according to the papers, he has bigger fish to fry,’ he added carelessly. ‘Some dress designer woman. There was a picture of them at some nightclub last night.’ Mark slid his arm round her shoulders. ‘Now, tell me everything Marchese said.’ He paused. ‘I don’t suppose he mentioned lending you the money.’
‘No, he didn’t,’ Sophie said. ‘And I could never ask him, Mark. Please believe that.’
‘All right.’ He gave a faint shrug. ‘We’ll play it the way you want it, darling. It seems to have worked pretty well up to now. What did you do? Appeal to his better nature?’
‘I don’t think he has one,’ Sophie said bitterly. ‘No, I—I reminded him that he’d been kind to me when I was a child—that’s all.’
He grinned. ‘Well, it was certainly enough.’
More than enough, Sophie thought bitterly. It disturbed her that Mark seemed to have failed to understand her feelings in all this. He regarded the events of the day as some kind of unqualified triumph, as if all their difficulties had been swept away in one fell swoop.
Sophie, however, was far from sure about this. She had no doubt that Angelo could persuade her stepfather to do almost anything he chose—if he wished, but he had made no actual guarantees.
She said slowly, ‘Mark, perhaps it would be safer not to hope for too much.’
‘Nonsense,’ Mark said briskly. ‘Can’t you see, darling, that just to meet someone of Angelo Marchese’s stature is the biggest break I’ve ever had. It’s the kind of chance I’ve dreamed of.’
Sophie gave him an uneasy glance. ‘Still, maybe it would be better not to say anything yet to Craig Jefferson.’
He shrugged. ‘Probably not.’ He smiled at her. ‘Who knows? If I play my cards right, maybe I won’t need Jeffersons any more anyway.’
Her alarm deepened. ‘What do you mean?’
He sighed. ‘Oh, come on, Sophie. If it comes to a choice between Jeffersons and—say—the Marchese bank, then it’s no contest. Even you must be able to see that.’
‘But there is no choice,’ Sophie protested, beginning to feel desperate. Mark seemed to be disappearing out of sight suddenly.
‘Not yet. But then I haven’t met your cousin.’ Mark said almost absently. ‘When and where is this meet to take place? Should I ring the bank? Make an appointment?’
Sophie sighed. ‘No—you’ll meet him at my parents’ anniversary party. And he’s not my cousin,’ she added sharply.
He gave her an indulgent smile. ‘Don’t quibble, sweetheart. And do cheer up. After all, this is exactly what we wanted.’
‘It’s what you wanted certainly,’ Sophie said coolly. She rose, smoothing a non-existent crease in her skirt with hands that shook a little. ‘I just hope we don’t live to regret it.’
She felt no happier on the night of the anniversary party itself. She’d been on edge all day, but trying to hide it as she helped Barbara and Mrs Curzon the housekeeper to complete the final touches.
She was dreading the moment when she would have to face Angelo again. The memory of that shameful kiss he had inflicted on her was still strong, and she was unable either to laugh it off as unimportant, or shrug it away as experience. In fact, she was in danger of becoming obsessive about it, she told herself. And the most galling reflection was that Angelo would undoubtedly be highly amused if he knew of her heartsearchings over such a triviality.
She was in her room when his car swept up the drive. She caught a glimpse of the chauffeur opening the back of the Rolls, and his dark figure emerging, before whisking herself away from the window. The last thing she wanted was for him to look up and catch her peeping at him like a schoolgirl.
She took all the time in the world to bathe and dress for the party, timing her descent to the drawing room to coincide with Mark’s arrival.
She took a long look in the mirror, and nodded with qualified approval. The new dress in white chiffon with its draped Grecian bodice and floating skirt was becoming, and she hoped her hair, piled into a carefully casual top-knot gave her some added sophistication.
Mark was standing before the appletree-log fire which had been kindled on the drawing room’s wide hearth. He looked unfamiliar in the formality of his dinner jacket, and endearingly apprehensive as he glanced towards the door. Sophie went into his arms like a homing bird, lifting her mouth for his kiss.
‘God, you look beautiful,’ he said huskily.
She smiled up at him. ‘We aim to please,’ she whispered teasingly.
He swallowed. ‘Is he here?’
She nodded. ‘He arrived about a couple of hours ago,’ she said neutrally.
‘Has he said anything?’
Sophie bit her lip. ‘I—er I haven’t seen him yet,’ she offered rather weakly. ‘I was upstairs when he arrived and …’
Mark groaned. ‘I suppose you’re avoiding him,’ he accused. ‘Sophie, for heaven’s sake. We need to be nice to the man, and that includes you.’
‘Fine,’ she said tautly. ‘Just how nice would you like me to be? I’m sure he’ll meet me more than halfway.’
‘Darling,’ he said patiently. ‘You’re very innocent in many ways. Are you sure you didn’t just—misinterpret an avuncular gesture?’
‘Perfectly,’ Sophie said. ‘Any uncle who behaved like that could end up in court.’
He gave her a coaxing smile. ‘My poor love, you sound as if you had quite a shock. But you’re quite safe. I’ll take care of you.’
It was what she wanted to hear, and as his arms closed round her again, she melted eagerly against him, closing her mind to everything but the realisation that this was Mark who she loved and who loved her …
From the doorway, Angelo said drily, ‘La disturbo? Am I disturbing you?’
Mark released her hurriedly, and Sophie stepped back, her face flaming, avoiding Angelo’s ironic gaze as he came slowly across the room towards them.
He said coolly, ‘Allow me to introduce myself. I am Angelo Marchese, and I think you must be the young man Sophie intends to marry.’
‘I’m Mark Langton, yes.’ While they shook hands, Sophie sought to recover her composure.
‘I must apologise for my thoughtless intrusion,’ Angelo was saying pleasantly. ‘But I did not expect to find the drawing room occupied. Sono molto dispiacente.’
Mark said eagerly, ‘It really doesn’t matter. After all, the main purpose of my being here is to meet you.’
Angelo’s eyes rested on his meditatively. ‘As you say,’ he agreed. ‘Perhaps we could further our acquaintance over a drink? Sophie—will you act as hostess for us. I’ll have whisky with ice if you please.’
‘And
