her inside, he leaned against the kitchen counter while she stripped off the cellophane and found a vase to arrange the roses in.
Slimly built and a couple of inches taller than herself, he was well-dressed and well-groomed, a personable young man with dark curly hair and more than his fair share of charm.
From a wealthy background and with a private income, he was, she supposed, quite a catch.
Watching her arrange the flowers, he queried, ‘Was it a successful trip?’
She shook her head. ‘Not very.’
‘I thought you seemed depressed. Oh, well, let’s forget our troubles and go and have a good time.’
Wondering what troubles he had in what she had hitherto regarded as a carefree life, she locked the door behind her and followed him up the basement steps to his red Porsche.
During an evening spent dancing and dining at the Caribbean Club, Bethany did her best to hide her misery and appear cheerful. But, despite all her efforts, Michael picked up her low spirits.
When they returned to their table after a slow foxtrot, he remarked sympathetically, ‘You really are down, aren’t you?’
Feeling guilty, she said, ‘I’m sorry if I’ve spoilt your evening.’
He shook his head. ‘Of course you haven’t spoilt it.’ Then, with a sigh, ‘I wasn’t exactly ecstatic to start with.’
‘You have a problem?’
‘Too true…I’m in a mess. I need a substantial sum of money and I need it fast.’
Catching her look of surprise, he said, ‘If you’re thinking of what I got for the bowl…I invested it in a new stage show that was looking for backers.
‘If it comes off, it should make everyone involved, me included, multi-millionaires.
‘But there’s still months to go before it’s due to open, and I learnt today that they’re running out of cash.’
He sounded so despondent that Bethany’s heart went out to him.
‘Can’t they find extra backers?’
‘They’ve tried, but once it gets around that a project is rocky, no one wants to take that risk. So one way or another, I’ve just got to come up with some more cash.’
‘What about your grandmother’s house?’
‘Unfortunately I can’t sell that.’
‘You’re fond of it because it was the family home?’
‘God, no! Now all the staff are gone, apart from a cleaning lady, it puts me in mind of a mausoleum. I was rattling round the blasted place like a grain of rice in an empty tin until my stepbrother suggested I could move in with him for a while…’
‘So you’re living with your stepbrother?’
Michael shook his head. ‘It didn’t work. All he wanted to do was keep an eye on me. He started to tick me off about the hours I kept, so I’m bunking with a mate of mine in a very small flat.’
Gloomily, he added, ‘I was hoping to rent a place of my own but my allowance won’t stretch to it.’
Then, with a sudden flare of temper, ‘I could afford to buy a flat and still have a tidy bit left if I was able to put the blasted house on the market.’
Seeing her puzzled frown, he went on, ‘But even when things are through probate, thanks to the terms of the will, I can’t sell it before I reach the age of twenty-five. That’s in two years’ time. Until then my stepbrother has control.’
‘Couldn’t your family help out in the meantime?’
‘He’s the only family l have left.’
‘What does he do?’
‘He’s an entrepreneur,’ Michael said sourly. ‘As well as owning JSM International, he has a finger in a great many different pies.’
‘So he’s a lot older than you?’
‘Only six years.’
Seeing her surprise, Michael explained. ‘He made his pile young by buying up failing businesses, putting them on their feet again and selling them at a hell of a profit.’
‘Well, surely he’d help if you asked him?’
Michael’s laugh was bitter. ‘You have to be joking! The last time I was forced to ask him for extra cash, he grudgingly paid off my debts. But when I asked him for a bigger allowance, he said it was high time I got a job.
‘I pointed out I hadn’t been trained for anything.’ Miael sighed and went on, ‘He offered me a position in his Los Angeles branch. I’m sure the climate would be great, but who in his right senses wants to be tied to an office five days out of seven?
‘My only hope is that amongst the rest of my grandmother’s antiques there’s something really valuable…I suppose you wouldn’t be prepared to take a quick look and advise me?’
‘Of course. When would you—?’
‘Tonight,’ he broke in eagerly. ‘We can call in there on the way back to your flat…’
Bethany’s heart sank. Tired and headachy, it was the last thing she wanted to do, but feeling she owed it to him, she agreed, ‘All right.’
Having signalled the waiter, he paid the bill, collected their coats and hurried her out to the waiting car.
In spite of the traffic, in a matter of minutes they were drawing up outside his grandmother’s elegant porticoed townhouse in Lanervic Square.
Michael let them in and, closing the door behind them, switched off the alarm.
As he led the way across the spacious hall to a vast and silent living room, Bethany began to realize why he had described the place as a mausoleum.
At first glance all the furniture appeared to be antique, and there were several glass-fronted display cabinets crowded with Chinese pottery and porcelain.
Staggered by the sheer amount of stuff, she stared at it in silence.
After a minute or so, Michael asked eagerly, ‘Do you think there’ll be something I can raise a good amount on?’
‘Almost certainly. How many pieces do you want to part with?’
‘One…Two, at the most. Otherwise it might be—’ He broke off abruptly.
‘Examining even a few pieces is going to take time and care,’ Bethany said, ‘so it would make more sense to come back tomorrow.’
He took her hand. ‘I’ve a much better idea…Why don’t you stay the night?’
Before she could
