had encouraged her to apply for the job and had even told her about it. Judge Seaton and his wife were the only two real friends she had, Selina acknowledged as she made her way back to his house. Now semi-retired, he was collating his memoirs and Selina had been helping him. He and his wife had been married fifty years and still found pleasure in one another’s company. Tonight she was going out to dinner with them to celebrate the Judge’s birthday. She wasn’t particularly looking forward to it. Susan Seaton was a motherly woman who couldn’t understand why an attractive girl like her husband’s assistant should so consistently shun the male sex, and Selina had long ago lost the habit of confiding in anyone and was, therefore, unable to tell her.
The Seaton’s house was in a quiet Chelsea mews; elegant and comfortable; a true home Selina reflected as the housekeeper let her in.
‘Good, you’re just in time for lunch,’ her employer exclaimed when he saw her. ‘Come and tell us all about it.’
She did so with the quiet self-control that marked her behaviour. Susan Seaton smiled warmly at her, marvelling at her lack of excitement. At Selina’s age she had already been a mother, but she had never possessed this girl’s cool control. Sometimes it worried her. It was almost unnatural for a girl of her age to be so contained. She had rarely heard her laugh or seen her cry, and she had worked for her husband for three years, living almost as closely as a member of the family.
‘I never thought for a moment that Gerald would turn you down,’ the Judge told her. ‘He’ll make use of your mind,’ he warned her; ‘I know he’s talking about retirement, but he’s still a powerhouse of activity; he’s one of our foremost QCs, with young Piers looking likely to follow in his footsteps. Now there’s a man to reckon with; an excellent defence counsel, but positively lethal in prosecution. He seems to possess an intuition that leads him right to a person’s Achilles heel. He’s as close to Sir Gerald as a son—perhaps closer; in fact I’d say after his mother his uncle is the only other person he’s fond enough of to allow him to sway his judgment. Gerald stepped in and took over the role of surrogate father when his own died. His sister Dulcie was widowed very young. Piers will be taking over from his uncle when Gerald finally retires.’
‘Wait until you meet him,’ Susan Seaton enthused, her eyes sparkling. ‘He is quite devastatingly attractive.’
‘I met him today.’ Selina said it quietly, her head bent over her soup plate. Over her head the older couple exchanged glances.
‘You don’t sound very impressed. He’s a very able, almost an inspired barrister.’
‘He struck me as being rather conceited and sexually domineering,’ Selina said coolly, ‘but it hardly matters what I think. After all we’re not likely to come into much contact with one another.’
‘Don’t be so sure,’ the Judge cautioned her. ‘Gerald relies a good deal on Piers, and since he’s training him to take over from him, I suspect you might find you see quite a lot of him.’
The thought was extremely unpalatable. She had disliked the man on sight, Selina admitted; something about him was as abrasive to her personality as being rubbed with sandpaper; something over and above the fact that he belonged to a type of male animal she most disliked. There had been an instant awareness between them that she couldn’t deny, a look in his eyes that cautioned her to tread carefully, causing her to seethe with resentment that it should be so.
TO celebrate his birthday the Judge had booked a table at one of London’s more exclusive restaurants. Selina left her own small flat in plenty of time to reach the Seaton’s house at the appointed time. Her dress was a plain slip of cream silk she had bought in Brown’s sale. High-necked and long-sleeved, she considered it a suitable addition to her wardrobe, without realising that the silk moved with her as she walked, caressing her elegant body with a sensuality that very few men could remain unaware of. She simply saw it as the right sort of dress to wear out to dinner. She liked good clothes and wore them well; choosing them for elegance and wearability rather than sexual appeal, not knowing that the body they clothed was sexual enticement all by itself. Having taught herself to clamp down on any sexual urges she might feel almost from childhood, Selina was blind to them in others. If she ever happened to catch a man looking at her, studying her, she would look back in an icy disdain that normally made him retreat. The first attempt any male escort made to touch her was always the last. Sex was a weapon that could inflict terrible wounds on the innocent as well as the guilty and it was one she herself would never descend to using. She might be her mother’s daughter, but she would never be branded as she had been. She would succeed without using her body; without betraying her principles. She had to.
The restaurant was busy; a sea of unfamiliar faces; the table to which the Seatons and Selina were shown was slightly secluded from the others.
Susan Seaton ordered her food with relish. In many ways Selina almost envied Susan. She was a happy, contented woman who had devoted her life to her husband and family and who had been repaid in turn by their love and protection.
Beyond the tables and diners there was a small dance floor. Music was provided by an immaculately dinner-suited pianist.
‘My, it quite takes me back,’ Susan sighed nostalgically as they waited for their food. ‘Do you remember, Henry, when we used to go to the Savoy? You took me there for our first wedding anniversary.’
‘And you were sick,’ the Judge smiled.
‘And we both thought it must have been something I’d eaten, until we discovered that I was carrying John.’
The Seatons had three children and several grandchildren. At the weekend they would be driving down to their eldest daughter’s for a family celebration. Selina closed her mind against the thought of it. Family occasions were something that belonged to other people. They had no place in her life.
They were halfway through their meal when the Judge put down his knife and fork and said mildly, ‘Good heavens, talk about coincidences. There’s Piers Gresham.’
‘Where?’ His wife craned her head to look. ‘Who’s that with him?’ she asked. ‘Do you recognise her?’
The Judge shook his head. ‘I’ve no idea who she is.’
Selina glanced up from her food and glanced briefly at the other couple—Piers Gresham was seated several tables away facing her. All she could see of his female companion was her back view, but that was enough for Selina to grimace slightly. The other woman was wearing a dress that revealed most of her tanned back; a dark fall of hair brushing her neck. She was dressed in a way designed to catch a man’s eye, and as always Selina felt her muscles tighten at the sight of such open sexuality. It offended her and she shrank from it, unaware that her distaste was mirrored in her face or that she was being observed. Her reactions to other people’s sexuality always distressed Selina; she knew deep down inside herself they were a legacy from what she had endured as a child; from knowing that she was the fruit of a union that had been motivated on one side by sexual greed and on the other by social avarice but knowing the reason for her reactions did not help her to come to terms with them.
Piers Gresham had obviously seen them. When they had finished eating he came across to their table, urbane and charming as he chatted to the Judge and his wife, but his eyes were constantly assessing Selina, his scrutiny of her making her tense and uneasy.
‘You and Selina met this morning, I believe,’ the Judge said turning to draw her into the conversation. ‘Your uncle is gaining a very valuable aide in her.’
‘I’m sure he is. Perhaps you’d care to dance with me, Selina, and we
