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Authors: Susan Barrie

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CHAPTER FOURTEEN

June became July, a
nd then Paris sweltered in the heat of August. Philippe departed into the Basque country to look at his long-neglected estate (entailed, but according to his reports disintegrating under the eyes of the caretaker) and remained away long enough for the two Englishwomen in Miss Constantia

s apartment to miss him. In fact, they missed him so much that even Jane admitted it, and Peter Fairfield seemed to Valentine scarcely to make up for the unfailing cheerfulness and sparkling humor of the
comte
.

Peter was becoming very serious about her, and it was making her increasingly uncomfortable. He no longer talked about the isles of Greece, and apparently his book had been locked up in a drawer, and all he wanted to do was to dance attendance on Valentine. He was spending far too much of his allowance on her, she was sure, but there didn

t seem much she could do about it, short of telling him she didn

t want to see him anymore.

His uncle was very ill in July, and she actually surprised an anticipatory gleam in his blue eyes when he read out to her his aunt

s letter describing all the distressing symptoms of the baronet. He was much older than Lady Fairfield, and at one time it looked as if the baronetcy would be Peter

s at any moment. And the anticipatory gleam in the young man

s eyes became so unmistakable that Valentine was shocked.


But you wouldn

t want him to die in order to inherit his title, would you?

she asked in disbelief.


I don

t want the old boy to die at all, but I

m fairly sick of being dependent on him and his generosity, and I want to be in a position where
I
can ask you to marry me!

Peter replied.

It was out at last. He was living with the idea of asking her to marry him, and she had no intention of marrying anyone—ever!


Peter!

She took a deep breath.

I like you, and apart from your eagerness to step into a dead man

s shoes, I admire you. I believe that you might write a good book one of these days, and Jane and I both find you fascinating as a guide to Paris. But to marry anyone you have to be in love with him, and I

ve made up my mind that I

m never going to fall in love with
...
with anyone!


Nonsense!

He laughed lightly and took her to a mirror.

Have a good look at yourself, my sweet, and tell me precisely what it was you were born for if not for marriage. Marriage to someone like me, who will adore you every minute of your life and will make such a very indulgent husband. Oh, Valentine!

Suddenly he was immensely serious.

You must know I love you? And I want to have the right to look after you!


But an indulgent husband wouldn

t be the slightest use to me,

she told him, trying to restore the light note.

I

m never very good at making decisions for myself, and I

d have to have someone who would stand absolutely no nonsense and be terribly firm. A strong character, quite unlike my own.

Then she saw his face, and her heart softened.


Oh, Peter! Marriage is such a terribly serious thing, and one day I

m sure you

ll make a wonderful husband for some lucky girl ... but that girl won

t be me! You

ve got to get used to the idea, Peter.


And what about that old woman

s will?

he asked rather harshly. She always felt all her hackles rise when he referred to Miss Constantia as

t
h
at old woman,

and on this occasion they rose until they felt like hedgehog

s prickles standing up all around her.


Well, what about it?

she asked quietly.


It was a ridiculous will—tying you down to getting married in a year. But when you stop to think of all that it involves, you can

t just ignore it. You can

t turn your back on fifteen million francs and the house.


Oh, so you

ve been working it all out, have you?

she said, looking at him strangely.

Fifteen million francs and a house that could be worth quite a lot besides. If the house was sold, as someone I know suggested to me, and I married you, and we went to live-in England, we could be very comfortable, and we certainly wouldn

t starve,
even without your uncle

s money and estate. With
your uncle

s money and estate we could have a wonderful time! Oh, a really wonderful time!

He stood very stiffly in front of her.


Don

t be crude, Valentine. It doesn

t suit you.


No?

But her eyes still glittered.

But just tell me this. If I say I

ll marry you when the year is up—the year Miss Constantia allowed me—but not before it, will you be content to wait?

This time it was Peter who drew a deep breath. Then he smiled at her gently.


Don

t be silly, darling, and don

t try to trip me up, either! I

d marry you without a penny to your name, as you very well know, because if there

s one thing I am not, it

s a fortune hunter. And in many ways I

d prefer it if you didn

t have any money at all. But only a complete idiot would turn his, or her, back on a bequest the size of the one Miss Constantia made to you. And if you

re prepared to marry me once the year is up, then obviously you

ll be sensible enough to marry me before it

s up.

Valentine felt as if her slim breasts were heaving, and something dry in her throat seemed inclined to choke her.

I suppose you realize that that

s an admission that you want the money?


It

s nothing of the kind!


But I say it is! And I ...
I
wish I

d never had the money left to
m
e at all! It hasn

t brought me any real happiness!

Only a promise of eternal unhappiness
, she could have added, but didn

t. She locked her hands together tightly. She would make yet a further test.

I

ll marry you, Peter, if you

ll wait for the wedding to take place after the year is up. I have a trinket box of jewelry and I shall have a few hundred pounds. I

d feel happier with just the few hundreds and the knowledge that a man had wanted me enough to turn
his
back on a sum like fifteen thousand pounds!

He moved closer to her and put his hands on her shoulders. He looked deep into her eyes.


Valentine, I love you and I want to marry you more than anything else in the world, but I

m not going to let you behave like an irresponsible schoolgirl for absolutely no reason. You must realize that if we do marry everyone will think I

m a fortune hunter, but I don

t care about that. So long as
you’re
secure—


And
you’re
secure!

His blue eyes flashed rather sullenly.


Valentine, don

t be insulting.


I

m not being insulting,

she assured him with peculiar sweetness.

I

m offering to marry you, or rather,
agreeing
to marry you, since you

ve asked me to do so, if you

ll take me with my few hundreds, not with my thousands. We can be engaged immediately—but we

ll wait for a ceremony until the year is up.


And I wouldn

t think of behaving so unfairly to you.


Very well,

she said quietly, withdrawing herself,

you

d better go now. The offer stands for another twenty-four hours. You can ring me if you change your mind.

She heard him give an exasperated sigh, felt him grasp her shoulders again and give her a slight shake, and then he walked toward the door.


Very well,

he said,

I

ll go now, not to think anything over, but to answer my aunt

s letter. It

s just possible I

ll have to get a flight reservation fairly suddenly if the old boy

s condition should deteriorate still further, and if that happens I might not have a chance to say goodbye to you. But I

ll ring you and I

ll write to you from England.


Yes,

she said very quietly indeed,

do write to me from England.

She heard the apartment door close, and then Jane came in and saw that her blue eyes were slowly welling with tears. Jane had not seen Valentine anywhere near tears lately, and she stood still with surprise.


Have you any idea, Jane,

Valentine asked,

why Miss Constantia left me her money? Do you think it was in order to ensure that I would never marry?

About the middle of August
Philippe returned, and the day after his return he walked calmly into the apartment at about eleven o

clock in the morning and announced that he had come to take them both out for the day to a place where they could enjoy some cooling breezes.

Philippe was looking browner than ever, and his eyes were very alert. He admitted that he had been living a very simple life indeed, with only an old housekeeper to look after him, and not a soul for miles, as he put it. He had been shut up with some books and an ancient gramophone, and in the daytime he had lounged in the sun on the terrace and watched the moorhens on the lake, which was green with slime, and decided that there was much to be said for a peaceful life after all. At the moment he was in the mood to break out, but only for a moment. If the moment passed, he might disappear again very rapidly.


So you

d better make the most of me,

he said to them audaciously.

And Jane had better confess that she

s missed me, and we

ll have a wonderful day where there are woods and a stream, and as a result of some magical materialization, a picnic basket!


I

m not at all sure that I have missed you,

Jane said slowly, bending her head above a nylon stocking she was trying to free from a snag.


No?

He walked into the middle of the room and looked at her as she sat on the settee. She was wearing a pale pink linen dress with a wide white belt and sandals, and perhaps because her legs were bare and as slim as a schoolgirl

s, and her hair was very short and shining and dark, she looked very young indeed. Infinitely younger when she removed her glasses and looked up at him as if she was seriously contemplating him.

Philippe smiled.

I
shall never believe that I have a negative personality, and I am
not
prepared to believe that you are always entirely truthful!

He sank down beside her on the settee.

Come off it, Jane, and admit that you have missed me!

Jane

s lustrous gray eyes gazed into his. But it was she who had to lower hers first.

Valentine, who had been writing letters at the desk—a lovely little Empire desk that she wished she could keep when the time came for her to give up the apartment—closed down the lid and came across to them. She was surprised to see that Jane

s creamy complexion had turned slightly pink—as pink as her dress.

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