‘Darling!’
The voice came from above, drifting down to them huskily, and both Adam and the housekeeper looked up to see Loren Griffiths poised at the head of the flight of stairs which led down into the hall. Dressed in a clinging gown of some dusky pink material that clung to her small, supple form, her blonde hair swinging silkily to her shoulders, she was quite startlingly beautiful, and Adam thrust his hands patiently into his trousers pockets, quite aware that Loren was about to make an entrance. She came down the stairs with her usual elegance, but there was a certain eagerness in her step which quickened as she neared him and presently she was sliding both her arms possessively about one of his.
‘Darling,’ she said again, ‘you know perfectly well I hate these conferences, but they’re a necessary evil, I’m afraid!’
Adam half smiled. ‘You know you revel in every minute of it,’ he contradicted her gently. ‘What’s happened? Where are your avid critics?’
Loren raised her dark eyebrows. ‘If you meanthe press, and I presume you do when you speak in that sarcastic tone, they’re all having drinks with Terry.’
Terry Edwards was her agent, and Adam suppressed the ready comment he could have made. He and Edwards just didn’t get on, and it was no secret.
‘I see,’ he said, instead. ‘I was just remarking to Alice that I had forgotten you would be busy this afternoon. However, if you’re through…’
‘I am. But, darling, I thought it was your baby clinic this afternoon, or something.’ She wrinkled her nose delicately, and Alice chose this moment to say:
‘Shall I bring you something to the small sitting-room, Miss Griffiths?’
‘Just tea, please, Alice,’ said Adam before Loren could reply, and Alice nodded agreeably and disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.
Loren sighed rather petulantly and then said: ‘Really, Adam, you might consult me before issuing Alice with your orders!’
Adam smiled. ‘Don’t fuss. Come into the sitting-room. I want to talk to you.’
‘Only talk? You disappoint me,’ returned Loren dryly, but she preceded him obediently across the hall and into the small sitting-room which was the least opulently furnished room in the house. Even so, its tapestry-clad walls and Regency-striped couches set on soft Aubusson carpeting were a little stifling for Adam’s taste, but he usually managed to hide his feelings admirably.
Now Loren waited until he had closed the door before twining her arms round his neck and parting his lips with her own, pressing her lissom body close against him, demanding a response. Adam held her closely for a moment, returning her kiss warmly, and then he gently but firmly put her away from him. When she would have protested and slid back into his arms, his grip on her arms tightened perceptibly, and she pouted impatiently.
‘Adam,’ she said reproachfully, ‘I thought you’d come here to see me.’
Adam sighed. ‘So I did, Loren. But not for the reasons you imagine. I have other things on my mind right now.’
Loren pulled out of his grasp. ‘Oh, have you?’
‘I’m afraid so.’ Adam raked a hand through his thick dark hair which persisted in falling across his forehead. ‘I’m sorry, Loren, but I’m not in the mood to play games!’
Loren compressed her lips. ‘You’re a cool devil, Adam,’ she exclaimed angrily. ‘You come here unexpected and unannounced, and then when I try to show you how pleased I am to see you, you treat it all like child’s play!’ She tossed her head. ‘I don’t know why I put up with it!’
Adam’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why do you?’ His tone was hard.
Loren looked at him impatiently, and then she gave a helpless gesture of submission. ‘Oh, Adam, don’t let’s quarrel! You know I don’t mean half of what I say. It’s just that I get so—so jealous—of your time—of everything.’
Adam’s face softened. ‘All right, Loren, we won’t quarrel. I just don’t know how to put what I have to say.’
Loren went and sat on a couch and patted the seat beside her invitingly, but Adam shook his head and paced rather restlessly about the room until Alice appeared with a tray of tea and some hot buttered scones which she placed on a low table in front of Loren. She smiled rather understandingly at him before leaving, and after she had gone, Loren picked up the teapot rather carelessly and began to pour some tea into the wafer-thin cups.
‘What is it about you that makes women feel so protective towards you?’ she asked tersely. ‘Honestly, Alice treats you like a long-lost son, and although she knows I hate tea she persists in making it because you’re here!’ She made a moue with her lips. ‘You don’t look in need of protection to me!’
Adam smiled and came to take the cup she held out for him. ‘Don’t be bitter!’ he commented mockingly, and she lifted her shoulders with some annoyance before squeezing lemon into her own tea and grimacing as she raised the cup to her lips.
‘Well, anyway,’ she went on, after taking several sips of the liquid, ‘why are you here? I’m sure you said it was your baby clinic this afternoon.’
‘It was.’ Adam bent and put one of the tiny scones into his mouth. ‘But Hadley is taking it for me.’
‘But why? You know we had a date for dinner after the play this evening. Can’t you make that?’ There was a taut resigned expression marring her perfect features now.
Adam shrugged. ‘Emergencies aside, I can’t see why not,’ he replied smoothly. ‘But what I have to tell you seemed better said when you’re fresh, and not when you’re tired after the play, as you invariably are.’
Loren frowned. ‘You make me sound like a creaking Madonna!’ she exclaimed. ‘I’m never too tired for you.’
He inclined his head slowly. ‘All right, perhaps I used the wrong expression. In any event, I wanted to talk to you now, while we’re alone, and not in some crowded restaurant.’
‘Well, do go on. I’m avid to hear what it is.’
Adam sighed, and replaced his tea cup on its saucer. ‘Well,’ he began carefully, ‘my mother has written to ask me to look after Maria for six months.’
There was silence for a long moment, and then Loren said, slowly: ‘Who is Maria?’
Adam shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘My stepsister. I’ve mentioned her.’
Loren’s nostrils flared slightly. ‘Your stepsister,’ she repeated tautly.
‘Yes.’
Loren rose to her feet, reaching for a cigarette from the box on the table and accepting the light Adam offered. Inhaling deeply, she looked intently at him. ‘Perhaps I’m slightly dense, Adam, but why have you to look after your stepsister for six months? I thought you told me she was practically grown-up?’
‘She is. At least, she must be. It’s five years since I last saw her. She was twelve or thirteen then, I’m not certain which.’
Loren
