Roses and Champagne. Бетти Нилс

he had left her, closing the door very quietly behind him.

      CHAPTER TWO

      ALL IDEA OF going to London gone from her head, Katrina sat down and allowed her chaotic thoughts to settle themselves. They jostled each other around her head, making no sense. Lucius had been joking—or had he? And surely Virginia would not have played such a rotten trick even if she had meant it as a joke. She must have known it was a bad one, sure to misfire. Katrina thanked heaven that their friends, mostly lifelong, would think twice before believing Virginia, or at least they wouldn’t accuse her of lying, merely of exaggerating, and that because her youthful ego had been deflated. And no one, no one at all, would have anything to say against Lucius. She sighed; which meant that Virginia would have to explain. She frowned then. Surely her sister hadn’t said those hurtful things?—as though she had ever made any push to attract Lucius away from Virginia, and she wasn’t brainy or mature or elegant, that had been cruel. All the same, Lucius need not have been quite so angry, and the suggestion he had made had been ridiculous. If he thought he was going to get even with Virginia by playing a silly make-believe game with herself as an unwilling partner he could think again! She finished tying the portfolio and went downstairs.

      In the sitting room Lucius was sitting comfortably, reading The Times. He got up as she stopped just inside the door, taking no notice of her astonished: ‘Well, what are you doing here?’

      ‘I heard you telling Mrs Drake that you intended going up to town with your drawings. I’ll drive you up now; I’ve an appointment for later on this morning, but I’ll pick you up and bring you back any time you like.’

      Katrina said with great dignity: ‘Thank you, Lucius, but I shall drive myself up tomorrow. I’m surprised at you asking.’

      ‘My dear, didn’t I make myself plain? For lack of a better phrase, I intend to court you. I shouldn’t like to make Virginia out to be a liar.’

      ‘And what about me?’ asked Katrina furiously. ‘No one’s asked me if—if I want to be courted.’ She added snappishly: ‘How silly and old-fashioned that sounds!’

      ‘Ah, yes indeed; you must add these to my other shortcomings.’

      ‘Don’t be ridiculous! You’re being tiresome.’

      ‘That too,’ he agreed gravely. ‘How long will it take you to get ready?’

      ‘I’ve just said, I’m going to drive myself…’ She caught his eye, grey and cold and compelling. ‘Very well,’ she said reluctantly, ‘but I don’t want any more of this nonsense. I shall talk to Virginia when she gets back and—and…’ She faltered under his amused stare.

      ‘You haven’t a chance,’ he told her. ‘She’s always made rings round you and always will.’ He nodded gently at her. ‘Go and get ready.’

      Ever since she could remember Katrina had obeyed him unquestioningly, even though at times she hadn’t minced matters if she was annoyed with him. She went back upstairs to her room and changed into a dark grey suit, beautifully cut. It was elegant and in excellent taste, and made her look older than she was. A scarf, plain court shoes and a matching handbag completed her outfit while doing nothing for her at all. She fetched her portfolio and went downstairs to tell Mrs Beecham that she wouldn’t be back until the late afternoon, before going back to the sitting room.

      Lucius eyed her thoughtfully. ‘Going to do any shopping?’ he wanted to know.

      ‘Well, I thought I might look round for a dress for the Hunt Ball. Why do you want to know?’

      He shrugged his shoulders. ‘No reason. Shall we go?’

      He dropped her off at the publishers in Bloomsbury after arranging to meet her for lunch at the Connaught Hotel. ‘I’ll be in the bar at twelve-thirty and wait for you,’ he suggested.

      She stood on the pavement outside the publishers’ office. ‘But will you be ready by then? I could make it later if you like and do some shopping first.’

      He handed her the portfolio. ‘No need, I’ll be there. You can shop after lunch.’

      He waited until she had gone inside and then got back into the car and drove off. Katrina watched him go through the glass doors. It was strange to think that despite all the happenings of the last few days, she felt exactly the same about him as she had always done—a friend, someone to be depended upon, who always knew what to do. As she gave her name to the receptionist she decided that the best plan would be to ignore their extraordinary conversation of that morning; she would have it out with Virginia, persuade her to tell everyone that she had been joking, and everything would be just as it had been. Or would it be? She had no chance to ponder the matter before she was ushered upstairs to the publishers’ office.

      She wasn’t there long. The illustrations were approved, she was asked if she would undertake another commission for a jacket cover, given coffee, promised a cheque within a few days, and took her departure. She had to walk a little way before she could get a taxi and the traffic was heavy. She got to the Connaught ten minutes late, to find Lucius sitting in the bar with no sign of impatience.

      She sat down opposite him and took off her gloves. ‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘I couldn’t find a taxi. Have you been waiting long?’

      ‘A few minutes. What will you drink?’

      Over their drinks they talked without saying much. Katrina felt awkward; it hadn’t been so bad in the car, sitting beside him while they carried on desultory conversation, but now with him opposite her, his grey eyes friendly, she had the absurd wish to ask his advice about what she should do. However, she didn’t. She told him about her new commission, enlarging upon the weather, which was chilly, and agreed nervously when he suggested that they might lunch without further delay.

      She discovered that she was hungry once they were seated, to Lucius’s suggestion that they might try the smoked trout she agreed immediately, and then went on to boeuf Stroganoff and ruche glacée. It was over their coffee that Lucius suggested that as he was free for the afternoon he might accompany her on her shopping expedition.

      ‘You’d be bored stiff,’ said Katrina forthrightly.

      ‘No, I won’t. We’ll leave the car here and walk.’

      ‘But I thought of going to Harrods or Liberty’s.’

      ‘Let’s try Bond Street and Sloane Street first.’

      They were on the steps of the hotel when she said: ‘Look, you’ll hate it—tagging from shop to shop, and I never go to boutiques…’

      He took her arm and began walking her along the pavement. ‘Why not?’

      ‘I’m not that sort of girl—I mean, I’m not smart or pretty.’ She added pettishly: ‘And for heaven’s sake, why do you ask? You’ve known it for years.’

      ‘I know a couple of shops where I’m sure you’ll see you’re mistaken.’

      She stopped walking to look up at him. She didn’t mind in the least that he hadn’t denied her lack of good looks, during all their years of friendship he had never made any bones about that, but she was curious about something else. ‘How do you know about boutiques?’ she wanted to know.

      Lucius chuckled. ‘Don’t be so inquisitive, Katie.’ He walked her on again and presently stopped before an elegant plate glass window, sheltering a vase of flowers, a gossamer scarf over a little gilt chair, and a black dress, displayed on an impossibly slim plaster model.

      ‘That’s a nice little chair,’ observed Katrina, who was interested in furniture.

      ‘Charming, but you can’t wear that to the Hunt Ball,’ he said as he opened the door and swept her inside.

      Dove grey velvet, more little chairs, delicate lights and an elegant creature in black crêpe left Katrina without words. But it was obvious that Lucius had no intention of helping her. She asked to see some evening