Romance Classics (64 page)

“Then why do you go around with her? I mean, if you think she is a spoiled brat and all that, then why—” She broke off as Roger’s expression altered sharply.

“Because, Pretty Thing, the people in charge of her estate feel she needs a bodyguard, and I’m it,” he explained, and went on swiftly, “That’s a secret. She doesn’t know it. She’d scream the place down if she knew that anybody dared to think her incapable of taking care of herself. It apparently never occurred to her that a girl as rich as she is could easily be kidnapped, or let herself in for blackmail that might last all her life. She is very impulsive; goes wherever she wants to go, and never bothers about any kind of precautions. I first met her in a joint where she had no business being, even with the entourage. I was on the bongo drums, and she took a fancy to them and, in a way, to me. She invited me to join the gang for the rest of the evening. The next day an emissary from her guardians looked me up, investigated my background as carefully as if they were going to send me overseas on a secret mission, and the next thing I knew, I was a private bodyguard to the very wealthy Miss Parker!”

Judy had listened, wide-eyed.

“So that’s how it all came about!” she marveled aloud.

Roger grinned, but his eyes were wary.

“And now I suppose you despise me and would appreciate it very much if I took myself out of your sight,” he drawled.

“But why should I despise you?” Judy asked, unable to follow his reasoning. “I can readily understand that she might very well need a bodyguard, and I think she is lucky to have you look after her.”

Roger drew a relieved breath.

“You really are a nice child, and thanks a whole heap,” he told her.

“For what?”

“For understanding and not despising me,” he replied.

She hesitated for a moment, and then she asked, because it was something she very much wanted to know, “Is Bix a bodyguard, too?”

“Good grief, no!” Roger burst out, and his eyes on her were suddenly sharp. “Bix is, at the present moment, the man she thinks she’d like to marry, whether he likes the idea or not. In fact, if he doesn’t like the idea, that will make it a challenge; and she won’t rest until she gets him to the altar, even if a few months later she takes herself off to Paris or Mexico for a painless and prompt divorce.”

Judy flushed painfully.

“You don’t give him credit for much sense, do you?” she demanded.

Now his expression grew pitying.

“I’ve known the gal for some years, Judy, and I have long ago learned that whatever she wants—”

“I’ve known Bix since cradle days, and I refuse to believe he is stupid enough to be taken over by a girl he doesn’t love, even if she is as beautiful and as rich as Marise Parker!”

Roger’s brows went up, and he studied her for a long, thoughtful moment almost as though he were seeing her for the first time.

“So it’s like that, is it?” he said very softly at last.

Judy’s chin was still up, but she could not quite meet his eyes now.

“Like what?” she mumbled.

“You are in love with Bix.” Roger stated it flatly, made it a statement and not a question. “Well, poor you!”

Judy’s face flooded with bright, hot color.

“Don’t you dare pity me!” she flashed at him childishly.

“I’m sorry,” said Roger, but his tone indicated that he was not really concerned. “I only meant that if you are in love with Bix, you’d better sharpen up your weapons and move in fast and slug it out with Marise. She’s a pretty predatory critter and observes no rules of fair fighting—”

Judy stood up and said coldly, “Thank you for the good advice. I’m sure, since you know her so well, it
is
good advice. But just because I’ve known Bix since we were kids doesn’t necessarily mean that I am in love with him.”

“Of course not.” Roger’s tone was coaxing, conciliatory.

“If you’ve finished breakfast and will excuse me, I’ll see about having a room prepared for you and get your things moved,” she said coldly, and stalked out, head held high.

Roger stood where he was for a moment, and then the door behind him opened and he turned, thinking possibly Judy had had second thoughts and had returned. But it was her mother who came in and who paused, startled at the sight of Roger there in her own quarters.

“Oh, good morning, Mr. Mayson, you’re up early,” Beth said politely. “And did you have a good breakfast?”

“Delicious, thank you, Mrs. Ramsey.” Roger held her chair for her, and when the maid came in with Beth’s tray, he indicated his chair and asked, “May I?”

“Oh, do, by all means,” Beth answered, and added to the maid, “Bring Mr. Mayson some more coffee. Toast, perhaps?”

“Thanks, no, it was a very ample breakfast,” Roger assured her. “I had the luck to share it with your very charming daughter, Judy!”

Beth looked up from the glass of orange juice she had just lifted and asked, puzzled, “Judy is already back from her ride?”

“I don’t think she went for a ride this morning,” Roger answered. “It seems that Bix invited Marise to ride the horse Judy usually rides, and she didn’t seem disposed to choose another one from the stables.”

Beth’s eyes widened and she looked away from him.

“So Miss Parker is riding Starlight this morning!” she said softly. “She’ll miss Judy almost as much as Judy will miss her.”

Roger nodded, his eyes still on her with a curious, enigmatic look that she was too abstracted to notice.

“This is a very beautiful place, Mrs. Ramsey,” he said after a moment. “Oakhill, I mean. You must all love it very much.”

“You mean because several generations of our ancestors have been born, lived and died here?” she drawled. “I suppose Bix told you about that.”

“Well, no, Bix never mentioned Oakhill until he got the word about his grandfather being so ill, and felt he should come and pay his respects,” Roger answered frankly.

Beth’s eyes lowered to her plate, and she crumbled a bit of toast before she managed an answer.

“I’m sorry Bix could not have come to pay his respects while his grandfather was still conscious and could have known of his presence,” she said quietly.

“I see your point,” Roger answered. “But of course he has been very busy this last year or so, I understand.”

“Since he met Miss Parker?” Beth was deliberately probing.

Roger nodded. “I believe his activities have increased quite a bit since then,” he admitted cautiously.

Beth’s mouth thinned.

“I can imagine,” she drawled, and looked straight at him. “And yours, Mr. Mayson?”

She couldn’t quite be sure, but she thought there was a tinge of color in his tanned face, and his eyes did not quite meet hers.

“Oh, I first met Miss Parker four or five years ago, and my activities haven’t changed very much,” he answered. “She is a lot of fun, and a lovely girl. A bit demanding, perhaps, but when she gets her way, which is about ninety-nine percent of the time, she can be charming. And when she doesn’t get her way, she makes a tropical hurricane seem like no more than a gentle spring breeze.”

Beth studied him curiously.

“You are very frank, Mr. Mayson. Doesn’t anybody like her? Bix was appallingly frank, too.”

There could be no doubt now that there was a tinge of brick-red beneath the sun-tan on Roger’s cheeks as he looked away from her and said, elaborately casual, “Oh, a girl as rich as Marise never lacks friends.”

“Friends?” Beth probed. “Or hangers-on?”

Roger’s grin was faint and mirthless.

“Hangers-on, of course, Mrs. Ramsey. But isn’t that always the way when a girl is young and beautiful and scandalously rich? She doesn’t really have time to make friends, do you think?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Beth answered, “never having been either young, beautiful or scandalously rich. But it doesn’t sound like a very full or rewarding life.”

“I suppose not. But Marise seems quite satisfied with it, and that seems to be what matters, doesn’t it?”

“You know her much better than I do, so I’m afraid that’s a question you’ll have to answer for yourself.”

Roger said grimly, “Then I’ll say I don’t know anybody who enjoys life more than Marise, except possibly for one thing.”

“Dare I ask what that is?”

“She has everything in the world she could possibly want, so she has nothing else to wish for. And for a girl like Marise, that’s an unhappy state of affairs.”

Beth’s mouth twisted slightly.

“My heart bleeds for her,” she mocked.

Roger grinned heartily. “So does mine! And now, if you’ll excuse me, thanks for a very fine breakfast.”

He nodded his thanks and strode from the room, while Beth sat ignoring her cooling coffee, her thoughts very busy. So Marise had everything she wanted, did she? Beth wondered if that included Bix and told herself wearily that undoubtedly, judging from the evidence at hand, it probably did.

Judy heard the clop-clop of hooves on the drive, looked from the window of the room that was being prepared for Roger and saw Bix and Marise returning from their ride. Even from there she could see the frosty-looking sweat on Starlight’s neck and the flecks of foam on her jaws, as she fought the too tightly held bridle.

She turned and, without a word to the two maids who were busily getting the room ready for Roger, ran down the stairs and out of the back door to the stables.

Marise was just slipping from the saddle when Judy, her eyes flashing, her face scarlet with anger, ran into the stable yard and demanded furiously, “What did you do to her? Gallop her half to death? And you’ve cut her mouth with that tight bridle. Don’t you know anything about riding a fine horse?”

Bix and Marise stared at Judy in startled amazement; then Marise’s surprise was replaced by swift anger.

“Why, you impudent, insolent creature, how dare you speak to me like that?” she demanded sharply.

But Judy was swabbing the horse’s neck with a bit of hay she had caught up, and was soothing the trembling creature, who nuzzled her shoulder like a hurt child coming at last to its mother’s arms.

Marise caught Judy’s shoulder and flung her about, even as Bix moved protestingly forward. The two girls eyed each other, swords of enmity flashing between them in the warm, flower-fragrant spring air.

“I asked you how you
dared
to speak to me like that!” Marise hurled the words at Judy in a tone that was like a hot breath of fury.

Judy’s head was high, and she was still caressing the horse’s satiny neck.

“And I’d like to ask you how you dared ride Starlight without my permission. Which you would never have received, I might add!” Judy flashed.

Marise stared at her and then turned to Bix.

“Do I have to take this insolence from one of the hired help here in your own home, Bix?” she demanded.

“But it isn’t his home,” Judy cut in before Bix could answer. “And it won’t be as long as the Old Gentleman lives.”

Marise shrugged and said carelessly, “Oh, but the nurse says that can’t be much longer, and then the whole place will belong to Bix.”

And then, as though she hadn’t meant to say that, she turned swiftly to Bix with an air of contrition that didn’t fool Judy for a moment, although Bix seemed to accept it at face value.

“I’m sorry, darling,” Marise said gently. “I didn’t mean to say that. But I asked the nurse if we were disturbing your grandfather, and she said he was in a coma and didn’t know anything that was going on. So you see, dearest, there really was no need for you to come hurtling down here after all. I tried to tell you that, remember? But you were all steamed up about your duties and responsibilities, and there was no stopping you from making a trip to this deadly dull place.”

She turned back to Judy, who had listened with her mouth slightly agape, her eyes wide. Marise’s tone was so different from the one she had used when she had spoken to Bix that it was almost as though someone else were speaking.

“And as for you, you insolent creature, I shall ride the stupid horse every morning while I am here, and I haven’t the remotest intention of asking your permission and approval about that or anything else. The horse belongs to Bix, not to you. Is that quite clear?”

As though there could not possibly be anything for Judy to say to that, she turned back to Bix, thrust her hand through his arm, drawing herself close to him, and said sweetly, “And now what about breakfast? I’m famished; aren’t you?”

Bix gave Judy a long, level look before he allowed himself to be drawn back toward the house. But Judy was busy soothing the horse, talking to her tenderly, hiding her face against the horse’s satiny muzzle, making no effort to control the tears that slid down her face.

“Don’t you worry, Precious,” she murmured to the horse’s pointed ear. “She’s never going to ride you again. Judy’ll see to that, even if I have to smuggle you out of here and hide you somewhere.”

She stiffened beneath the impact of that thought, and for a moment she stood quite still, her eyes widening. Of course, she told herself eagerly, that was the ideal solution. She would get Starlight away from the stables, hide her somewhere where she could not be readily available for Marise’s use.

She would go to Sam, tell him what had happened, and Sam would look after Starlight until Marise left. She could depend on Sam. She’d always depended on him, and he had never failed to help her solve any problem, large or small.

She settled Starlight comfortably, attended to the sore mouth and then went swiftly out of the stables. As she came out into the sunlight she paused, for Bix was coming toward her, scowling in anger.

Head up, eyes cold, hands sunk deep into the pockets of her worn jodhpurs, she waited for him to reach her. When he did, she saw that he was very angry and braced herself.

“You were pretty rude to Marise, Judy,” he attacked her the moment he was within speaking distance.

“She was pretty brutal to Starlight,” Judy reminded him.

“Nonsense! Marise is an experienced and expert rider.”

“Probably on those livery-stable hacks she can rent in New York.”

“She has some very fine horses at her place out west.”