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Her high-heeled boots scrunched over the wet gravel as she approached the front door, and rang the bell. Somewhere inside the house, a dog erupted into a tumult of barking, then quietened, obviously to order. The door opened, and a grey-haired woman in a neat dark overall looked at her enquiringly. ‘May I help you, miss?’
‘I’d like to see Dr Templeton, please.’
The woman gave her a formally regretful smile. ‘I’m afraid Dr Templeton isn’t seeing anyone today. You should direct any enquiries to the public relations department at the laboratories tomorrow.’
As she made to shut the door, Amanda said hastily, ‘But I’m not a reporter. I’m Amanda Conroy, and I need to see Mal… Dr Templeton urgently.’
‘Oh, Miss Conroy.’ There was a wary note in the woman’s voice. ‘Come in, please. Dr Templeton has been expecting you.’
The hall was wide, with a flagged floor on which a Persian rug took pride of place. There was a Georgian table standing against one of the pale-washed walls holding a sunburst of chrysanthemums. Amanda was taken up two steps to double glass doors opening into a large drawing-room. Logs crackled in a grate on the wide hearth, and the room was filled with music—a woman’s voice singing something dramatic and unfamiliar.
Malory was stretched out on one of the sofas which flanked the fireplace, but as Amanda came in he rose and walked over to the hi-fi system which occupied most of one wall, removing the record from the turntable.
He said laconically, The mad scene from Lucia di Lammermoor. It seemed—appropriate, somehow‘ He looked past Amanda to his housekeeper. ’Could you manage some coffee for us, Mrs Priddy, please?‘
‘Of course, sir.’ The doors closed behind her and they were alone together.
Malory said, ‘Why don’t you sit down, Amanda, before you fall down?’
She stumbled across to a sofa. Its cushions were as soft as thistledown, but they could have been a bed of nails as far as Amanda was concerned.
She said, ‘I had to see you to apologise—to explain…’
He said quietly, ‘When the press started calling, I was going to issue a categorical denial. Then something told me to wait. It seems I was right.’
She nodded wretchedly.
‘So, what happened?’
‘Nigel came back, after you’d gone. There was a scene, and he made some remark about us having...’ she swallowed painfully, ‘—having slept together. He was vile, and I lost my temper, and let him think it was true.’
He said, ‘I suppose I should have allowed for the red in that hair of yours. So, does Nigel simply think I should do the honourable thing by marrying you, or is there still more?’
Amanda nodded again, her hands twisting and re-twisting in her lap. ‘He said awful things about both of us. It was terrible. And then he made a gibe about—my marrying you.’ A long pause. ‘So I said I was going to.’ She sank her teeth into her lower lip. ‘It was just a way of scoring a point. Of getting rid of him. I never dreamed he’d do—this. Oh, God, it’s all my fault!’
Malory said grimly, ‘If you’re expecting a chivdenial from me, then you’re going to be disappointed. The only points you’ve scored are own goals. You’ve made us look fools, and worse than fools.’
She said, ‘You should have denied everything.’
‘And risked the papers discovering a story they could really get their teeth into?’ he queried coolly. ‘Have some sense. With luck, Nigel’s masterly misrepresentation of the facts will be a brief sensation, and soon forgotten. The damage has been done now, and if we start issuing joint denials, it will simply re-focus attention on the whole mess. I imagine you don’t want that?’
She shuddered. ‘No.’
‘Exactly. So if we go along with the story, it should die a natural death eventually’
She made herself meet his gaze. ‘What do you mean—go along with it?’
‘It’s quite simple,’ he said. ‘You’ve told the world, through Nigel, that you’re going to marry me. So—marry me you will.’
CHAPTER FOUR
Amanda sat staring at him for a long moment, then she said shakily, ‘That mad scene you were listening to—is it infectious?’
He smiled faintly. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Then how can you possibly—possibly suggest such a thing? It’s the craziest, most ridiculous idea I’ve ever heard!‘
His brows lifted. ‘But it’s your own idea. You’ve proposed to me, Amanda, in the most public way you could have devised. Well, I’m accepting your proposal, that’s all.’
