Love in Vogue (15 page)

‘I think so.’

‘Just how much Marchand equity does UVS hold?’

‘Well, twenty-seven per cent for a start. Plus Philippe’s stake, unless it’s been resold – thirty-five per cent. Even more if they’ve bought on the Bourse as well.’

‘It doesn’t look promising,’ he said gloomily.

‘No. Why don’t we talk about something else? Wine, for example.’

‘I suppose you want me to handle all the marketing for this year’s vintage?’

‘Could you, Yves? I know it’s asking rather a lot, but I really have my hands full. You’ll get the usual commission, of course.’

‘What an easy way to earn money. It’s been a fantastic year, one of the greats.’

‘Mummy and Tex are coming over for Christmas, so it should be lively.’

‘I know. Yolande told me.’

She stared at him in surprise. ‘When?’

‘I spoke to her on the phone – by chance – when she was just back from New York. She rang to tell my mother that she’d seen Philippe.’

‘What!’ Corinne nearly shot out of her seat. ‘Philippe! How? Where?’

He poured her some more coffee, but as she picked up the cup her hand was shaking.

‘He’s living in New York. Yolande ran into him at the Hervy gala. He’s homesick. She said he’d be in touch, but we’ve heard nothing.’

‘I wondered why your mother keeps getting jumpy when the phone rings.’ She sipped her coffee slowly, trying to keep her hand steady. How stupid to get worked up about Philippe after all this time. ‘So you might have a reconciliation with your brother, and I’ve just fallen out with my sister. Must be karma or something.’

‘Won’t Yolande come home for Christmas?’ he asked, a shade more eagerly than he should now he was seeing the daughter of a marquis who lived near Beaune.

‘I haven’t heard from her since the beginning of the month, and quite honestly I hope I never hear from her again.’

‘Corinne!’

She gave him a piercing look. ‘I would have thought you’d be glad not to see her. Aren’t you serious about Gabrielle d’Emville?’

He just shrugged his shoulders. ‘How about coming to see our new puppies? Geraldine had a litter last week.’

Marius, who had been lying motionless at Corinne’s feet, suddenly pricked up his ears. Geraldine was his mother. He stalked across to the door, wagging his tail. As they followed him out of the room, Yves admired his tactful way of putting an end to the conversation. It wouldn’t do to be forced to admit that for all her faults he was as deeply in love with Yolande as ever – particularly now his mother was desperate to see him settle down and start a family. And if he couldn’t have her, Gabrielle d’Emville, he supposed, would do as well as anyone else.

It was hardly the happy family Christmas Grace and Tex had planned. Of course they brought over a mound of presents to place around the large decorated tree in the salon at Le Manoir de St Xavier and were determined to be cheerful, but the festive spirit was lacking. Yolande’s absence left a gaping chasm everywhere – no laughing, silly pranks, or sheer unbridled enthusiasm. She always loved Christmas and used to spread her joy around. It was a shock to realise how much they all missed her, but Corinne wouldn’t admit it, even to herself.

Yves looked ill-at-ease when he appeared for dinner on Christmas Eve with Gabrielle clinging desperately to his arm. A slip of a girl, clearly out of her depth. Conversation flagged, so everyone drank more than was good for them and woke on Christmas Day with crashing headaches. Then it was time to visit the Château de Rochemort, where Marie-Christine did her best to liven things up. She and Grace had always got on well, and Tex’s blunders in French helped create some much-needed mirth. At least Gabrielle found them funny. Barely turned eighteen, she was bearable if she kept her mouth shut. But she would keep talking, and her high-pitched voice and constant giggling so irritated Corinne that after lunch she left the others in the draughty drawing-room to take a stroll in the gardens with Marius.

It was much worse with her mother and Tex here. She felt she should be as lively as they were trying to be, despite the difficult circumstances. She wandered aimlessly where Marius led, eventually reaching the château’s open gates. An Aston Martin was parked just beyond them, and in the driver’s seat was Yolande. Corinne stopped dead.

As soon as she saw her sister, Yolande jumped out of the car and ran towards her. Corinne remained immobile as she was hugged and kissed.

‘Darling, what’s wrong? Haven’t you forgiven me?’

‘No.’

‘Please, Corinne.’

Why did Yolande look so appealing, so much like the baby sister she had always loved? But it was different now. She was a woman, and she should have known what she was doing. Corinne pecked her cheek coldly, and looking downcast, Yolande let her go.

‘I can explain everything. It was the time factor, you see. Otherwise Patrick would have lost the role.’

‘I’d rather you didn’t mention his name to me.’

Yolande bent down to make a fuss of Marius, who much to Corinne’s disgust, seemed overjoyed to see her.

‘What are you doing parked out there?’

‘Well, I went home first, naturally. Françoise told me you were all here. I just got cold feet when I reached the gates.’

‘If you’re worrying about Yves, don’t,’ said Corinne, as they started to walk back to the château. ‘He’s seeing Gabrielle d’Emville. I’ve had to put up with the stupid girl for the past two days.’

‘Gabrielle! But she’s so young.’

‘He seems to prefer virgins. Or hadn’t you noticed?’

Yolande shot her a reproachful look, and ramming her hands into the pockets of her thick navy jacket, marched on. ‘Corinne, please listen. I know I should have explained it all to you before. I tried to call you in London again, but all I could get was voicemail. I was sure you’d be able to buy the shares back. After all it’s only a holding company, and it’s French.’

‘You idiot!’ Corinne stopped and faced her. ‘You bloody idiot! I’ve had it all out with Toinette, and she’s just an agent. UVS is foreign and hostile. Why didn’t you wait for Georges to firm up our offer?’

‘I had to have the money urgently. The film company would have been sold off otherwise and Pat …’ Yolande stopped herself just in time. ‘I was offered a much better price than yours and immediate access to the capital. I was sure you’d be clever enough to sort it out afterwards.’

‘Bollocks. All you were thinking about was jumping into bed with your precious Patrick.’

‘Well I love him, so you’d better get used to him!’

‘Yolande, if you think you’ll ever get me to welcome Patrick after what he’s done to my company, you must be mad.’

They didn’t go straight back to the château, but turned off down a gravel path to the fountains, Yolande biting her tongue. She was no closer to Patrick now than she had been before the film.

‘And where the hell have you been all these weeks?’ demanded Corinne. ‘If you were so sure you acted in good faith, why did you run and hide?’

‘I  – I had to arrange the backing,’ said Yolande, faltering a little. ‘We went straight to London to finalise the deal with Vic Bernitz. He’s producing and directing the film. Then we went skiing. I thought that everything would be settled by now.’

‘Well it isn’t – and you bloody well knew it wouldn’t be. You didn’t even have the guts to face the music, did you? Whatever’s happened to you, Yolande?’

‘Patrick.’ She grasped Corinne’s arm. ‘Please, do try to understand. I
know
he’s right for me. I had to choose between him – and all this.’ She waved a hand at the château.

‘You really are mad.’

‘You’re just sour and jealous because of losing Philippe. Oh God, I didn’t mean that.’

‘Go to hell!’ Corinne ran ahead, trying to stop the tears.

‘Corinne!’ Yolande followed her and gripped her arm so tightly that they had to stop. ‘Darling, I’m so sorry. It was wrong of me to say that. Please!’

‘Just leave me alone!’

‘He gave me a message for you.’

‘I’m not the slightest bit interested in Philippe.’

‘But he’s got a child. That’s why he left France.’

Corinne heard out the whole unedifying story in silence as they crunched over the gravel, and it made her feel even worse. It was just like Yolande to gloss everything over with emotion. She and Philippe were exactly the same – living at the expense of everyone else’s feelings. Selfish and deceitful, dangerous and unreliable. She wished neither of them had been part of her life.

‘Are you coming in?’ she asked coldly when at last they reached the entrance to the château’s west wing, where the family lived.

‘Just to say hello.’

They went inside. A far from pleasant visit ensued, during which Yolande tried to explain herself to her mother and avoid Yves’ piercing looks. She drove off an hour later without even handing out the Christmas presents she had brought with her. Back to Patrick, back to love. It had been a mistake to try to put things right so soon. He had warned her against coming. She stopped off at the churchyard to lay flowers on her father’s grave, then swept past her own home and headed for the A6. Thank God Patrick’s mother was so understanding. Her Provençal villa was small but comfortable, and Yolande had been made very welcome. After the New Year they would fly out to California. Perhaps she would have to strike a deal with Corinne over Le Manoir and the apartment on the Avenue Foch, but that could be done through a lawyer, not face-to-face. And once her mother and Tex were back in New York, they could surely be won round.

Yolande comforted herself with this thought all the way down the autoroute, but that night she broke down sobbing in Patrick’s arms.

‘Yolande, don’t let them ruin your life. You’ve got me.’

But how could he understand? She had alienated her whole family for him, and now the enormity of it all hit her, she felt more miserable than she had ever been in her entire life. From being everyone’s favourite she had become an outcast overnight.

‘I’ll take care of you, Yolande.’

She had to believe him. There was no other choice now.

‘It’s for you.’

Corinne took the receiver from her mother without much enthusiasm. Since the row with Yolande on Christmas Day her mood had been even blacker. It was December 27th now, and they were packing to leave for England to spend the New Year with her grandparents.

‘Corinne? Please don’t hang up. It’s Miles.’

‘Hello,’ she said, not unfriendly.

‘I just rang on the off-chance that you wouldn’t have some dragon there to cut me off. Happy Christmas.’

‘Happy Christmas. How are you?’

‘All right.’ He sounded subdued. Obviously he hadn’t enjoyed the festivities either.

‘Where are you?’ she asked.

‘At my uncle’s place near Salisbury. He’s invited some horrendous females down for me to entertain.’

Corinne laughed for the first time in a week. ‘I hope you’re doing your duty.’

‘I’ve been sneaking off to the pub. But they pursue me in full cry and drive out all the locals, so it’s not made me too popular.’ He paused and cleared his throat unnecessarily. ‘Corinne, can we be friends again? Please. I miss you.’

‘Yes.’ It was so good to hear his voice. ‘Oh yes, that would be great. I wanted to speak to you, actually.’

‘About your sister selling out?’

‘Yes. James Chetwode doesn’t seem to appreciate how serious things are.’

‘I’ve got some ideas. I called you when it happened, but your PA wouldn’t put me through.’

‘Well, I’ll be in Dorset in two days’ time. Will you still be at your uncle’s? We could meet.’

‘Terrific. Give me the number – or can we fix something now?’

They exchanged English addresses and found they would be staying within twenty miles of each other. A meeting was rapidly arranged for New Years’ Eve, at the home of Corinne’s grandparents, and Miles sounded noticeably more cheerful by the time he rang off. Corinne had a smile on her face for the first time in ages. She hadn’t mentioned that the Alburys always held a big New Years’ Eve party and that he could expect to dance rather than talk business. But then they could get down to hard work once they were back at their desks in Paris.

‘Who was that?’ asked her mother, alert to her change of mood. ‘Are you sure he can withstand an Albury party?’

‘Should be able to. He’s ex-army and very fit. Miles Corsley – as in the bankers.’

‘And?’

‘He works in their Paris office.’

‘And?’ insisted Grace.

‘We went out for a few weeks.’

‘Oh.’ There was a pause. ‘He’s got a nice voice,’ said Grace at last. ‘I’m sorry, darling, I’ve rather neglected you since this upset with Yolande. I suppose I should have known about Miles.’

‘Well now you do,’ replied Corinne.

‘Do you fancy him?’ asked her mother hopefully.

‘I haven’t got time for all that nonsense.’

‘That means he fancies you.’ Grace was warming to the idea of Miles Corsley. It was about time her eldest daughter got herself a new man.

‘Mummy, shut up. I don’t want to get involved. Miles is a good friend and I want it to stay that way.’

Grace was unconvinced. ‘But when you and Philippe …’

‘Why does everyone assume that my life must have ended because I broke up with Philippe?’

‘Everyone?’ said Grace, rather alarmed by Corinne’s angry expression.

‘Yes. I’m absolutely fed up with all this commiseration.’

‘Marie-Christine told me this morning that she’d just had a call from him, and he’s more or less threatening to come home.’

‘I can take it.’

Corinne headed for the door to put an end to the conversation. She was still raw from Yolande’s disclosures, still not sure whether her anger over Philippe’s deceit outweighed the heartache of losing him. Still wondering if it had been some inadequacy on her part that had driven him into the arms of another woman. It would be interesting to see the reactions of Marie-Christine and her mother when they found out about his love-child. But he would probably be welcomed back to the fold with open arms. Philippe could get away with anything when he switched on the charm. How could he have had the gall to send her an apology through Yolande – three years too late?