of social back-stabbing. Particularly when there are women involved!’
His father looked up in surprise. ‘What’s got into you?’
Alexis shook his head, and at that moment Michelle Whitney chose to appear. In a long gown of pale green slipper satin that showed off her rounded figure to advantage she was very attractive, and her eyes slid greedily over Alexis’s deeply tanned skin before moving on to her husband.
‘Aren’t you nearly finished, darling?’ she asked, perching on a corner of Howard’s desk and running her fingers down his cheek, looking deliberately in Alexis’s direction as she did so. ‘I’m dying of hunger.’
Howard rose, flexing his back muscles tiredly. ‘Yes, we’re finished, my dear.’
Michelle’s eyes flickered towards her stepson. ‘Hello, Alex. It’s good to see you back again. Did you enjoy your holiday?’
Alexis inclined his head. ‘Very much, thank you.’
‘You can tell Searle to start serving now,’ went on Howard, and Michelle slid off the desk. But although she looked once more at Alexis he seemed to find the pattern of the carpet more than absorbing and she was forced to look away.
After she had gone, Howard turned to his son, and frowned. ‘Look here,’ he said. ‘Did you mean what you said just now? About being sick of playing around?’
Alexis was cautious. ‘Why?’
‘Well, old Jeff Pierce retired last week and so far they’ve not got anyone to take his job.’
‘Jeff Pierce?’ Alexis stared at his father. ‘You mean – the manager at Wakeley?’
‘That’s right.’ Howard was watching his son’s reactions closely. ‘How does it strike you? Being section manager in a woollen mill?’
Alexis ran a hand round the back of his neck. His father’s suggestion had left him temporarily stunned. It was something he had never even contemplated. He had worked in the company offices in London, of course, he had even taken a degree in economics at university, but to actually enter into the practical side of the business was something entirely different.
‘But I know nothing about wool!’
‘You don’t have to. Business acumen is what’s needed.’
‘I suppose it would get me out of the way just as effectively,’ he remarked dryly.
His father looked embarrassed. ‘You did say you were sick of the same old round,’ he defended himself.
‘Yes, I did say that.’ Alexis was thoughtful. ‘But this! This is something else.’
‘Don’t you think you’ll be able to do it? I’m not putting you in sole charge of the mill, you know. You’ll have to answer to Jim Summerton if anything goes wrong, just as John McMullen does.’
Alexis gave a wry smile. ‘Thank you for your confidence.’
‘No, seriously though, Alex, what do you think?’
Alexis allowed his hand to fall to his side. ‘I don’t know. I really don’t. I’d have to give the matter some thought.’
‘I realize that. But it does – appeal to you, doesn’t it?’ Howard looked at him searchingly and Alexis raised his eyebrows.
‘It’s a challenge,’ he conceded at last. ‘It’s a long time since I visited Wakeley. Must be six – maybe seven years. While I was at university, I guess. I remember going to see old John McMullen …’
Howard nodded vigorously. ‘That’s right.’ He paused. ‘To think – we used