eyes softened. ‘Enjoy yourself, Claire. Hannah has made some appointments for you over the next couple of days. She should be over within the hour.’
‘Hannah?’
‘My social secretary. You’ll like her. She’s a nice lady, and Claire—’ Dane shut the door and wandered deeper into the room ‘—don’t worry about the money, and don’t talk about paying me back,’ he warned. ‘You’re family, and it’s a treat.’
‘Treats are for children,’ she argued, scarlet-faced.
His eyes cooled. ‘Don’t make yourself a problem,’ he advised. ‘If I have to take you to Paris and marry you, you’re not going to be dressed like an Oxfam reject. Now that’s blunt. But that’s the way it is.’
Claire all but cringed in front of him. The aching grittiness of tears washed her hurt eyes. He was even ashamed to be seen in public with her, used as he was to beautiful, perfectly groomed women.
Firm fingers tipped up her chin. ‘Do you think I’m blaming you? Adam didn’t give you enough money to feed the household, never mind spend anything on yourself. And if you don’t have a clue how to make the best of yourself, that’s not your fault when you had no other females around to advise you,’ he stressed. ‘But on the other hand, what sort of pride is it that says you have to stay this way when you don’t need to any more?’
She tugged away from him, wishing the ground would open up and swallow her. She reminded herself stoically that Dane was doing her a favour he didn’t have to do in marrying her. Pride goeth before a fall, she intoned to herself.
‘I dare say you’re used to other sorts of women.’ It still slipped out.
He emitted a rueful laugh. ‘Don’t you want to be attractive? You could be, you know. Minus those ugly spectacles and that hideous screwed-up hairstyle, you’ve got definite possibilities.’
Her teeth set. ‘Am I supposed to say thank you?’
‘For God’s sake, Claire, do you think I care what you do?’ He back-tracked ungenerously as he strode back to the door. ‘Send Hannah away if you like. Sit here and feel sorry for yourself. But if you’re a woman you’ll forget that misplaced pride of yours and realise that this is a big opportunity.’
Dear God, what an arrogant, pitiless bastard Dane could be! Her fingers twisted together and then settled on the rear of the upholstered chair where her knuckles showed white. It was not within her power to tell Dane to go to hell. Dane being Dane, he might well do just that. ‘Max is quite happy with me as I am,’ she retorted.
Half-way out of the door he paused, a disturbing smile on his lips. ‘You might want something more than Max once you get some confidence,’ he ventured cynically before the door flipped shut.
So Dane was no more impressed by Max than her grandfather had been. Loyal fury filled Claire. Just because Max didn’t come from a monied background! She hadn’t bargained on the possibility of Dane’s interference. But what trouble could he cause? It was extremely foolish of her to let his comments get under her skin. Just why had she been so agonisingly hurt by his blunt appraisal of her physical lack of attraction? By his standards she was bound to be a Plain Jane, and his opinion shouldn’t matter to her. Surely she had more on her mind than her appearance?
In a few hours she would be with Max after all. Unfortunately he wasn’t on the phone, but it would be a lovely surprise for him, she reflected with greater cheer.
Hannah proved to be a tall, lanky woman with shrewd grey eyes. ‘If you’ll just collect your coat, Miss Fletcher, I’ll take you to the opticians.’
‘Claire, please,’ she corrected. ‘Where else has Dane planned for me to visit?’
Hannah smiled. If she was conscious of the edge in Claire’s voice she ignored it. ‘It’s a little late to go shopping, but I booked you into a beauty salon. That’s a tight enough schedule before dinner.’
‘Where does Dane live?’ she asked as Hannah ushered her into yet another chauffeur-driven car.
‘He has several residences. In London he uses the penthouse on top of the Visconti building. He has a country house in Kent too, but he rarely has time to spend there. There’s a flat in Paris, one in Rome and then there’s his father’s house on Long Island,’ she enumerated.
‘He must travel a lot,’ Claire remarked limply.
Hannah laughed. ‘Dane’s a workaholic when he’s involved in a new project like his current one on Jamaica. It’s a shame the press are still so all-fired keen to dub him with a playboy image. He left that life behind a long time ago.’
His world seemed so glamorous! It also seemed unreal to her and she was still childishly punch-drunk at stepping in and out of limousines as if there were taxis. ‘What sort of project is he involved in?’
‘Resort developments. Of course, Visconti Holdings is an umbrella for many other companies in a variety of lines. Dane’s a strong believer in diversification.’
Sun, sea and sand and beautiful, sophisticated ladies abounded at resorts. It figured. No backdrop fitted him better. It was hard to picture Dane behind a desk, slogging away at office work on a gloomy day. ‘I don’t know much about Dane’s life down here,’ she said frankly.
‘He seems very fond of you.’ Hannah was sizing her up openly. ‘Not very many can claim that distinction with Dane. He doesn’t give his trust easily. Then, too many people have tried to take him for a ride because he’s such a wealthy man. Still, nobody’s succeeded in my time,’ she asserted with definable pride.
Dane fond of her? With the same casual fondness one gave a pet dog … possibly. In three long years she had only received Christmas cards from Dane and of course presents in the form of cheques that had left her feeling rather uncomfortable. However, he had known what her life was like at Ranbury and she had had much more pleasure out of a few pounds that she could spend on the small necessities of life. Dane gave very easily. She suspected it had salved his conscience about never even lifting the phone to ask how she was. And why should he do that? She hadn’t been a child any more when he had stopped visiting.
The optician recommended contact lenses, and from there Hannah swept her off to an elegant beauty salon. ‘Enjoy yourself,’ she urged. ‘And Dane suggested I book you in for a make-up tuition. Don’t forget to pick up a full range of their cosmetics … I think this is a marvellous wedding present, don’t you?’
‘W … Wedding present?’ More cowed than enthusiastic, Claire dragged her wide eyes back from the unbelievably svelte beauty who appeared to be a mere receptionist.
‘Shouldn’t I have mentioned it? Is it a secret?’ Hannah looked very apologetic. ‘Dane let drop that you were getting married.’
‘Yes.’ Claire reddened. ‘It’s all a wedding present.’
Before anything more could be said, she was carried off to the wash-basins, her spectacles banished to her handbag. The maestro who embarked on her long, red-gold hair made faces of disapproval, lifting up strands here and there that she had chopped personally. In all, he generally exasperated her. ‘I only want it trimmed,’ she said loftily.
‘I do not trim, I style,’ he retaliated, and someone giggled nearby. Mortified, she shut up and watched
