Their Scandalous Affair

‘Yes, please.’

The inn was buzzing, as usual, and Avery sat back, prepared to enjoy herself, confident that the meal, whatever they chose from the menu, would be good. She smiled in acknowledgement as someone waved to her, amused when more than one pair of curious eyes followed Jonas as he rejoined her. Avery Crawford, dining out with a man!

‘This place has been serving food since the eighteenth century,’ she told him. ‘I had my first grown-up dinner here, as a treat for my eleventh birthday.’

‘So you’re a native of these parts? How long has Avery Alterations been functioning?’

‘In one form or another for about twenty-five years.’

Jonas eyed her in surprise. ‘The sums don’t add up.’

‘My mother started it up at home when I was small. She was a qualified tailor and taught me everything I know. Eventually I was able to make my own dresses for my university balls.’

‘Clever lady.’ Jonas leaned nearer as the noise level increased. ‘Was your degree in fine art?’

‘No, maths.’

He grinned. ‘Snap—mine too. Right, then, Ms Crawford, you’re the expert here. What do you recommend?’

Once they’d given their orders Avery eyed her companion expectantly. ‘So what did you do after you graduated?’

Jonas Mercer sat back, relaxed. ‘After a gap-year backpacking round the world, supposedly studying other people’s transport systems, I joined the family business, as I’d always intended. Once he was sure I was up to scratch, my father decided on semi-retirement. With his guiding hand, I help run the show pretty much as it’s been run for decades— independent of help from bank or City. We’re in haulage, warehousing, some construction work, and so on. Remunerative, but not exciting,’ he added.

‘I think any successful business run for that length of time with no outside financial help is very exciting indeed,’ Avery assured him. ‘I used to work in the City, once upon a time.’

His eyebrows rose. ‘Did you, indeed? Why did you leave?’

‘I’ll tell you some other time—our dinner’s approaching.’

Over the meal, which was as excellent as Avery had promised, Jonas made no effort to press her about her change of career. Instead he talked about his mother’s passion for gardening and his father’s golf handicap, and the various Mercer relatives who worked with him.

‘I have plenty of help to carry the load,’ he said wryly. ‘Would you like coffee?’

Coffee had an air of finality about it. And because this type of evening was missing from her life these days Avery was reluctant to let it end yet. She hesitated for a moment, then suggested they go back to her place for the coffee.

‘If you’re willing to walk back into town afterwards,’ she added. ‘It’s not far.’

‘I’d like that very much,’ he said promptly, and signalled to a waiter for the bill.

When they arrived at the four-square Victorian villa of Avery’s birth, Jonas looked on in approval as she switched off the alarm. ‘A sensible precaution if you live alone. Do you?’ he added casually, looming tall in the narrow hallway.

‘Yes.’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘Or did you think I was after some light entertainment while the man in my life is away?’

He shook his head, unperturbed. ‘I was thinking more of relatives.’

Her eyes shadowed as she led the way down the long narrow hall to the kitchen at the back of the house. ‘Not any more.’

‘It’s a lot of house for one,’ Jonas commented as he followed her into the large, welcoming room.

She nodded. ‘I had thoughts about selling or letting it when it came to me. But it’s been in the family since my great-grandparents took possession of it from new, and in the end I decided to stay put because at first I ran the business from home.’ Avery switched on the kettle, and shot a look at the man lounging at ease in one of the rush-seated chairs, his endless legs stretched out under the table. ‘Would you prefer something else to coffee? Whisky, brandy—?’

He smiled. ‘Would it destroy my image forever to ask for a cup of tea?’

Which, Avery assumed, was his way of saying he had no misconceptions about what else was on offer. ‘Tea it is—in which case we ought to drink it out of my mother’s best china cups in the sitting room.’

‘I’d rather stay here. So what did you actually do in the City?’ he added as he watched her pour boiling water onto tea bags.

‘I was regarded as something of a prodigy. By the age of twenty-five I was a fund manager for one of the big insurance groups, handling billions in retail and pension-funds assets.’

‘High-flyer,’ said Jonas with respect.

‘So was Icarus! But instead of flying too near the sun, like him, I left the City because my mother was ill.’ Avery’s face was sober as she set two steaming mugs on the table. ‘So what exactly brings you to this neck of the woods, Mr Mercer?’ she asked, taking the chair opposite.

‘My father heard of some reasonable land in this area. I’m here to check it out for building purposes.’

Avery welcomed the idea if it meant return visits by Jonas Mercer. ‘And is the site suitable?’

‘I’ve come up against one or two snags, but I’ll iron them out before I leave.’ Something in the dark eyes belied the indolence of his posture. ‘I’d like to see you again before I do.’

‘When do you go?’

‘Friday, if all goes to plan.’

She thought about it for a moment. ‘I’m free on Thursday.’

‘I suppose it’s too much to hope for tomorrow evening as well?’

She shook her head regretfully. ‘I’m committed to a day of eye-crossing hand work tomorrow. I’ll be slaving away on it at home all day, and by evening I’ll be grumpy and tired, and no fit company for anyone.’

‘In that case—’ Jonas drained his mug and got up ‘—I’d better let you get to bed to shape up for it, and I’ll take myself off to practice patience until Thursday.’

‘I’ll look forward to that. Thank you for dinner, Jonas. I enjoyed the evening very much.’ To her surprise Avery felt flustered as she led the way to the front door. She was no schoolgirl on a first date, she reminded herself irritably. Of course he wasn’t going to kiss her goodnight.

But Jonas took her by the shoulders and bent his head to prove her wrong, with a kiss which packed such a punch her knees were trembling when he released her. He looked down at her for a long moment, and then kissed her again very thoroughly. At last he raised his head, trailed a finger down her flushed cheek, and smiled down into her startled eyes.

‘I’ll be here at seven on the dot. Goodnight, Avery Crawford.’

CHAPTER TWO

WHEN Avery made the decision to keep on her mother’s business she’d advertised for an experienced tailor and Frances White had entered her life—first as an employee, but soon as a valued friend. With Frances’s input the business had rapidly expanded enough to need premises in town, at which point Avery had engaged two former schoolfriends as skilled part-time help. This new arrangement had left Avery free to concentrate on the financial and advertising side, and on visits to clients for fittings. She had also been able to fine-tune her own particular talent for the embroidery and delicate hand repairs Avery Alterations had soon become known for in the neighbourhood. And if she sometimes yearned for the buzz and adrenaline of her past life in the City, Avery kept it strictly to herself.

She was in mellow mood next day as she settled down in the small spare room to work on Pansy Keith-Davidson’s vintage bridal gown. Unpicking seams in delicate fabric was tedious, time-consuming work, and normally Avery worked with the radio for company, or an audio book—preferably a thriller. But today she was thinking exclusively of Jonas Mercer—and his kisses. In the past she’d had her fair share of them, just like any other half-presentable female, but lately they hadn’t featured in her life at all. She knew there was more to it than that. With just a kiss or two Jonas Mercer had revived feelings she’d been utterly certain she would never experience again.

Avery found her hands had stilled, and she was staring blindly at ivory slipper satin instead of treating it with the respect it deserved. She pulled herself together sharply, switched on her thriller and focused her full attention on the work which represented a handsome fee for Avery Alterations.

It was late, and Avery’s eyes felt hot and dry by the time careful ironing had completed her day’s work. As she stepped out of the shower her phone rang, and she snatched it off the bathroom stool.

‘Good evening, Ms Crawford. Are you cross-eyed and grumpy?’ enquired a familiar voice.

‘I was by the time I finished for the day, Mr Mercer, but I’m better now,’ she informed him, rubbing at her hair.

‘Good. Have you spotted the coincidence in today’s crossword? Four across—“The architect of King Minos’s labyrinth at Crete.”’

‘Daedalus, who just happened to be Icarus’s daddy,’ she said smugly. ‘But some people work too hard to dally with crosswords, Mr Mercer.’

‘I stand reproved! I booked a table at the Walnut Tree, by the way, subject to your approval.’

‘I’m impressed. I’ve never been, but I’m more than happy to try it,’ she assured him.

‘It’s a fair distance away, so it means an early start. I’ll call for you at seven,’ he said again.

‘I’ll make a point of getting home on time.’

‘Here’s my cell number if you need to contact me.’

‘Hang on, I’ll get a pen.’ Avery ran into the bedroom and scribbled on the telephone pad on her bedside table. ‘Got it.’

‘Good. Thank you for taking pity on a lonely stranger last night, Avery.’

‘I enjoyed the evening very much,’ she assured him.

‘So did I. Very much indeed. We’ll do it all again tomorrow. Goodnight, Avery.’

She felt very pleased with life after Jonas’s phone call, even after a look through her wardrobe—which confirmed that she owned far more in the way of business suits and jeans than anything frivolous. With no time to run something up, the only option was the dateless little black dress most women owned as standby. Jonas wouldn’t know—or care—that it dated from her City days.

Frances rang later, to report on the day. ‘Quite a bit of new work came in, but it’s just routine stuff. We can fit it in around the wedding order.’

‘Thanks, Frances. I’ve finished the first phase on the gown. Over to you tomorrow.’

‘Brilliant—but no resting on your laurels, boss. Mrs K-D rang this afternoon, asking if you could spare the time to have tea with her tomorrow afternoon to measure the bridesmaids. I said you’d ring to confirm.’

Avery groaned. ‘Lucky me! I’ll ring her now.’

Later, supper eaten and chores done, Avery wished that she’d said yes to this evening with Jonas Mercer after all. She liked him enormously for someone she’d known only a day or so.

After leaving university, where she’d played as hard as anyone else and worked a lot harder than most, her career in a male-dominated world in the City had inevitably brought her into contact with a lot of men. She’d disliked some intensely, liked others in a temperate kind of way, and during her time in London had been involved in two relationships that had been anything but temperate. But this instant rapport with Jonas was—different.

She heaved a sigh as she switched on her computer. Doing accounts was a poor substitute for an evening spent with the deeply appealing Mr Mercer.

When Avery arrived at the shop next morning she handed the garment box to Frances, went through the pile of mail, and found a letter that sent her high spirits into a nosedive. Morrell Properties were not renewing her lease. The premises must be vacated by the end of the next calendar month.

‘What’s up?’ said Frances, eyeing her face.

Avery showed her the letter. ‘My landlords are evicting me. They’ve never given me more than a half-yearly lease at a time, so I suppose this was always on the cards.’

And now she knew the reason for Paul Morrell’s visit. His father owned Morrell Properties, and Paul had persuaded him to lease the Stow Street premises to her in the first place. At the time Avery hadn’t cared much for the six-monthly terms, and even less for feeling beholden to Paul Morrell. But nothing else had been available in town at the time, and no businesswoman worth her salt could have passed up premises at an affordable rent in a good commercial location.

‘So what happens now?’ asked Frances.

‘We have a month and a bit to find new premises, and if the worst comes to the worst we’ll work from my place after that until I find something else in town,’ said Avery, sounding more positive than she felt. ‘Break the news when Louise and Helen arrive, but tell them there’s nothing to worry about.’

She shut herself into the minuscule cloakroom, rang a number in the City of London, and for the first time in three years asked for Paul Morrell’s extension.

‘Morrell,’ he said crisply, sounding very different from the man she’d seen off two evenings before.

‘Avery Crawford,’ she stated, equally crisp.

‘Avery?’ he said incredulously. ‘God, how wonderful to hear from you. This is the most extraordinary coincidence. I was about to ring you to apologise for coming to your place in that state—’

‘You shouldn’t have been there in any state, but never mind the apologies. This isn’t a social call. I take it you came to tell me your father is evicting me?’

‘If you must put it like that, yes—though it isn’t really eviction, Avery. The terms of your lease were clear from the start. I spotted you in town and decided to break the news before you got it in the post. I scorched rubber through the back streets to Gresham Road, because I knew you wouldn’t even open the door to me if you got home first.’

‘A strong possibility,’ she agreed dryly. ‘But if you drove that fast you’re lucky you weren’t picked up by the police.’

‘Tell me about it! I cruised to my parents’ house so slowly afterwards it was a wonder I wasn’t nicked for kerb crawling.’ He paused. ‘I tried to persuade my father to give you more notice, Avery, but he’s selling the land—which includes the shops.’

Avery waited a moment, then asked the question which was her sole reason for contacting Paul Morrell again in this life. ‘Who’s buying?’

‘The Mercom Group. I asked around, but no one knows much about them in the City. Pretty solid outfit, though. They’ve been in business since before the war. Haulage, warehousing and so on—are you still there, Avery?’

‘Yes, I’m still here.’ She heard voices in the background, then Paul spoke again.

‘Avery, I’ve got to go. I’m due at a meeting.’ His voice lowered urgently. ‘I’m really glad you rang, darling. Does this mean—?’

‘Absolutely not,’ she said flatly. ‘All I wanted was information.’

There was a pause, then she heard Paul heave a sigh. ‘I wish to God I could put the clock back. I was a fool,’ he said bitterly.

‘No, Paul. I was the fool.’

Avery disconnected and sat staring into space, cursing herself for getting a man wrong yet again. Jonas Mercer was the first man in years to appeal to her on a man/woman level. Unfortunately he also happened to run the company that would probably demolish the row of shops that included Avery Alterations—which it had every right to do. But that wasn’t the point. The part that infuriated her—and cut surprisingly deep—was the discovery that Jonas had known all along how the deal would affect her business but hadn’t seen fit to tell her.

When Avery went back into the shop Louise came running in from the café next door. ‘Hey, what do you think?’ she said breathlessly. ‘None of the other shops got a letter about the lease.’

‘Really?’ Avery’s eyes narrowed ominously. ‘How very interesting.’

Frances exchanged a speaking look with the other two, and briskly requested Avery’s help in fitting the inserts she’d cut to stitch into the vintage bridal gown. There was a steady influx of customers from then on, and for the rest of the day Avery was kept so busy that Frances advised her to go straight home after her session with the bridesmaids.

‘No point in trekking back here afterwards. I’ll lock up.’

Avery thanked her and smiled encouragingly at her little team as she left. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll soon find other premises to rent.’

Avery’s session with six excited little girls and their harassed mothers took up so much time and energy that it was late by the time she left. Several times during the day she’d been on the point of ringing Jonas, but in the end decided to allow herself the satisfaction of confronting him in person. She arrived home to find Jonas there before her, standing tall in the arched porch like a sentry in a box.

‘Hello, Avery, you’re late,’ he said, moving swiftly to open the car door. ‘The table’s booked for eight.’

She got out, ignoring his helping hand. ‘Cancel it,’ she said tersely. ‘I’m not hungry.’

He stepped back, frowning. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I’ll tell you inside.’ She unlocked the door and punched in the code for the alarm. ‘In here, please.’

She ushered him into a dauntingly formal room, with pictures and furnishings dating from her grandparents’ day. The only modern features were two central heating radiators so rarely switched on that the temperature of the room was as arctic as Avery’s manner.

‘Do sit down,’ she said politely, but Jonas shook his head and drew himself to his full, formidable height, moving to one side to avoid the coloured glass chandelier Avery’s grandparents had brought back from a holiday in Venice.

‘I’ll stand.’

‘Then I’ll come straight to the point.’ Avery looked up at him coldly. ‘I gather that this “family firm” of yours has purchased the land which includes the shops on Stow Street.’

His mouth tightened. ‘So that’s it. Who the hell leaked that? It hasn’t been made public yet.’

‘I received a letter from Morrell Properties today, telling me my lease won’t be renewed, so I made a few enquiries.’ Her eyes speared his. ‘You’ve known about this all along. Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I fully intended to the minute planning permission was confirmed,’ he said curtly. ‘It didn’t come through officially until late this afternoon.’

‘Oh.’ Avery felt herself deflate like a pricked balloon. ‘I see.’

His eyes hardened. ‘I must have a word with George Morrell. I told him I wanted to inform all the leaseholders in person before they received an official letter.’

She smiled faintly. ‘None of the other leaseholders received a letter today. Only me.’

Jonas frowned. ‘You’re saying this is personal?’

‘You bet it is.’

‘Why?’

‘His son arranged the lease for me in the first place as a favour, even though Daddy disapproved.’ Avery’s chin lifted. ‘I’m considered ineligible as a friend for the Morrell son and heir. In fact, I’ve been expecting this kind of letter every time the lease comes up for renewal, so that part of it was no shock.’ She looked at him squarely. ‘But because I liked you I was angry—hurt, even—to find you’d kept me in the dark about the deal.’

‘Avery—’ His phone rang, and with a muttered curse Jonas answered it, his face grim as he rapped out questions to his caller. He snapped the phone shut, looking bleak. ‘Sorry, I have to go. There’s been an accident involving one of our vehicles.’

‘Was anyone hurt?’

‘Yes. I’ll drive straight to the hospital.’ He took an envelope from his pocket as they reached the outer door. ‘I intended to give you this as a parting gift at the end of a very different evening. Read it when I’m gone.’ He hesitated, and for a moment she thought—and hoped—that he would kiss her. But he merely looked at her for a moment, then turned away without touching her. ‘Goodbye, Avery.’

After her usual locking and bolting routine Avery stared in blank dismay as she read the letter which had been faxed through to Jonas after planning had been confirmed. Mercom, it seemed, had no intention of demolishing the shops in Stow Street. The leaseholders were being offered the option either to purchase, or to lease their premises from their new landlord. There were plans to build on the land behind them, but construction work would not affect trading. Traffic access to the building site would be via Cheap Street, to the north of the car park. Official confirmation would be forwarded to Miss Crawford in due course.

Avery stalked round the kitchen like an angry tigress, heaping curses on George Morrell’s head. His indecent hurry to terminate her lease had put paid to what might have developed into a beautiful friendship with Jonas Mercer. She gave a short, mirthless laugh. Who was she kidding? For the first time in years she would have liked more than that. But fat chance of friendship or anything else now Jonas had gone speeding back home to—to where, exactly? She looked at the letter-heading. Mercom was based in Kew, in London, but she had no idea of Jonas’s private address. A call to his cellphone was the only way to contact him, but she couldn’t see herself doing that any time soon.

‘No problem, everyone,’ Avery announced next morning. ‘I merely pay rent to a new landlord.’ She reported on her meeting with a Mercom representative, and it was only later, over lunch with Frances, that she revealed the identity of their new landlord.

‘I went straight for the jugular because he kept me in the dark about it,’ she said disconsolately, ‘and then he handed me this.’ She passed the Mercom letter to Frances, who smiled in relief as she finished reading it.

‘So we’re not out in the snow after all, boss dear! I trust you grovelled suitably to Mr Mercer afterwards?’

‘I didn’t get the chance. He had to rush off to cope with an emergency back at base.’ Avery heaved a sigh. ‘I doubt I’ll see him again.’

Embroidery was a pastime she normally found therapeutic, but that day it gave Avery far too much scope for brooding over Jonas. And to her frustration she soon realised that her work was unnecessary. Frances was so skilled a tailor that the inserts had no need of disguise, and after the first couple of hours Avery wished she’d kept her big mouth shut and never mentioned embroidery to the bride. A whole morning of working ivory silk flowers and leaves on ivory satin was as much as she could take, and at lunchtime Avery gave herself a break.

To Avery’s infinite gratitude she found that Louise and Helen had worked like beavers to finish an order for miles of curtain for a client’s barn conversion, and had already started cutting the shell-pink taffeta delivered that morning for the bridesmaids’ dresses. Frances was completing skilled alterations to a man’s suit, and Avery, glad of company while she worked, began on the repair of a black lace evening dress promised for the weekend.

Any hope of hearing personally from Jonas gradually faded as ten days passed, with only official communications from solicitors to Avery about the leasing of the Stow Road premises from Mercom. By the following weekend work was completed on the wedding set, including a last-minute alteration to the couture coat and dress bought by the bride’s mother, who had dropped a dress size since the purchase.

Avery received a very generous cheque when she made her delivery to the delighted recipients, accepted tea in preference to the offered champagne, then drove back to town to bank the cheque before transferring all outstanding work from the shop to Gresham Street for the weekend, as usual.

On Saturday evening Avery walked into town to join the others in the park for the usual Bonfire Night display of fireworks put on for charity, and later, after Louise and Helen had waved their husbands and children off, the four women made for a new wine bar the other side of town to enjoy a meal. Avery was buying, as thanks for the extra work put in to get the wedding order finished on time.

‘I’m surprised you had a Saturday evening free, Frances,’ teased Avery over the meal.

‘I told Philip he’d have to wait until tomorrow,’ said her friend, and smiled smugly. ‘He’s cooking Sunday lunch for me at his place.’