Marriage In Mind

‘Still a fate worse than death?’ Greville enquired.

‘That makes two of us,’ she answered lightly. Greville, tall, good-looking, his fortieth birthday imminent, had been married once some years ago, but the marriage had ended in divorce, leaving her half cousin so badly scarred that he, like Astra, avoided entanglements like the plague.

Or so she had thought, and owned she was quite surprised when he seemed to hesitate, and then said, ‘Er…’

Astra knew him. She loved him. And suddenly she was remembering a remark her cousin Fennia had made shortly before her marriage to Jegar Urquart. It was something to the effect that Fennia thought that Greville was over his marriage break-up and all the pain that had gone with it.

‘What gives, Greville Alford?’ Astra probed gently.

‘You always were smart,’ he answered—and Astra waited. ‘Well, since you’re no longer working all hours…’ He broke off—and only then, what with Yancie suggesting she worked all hours, and Greville openly saying so, did Astra realise just how glued to the grindstone she had truly been. ‘The truth is, Astra, love,’ he went on, ‘your big cousin needs your support.’

‘You’ve got it!’ Astra told him unconditionally. Greville had always been more of a big brother to her than a cousin. She loved him dearly; all three cousins did.

‘The thing is, Astra—um—I’m in something of an emotional turmoil.’

His confession jolted her. ‘You?’ she questioned.

‘I know. Who’d have thought it?’

‘You’re—er—you’ve fallen for someone? I’m sorry,’ she apologised instantly. ‘I didn’t mean to pry.’ And, the practical side of her waking up, she rose over her shock that it looked as if her confirmed, ‘never again’ half cousin had fallen for someone and was ‘all over the place’ emotionally about it. ‘How can I help?’ she asked, ready, willing, eager to help him if she could. ‘What do you want me to do?’

‘Nothing too terrible,’ he replied, and explained, ‘I’ve been invited to this party and I happen to know that the someone I’m particularly—um—interested in will be there. And, daft though it may seem for a man of my age, I’m scared stiff I’ll frighten her off if I act too eager.’

‘You want me to come with you in order to keep you in check?’ Astra queried, only just managing to hide her surprise—her cousin had got it badly!

‘More to see that I don’t make too much of a fool of myself,’ he admitted, and Astra wanted to give him a hug.

He had asked for her support—she gave it unreservedly. ‘I’d love to come to a party with you,’ she answered cheerfully.

‘Wonderful!’ he cried, and sounded so like a young, enthusiastic boy that Astra had to smile. Her smile rapidly faded, though, when he went on, ‘We don’t want to get there too early—it’ll go on all hours anyway. I’ll pick you up at—say, eight-thirty—nineish, on Saturday.’

‘This Saturday?’ Astra queried, playing for time, her thoughts rapid. Yancie was relying on her to help keep the peace between a brace of warring mothers. Astra recalled her reply to Yancie: ‘Would I let you down?’. And truly she couldn’t let her down. But Greville had never let any of them down ever, and here was her chance to do something for him.

‘Is this Saturday a problem, Astra?’ Already Greville was starting to sound a touch disappointed.

‘Nothing we can’t solve between us,’ Astra answered brightly, going hurriedly on, ‘I’ve already arranged to have dinner on Saturday—with a friend. You said this party will go on all hours. Can you cope if I don’t actually come with you, but come on later?’

Clearly this party on Saturday was important to her half cousin. ‘Say where you’ll be and I’ll come and pick you up,’ he at once volunteered, so eager, it seemed, to have her there to support him that there was no way he wanted to withdraw his invitation.

But Astra knew in advance that if she told Yancie that Greville was calling for her, and so much as hinted at the emotional turmoil he was in, Yancie would want to do all she could to help Greville too, and would tell her to forget about dining with them. And knowing what a barbed tongue Aunt Ursula, Yancie’s mother, had when the mood was on her, Astra felt she must support Yancie too.

‘That would make it too complicated with cars,’ Astra smiled. ‘I’ll be driving myself to meet my friend,’ she added, and knew Greville had seen the sense of this when he told her the name of the party givers, and their address.

‘I’ll leave arriving as late as I can myself,’ Greville decided. ‘But if you can get there as soon as you can,’ he added, and rang off, and Astra started to realise just how seriously his emotions had been put in turmoil.

He was nervous, and jittery, and all too plainly all at sixes and sevens over this new woman in his life. And that could only mean that he had no idea how the lady felt about him. Otherwise, why would he need his half cousin along to support him? Poor darling Greville; never had she known him be anything but supremely confident. But he shouldn’t worry. To know Greville was to love him.

Saturday dragged around very slowly. She had thought a deal about Greville and also about Yancie and how she deserved her happiness. And then Astra thought of Sayre Baxendale—and found it extremely annoying that he should pop into her thoughts so constantly. The reason for that, though, was plain enough. It was because of him, and his interference, that she’d had to give up her job.

To be painfully honest, she admitted, the fault was hers. And, having inherited her father’s integrity, Astra felt relieved on the one hand that her oversight had come to light and that things had been put right for Mr Cummings. But that still didn’t make her feel any the warmer towards Baxendale. Had Mr Cummings or his daughter contacted her, and requested her to check the investment deal, then Astra knew she would have checked her work just as thoroughly—and would have just the same brought her mistake to Norman Davis’s attention. So there had been no need for Baxendale to poke his nose in. And anyway, she’d have thought he had better things to do. She was doubly glad she’d never have to see him again.

Dinner at Yancie and Thomson’s home went much better than Astra had expected. The two mothers had little to say to each other, which perhaps was just as well because Astra had been brought up knowing the cutting edge of her aunt Ursula’s tongue, and Thomson’s mother didn’t look as if she would take any prisoners. But it warmed Astra’s heart to see the way Thomson’s eyes followed Yancie when she crossed the room, the way his mouth curved when he heard her laugh. Purely and simply, he delighted in her.

At around ten-thirty Mrs Wakefield senior made noises about going to bed, and Astra said she must be off. ‘Can’t we persuade you to stay a little while longer?’ Thomson enquired charmingly.

But he accepted pleasantly when she said she’d had a lovely evening, but really felt she must go. She made her goodbyes, and both Thomson and Yancie came out to her car with her.

‘You’re all right, Astra? You’re not fretting about…’

‘Of course I’m all right,’ Astra laughed, and added, immediately on her cousin’s wavelength, ‘I’m having a wonderful rest while I decide what I’d like to do.’

‘I’m sure you won’t need my help,’ Thomson inserted, ‘but you’d be an asset to my company if you’re interested in career advancement with Addison Kirk,’ its chairman offered.

Yancie beamed, and Astra felt touched and, her cool and aloof image having no place in family, she kissed them both. She drove off, catching sight of them in her rear-view mirror, arms around each other, strolling back to the house. She drove to the party in the most contented frame of mind she had been in all week. It was not to last.

Astra found the house she was looking for without any trouble, and parked the Porsche in about the only place available. The house was large, the cars in the drive many. It was, she guessed, a big party. And well under way.

She rang the doorbell. A good-looking man opened the door. He was not her host, however, but someone merely passing when the bell had sounded.

He seemed much cheered to see her. ‘I was thinking of going home, but things are looking up,’ he leered. Spare me! Astra gave him a look that should have told him ‘Don’t let me stop you’ but he was not to be put off. ‘Leigh Jenkins,’ he introduced himself, his eyes making a meal of her trim shape in her black velvet trousers and black lace top.

‘Hello,’ she answered coolly, and walked past him to where, through wide open double doors, she could see the party was in full swing.

She stood just inside the entrance of the crowded room. But before she could do more than look to her left Greville was there. ‘I’ve been keeping an eye open for you,’ he beamed, and as always gave her a hug and a kiss.

Astra was still in his cousinly arms, in fact, when she had a strange sensation that someone was watching her. She looked to the right—and just couldn’t believe it! She was being watched! And her heart seemed to turn over. So much for thinking she would never see Baxendale again! There he was, tall, sardonic, those dark eyes inscrutable, looking unblinking at her.

She tilted her chin—and looked through him. He was close enough for her to see that he didn’t care very much for that. Good! She couldn’t have been more pleased, and pulled out of her cousin’s hug to smile up at him and ask, ‘How’s it going?’

He bent to whisper in her ear, ‘She’s here; I’ll introduce you.’

Over the next hour Greville introduced her to many people, though since he was being careful nothing should betray his most private of emotions at the end of that hour Astra had not the smallest notion as to which of the affable women he had introduced her to was the one.

Thankfully, he either did not know Sayre Baxendale or that man was not in the vicinity. But Greville did not get around to introducing Baxendale, anyhow. Though while she would have welcomed refusing to shake his hand had she had the chance she had no wish to embarrass her cousin. Greville and the family knew some of the details of the mistake she had made that had caused her to resign, but for reasons of confidentiality she had not mentioned any names.

Greville had no idea that she would rather spit in Sayre Baxendale’s eye than say ‘How d’you do’ nicely to him. Though that probably went for Baxendale, as well. He’d probably cut her dead regardless of embarrassing anyone, should Greville attempt any such introduction. She was definitely persona non grata.

That thought made her angry. Not that she wanted the scurvy knave to speak to her. But her mistake had been a genuine one, and once she had known of it she had swiftly taken steps to put it right. So why was she getting upset that Baxendale thought her more interested in her commission than in her client?

Ridiculous—she wasn’t upset, though she had to own that the party had started to pall. ‘Um, do you want me to stay to the end?’ she asked Greville.

‘Had enough?’

She felt mean. She was here to support Greville. What she wanted didn’t come into it. ‘Not at all,’ she smiled.

‘I’ll come too. We’ll just say goodbye to our hosts,’ he decided.

‘No, Greville!’ she protested. ‘We’ll stay and…’

‘We’ll go—and you’ve been a real pal.’

‘I’m dying to know which one?’ she stretched up to whisper in his ear.

He laughed delightedly. ‘You couldn’t tell? Didn’t see? Couldn’t guess?’

‘Not by word or look,’ she confirmed.

‘Whew! That’s a relief!’ Their heads were bent in close conversation. ‘I feel so—all melty inside whenever I look at her. I felt sure it would show.’

‘You must have learned to keep your expression deadpan in the boardroom.’ Astra might have added more, only just then she happened to glance across the room—and caught Sayre Baxendale’s dark-eyed, hostile gaze head-on.

Words died on her lips, but even as she adopted a cool pose and looked elsewhere she seemed powerless to be aware of anything but him. And then Greville was saying firmly, ‘Come on, sweetheart, let’s find our hosts.’

By the time they had thanked their hosts and said a few goodbyes they were leaving the room, and Astra was relegating to the bin any fanciful notion that Baxendale had a shred of power to make her aware of nothing but him.

‘I’ll see you to your car,’ Greville was just saying as they went to go through the double door, when some man Greville knew stopped him and seemed to want ‘just a moment’ of his time on a small matter of business.

A businesswoman herself, albeit just now an ex-businesswoman, Astra knew full well that a ‘moment’ could mean an age. She was quite capable of seeing herself to her car.

‘Be in touch,’ she said lightly, kissed her cousin’s cheek, and went out into the hall.

She didn’t make it to the outer door before she was pounced on by the man who had introduced himself as Leigh Jenkins. He was still only thinking of going home, then?

‘I didn’t get your name?’ He plonked himself straight in front of her, and looked as if he had no intention of moving until she supplied her name.

‘No, you didn’t,’ she answered, and went to go by round him.

He caught hold of her arm to stop her—she objected most strongly to being manhandled. She froze him with a look, and he had the grace to let go of her arm. ‘What’s a guy have to do to get a date with you?’ he asked peevishly.

Had he been other than the brash, pushy type, Astra might well have softened her refusal. But he was pushy, he was brash—and she hadn’t missed him ogling her several times that evening. Were it not for the fact that she and Greville had stayed comfortably close together, she had an idea he would have tried his luck earlier. So, ‘You don’t!’ she told him icily, and brushed past him to the outer door.

She didn’t immediately get to go through that door, however, because some other man had come out into the hall, and, by the look of things, had overheard every word of her conversation with Leigh Jenkins.

‘Now there’s a girl who lives up to her nickname,’ drawled a voice she was not a stranger to. And while she hesitated, her hand already down by the door handle, Sayre Baxendale strolled over to her, placing himself in between her and Leigh Jenkins.

She went to reach for the door handle, but, as Leigh Jenkins melted away, so, against all her instincts, she stayed where she was to face Sayre Baxendale. She’d be damned if she’d let him think that because of his low opinion of her she was running away.

‘I haven’t a nickname,’ she denied coldly. If he’d invented one for her—she didn’t want to know it.

‘That’s not what I heard,’ he mocked, his dark gaze flicking over her, taking in her cool, elegant deportment, her fine features and upswept red hair.

Astra was momentarily shaken. The only nickname she’d got—and since she’d left Yarroll Finance that would have left with her—was the one she’d been dubbed with while working there. But surely he couldn’t know…Yet—hadn’t she just been more than a touch frosty with Leigh Jenkins? Was that what Baxendale was referring to—North Pole Northcott?

‘Norman Davis wrote to you?’ She took a stab in the dark—surely to goodness her ex-boss wouldn’t have mentioned that nickname in any letter, even if he knew it, which she doubted. He was much more professional than that.

‘I don’t recall hearing from any Norman Davis,’ Sayre Baxendale replied. ‘Though I do believe I received a communication from a Maurice Robertson.’

Good grief! They didn’t come any higher up in Yarroll Finance than Maurice Robertson! In an instant Astra saw how it had been. Norman Davis had reported her oversight to his superior, mentioned the name Sayre Baxendale, as he naturally would, and so it had gone higher yet higher, until Maurice Robertson had heard of it.

‘I hardly think Mr Robertson would be so unprofessional as to bandy nicknames in any business letter thanking you for your interest,’ Astra tilted her chin to tell him haughtily.

Sayre Baxendale’s eyes narrowed for a brief moment, letting her know—as if she cared—that he wasn’t too enamoured by her uppity manner. Then that mocking look was back. ‘Neither did he,’ he drawled. ‘Apparently you were recommended to Ronald Cummings via Veronica Edwards, through a friend of hers who works for Yarroll Finance. The same friend passed on the good news to Veronica that North Pole Northcott no longer worked for the company. Tell me,’ he went on, retribution his in full for her daring to have come the high and mighty with him, ‘what are you doing now you’ve been dismissed for incompetence?’

Had he deliberately been trying to goad her, he did a splendid job. ‘You’ve been misinformed!’ Astra snapped, angry pink colour flushing her normally pale cheeks. ‘When I found some of the people I was called upon to deal with too obnoxious for words I resigned.’ Chew on that!

She had as good as called him obnoxious—it glanced off him. ‘You’re still in the same line of business?’ he enquired silkily. ‘You are working, I take it?’

Odious—obnoxious was too good for him! ‘I’ve had two good offers,’ she took great delight in being able to inform him. He wasn’t to know that both offers were in the family, so to speak, or that both offers of a job were for the one firm.

‘You’ve accepted neither?’ Dark, all-assessing eyes studied her. Why did she feel she’d love to poke him in the eye? She’d never had such tendencies before!

‘I’m being selective,’ she replied coolly, in control of her anger once more. Her control didn’t stay around for long.

How could it? He strained it to the limits when loftily he suggested, ‘You obviously earned enough commission in your last job not to need to take another job for a while.’

What was it about this man? Astra took a long, steadying breath. She’d be hanged if she’d tell him she had private means. ‘Obviously,’ she agreed, her temper straining at the leash. She opened the door—to the devil with him; she was going home.

Before she could so much as take a step outside, however, Baxendale was there again with his comments. Though she had to admit she was a touch baffled by his change of subject when he said, ‘You and Alford seem on very close terms?’

What on earth had her cousin Greville Alford got to do with any of this? Astra threw Baxendale a look of intense dislike. ‘We are,’ she replied coldly. ‘Very close.’ And, not giving him a chance to get another remark in, she went swiftly through the door and marched over the tarmac drive.

Honestly! That man! Never had any man upset her the way he so easily did. Insufferable swine! The next time Greville invited her to a party, she’d ask to see the guest list first. If Sayre Baxendale’s name were on it, Greville would be going on his own!

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