Fascination (2 page)

Ellie sighed. If only Hydee would forget Noel, would shake off this aversion to men which stemmed from the fear of being jilted a second time, then she would very soon find someone to love her.

Chapter Two

As Hydee had said, she spent her holiday in looking around for the type of job on which she had set her heart. The various organisations she contacted were of little or no help; the advertisement she inserted in the newspaper did not bring the results which she had optimistically expected. She scanned the local papers and the nationals, and now, with only two days of her holiday left, she opened the
Times
with a dejected sigh, convinced there would be nothing to interest her.

But she was mistaken, and her eyes kindled with eagerness as she read the rather stiff and formal advertisement which must have been inserted at great cost, being a ‘window’ measuring three inches square.

‘You’ve found something?’ Ellie, who had been off work with a severe cold, was sitting by the fire, a book on her lap. ‘If your expression’s anything to go by, then you’ve seen something promising at last.’

Hydee nodded quickly and passed the newspaper to her friend, watching Ellie’s expression change as she read and reread the ad, silently at first and then aloud.

‘“Refined and cultured English lady required to take full charge of two children, a boy of seven and a girl of five. Must be prepared to live abroad. Reply by letter to: The Marquês Carlos de Alva Manrique, c/o the Dorchester Hotel, London.”’ Ellie had read the advertisement slowly, saying the words with a sort of awed disbelief. ‘Good heavens, Hydee,’ she exclaimed in a more normal voice, ‘you can’t be thinking of answering an ad like that!’

‘Why not? It sounds as if it might be just what I want. A home’s being offered, which will suit me very well, and I must say that the idea of living abroad appeals to me.’ She paused, her eyes more keenly bright than Ellie had ever seen them. ‘You and Ray could come for your holidays.’

‘Where to?’ inquired her friend in a rather dry voice.

‘Spain of course. The advertiser’s Spanish, so it’s reasonable to conclude that he lives in Spain.’

‘He could be Portuguese,’ Ellie pointed out. ‘Would you like to live in Portugal?’

Hydee paused, eyes flickering. ‘I think so. I’ve heard that it’s a beautiful country.’

‘So have I. However, I wouldn’t bother about this advertisement if I were you. The man’s name’s enough to put one off. Marquês Carlos de Alva Manrique! Heavens, Hydee, you couldn’t possibly get your tongue around all that every time you spoke to him!’

Hydee laughed. ‘If he’s Spanish, then he’ll be called Don Carlos, and if he’s Portuguese his title will be Dom.’

Ellie looked at her. ‘Well, there’s no doubt that you’re eager, and as there’s nothing to lose by answering the ad, go ahead.’

Hydee needed no encouragement; the letter was sent off that very morning. The reply came four days later, and the following Saturday afternoon Hydee was in the Dorchester Hotel, being shown up to the Crimson Suite which was occupied by the gentleman with the illustrious name, a tall, wide-shouldered man with a slender frame and all the marks of the aristocrat both in his finely chiselled face and in his regal bearing. He had already risen before she entered the sumptuous sitting room, and for a moment he stared at her; his penetrating eyes, dark as lignite but hard as steel, took in, in one swift appraisal, the whole of Hydee’s appearance. She coloured, stirring uncomfortably. The marquês spoke at last in a low, cultured voice carrying a hint of accent which without doubt added to its attraction. Hydee felt small and insignificant and wondered what she was doing here at all, in this man’s luxurious suite, waiting to see how she was to be treated.

‘Please have a chair, Miss Merrill.’ An immaculately kept hand, deceptively slender, motioned Hydee to a chair. ‘And now,’ he said when she was seated, ‘perhaps you will tell me something about yourself.’

She looked questioningly at him, surprised that the interview should begin like this.

‘What is it you want to know, sir?’ There was a slight hesitation before the last word, because she was in doubt as to how she should address him. So proud he looked, with that aristocratic bearing and the self-confidence which comes naturally to those with a noble lineage.

‘Perhaps,’ he began formally, ‘I should first instruct you as to the form of address I prefer. You are probably aware that in Portugal “Dom” is a title often used, along with the Christian name, for a Portuguese count, viscount, or marquis. You may address me as Dom Carlos or, more simply, as senhor.’

Hydee nodded her head. ‘I understand,’ she said.

The marquês sat down on a satin-covered sofa opposite her chair. ‘And now,’ he said again, ‘you can tell me about yourself. You have obviously had experience with children. You took a course in child care, I suppose?’

Disconcerted, she gave a small start. ‘No, I haven’t, senhor,’ she confessed, at which his eyes opened wide.

‘What experience have you had, then?’

She bit her lip. What an idiot she had been to apply for the post when she had no experience to offer! She had blithely thought that her intense love of children would suffice. She still believed it would—but she could hardly expect the marquês to feel the same way about it.

‘I have no experience whatsoever,’ she admitted, her lovely eyes meeting his in a frank and honest stare.

For a moment there was silence in the room, 20 Hydee waiting dejectedly for the words of dismissal which she knew must come. But to her surprise the marquês said kindly, ‘Why, Miss Merrill, have you applied for the post?’

With the same honest and unflinching stare, Hydee gave him her answer. ‘I love children, sir—Dom Carlos—and I want to work with them. I did say in my letter that at present I’m working in an office; but for some time now I have been considering working with children.’ Her voice, low-toned and musical, was as arresting as her words, and she saw that the marquês’s interest was caught.

‘True, you did say in your letter that you were working in an office, but I took it for granted that you’d had at least some experience with children. However, experience, though often desirable, is not always essential, especially in a post of this kind….’ He allowed his voice to trail off obscurely, just as if, thought Hydee, there was something not quite orthodox about the post he was offering. ‘Senhorita, do you sincerely love children?’

‘Yes,’ she answered simply, ‘I do, and that’s the reason why I want to work with them.’ She paused a moment, then said, ‘If you would give me a trial, senhor, I am sure you would be more than satisfied with me.’ The low tones had taken on a note of unconscious pleading and the large brown eyes had a limpid quality that seemed to tell the man watching her that tears of sadness often lingered within their depths.

‘Are your children here with you?’ ventured Hydee when he remained silent. ‘If… if they and I could meet…?’ She stopped as he shook his head.

‘I omitted to mention in my letter that my son and daughter are at present staying in Surrey with a friend of my late wife….’ Again his voice trailed off, and this time the fine mouth went tight, the noble jaw flexed. With her quick intelligence, Hydee immediately sensed anger and contempt mingling to form the harsh expression which now marred the good looks which had been the first thing to strike her about the marquês. ‘The confinement of a hotel is not good for boisterous children like mine,’ he added, and now a smile appeared, erasing the displeasure of a moment earlier.

‘They’re boisterous?’ Hydee’s voice held surprise. ‘I wouldn’t have expected them…’ She broke off, colouring at the thought of what she had been about to say. The marquês finished the sentence for her, saying that she would not have expected the children of a Portuguese nobleman to be boisterous but, rather, to have their high spirits suppressed by dignity.

‘My children, senhorita,’ he continued, his face unsmiling but amusement clearly portrayed in his voice, ‘are in no way inhibited by convention. For the past two years they have known what freedom is.’ He paused, deep in thought. What about the past? wondered Hydee. The past
beyond
two years ago. She knew instinctively that his wife had been dead for two years; she also felt fairly sure that up till then the children had been far more restricted than they were now. She continued to watch the marquês’s thoughtful face. He seemed almost to have forgotten about the interview he was conducting and, after several more silent moments, she gave a little cough which immediately brought him back. He put more questions to her, learning that she had no parents—no relations whatsoever—that she was sharing a flat with a friend who would shortly be leaving to get married. He probably learned as much from what was left unsaid, thought Hydee, noting his expression as it changed from time to time.

‘So you’re totally alone in the world?’ The dark eyes were fixed intently upon her; she turned her head a little, disconcerted by his stare. ‘When this friend leaves you, you’ll have no one at all?’

She shook her head, unhappily aware that he must be wondering why she had no other friends, and perhaps he was concluding that the fault lay in some aspect of her personality. Like any other person, Hydee hated anyone to think that she was disliked and, accordingly, words rose to her lips that would otherwise never have been voiced. ‘My lack of friends, senhor, is a product of my own desire. I prefer solitude.’

‘You prefer solitude?’ The marquês raised his eyebrows. ‘You’ll not find much solitude in looking after children.’

‘No….’ She knew she had made a mistake, but there was little she could do about it. ‘Children are different,’ she murmured, convinced that the interview was not going in her favour.

To her surprise, he bypassed this remark, asking her more about herself and her late parents. After three or four minutes he said, ‘Miss Merrill, I’m impressed by all you have told me, and the next thing is for you to meet my children. Can you get time off from work?’

‘Yes, if it’s necessary. I haven’t told my employer that I’m looking for another post, but I’m sure he’ll understand when I do tell him, and he’ll let me have a day off.’ She was slightly breathless, the result of excitement. Was the post really hers? It would seem so, and she marvelled that she had managed to impress the aristocratic Marquês Carlos de Alva Manrique, impress him with nothing more than the honest summary of her life history. Of course, the securing of the post ultimately depended on whether she and the children got along together, but in her present state of optimism Hydee envisaged no snags whatever. Always she’d had a way with children, especially young ones, and she had no qualms about the forthcoming meeting with the two, who, she hoped, would soon be given into her charge.

‘You will need to ask for more than one day, senhorita. I should like you to stay with my children—whose names, by the way, are Ramos and Luisa—for a few days at least. I must make sure this time….’ He broke off, frowning. The idea that he could be unsure what to say made him seem more human, less exalted than before.

‘You’ve had some difficulty with your nannies, senhor?’ she ventured.

He nodded, the frown deepening. ‘Considerable difficulty, Miss Merrill.’ Brusque the voice now, giving Hydee her first fleeting tinge of anxiety. Was the marquês so hard to please that no nanny had been able to tolerate his interference regarding the children? ‘So much difficulty that I have changed my plans for the children’s future—’ He raised an imperious hand to dismiss the interruption which came to Hydee’s lips. ‘This will not concern you at this stage, senhorita. Meet my children first, and then we can talk of other things.’

Chapter Three

‘Other things,’ murmured Ellie, puzzled. ‘What did he mean?’

‘I have no idea, but he certainly sounded mysterious.’ Hydee and Ellie were eating their evening meal, Hydee having arrived home from her trip to London in plenty of time to prepare it before Ellie came in from the office. As soon as they sat down, she had begun to relate what had transpired at the interview, ending up just as the marquês had done, by mentioning those ‘other things.’

‘If you ask me,’ offered Ellie, ‘there’s more to this job than appears on the surface.’

‘But in what way?’ Hydee frowned, wishing she could shake off this tinge of uneasiness concerning the post which she so desperately wanted to obtain. She had set her heart on it. In fact, she’d been unable to think of anything else as she sat in the train coming up from London. Nanny to the children of a marquês! Of course
any
children would have done, but she was honest enough to admit that the idea of working for such an exalted man held certain attractions, as did the prospect of living in Portugal in what must surely be a mansion, even if only a small one. ‘I’ve racked my brain to find an explanation, but I can’t.’

‘He’s had trouble with his previous nannies, you said?’

‘Yes. The actual words he used were “considerable difficulty.”’

‘How many nannies has he had altogether in these two years he mentioned?’

‘He didn’t say, but I had the impression that he’s had several.’

‘Because of what he said about making sure this time?’

Hydee nodded, trying to throw out the idea that all was not aboveboard, but failing to do so because her logical mind insisted on warning her of a snag.

‘Yes,’ she answered, glancing across the table at Ellie. ‘It’s because of these troubles he’s had that he insists I stay with the children for a few days.’

‘Seems phony to me!’

‘It isn’t phony,’ Hydee was swift to contradict. ‘The marquês is cold and aloof, but his integrity’s not to be questioned.’

‘He certainly made a favourable impression on
you
.’ Ellie’s voice was dry and left Hydee with no illusions regarding her friend’s disapproval. Ellie had not even wanted Hydee to attend the interview, declaring the marquês’s letter to be far too stiff and formal; he would certainly not be a kind, understanding man and, therefore, would obviously be a difficult employer.

‘He did indeed.’ Hydee’s tone was reflective. ‘He could have told me to leave once he knew I had no qualifications, but, on the contrary, he wanted to know more about me.’