A High Price to Pay (5 page)

Alison got to her feet. 'I wouldn't have any more Scotch,' she said

sarcastically. 'You're obviously not well.'

He gave a short derisive laugh. 'In other words, I'm either drunk, or

out of my mind! I'm neither, I assure you. I've thought it all out very

carefully, and it seems to me to be an ideal solution to a number of

mutual problems.'

'I think a good domestic staff agency would be an even better

solution, and cheaper in the long run.' She began to move towards the

door, but he came after her and took hold of her arm, halting her.

She-tried angrily to shake herself free. 'Let go of me!'

'When you've heard me out,' he said inexorably. 'Sit down, Alison.'

'There's no point in my listening to any more of this. I have no

intention of becoming your servant!' She stared at him in hostility and

defiance.

'I'm not asking you to be a servant,' he said. 'Actually, I'm asking you

to become my wife.'

There was a long pause, then Alison said shakily, 'You really must

be—insane.'

'On the contrary, I'm perfectly sober, and in my right mind.' He

pushed her back on to the sofa. 'Will you just listen for two minutes? I

want this house to be run with the kind of calm efficiency I've noticed

on each of my visits, and in spite of the fact you look about sixteen

years old, I now know this is all your doing. But it doesn't stop there.

I also need a hostess—someone used to entertaining—someone to

accompany me in public when necessary. In other words, I want a

wife.'

'Then I'm sure there's a whole queue of willing ladies only too happy

to accommodate you,' she said stonily. 'Why pick on me?'

'If I wanted romance—passion—all the usual ingredients, why

indeed?' His voice was ironic. 'But I don't. I want the practical

advantages of marriage without the emotional involvement. And if

you agreed to marry me, that's the kind of arrangement it would be.'

His brows rose at the sound of her little indrawn breath. 'Or did you

by some chance think I might have fallen madly in love with you?'

'No,' she said tautly, 'I didn't.'

'Then we've achieved one level of understanding at least,' he observed

sardonically. 'Think about it, Alison. Your old home, and comfort and

security for your family, in return for continuing to run this house,

and acting the part of the dutiful wife in public.'

'I think marriage to you is a high price to pay, even for total security,'

she said quietly.

'But as I've tried to make clear, it wouldn't be a marriage in any real

sense,' he pointed out impatiently.

'I understand that.' Alison shook her head, aware of a growing feeling

of unreality. 'But would you really be content with such a

cold-blooded arrangement for the rest of your life?'

'If I thought for one minute I was capable of finding the kind of

genuine happiness my parents enjoyed, then probably not.' Nick

Bristow gave a faint shrug. 'But that isn't going to happen. And I'm

certainly not interested in saddling myself with declarations of

undying love, and the inevitable tantrums when the thing comes

unstuck. I know damned well what an ephemeral thing eternal

passion is, at least where women are concerned.'

'Are men any different?' Alison asked steadily. 'Perhaps you've just

been unfortunate.'

'Maybe.' He shrugged again. 'I'm in no real position to judge, but

among my own friends I've seen any number totally committed to

their marriages, and unable to see that their devoted wives are already

looking over their shoulders, waiting for the next well-heeled idiot to

come along so they can play change partners.' His mouth curled

slightly. 'That isn't what I want. And I can't see why you and I

shouldn't reach some kind of bargain which would satisfy us both.' He

paused, the blue eyes measuring her. 'As an extra incentive,' he said, 'I

know of someone who might be interested in buying your father's

works as a going concern, instead of letting it fall into the hands of the

receiver.'

'How wonderful to be able to exert such influence,' she said quietly. 'I

only wish my future wasn't going to be part of all this wheeling and

dealing. It tends to have an unsettling effect.'

The dark face held impatience. 'What reassurance can I offer? If you

want a written contract, then I'll have one drawn up. You can impose

whatever safeguards seem good to you. A mutual guarantee, if you

like, that we won't interfere in each other's lives.'

'In other words, I'm not to enquire too closely into where you go, or

what company you keep,' Alison said scornfully. 'I find that a

revolting idea!'

'I can't see why any extra-mural activities of mine should affect you at

all,' he said cynically. He paused. 'Unless, of course, it's you that has

fallen madly in love with me.'

'Nothing,' she assured him, 'could be further from the truth.'

'That's what I thought,' he said drily. 'So why introduce emotional

hassle into what is purely a business arrangement? If I were offering

you any other kind of job, you wouldn't be probing into my moral

rectitude.'

There was a kind of brutal truth in that, she was forced to admit.

'At the risk of probing further,' she said, after a brief hesitation, 'I

thought there was a lady in your life already—someone you planned

to marry, when it was convenient…'

'You mean when her divorce became final?' He studied Alison's

responding flush with open mockery. 'I'm afraid you're under a

misapprehension, my dear. And so is the lady, as I've had to make

clear to her. She'll be far better off staying with her husband. He may

be dull, but he stands to inherit a baronetcy.'

Alison's eyes widened indignantly. 'Isn't that rather callous?'

'It might be,' he agreed, 'if I'd helped to put her marriage on the rocks

on the first place. As it happens, I didn't. Nor do I appreciate her

throwing my name to any tame gossip columnist she had hanging

round.' The firm mouth hardened into implacability, and in spite of

herself, Alison shivered. 'I have no intention of being dragged into the

Monclairs' current bout of mud-slinging, and finding myself an

alternative bride without delay will help to snuff out any further

speculation in that quarter.' He smiled faintly. 'As you see, the favours

work both ways.'

Alison ran the tip of her tongue around her drying lips, if you want

simply to be engaged—on a temporary basis—then maybe…'

'I don't,' he interrupted. 'I've told you my terms. I want a real

engagement, to be followed in due course by a conventional

wedding—although I suppose I'll have to spare you the white lace

and orange blossom,' he added, his eyes flicking over her

dismissively.

'Thank you,' she said grittily. 'But I don't need to be reminded that I

fall far short of the usual image of the radiant bride.'

'Perhaps,' he agreed, without a single sign of repentance. 'But it wasn't

any possible shortcomings of yours I was considering, but the fact

that you're still mourning your father. I think, in the circumstances,

we could be forgiven for a small quiet wedding.'

It was all moving too far too fast, and she held up a hand. 'I—I can't

answer you now. I must have time to think.'

'As you wish.' He paused. 'But without wishing to exert undue

pressure, I'd be glad to have an answer by the end of the week at the

latest.' He produced a card from a wallet, and handed it to her. 'My

business and private numbers,' he said. 'I'll be waiting for your call.'

She couldn't think of anything to say in reply to this, at last managing

a feeble 'Goodbye' as he walked towards the door.

'Let's make it
au revoir,
shall we?' She thought she could hear faint

amusement in his voice. 'Because I'll be back.'

She was still trying to work out whether that was a promise or a threat

when she heard the distant thud of the front door closing.

And, suddenly and uncontrollably, she began to tremble.

IT was a very long evening. Alison made herself have a meal,

although she could not afterwards have stated with any accuracy just

what she had eaten. All she could think of was Nicholas Bristow, and

the amazing—the incredible offer he had made her.

At first, she told herself that it was all some weird dream from which,

at any moment, she would awaken.

But the card with his telephone numbers printed on it was no figment

of her imagination, even though she couldn't envisage herself ever

dialling either of them.

She tried to look at his proposition in the same dispassionate way as

he had made it, but it was impossible. Even if, as he'd promised, all

they were to share was a roof and a name, the prospect was still a

disturbing one, fraught with obvious pitfalls.

On the other hand, the chance of being able to achieve some kind of

security for Mel and her mother was a tantalising one, which was

why, she thought wryly, he had mentioned that aspect first. He knew

her priorities, as well as he apparently knew., his own.

Yet that didn't mean she was prepared to sell herself—for Ladymead,

and the place in the sun it represented, she thought, staring sightlessly

into the fire. Yet now it was back within her grasp, could" she bear to

let it go?

She moved restlessly. It was the sheer impersonality of the offer that

chilled her, she had to admit, as she recalled the cool indifference of

the blue eyes as they had glanced at her. Not that she wanted him to

fancy her, she made haste to remind herself. But at the same time, it

was hurtful to recognise the image he had of her as some boring,

submissive, domesticated doormat. A born spinster, she thought

savagely, only too eager to grab at any matrimonial opportunity to

come her way, however unlikely or unrewarding.

Well, what a shock he'd get when she turned him down!

'I'm off now, miss.' Mrs Horner popped her head round the door. 'And

madam's awake, and asking for you.'

'I'll go up right away.' Alison stirred guiltily. 'Did she have any

dinner?'

'Cook did her a nice piece of steamed fish, and a little egg custard.

She managed most of it,' Mrs Horner assured her. 'Good night, Miss

Alison.'

Mrs Mortimer was propped up by pillows, her face set in lines of

strain.

'That man was here,' she greeted Alison, as her daughter came

through the door. 'What did he want?'

'Just to talk.' Alison sat down on the edge of the bed and took her

mother's hand. 'How are you this evening? You were asleep when I

peeped in earlier.'

Mrs Mortimer dismissed this with an irritated shake of her head.

'What does he have to talk to us about?' she demanded agitatedly.

'God knows we're at his mercy. I suppose he wants us to leave here.

Well, I'll die first!' She began to cry again. 'This is my home, and it's

too cruel for him to turn me out like this. Too cruel!' She began to

thrash round on her pillows, making little moaning noises.

'Darling, don't,' Alison said gently. 'He didn't come here for that at all.

In fact . ..' She stopped.

'What?' Her mother's fingers tightened almost convulsively round

hers, hurting her. 'What did he want, Alison? Has he changed his

mind about living here, after all? Is he going to leave us in peace?'

Alison shook her head reluctantly. 'He can't do that.' She paused.

'Mummy, Simon told me about this cottage today. It's at High Foxton,

so you could still stay in touch with all your friends. It sounds really

quite nice, and we could just about afford it. Would you like to see it?'

'No!' Mrs Mortimer's eyes were alarmingly wild and bright suddenly.

'I'll never leave here—never! This is my home, not some squalid

cottage. We must buy Ladymead back. Your Uncle Hugh might have

the money. We must ask him to help us.'

'Darling, you can't,' Alison said firmly. 'Uncle Hugh has

responsibilities of his own, and I shouldn't think he could lay his

hands on even half the amount Nicholas Bristow would want. Even if

he'd sell—which I doubt.'

'I thought perhaps that was why he'd come here. To offer to sell the

place back to us.' The look of hope in her mother's eyes was almost

more than Alison could bear.

'No,' she said with a sigh, 'It—it wasn't that. He came to offer us—a

share in it, I suppose. On certain- conditions.'

'A share?' A share in Ladymead?' Mrs Mortimer drew a long

quivering breath. 'In our own home?'

Alison sighed silently. 'But it isn't ours any longer,,' she said

patiently. 'You have to come to terms with the fact that it belongs to