Barbara Taylor Bradford’s 4-Book Collection. Barbara Taylor Bradford

But –’ Now there was a sudden hesitancy in his manner, a pulling back. ‘Look, are you sure you want to go? Could you stand being alone with me for five or six days without getting bored?’

      She met his questioning stare with a steady, level gaze, even though her heart was fluttering wildly at the thought of having him entirely to herself. ‘Don’t be silly, Victor. Of course I wouldn’t be bored and, as you said yourself, we do get along like a house on fire.’

      ‘I had to ask. It strikes me we’ve only talked about your father’s attitude in relation to the trip, not how you felt. You haven’t said you’d like to go.’

      ‘I would, I really would. Anyway, I think you’re right about the mountain air doing me good,’ she volunteered in a matter-of-fact tone, endeavouring to conceal the excitement growing inside her. Noticing the uncertainty lingering on his face, she could not resist adding hurriedly, ‘I wouldn’t have suggested you change your plans if I’d had any qualms about making the trip with you. Now would I?’

      ‘I guess not. It’s settled then.’ He beamed. ‘I’ll talk to the travel agency on Monday morning, and switch the air tickets to Königssee. I’ve never been to Germany, so I’ll find it interesting.’ His face sobered as he recalled the snags that had occurred to him at the outset of the conversation. After ruminating a second, he remarked cautiously, ‘There are a couple of problems though. Hell, I shouldn’t call them problems. Let’s say there are several points I’ve got to get straightened out with you.’

      He stood up, dropped a log onto the fire, returned to the chair, and said, ‘Would you mind flying alone on Tuesday?’

      Francesca was startled. ‘No,’ she said. ‘But why can’t I go with you on Wednesday?’

      ‘You can go on Wednesday, if you wish, but I’d prefer you to take an earlier flight than I do. I don’t think we should be on the same plane.’

      ‘Why ever not?’

      ‘People might misunderstand, if they saw us travelling together. It would be much more discreet for us to make our way separately.’ When he saw she was thrown by these remarks, he said, ‘Hasn’t Katharine told you about my divorce, and Confidential Magazine?’

      ‘She mentioned you were in the middle of a difficult divorce, but she hasn’t said anything about Confidential. I’m probably being very stupid, but I don’t understand the connection.’ Her face was filling with confusion.

      Victor leaned forward, his hands clasped together, his mouth settling into a severe line. Without mincing words, he gave her a rapid and succinct run-down on the magazine and the kind of sensational and damaging stories which appeared in its pages. He repeated Estelle Morgan’s warnings to Katharine and himself, added a quick profile of his estranged wife, Arlene, and elucidated in detail her predilection for causing trouble, plus her tendency to talk rather revealingly to the press.

      ‘Don’t you see, from the things Estelle has told me, I’m convinced I’m a target, and that Confidential is trying to work up a scurrilous piece about me. They’ll seize on anything, whether it’s the truth or not, and they’re not above inventing what they don’t know. Personally, I don’t give a damn about myself. I’ve got a broad back, and a skin like a rhinoceros after living in the public eye for so long. Headlines have never intimidated me, but I mustn’t expose you in any way whatsoever. I can’t allow you to be dragged into a scandal, especially since you’re an innocent bystander. And though the trip is above board, it could very easily be presented in entirely the wrong light. I don’t think your father would appreciate that. And I certainly wouldn’t, Francesca.’

      ‘My God, how awful! But don’t people have any redress: can’t they sue for libel?’

      ‘Some stars and other celebrities have already done so. But most of my friends who’ve been dragged through the mud by them decided to turn a blind eye, believing it smarter to ignore the bad publicity, to rise above it. Still, it’s pretty lousy stuff to live with.’

      She nodded her understanding. ‘I can imagine. Obviously I’ll go on Tuesday, and perhaps it’s a good idea anyway. I can check the hotel Diana books for you, make sure you have the best suite. I’ll give her a ring tomorrow, to tell her we’re coming.’

      ‘Good girl. And let’s not alert the locals to my impending arrival. Can you ask her to book the suite in her name?’

      ‘Yes, that’s no problem.’

      ‘There’s one more thing, Francesca,’ he began tentatively, seeking the right words, knowing he must exercise great tact. ‘Are you going to tell your father I’ll be in Bavaria too, when you’re visiting your cousins?’

      ‘I was going to, yes. Don’t you want me to mention it, Victor?’

      ‘No, I don’t think you should. I know how straightforward you are, but leaving something unsaid is not actually lying –’

      ‘It’s lying by omission, isn’t it?’ she suggested, raising an eyebrow.

      ‘Yes, I reckon it is,’ he answered, reminding himself how scrupulous of nature she was. He got up and stood with his back to the fire, gazing out into the room, reflecting, and then he looked down at her. ‘I do have my reasons for asking you not to say anything,’ he began slowly. ‘Very good reasons.’ He wanted to both convince and reassure her, and he said, ‘Look, Francesca, if your father knows I’m in Königssee, Kim will know, and in turn he’ll tell Katharine. Very honestly, I’d prefer her to be in the dark. I want her to think I’m in Klosters. I want everyone to think the same. Except Jake Watson. He has to know where I am, in case he needs to reach me about the picture. But I’m not worried about Jake. He’ll keep his mouth buttoned.’

      Francesca was dismayed. ‘Why on earth don’t you want Katharine to know?’ she cried. ‘She’s my very best friend, and a close friend of yours! She would never breathe a word! Not to anyone. After all, she knows about Confidential, so I would think she’d really be on her guard. In fact, I’m positive she would. Honestly, Victor, I trust her completely.’

      ‘Hell, so do I, Francesca,’ Victor said, sounding emphatic. In all truth, he was not distrustful of Katharine, but being a man of the world he knew how easily a careless slip of the tongue could create untold misery. Also, although he detested covertness, he was genuine in his desire to protect Francesca, and so he considered secrecy imperative.

      He explained this carefully, and she listened, obviously digesting his words. Feeling compelled to dispel any false impression he might have given about Katharine’s integrity, he then proceeded, ‘I know as well as you do that Katharine is exceptionally loyal, and that she wouldn’t intentionally hurt either one of us. But hell, you know how she gets around in London society, and with the show business crowd. Journalists are always on the fringes, or in the midst, of these groups. She might say something accidentally – and to the wrong person. Imagine your father’s distress if that lousy magazine did run some sort of suggestive, disgusting story about us, or if there was gossip among your friends.’

      His eyes rested on her, and he finished gently, ‘I know you want to be open with your father. On the other hand, I think we should be as circumspect as possible, don’t you?’ When she was quiet, he went on, ‘Later, when you’re back in London, you can tell him we ran into each other in the Alps, also say that I spent some time with you and your cousins.’

      Francesca nodded her head slowly, recognizing the soundness of his suggestion. Also, she was no fool, and she understood that if she did not agree he would revert to his original plan. He would go to Klosters. Alone. Her yearning to be with Victor was so forceful it was overcoming her few remaining qualms about her father.

      Victor was watching her, waiting, and wondering, suddenly, why he had invited her to go with him in the first place. Now it seemed like a big mistake.

      As if he had read her mind, he bent towards her and said, ‘Look, I don’t want you to go against your principles. Perhaps we’d better forget the whole idea.