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For a second he didn't move, his long, athletic body so taut Caro felt she could see the tension in the muscles and nerves. A little tic pulsed in his throat, just below his ear, and his dark eyes glittered like polished jet.
She waited, expecting another harsh outburst, but suddenly he swung on his heel and strode to the door, only to pull up and stand there for a moment, his back to them, his head lowered as if he was having a struggle with himself. At last he took an audible, long, deep breath, swung round and gave his grandmother a rueful and charming smile. Caro could see the little boy in it, the coaxing, butter-wouldn't-melt-in-his-mouth little boy who had always been able to get round his grandmother with that smile.
'I'm sorry, Grandmother,' he said softly. 'I lost my temper again. I didn't want to do that, I didn't mean to—I'd come round to apologise for the argument we had this morning, but it was such a shock to find you had already got a buyer lined up that I got angry all over again. I'm sorry.'
Lady Westbrook gave him a cool stare, her mouth indenting. 'It's time you learnt to handle that temper of yours, Gilham. And don't you think you owe my guests an apology, too? They didn't come here tonight expecting a scene like that.'
He walked back towards them, holding that charming expression on his face, although Caro could see the betraying glitter of his dark eyes all the time and she knew he was acting. He held out his hand, smiling with deceptive warmth. 'Mr Ramsgate, I beg your pardon, please forget my bad manners.'
Fred looked at the hand, but did not take it. Instead, he said, 'Mr Martell, this morning my daughter was treated very badly in your store.'
'That was a stupid mistake, for which I assure you I apologised,' Gil said smoothly, letting his hand drop.
'That's all very well,' said Fred. 'Words are cheap enough, aren't they? You say it was a mistake—maybe, but even if it was a mistake, why did your store detective treat Caro so roughly? She says she was thrown across a room, dragged about, shaken...'
Gil Martell grimaced. 'The man in question has been fired. He didn't act that way on my instructions, I assure you. Of course it was completely contrary to company policy. He should merely have asked her to accompany him to my office.' He smiled wryly. 'He was over-enthusiastic in his work, I'm afraid.'
'You find that funny, do you?' Caro erupted.
Gil looked at her, and frowned. 'Of course not!'
'He was a thug, and you know it!'
Gil's rage began to show through his charm, she was glad to see, like tin showing through the gilding on a cheap bracelet. He had to struggle to keep the smile on his face and his eyes distinctly menaced her.
He saw he wasn't deceiving her, so he turned his charm back to her father, spoke to him confidentially, appealing to him as a fellow store owner. 'You know how it is these days. There has been a big increase in theft from the store, we have had to have cameras fitted on all floors, and a staff sitting in front of the monitors all the time. If you had seen the video film of the way your daughter acted in the store this morning, you would understand why my security staff's suspicions were aroused. She was clearly up to something, she was acting so oddly; they assumed she was another shoplifter.' He threw Caro a narrow-eyed glance. 'It didn't occur to them that she was just an industrial spy.'
'Oh, don't be ridiculous!' Caro muttered.
'It's the only word I can think of!' he snapped.
Caro gritted her teeth, very flushed. She wasn't getting into another squabble with him, especially in front of his grandmother.
Her father slid her a sideways, enquiring look, and she shook her head at him.
Lady Westbrook was looking thunderstruck. 'What?' she demanded. 'What are you talking about, Gil? What happened at the store this morning? You didn't tell me anything about a problem.'
'It was a little misunderstanding!' he dismissed.
Fred gave Caro an uncertain look, signalling his doubts about how to proceed. If there was a possibility of buying Westbrooks they certainly didn't want to wreck their chances by suing the store, but Fred knew how angry Caro was about what had happened to her, and he was angry himself. His eyes asked her what she wanted him to do, and she grimaced back at him, recognising their dilemma and silently telling him to forget it. Getting hold of Westbrooks was more important than getting her revenge on Gil Martell.
'It was all cleared up, Lady Westbrook,' she said. 'It was just a mistake, as your grandson says—and he did apologise.'
Gil Martell gave her a grim little smile, mockery in those dark eyes. 'I'm glad you've decided to accept my apology, Miss Ramsgate. Very rational of you. I had a hunch you were going to make my life difficult. I'm glad I was wrong.'
'Caro is always sensible,' her father boasted, and Gil Martell's brows curved in derision.
'Sensible?' He swept her from head to foot with another of those lethal glances of his, smiling with dry amusement. 'Yes, I suppose that is an apt description of her. I'm sure she's very...' He paused, then said softly, 'Sensible!'
Caro's grey eyes hated him; she knew he was making fun of her and she wished she weren't inhibited by the presence of his grandmother, and the vital importance of the deal her father hoped to make with Lady Westbrook, but she couldn't risk answering back, so she bit down on her inner lip and held her tongue.
'No answer?' Gil laughed. 'Very wise.' He looked at his watch and shrugged. 'In that case, I must go now, I have an important engagement.'
'Who with?' his grandmother demanded.
His expression was bland. T don't imagine you know her, Grandmother.'
Lady Westbrook's frown carved deep lines into her forehead. 'Not Miranda, then...?'
