right, dear?’ her aunt asked mildly as she opened the door. ‘You look a little warm.’
Warm would be great. Just being over-warm would be heaven right now. ‘I did a silly thing,’ Cory said miserably as she stepped into the cool hall. ‘A very silly thing as it’s turned out.’
‘Really?’
She nodded.
‘Ooh, lovely,’ her aunt said happily. ‘I’m always doing silly things and it’s so reassuring when someone as together as you does too. The coffee pot’s on, come and tell me all about it.’
Rufus settled in his basket, gnawing frenziedly at an enormous hide bone, and with a mug of fragrant coffee and a plate of chocolate digestives in front of her Cory felt a little better as she related the events of the morning. There was something terribly homely and nice in sitting in her aunt’s farmhouse-type kitchen with a dog at their feet and bright sunlight picking the colour out of a bunch of marigolds in a vase on the windowsill.
When she’d finished explaining, her aunt was beaming. ‘But that’s wonderful,’ she said enthusiastically. ‘You’ll have a wonderful meal in the most wonderful place and this man sounds—’
‘Wonderful?’ Cory interrupted wryly. There had been a sight too many wonderfuls as far as she was concerned. She was terrified, and here was her aunt acting as though she had just won the lottery or something.
‘I was going to say very reasonable,’ her aunt said reproachfully. ‘He could have shouted or caused a fuss after all. Lots of people would have, and in this day and age of everyone suing everyone else at the drop of a hat…’ She sighed, wagging her head in despair at the current trend. ‘And all this Mr Morgan did was to ask you out to dinner at the most fabulous place. I mean, what’s the problem?’
Put like that there wasn’t one, but then her aunt hadn’t seen Nick Morgan. Cory swallowed hard. ‘I don’t have a thing to wear,’ she prevaricated, but even to her own ears it sounded weak. ‘Not something that carries a million dollar label anyway.’
‘Is that all?’ The complacency was now most certainly of the Cheshire cat variety as Joan’s smile widened. ‘Darling go and see a friend of mine, Chantal Lemoine of Mayfair. She’ll fix you up.’
This wasn’t comforting. Cory loved her aunt—since her parents had died within a year of each other when she had been at university, her aunt was the only close relative she had—but Joan had never married and had made her career her life before she’d retired early at the age of fifty after a heart attack scare. She’d had a high-powered position in the world of fashion and hadn’t thought anything of spending an exorbitant amount on a simple skirt or top. Since leaving university four years ago Cory, on the other hand, had felt drawn to work in the sector of social care, something which involved long hours, stress and a merely adequate salary. A salary which didn’t lend itself to designer establishments.
Whether her aunt sensed what she was thinking Cory wasn’t sure, but the next moment the older woman had picked up the telephone saying, ‘I’m ringing Chantal, all right? It’s your birthday in a few weeks’ time and I didn’t have a clue what to get you. This is the perfect answer. You go and choose something absolutely outrageously expensive. You’ve been an angel to me since my fall and I want to thank you.’
‘I couldn’t, Aunty.’ Cory’s cheeks were pink.
‘You could and will.’ And then Joan’s expression and voice changed as she said softly, putting her hand on Cory’s arm, ‘Please, darling. For me. You’re the daughter I never had and you never let me spoil you. Just this once indulge me, eh?’
Cory wriggled uncomfortably. It was true she looked on her aunt more as a mother than anything else. In spite of being an only child she hadn’t been close to either of her parents, who had been so wrapped up in each other they hadn’t needed anyone else, not even their daughter. It had been a lonely and not particularly happy childhood in many respects, and her Aunt Joan had often been an oasis in the desert. Whether because of her childhood or perhaps just the way she was made, she’d always been reserved and independent, preferring to help rather than be helped and to give rather than receive.
‘Hello, could I speak to Miss Lemoine, please?’ Her aunt had taken her hesitation as a yes. When Cory went to speak Joan waved her to silence with a raised hand. ‘Chantal? Darling, how are you? It’s Joan.’ A few seconds and then, ‘Yes, we must as soon as this wretched leg of mine is better. Perhaps lunch at Roberto’s? Look, the reason I’m calling is to ask a favour. I’m sending Cory to you—you remember she’s my niece? She has a very special occasion tonight—at Templegate. Yes, I know, it’s very exciting. The thing is, she needs something really gorgeous and I thought you might be able to help. Could you see to her personally? Advise her on what suits her best? I’d come myself but with this leg…Oh, you’re a sweetheart. Two o’clock will be fine. Thanks so much, darling. And put it on my account, would you, this is a little birthday treat. Bye-bye, Chantal.’
The receiver replaced, her aunt beamed at her. ‘That’s settled then. Sweetheart, you’re going to have a perfectly lovely time and you’ll look beautiful. Chantal will guarantee it.’
Cory smiled but said nothing. The day wasn’t going at all as she had planned.
CHAPTER TWO
IT WAS five to seven and Cory was panicking big time, not least because she barely recognized the girl staring back at her out of the mirror. When she’d left Chantal earlier that afternoon, the little Frenchwoman’s parting encouragement had been, ‘Chérie, make up your mind to enjoy a night on the tiles in haute couture style! Yes? You will look enchanting. As the late Gianni Versace once said: ‘‘If you make an entrance and nobody turns to look at you, my dear, find a back door and leave. And then find a new dress.’’ I promise you, chérie, you will not have to find the door,’ Chantal had said with great satisfaction. ‘Not in that dress.’
It was beautiful. Cory’s gaze left the frightened eyes in the mirror and travelled downwards. And in this case the clothes did definitely maketh the woman. The midnightblue silk just missed being black, the cap-sleeved bodice with flattering collar-bone-skimming neckline topping a skirt with the same leaf transparencies and beading, and, as if all that wasn’t enough to catch the eye, the skirt had vertiginous side slits. These had caused Cory to protest that she couldn’t possibly wear the dress out before she had tried it on, but once Chantal had zipped her up she’d had to admit that it did something to her figure and skin that was riveting.
‘This is the one,’ the little Frenchwoman had cried. ‘This is the dress that makes you a goddess.’
Goddess was going a bit far, Cory thought, her gaze returning to check her make-up for the umpteenth time. But the dress did do something for her that was amazing. She dreaded to think how much it had cost her aunt. None of the clothes in the exclusive shop had had anything so vulgar as a price label. Presumably if one couldn’t take the heat one stayed out of the kitchen!
When she’d made noises about the cost, Chantal had merely tapped the side of her small nose and shook her beautifully coiffured head in disapproval. ‘This is the gift, yes?’ she had scolded, making Cory feel terribly unsophisticated. ‘Your aunt will know and this is enough. Now…’ She had gone on to recommend another couple of establishments where Cory could purchase suitable accessories but, although she’d thanked the older woman, Cory had known she wouldn’t be stepping through their doors. Shoes and bags at several hundred pounds a go just wasn’t an option on her salary.
Instead
