Restoring Grace (54 page)

She was incensed: an anger fuelled by guilt and
an
awareness that she'd done something very
ill advised.
But she hadn't been able
to see an alternative. It was only
a
short-term loan and without it she couldn't pay for the
dry rot to be fixed. Surely, in the circumstances,
it wasn't
quite as lunatic as Flynn seemed to think? He obviously
didn't understand how much the house meant to her
and
how desperate she was not to lose it.

She fumed impotently, and
when the cat emerged from
the kitchen,
she muttered into its sleek fur about its owner.
The cat
seemed immune to the insults and just purred
and
rubbed its face against her. Grace was just wondering
if taking a knife to Flynn's study door would be
effec
tive, or whether she should just cut all the left-hand
sleeves off his suits, distribute his wine cellar
to the neigh
bours with the milk,
leave a kipper in the central-heating
system,
or whatever else it was that women did when
they were so furious they were vibrating with it, when
he came
back out.

‘
I'm sorry, Grace.' He didn't sound sorry. He
sounded angry. 'I didn't mean to shout, but it's all right now. I've
told them where to get off, and they shouldn't
bother you
again.’

She put the cat down so she could shout. 'How
dare you do that? It's none of your business! It's my loan! My responsibility!
How many times have I got to tell you?'

‘
You can
tell me until you're blue in the face, but you're
not borrowing money from loan sharks! Not while
there's
breath in my body to prevent you!'

‘Flynn—'

‘
I love
you, Grace!' It was a statement he felt explained
everything, but when
it obviously didn't, he elaborated.
'I'm
sorry. I didn't mean to say it like this, when I'm mad as a Kilkenny cat, but
it's the truth. And it's why I'm not
going to let you do this bloody
stupid thing. If you need money you can borrow it from me!'

‘But I don't want to borrow it from you,' said
Grace,
hanging on to her rage and trying to
ignore what he'd
said about loving her. 'I want to borrow it from
someone who has nothing to do with me, who'll treat me like a normal human
being who can make her own decisions!'

‘No one in their right mind borrows money from
those
people. Come into the study and we'll
talk about it
sensibly.'

‘No! This is my fight, I'll choose where to
have it!'

‘No, you won't! You'll fight somewhere more
comfortable. Come in here.' He opened the door, took her wrist and encouraged
her into the study.

The change of scene threatened to evaporate
Grace's diminishing anger completely. He drew her over to the
window and sat her down on the window seat. She
refused
to look at him, turning her attention instead to the way the la
_s
t
beams of winter sun shone on the remnants of last summer: achillea, with flat,
plate-like
flowers given back some of their
summer goldness by the
fading light; stems of cornus, bright crimson,
glowed against the stalks of grass behind. It reminded Grace of
the one time she had visited her godmother at
Luckenham
House and she resolved to get into gardening properly
when things were back to normal, instead of just
pottering
about. It was a relationship she had at least a chance of
making work.

‘Grace, I'm sorry. I've been bossy and
overbearing,' Flynn said. This time he did sound contrite, but for his manner,
not for his actions.

‘Yes.'

‘But I can't let you borrow money like that.
However
much the paintings are worth you
don't want to be giving
those rogues thousands more than you borrowed.'

‘
How did you
get them to agree to cancel the loan?'
she asked flatly.

‘I just did.'

‘What did you do? Did you threaten them with
the heavy mob?’

A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his
mouth. 'You won't like this.'

‘
I don't like
it already. You may as well tell me the
worst.’

He still hesitated for a
few seconds before saying, 'I
told them you
were under age and had no possible chance
of
paying back any of the money.'

‘That was a lie,' she said after a moment.

‘I know.’

She sighed. 'The thing is,
I do need to borrow the money
for the dry rot. It would take for
ever to arrange a mort
gage in the normal
way, or a bank loan. I did make some
enquiries.
They'd both need surveys, valuations, stuff like
that, and I don't want
people crawling over my house. I want to keep the paintings a secret as long as
I possibly can.'

‘
Then I'll lend you the
money,' he insisted, impressively
patient, she realised.

‘
No! Don't you
understand? I can't borrow money from
-
from you.' She baulked at giving him a title, like
boyfriend, or lover.
And friend didn't seem to quite cover
it. 'It
wouldn't be right. It would be like selling a car to
a friend. It could
ruin the relationship.’

He made a
sound between a grunt and a chuckle. 'At
least
you acknowledge we have a relationship.’

‘
No, I don't!
That sounds awful!'

‘Only to
you, Grace. To me it sounds just fine.'

‘Well, it
may do, but I'm not borrowing money from
you.' Doing
that would make her dependent on him,
something she swore she would
never be again. 'Borrow it from your sister, then.'

‘
I'm not borrowing it from her, either. I don't want her
knowing about the paintings any more than I want the bank knowing.'

‘They'll all find out eventually.'

‘But not before they absolutely have to.'

‘
Then I'm
your only option. You can't or won't borrow
it from normal lenders, or
your family, so it's me or go without.’

It was all so simple, the
way he put it. But still . . . she
sighed again. 'You must see my
point! If I borrow it from you—'

‘You're afraid it will put you under some sort
of obligation to me. That it will make you feel obliged to sleep with me, even
if you don't want to. Hell, you may even have to marry me to square it with
your conscience!’

She laughed. 'The first part is true, although
not the
sleeping with you bit and certainly
not marrying you. But
I would feel under an obligation and you must see
why. You'd be the same, if I tried to lend you money.'

‘I don't think I would, actually. But it
probably is different for me.'

‘Yes.’

He chewed
his lower lip for a few moments and she
noted how white and even his teeth were. She must
have
noticed before, she realised, but not really taken it in. 'I tell
you what,' he said. 'I'll lend you the money, but I'll charge you interest.
That way you can't possibly feel obliged to me because I'd be earning money
from you.'

‘
OK,' she
said slowly. 'That sounds good. But it'll be
the same rate of interest I would have paid the loan
sharks.'

‘Don't be ridiculous! I'll charge you the same
as the mortgage rate.'

‘Now you're being ridiculous!'

‘Then what the bank charge for an overdraft.'

‘No.' Grace felt quite exhilarated with her
determina
tion. 'It's the sharks' rate, or
there's no deal. You can give
the extra money to charity, if it bothers
you so much.’

‘It's usury.'

‘It's the deal.'

‘You're a tough woman, Grace Soudley.’

Grace suddenly smiled. 'I know! It's good,
isn't it?'

‘I still don't understand why you did it,' he
said. 'It seems so irrational. So unlike you.'

‘I know. And it was irrational, but it was a
quick fix. Getting a loan any other way would have taken so long and I felt
panicked by the people arriving so soon, and
Allegra
nagging me and everything.' She hesitated,
feeling she should confess
everything. 'And it was also something I could do on my own. My independence is
quite new and fragile. Turning to loan sharks may be barking, but it didn't
involve anyone else, like Allegra.'

‘Or me.'

‘Or you. And now you are involved.'

‘
Because I
want to be.' He came towards her and drew
her to her feet. 'I do love
you. I know you don't love me, or if you do, you don't recognise it, but that's
OK. I just
want you to know there's no
ulterior motive in anything
I do for you. I want to do things because of
my feelings for you. I don't want or need anything back - or at least nothing
you don't want to give me, not out of gratitude, but out of . . .' His
eloquence deserted him.

‘What about passion?' whispered Grace, putting
her arms round him and pressing her ear against his heart. 'Can we do things
because of passion?'

‘
I think
that would be fine,' he whispered back. 'Do we
have to have dinner
first?'

‘Oh no. We've only just had lunch.'

‘Come on.' He put his arm round her to usher
her out
of the study when the phone rang.
He paused. 'I'll ignore
it. They'll ring back.'

‘I think you should answer it,' said Grace. 'It
might be important.’

He reached for the phone, laughing into her
eyes,
unconsciously reminding her how very
sexy he could be.
'If it's a double-glazing salesman, I'll be very
annoyed. Hello? Demi? Grace, it's for you.’

Grace came back into the room and took hold of
the telephone, prepared for disaster.

‘Demi? Are you all right?'

‘
I'm fine,'
said Demi in a small voice, 'but I think I
should tell you . .

‘What? What's happened? Your mother did pick
you up? You're not at Rick's or anything?'

‘No, I'm at home - where used to be home,
anyway. It doesn't feel much like it now.'

‘Then what's the problem?'

‘There may not be one,' she hedged.

‘
Demi, love,
you're driving me mad! Can you please
tell me why you rang?'

‘You sound in a hurry to go and do something.
What can you be finding to do at Flynn's?’

Grace took a breath. 'Look, if you just want a
chat,
that's fine. I'll find somewhere to
sit. I'm leaning over
the desk at the moment.' She caught Flynn's eye
and
interpreted his look, which said he had
been enjoying
the view. 'OK, tell me all.'

‘Mum knows about the paintings.'

‘You mean — my paintings?'

‘Yeah. I'm afraid I told her, by mistake. It
just slipped out.’

Grace licked her lips and
swallowed. There was no
point in being cross. It wouldn't
change anything.

‘I'm terribly sorry,' said Demi. 'She was
asking about the house and everything and the dry rot and I said we
had to get the paintings out because of it. She
said, "What
paintings?"'

‘Well, she would, but never mind. She might not
tell anyone else.’

There was a silence which
indicated that Demi did not
agree with this statement.

‘So whom will she tell? Your stepfather?'

‘Your sister.'

‘Oh,' said Grace after a moment. 'Are you
absolutely sure? I mean, they don't know each other that well—'

‘I've only just managed to get the phone —
Rick's still
got my mobile. They've been
talking for hours. Mum was
on to her like shit off a shovel. Oh, sorry.'