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'Just a dress.' Cleo smiled quickly. She'd forgotten she'd said she'd be going shopping this morning, Luke's phone call had driven it out of her mind, and she still went cold when she remembered the hatred she'd later seen in his eyes, his bitter resentment.
'Give Thornwood a ring when you've finished, he can collect you. That's what he's paid for.' His eyes warmed, holding hers briefly before he hailed a cruising taxi. 41 don't want a worn-out wife in my bed tonight.'
Cleo wasn't in the mood for shopping, and as she turned into Bond Street her thoughts were miserably chewing over the interview with her cousin that morning. Perhaps she'd always subconsciously known that his dislike of her went deeper than mere resentment, and perhaps that was why she hadn't even thought about approaching him for advice when Fenton had made his first blackmailing demands.
She stared unseeingly into shop windows until she realised she had to snap herself out of this mood of introspection. She had always known that her aunt and cousin had little time for her, were unwilling and unable to absorb her into the family. But Uncle John cared about her, and she had Jude, and Jude had become everything to her.
Things were looking good, she assured herself, and there was real hope for their marriage. It would succeed, and one day he would love her as she loved him. On that she was quite determined! And tomorrow, after she'd paid Fenton off, she would be able to put the past - behind her and concentrate all her energies on the most important thing in her life—her marriage to Jude.
An hour later she walked out of a boutique, mingling with the crowds on the pavement. The dress she had bought was more daring than her usual choice.
It was calf-len
gth, with a full, soft skirt, in ice-blue—which made the most of her recently acquired tan. So far, so good, but the front of the bodice dipped lower than anything she had ever worn before and the back was nonexistent—except for the band of the halter strap around the neck. The quiver of inner excitement she experienced as she imagined Jude's reaction when he saw her in the dress brought a dreamy smile to her lips. And someone said, just behind her, 'Been buying something super?'
Cleo turned, smiling down into the eyes of Polly Masters. Polly worked in the Equity and Research department at Mescal Slade and Cleo asked, 'Day off?'
'Umm. A couple of days, actually.' Her brown eyes slid to the classy carrier Cleo was holding. 'I want to buy a summer suit, but I couldn't afford the prices they charge in that place. You look great, by the way, a tan suits you—and the whole building's still buzzing over the way you upped and married the Frozen Asset. Ooops!' Polly clapped a hand over her mouth, looking mortified. 'Me and my big mouth!'
'I think I may have thawed him a little,' Cleo grinned, and felt proud, and deliriously happy because it was the truth. And everything was almost perfect, and one day, in the not-too-distant future, she hoped it would be completely, utterly perfect.
'Well, bully for you! No one knew there was a big romance going on under our noses. Ouch!' she winced as a passer by knocked into her, nearly sending her flying. 'Tell you what, why don't we grab a coffee, have a natter? We've been having a collection for a wedding present for you and Jude—I mean, Mr Mescal—and he said you'd drop in one day next week—he'd arrange which day with you—and we could do the presentation bit then. Have you retired, or something?' Her head tilted to one side, '1 wish I could. I fancy myself as a Kept Woman!'
'No such thing!' Cleo was quick to scotch that rumour. Polly was a small fish in Equity and Research but she had a large mouth, and Cleo was going to be behind her desk first thing on Monday morning, if not sooner, because idling around was nice and relaxing—or would be when the vile business with Fenton was over—but she couldn't wait to start working with Jude again.
'OK, we'll have that coffee.' She didn't want one, not after her delicious lunch with Jude, but it would give her the opportunity to make it clear to Polly that retirement was the last thing on the cards. She was still Jude's PA and she had no intention of giving up that coveted position.
At the cramped table in the tiny restaurant. Polly picked up the menu. 'I haven't had lunch yet and my stomach thinks my throat's been cut—do you mind?'
'No, of course not, go ahead,' said Cleo. 'I'll just have tea.'
'Well, I'm glad you're not aiming to be a lady of leisure,' Polly confided when she'd given her order. 'Word had it you were resigning, and when Sheila Bates from Takeovers and Mergers heard she nearly flipped. She fancies her chances as your successor! Oh, she's qualified,' Polly twisted a springy black curl around her index finger, her head on one side. 'But she's a pain in the neck. As your husband's PA she'd be insufferable.'
'There's no question of my resigning,' Cleo denied firmly. But something cold wriggled around inside her * all the same. Jude had been adamant about her staying away from the office for the rest of this week, and that could have been consideration on his part, because she did have a lot to attend to—clearing up at the house in Bow, deciding what to do about the furniture.
But why had he said she'd be dropping in one day next week when he'd been approached about the presentation of the wedding gift? He had obviously made it sound as though she wouldn't be around on a permanent day-to-day basis.
'And talking about Takeovers and Mergers--' Polly's brown eyes were avid as she looked up from her tuna salad. 'A client phoned me yesterday morning, and this guy said he'd heard a rumour that we're making a takeover bid for your uncle's company, Slade Securities. He wanted to know if he should buy in.' A morsel of tuna disappeared between her glossy red lips and Cleo's heart did a small somersault. Her uncle's firm—the largely family-owned company—to be swallowed up by Mescal Slade? It would break his heart, make all the years he and her father had spent building the business up from scratch seem like a waste of time. And Polly said, 'I thought you'd like to know what was in the wind. Why don't you get on to someone in Takeovers and Mergers, find out what's going on. Know what I mean? You could come up with something interesting.'
It was no secret that Cleo's father and Jude's uncle, direct descendants of Harry Slade and Reuben Mescal who had founded the merchant bank way back in the eighteen hundreds had quarrelled. It had happened a long time ago, almost fifty years ago to be exact, and Cleo'sfather had sold out his shares to Jude's uncle and had gone into secondary banking, founding Slade Securities with his younger brother, Cleo's Uncle John.
When her father had died ten years ago Uncle John had carried on the by then successful company until the second of his heart-attacks had forced him into retirement. Now Luke was at the helm, and if Mescal Slade were considering a takeover bid.
And why hadn't Jude told her? Surely she had a right to know? He would have the final say in any such decision; the board was like putty in his hands.
They respected his judgement too much, and with good reason, to do more than superficially question his decisions— and then only for the look of it...
'Hey!' Polly snapped her fingers under Cleo's nose. 'Come on back here—you looked miles away!'
Cleo glanced at the other girl with a start, her eyes unfocused, then smiled automatically, picking up her cup to finish her tea and Polly, eyeing the slenderly cut suit in fine olive green crepe Cleo was wearing over a white silk V-necked blouse, asked wistfully, 'I don't suppose you'd help me look for a suit. You've got such fantastic taste.'
'I'm sorry,' Cleo said quickly, perhaps too quickly, she conceded as Polly's face set in a huffy mask. This latest bombshell made her unfit company for anyone, and the last thing she could settle to do was trail round the shops looking for clothes. She had to contact Jude. 'I really don't have time,' she offered, her grey eyes serious.
Polly shrugged. 'That's OK.'
But she looked brighter when Cleo told her sincerely, 'You don't need me to help you choose what to wear. You always look great.'
* * *
