Sally Wentworth - Chris

‘Now just a minute here, I——’ Sam began angrily.

But Chris put a hand under his elbow. ‘It’s this way.’

Sam was bigger than he was, in both height and breadth, and could probably have pushed Chris away, but he looked across at Tiffany, who was standing near Calum. For a second their eyes met and he must have realised what game she was playing. He hesitated, then, seeing the tense pleading in her blue eyes, he gave an angry, resigned kind of shrug and let Chris lead him away.

Francesca watched them go, a frown between her eyes, then came over to Tiffany. ‘Perhaps you’d better come inside with me.’

‘Thank you, but if I could just wait a while until he’s gone,’ Tiffany said in a distressed voice.

‘But your suit,’ Francesca said, pointing.

Tiffany looked down and saw that Sam’s port had spilled all down her. She gave a genuine wail of anguish. ‘Oh, no!’

‘Come into the house. I’m sure we can save it if we do something quickly.’

Calum added his voice. ‘Yes, please go inside, Miss—er——?’

‘Tiffany Dean,’ Tiffany said abstractedly, still looking down at her skirt and wondering how on earth she was going to explain this to the shop she’d hired it from.

Francesca led her inside the house again and up to a bedroom where Tiffany slipped out of the suit and it was rushed away by a maid, who pulled a pessimistic face when she saw the stained silk. There was a towelling robe hanging in the next-door bathroom. Bringing it for her to put on, Francesca said, ‘Will you excuse me, Tiffany? I must go and help say goodbye to the guests. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’

‘Yes, of course. I’m sorry to be a nuisance.’

‘Nonsense. It wasn’t your fault.’

Francesca smiled and hurried away, leaving Tiffany to realise that she’d got the introduction to Calum she’d so much wanted, but had had no opportunity to follow it up. It had all been wasted. She’d used poor Sam for nothing. It was a desperate ploy that had seemed a good idea at the time, but just hadn’t worked. The way most of the ideas she had nowadays never seemed to work out. And if the suit was ruined, then she was even worse off than when she’d started.

That didn’t bear thinking about so Tiffany resolutely pushed it out of her mind. She caught a glimpse of herself in a full-length antique mirror. The robe was much too big, completely hiding her hands and falling to her feet, looking ridiculous with her high heels. She kicked off her shoes, feeling a mad urge to break into hysterical laughter. It was that or cry. Pulling the robe round her, she sat on the edge of the four-poster bed and fought back tears. Please, please, she thought fiercely, let something go right for a change. Just for once let it go right.

There was a knock on the door and Francesca came in. ‘The guests have all left and my grandfather has gone up to his room to rest.’ She hesitated for a moment, then said, ‘We haven’t told him what happened. We didn’t want to upset him. He hasn’t been very well recently, you see.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry. He looks all right,’ Tiffany remarked.

‘Oh, yes. It’s his blood-pressure. Arranging all these festivities for the bicentennial has been a bit much for him. Calum has tried to take as much of the organisation on himself as he can, but Grandpa has insisted on knowing every detail. It would be a shame if this—incident spoilt things for him on the first day.’

‘I’m very sorry,’ Tiffany said, guilt making her voice stiff.

Francesca mistook the nuance in her voice and sat down on the bed beside her. ‘Oh, dear, I didn’t mean it that way. I’m so sorry, Tiffany. You must be feeling wretched about it yourself. The stupid man! Why don’t they ever learn? You only have to smile at them and be friendly and they immediately think you’re willing to leap into bed with them. And Sam seemed OK, too. Just shows you how mistaken you can be.’

Tiffany could only manage a stilted smile at that, and quickly changed the subject. ‘I don’t know how I’m going to get home. Would it be OK to wait here until my suit’s dry?’

‘Of course. But you can’t possibly spend the whole of the afternoon in here.’ Francesca laughed. ‘I’d lend you something of mine, but you’d be swamped in it. But I’ll see what I can arrange.’ She stood up. ‘Calum wants to speak to you. He’s downstairs.’ And she headed for the door.

Tiffany stared at her. ‘What about?’

The taller girl shrugged, laughed. ‘He didn’t tell me. He never does. Come and see.’

Tiffany got uncertainly to her feet and gestured to the bathrobe. ‘Like this? I can’t possibly.’

‘Of course you can. Calum won’t care.’

With a sigh, Tiffany followed her. She’d wanted to make an impression on the heir to the House of Brodey, but this definitely wasn’t what she’d intended.

Calum was waiting in a sitting-room looking out over the lawn where the tables were being cleared. Chris was with him. They stood up politely when the two girls came in. When they saw Tiffany in the over-sized robe, just her bare feet with pink-painted toes sticking out from under it, neither man could resist a grin.

She laughed and put out her arms as she twirled round. ‘The latest creation from Paris,’ she joked.

Stepping forward, Calum took her hand and said, ‘Miss Dean, I’d like to apologise to you on behalf of my family. We’re all extremely sorry that such a thing happened here.’

There was true regret in his tone, making Tiffany flush. Something made her glance towards Chris; he was watching them with a faintly mocking curl to his lip, and she immediately knew that she might have deceived Calum but not Chris. Trying to put things as right as possible, she said lightly, ‘Oh, please, don’t apologise. I probably over-reacted. After all, I had been sitting next to Mr Gallagher during lunch, and—well, in a way I suppose it’s your fault really—you do serve excellent wine!’

Everyone laughed, even Chris’s eyebrows rising in surprise, and the tension was immediately eased.

‘And such a lot of it,’ Francesca agreed.

‘You’re being extremely good about it,’ Calum said, his lean features breaking into a warm smile. ‘But you must let us make it up to you. Perhaps we could——’

But Francesca broke in, ‘I know; you must join us for dinner tonight!’

Calum looked momentarily taken aback, but recovered quickly and smiled. ‘Of course. Won’t you join us for dinner, Miss Dean?’

It was what Tiffany had hoped and longed for, but she immediately protested, ‘Oh, but I couldn’t. I——’

‘But you must,’ Francesca broke in. ‘We need someone to liven us up. Chris, come and persuade Tiffany to stay,’ she commanded imperiously.

But Chris said, ‘It will be dull with all the family there.’

‘That’s why she must come. Tiffany, please say you will.’

Pushing Chris’s obvious reluctance out of her mind, Tiffany laughed and indicated the bathrobe. ‘But how can I possibly?’

‘Oh, that’s easily solved. I’ll ring a boutique in the town and tell them to bring up a selection of gowns for you to choose from. They should be here before too long,’ Francesca said with all the confidence of a girl who only had to lift a phone to always get what she wanted. ‘Now, you don’t have any excuse, so please say that you’ll stay.’

But Tiffany looked at Calum for reassurance, saying, ‘I’m sure you really don’t want an outsider at a family party.’

She got what she wanted. ‘There will be others there beside ourselves. And you’ll be very welcome, Miss Dean.’

Giving him one of her best smiles, she said, ‘Well, if you’re sure…’

‘Quite sure. It will be a great pleasure.’