CHAPTER TWO

Felicity was a few days recovering from Blain's news, and his regiment had gone on manoeuvres when she finally settled down into the old routine. Her life reverted again to its pristine freshness and she kept lots of engagements in between giving dinner parties for her friends. Everything was fun again and extremely pleasant. Not that she did not miss Blain; she did, enormously, for he coloured her life and she thought of him often.

Thinking of him set her off examining her own way of life and her beliefs—that tendency to expect from others what she had no right to expect. Blain was only human, and a member of the permissive present-day society from which she had kept herself more or less separate.

She longed to discuss Blain's affair with Nora Staffordly, but decided this was one thing she could not mention to anyone, not even the admirable Anna. She had lain awake at night seeking some way of communicating with her father on the subject of Blain. He was the one she always went to for advice, but Blain was the one person she could not discuss with him. It was really amazing to her how different a son could be from his own father.

The Colonel was no fool. He must have been increasingly conscious that his son was drinking too much. Maybe he was not unduly concerned because Blain's excellent health was not yet impaired.

Some time, Felicity promised herself, she would approach the subject of Blain in a casual way to her father and endeavour to bring him nearer to his son. Colonel Vale-Norton was as cynical as any man of his age and experience on the frailty of the human race, but he loved his children, she was sure of that.

As she cast around for someone to confide in, Anna supplied a clue.

'David Colston rang three times yesterday while you were out. He's back again from his diggings. Thought you'd like to know, ' she said on a casual note as she drew back the curtains in Felicity's bedroom.

Felicity took the top off her egg with slender, well-cared-for hands. David Colston was one of the few men she had learned to trust. He was a bachelor of twenty-eight and well-to-do, but he also had a domineering mother. And he played golf, which Felicity did not.

He was not too good-looking, but he dressed well and only dined in the most exclusive places. His mother was a close friend of Elvira's and they very often got together, talking about the merits of their boys. Felicity had seen too much of what a mother's killing devotion could do to a son via Blain, and she did not fancy a Blain for a husband. Nevertheless, she had gone out with David quite often before he had gone away on an archaeological venture abroad with friends.

Unlike Blain, David had been more interested in swinging 3 golf club than a pretty woman, and Felicity had been rather surprised when he had asked her for a date one evening at a dinner party. She soon discovered that he did not have much in common with her own circle of friends, yet she went on seeing him because he amused her in a lazy, nonchalant kind of way.

The final disillusion had come when she had gone to see him play in a golf tournament. He had been winning, until the last two holes, which were his undoing. He was a terrible loser and what she regarded as a poor sport. After that, she spaced out her dates with him, which only served to make him more eager. He began to telephone her at all hours, and there had been something missing from the day when Anna did not say, 'He rang again, ' he being David.

Since learning of Blain's disturbing affair with Nora Staffordly, Felicity had resolved to alter her own life from its serene peaceful existence to a more revealing one. It had also occurred to her that if she was to make a good marriage, Blain would take note and follow suit.

'Did he leave any message? ' she asked, scooping out a spoonful of golden yolk from her egg.

'He's calling today after lunch, ' Anna said. 'I can tell him you're out. '

'I'll be in. He's not so bad when he's tanned, ' Felicity murmured dreamily over her egg.

When he arrived just after lunch, he looked tanned but harassed.

'Felicity darling, ' he cried, taking her hands into his hard calloused ones, 'I've missed you like hell. You have to marry me. '

To say that she was taken aback was to put it mildly.

'But why? ' she asked, staring at him as if he had taken leave of his senses.

'For the obvious reasons. You're bright, chic, beautiful and everything a man could look for in a wife. And I love you. '

Still reeling from the shock, Felicity said the first thing that came into her head. . 'But I don't love your mother. '

'What has she to do with it? ' He ran his hand through his hair, a trick of his when he was losing at golf, and she was sure he was not going to be a good loser in the marriage stakes either. 'You won't be marrying my mother. '

'I shall if I marry you, ' she told him.

'You mean you won't marry me? '

He looked as put out as if he had just lost a golf tournament, and she nodded, feeling sorry for him.

Softening the blow, she said, 'I like you a lot, but marriage is so final. At least it is for me. '

'My arm doesn't exactly ache from notching up my divorces either. I've never proposed to a girl before, ' he said sarcastically.

Felicity blushed and tried to look demure. 'I'm sure you haven't. '

'Sure you know what you're doing? ' he asked darkly.

'Yes. ' She nodded, wondering if she had been too hasty. David was not a bad sort, but that was not exactly a good reason for marrying him. A pity, she would miss him, and the thought of Blain being away too made her feel rather deflated.

David did not stay for tea. He left, still advising her to think it over; she was sure it had never occurred to him that she would decline the honour he had done her in asking her to be his wife. Maybe she was a little mad, for she suddenly ached to feel a strong arm around her other than her father's. Perhaps if David had slid an arm around her tenderly, she might have forgotten he had a mother and accepted him. The trouble was, she had turned down so many proposals that it could be becoming a habit. And all this heart-searching because of Blain! She was happy enough before.

Blain returned unexpectedly one evening. Her parents had, gone out to dine with friends, and he was there in the lounge when she went down to dinner. He was in his favourite position, lounging in a chair with one leg slung over the arm, and he looked shattered. Immediately on seeing his face, Felicity knew the worst had happened.

He had a drink in his hand and, as she entered, he threw a long official-looking envelope on to the low table between them.

'I received this when I returned from manoeuvres this morning—notice of pending divorce proceedings from Staffordly. I came as soon as I could. He's naming me as correspondent, ' he said heavily.

He ran his hand through his curly hair, filled with an acute sense of resentment and self-pity before dashing off the remainder of his drink.

Felicity was divided between wanting to comfort him and telling him to take his punishment like a man. Instead, she said gently, 'You'll have to tell Daddy. '

'I know. What am I to do? He'll go berserk. '

'I don't think he will. You've come at the right time. He and Mummy are dining out and he'll come home replete with a good meal, which will put him in a favourable mood, ' Felicity assured him practically. 'You're just in time for dinner. '

'If it wasn't for the sordidness of the whole affair, I would be glad this has happened, ' said the Colonel, who on his return home had been greeted with the buff-coloured message from his erring son. 'It gives you the opportunity to be a man, and to grow up out of that cocoon of cotton wool your mother has wrapped you in all these years. '

He folded the document, having taken the news with admirable calm. Then he looked hard at his son, who reminded him of his own youth—there was the same familiar look of pride in the set of his head, the same soldierly bearing and tilt of the chin. There the resemblance ended. Felicity's face was warmer, more full of character. Her deep blue eyes beneath the lovely tilted brows were eloquent with feeling, her mouth tender and as charmingly expressive as her slender hands. Blain, he decided ruefully, had been pipped at the post by his twin when characters had been handed out. They were the wrong way round.

Blain, fortified by an excellent dinner and more than one double whisky, had stood the ordeal very well. He had the grace to look ashamed.

'I'm sorry, sir, ' he said respectfully. 'I'm afraid the publicity won't do me any good as regards a future career in politics, as you'd planned for me. '

The Colonel stood up and threw the letter on the heavy mahogany table, then walked to the telephone.

'Pity you didn't think of that before, ' he said grimly. 'I must get in touch with Callow right away. '

When the Colonel had left the room, Elvira went up to her son and put her arms around him protectively.

'Darling boy, ' she cooed, 'don't worry. We shall get you out of this mess. The important thing is that you're home again. I have missed you, my pet. '

Felicity, raising her eyes to heaven, left the room quietly, leaving them together. She wished she could feel as optimistic about the affair as her mother. Blain, of course, would revel in his mother's petting.

Edward Callow, the family solicitor, came to dinner the following evening. He had been too busy to call earlier. He was a tall, ascetic-looking man who gave the impression that he had not been surprised at anything in his long career. In his late fifties, he was quick in his movements and eagle-eyed.

Over dinner, he said, 'I shall have to contact Staffordly's solicitor to see if there's any-likelihood of the case being settled out of court. The divorce would have to go through the usual channels, but there is just a chance that it can be settled amicably, keeping Blain's name out of it. I won't promise anything. '

'In that case, ' said the Colonel, plying him with more wine as though to keep him in a tolerable frame of mind, 'I shall contact Curtis Moreau, and ask him to take the case. '

Edward Callow shook his head. 'I'm afraid Moreau is above taking a case like this, but I don't say that it might not be possible to persuade him, seeing that he's an old... er... hmm... ' He cleared his throat, mindful of his profession and the danger of the spoken word. 'I believe he is an old acquaintance of Mrs Staffordly. '

'Who isn't? ' thought Felicity scathingly.

After several attempts to contact Curtis Moreau by telephone, the Colonel sent him an invitation to spend the weekend at Norton Towers. He accepted. Norton Towers was the ideal place for any kind of discussion over good wine and expensive cigars; the original character of the rooms had been preserved despite the modern decor. The beautiful panelling, the graciously carved antique pieces blended happily with the sophisticated modern decor with every bedroom having a small lounge and bathroom adjoining. There was also a billiard room.

Curtis Moreau was driving down on Friday night, and Felicity awaited his coming wishing it was all over. He would spoil a pleasant weekend, since Blain was coming too. While she dressed for dinner that evening, she tried to remember what she had heard about the famous Q. C. She recalled that he was both brilliant and young, about thirty, that he was one of the most successful and feared men at the bar. There was a faint recollection of having seen his streamlined form several times in one of the glossy magazines, photographed at some important function or other, but she had always regarded photographs as being misleading and she had never studied him. Now she was wishing she had.

Rather unfairly, Felicity was blaming him entirely for spoiling her weekend. She hated the thought of not being able to do what she liked, and wondered fleetingly if marriage was for her after all.

'I'm not in the mood for visitors, Anna, ' she said as the woman came to see if she needed any help in dressing when she had helped Elvira. 'I'd like to stay in my room tonight and play records. '

She gave a little grimace as Anna's deft fingers piled her golden hair on the top of her head in curls.

'I've never known you to be scared of a man before, ' observed Anna.

Felicity stiffened with indignation. 'Scared? What are you talking about? ' Her clear blue eyes met those of her companion in the mirror.

Anna shrugged; 'Everyone knows that Curtis Moreau is the most eligible man about town. Every mother in Who's Who is panting after him for her daughter. ' She gave a final pat to her handiwork and stepped back to survey the result. 'He'll make a nice change, a new face. You need a wider choice for a husband. '

'And who said I was looking for a husband? ' Felicity demanded crossly.

'If you aren't, then it's time you were. I never knew anyone more in need of a husband. '

'Thanks! I never knew I looked so sex-starved. Anna, you're a bitch. '

'Aren't we all? ' murmured Anna, admiring the golden coronet of curls. 'But you're one of the nicest. '

Felicity assumed an air of mock severity. 'Flattery, my dear Anna, will get you nowhere. I shall be nice to this Curtis Moreau since he's to be our guest, but no more than politeness demands. '

'We shall see, ' said Anna darkly, and with this parting shot left the room.

In her hurry to get the evening over, since Blain would not be arriving until the following day, Felicity went down to dinner earlier than usual, to see a tall immaculate figure about to enter the lounge. He turned, and a slight smile hovered on his sardonic lips as he watched her descend the last of the stairs. There was no doubt in his mind that this deceptively lovely creature was the twin of the boy he had been asked to defend. Upon seeing him, she had descended the last stairs slowly, reluctantly, one small, slender hand on the curved balustrade, the long, graceful lines of her evening dress floating like mist above the toes of her small silver slippers. There was an untouched aura about the deep blue eyes gazing at him serenely from beneath winged brows; but it was her mouth, tenderly curved with no hint of inherent weakness, on which his eyes lingered. Her poise was touchingly regal and in no way connected with that of an older, more experienced woman.

Curtis Moreau had known many beautiful women during his short, dynamic career, but none like this one, who looked as though she had found her own particular niche in life and was happy in it. But then so many women took up acting these days, and he remembered cynically just how good some of them could be. From his own face, set in into its usual cynical mask, no onlooker would have known that he was oddly disturbed within.

His eyes, narrowed beneath their strongly marked brows, captured and held her own as she approached. As she met that intent gaze, Felicity's heart began to beat in uneven jerks, and she had the curious feeling that the room was blacked out while the light shed a torchlike beam on the tall, loosely knit figure in the evening suit.

His thick dark hair, in spite of disciplined grooming, showed a strong tendency to wave, and the light was coaxing bronze glints in it. Her breath caught in her throat, and she was filled with a strange unaccountable shyness as she stood before him, unable to speak.

'Miss Felicity Vale-Norton? ' he asked.

She nodded, and he continued in a deep, very attractive voice.

'Curtis Moreau. No doubt your father has told you I have been invited here for the weekend. ' He held out his hand. 'I don't believe we've met before. '

Felicity put out her hand and managed to smile into the dark, inscrutable face so far above her own.

'No, we haven't. I hope you'll enjoy your visit, ' she said quietly.

'I have a feeling that I'm going to, immensely. '

He smiled down at her after a brief handshake. It had been an impersonal one, nothing impertinent about it, but Felicity had found the contact with those cool, strong fingers most disturbing. And as they entered the lounge she was disturbingly aware of his tall, broad-shouldered frame, his bronzed and clear-cut face and the easy elegance of his long stride.

During dinner she found his male magnetism drawing her eyes in his direction against her will. And again she experienced the extraordinary strength and vitality in his gaze as their eyes met across the dinner table. Her heart gave a curious lurch and her eyes fell from his in confusion, leaving her furious with herself for allowing his presence to dominate her senses. Why should he disturb her so? No other man had ever done so to the extent that this one did.

She could see why he was successful at the bar. He was the kind of man irresistible to women of any age, and at the same time instilled confidence; one felt instinctively that he was a man one could trust. He talked with wit and humour and he had that congenital gift of assessing the value and power of words, which he used economically while making his subject interesting. He never dominated the conversation, but his presence dominated the room. No one, Felicity decided, could ignore his personality; he was so dynamic, so disturbing. She found herself hanging on to his every word as he moved easily from one subject to another.

She was not the only one who was enjoying his company. Her father had lost the look of strain he had carried since Blain's announcement of the impending divorce, and was visibly enjoying himself. He admired the brilliant brain behind his guest's shrewd perception and wisdom, and he knew he would be lucky if he could persuade him to defend his son.

As for Elvira, she responded to his charm like a flower opening its petals to the sun. He teased her in his deep disturbing voice and she laughed often at his innuendoes.

Later, Felicity said to her mother, 'Don't you agree that professional men, like doctors and barristers, are rather uncomfortable men to be with? '

Both women had returned to the lounge after dinner, leaving the two men with their wine and cigars. From her seat on the couch, Elvira looked down on the bright eyes and flushed cheeks of her daughter, who had dropped down on the white sheepskin hearthrug at her feet.

'Do you mean Curtis Moreau, or professional men in general? she asked.

Felicity hugged her knees and stared into the blazing log fire.

'Both, I suppose. I mean... well... they're so cynical with experience. They give you the impression of being able to look right through you to your very soul. It's... most unsettling, almost indecent. '

Elvira said slowly,

'Experienced men of the world usually do have that effect on the less experienced, and I should imagine Curtis Moreau is more disturbing than most. I find him extremely attractive, and I'm sure other women do too. His busy life could be responsible for the fact that he has remained a bachelor. '

Felicity digested this at some length. 'The man probably hasn't one romantic bone in his body. He's like a machine, ' she said.

Elvira's voice was placid. 'You're annoyed because he didn't give you the attention during dinner that he gave to me. No, I would say he has a deep capacity for passion and feeling which he hides beneath a veneer of self-discipline. He knows all the answers, and is only prepared to go as far as he chooses. '

Suddenly, Felicity rose to her feet and paced the rug. 'Blain is an idiot to get into this mess, ' she cried explosively.

Elvira laid back her neat head of natural golden hair against the cushions. The years had been kind to her and her neat, slim figure, which she invariably adorned in pastel shades, was as elegant as her daughter's.

'Blain is only human, and the best of men are selfish, ' she vouchsafed. 'You'll find that out some day. '

'But not tonight, ' Felicity said firmly. 'I've had a surfeit of men for one day. I'm going to bed. '

Before she went to sleep that night the aura of Curtis Moreau clung to her, and the memory of him, the intent gaze of his eyes haunted her until her eyes closed in slumber.

She was up early the next morning for her ride on Sandy. The morning was crisp and cool, with the scent of roses in the air as she turned in to the creeper-clad walls of the stable. And there he was, swinging himself up easily into the saddle of one of the Colonel's horses. He turned round, smiling, and Felicity was very aware of his virile and compelling good looks.

'Good morning, Miss Vale-Norton, ' he said as Sandy moved restless hooves behind the musk-scented stable doors. 'Am I to have the pleasure of your company? '

He was immaculately and correctly turned out for the occasion in dun-coloured breeches and riding boots, his shoulders square in the well-cut jacket.

'If you can bear it, ' she answered, feeling strangely light-hearted.

Her joy increased to feel Sandy beneath her, stepping out in. delight when the springy turf was at last beneath his feet. That swift canter, with the morning air caressing her face and the soft thud of the horse's hooves in rhythm, was something she would never forget. The man beside her spoke little, and when he smiled she sensed an inner aloofness. I wonder what he's really like beneath all his cool reserve, she found herself thinking, and stole fugitive glances at his masculine profile.

He seemed to be deep in thought; considerate, charming and smiling down at her, he might have been miles away. No woman will ever hold him, she told herself, and was surprised that the thought had occurred to her when she had not been regarding him in that light herself.

He was an excellent horseman, sitting the saddle as though born to it.

'Do you ride often? ' she asked, then felt suddenly ridiculous for asking such a question when she knew that his work could not have given him much leisure to do so.

'Not as much as I should like to, ' he replied laconically. They had arrived back at the stables and Felicity slid down from the saddle into the hands he put out to hold her. His touch sent a richer colour to her face, and her breath caught in her throat. His hands were very strong and gentle.

'Thank you, Miss Vale-Norton, for a most delightful ride, ' he said.

He held her slender waist for a moment, his clasp firm yet impersonal. Felicity had the feeling that he was keeping his distance as she thanked him in return.

Irritated, she assumed a lightheartedness of spirit. 'I'm hungry, I don't know about you, ' she told him.

'Ravenous. Shall we have breakfast together? '

She laughed. 'Why not? We'll eat now and change later. '

So they ate their eggs and toast together. Neither of her parents put in an appearance, and they had coffee on the terrace in the sun-dappled light.

Curtis had picked a cigar from the box on the table and lighted it. After several draws from it he looked at the glowing end, then at her.

'Is this your daily routine, or do you vary your activities from day to day? ' he asked. 'For instance, have you a fiancé? '

'No. I love my home, ' she answered simply.

He nodded comprehendingly. 'It's certainly an enchanting place. Would you take me round it? '

Felicity hesitated for a moment, then said impulsively, 'Of course. Do you want to look around now? '

'Why not? '

Her parents came down to breakfast as they crossed the hall. The Colonel was in riding clothes.

'I see you've beaten me to it, ' he said, eyes twinkling.

Elvira simply greeted them charmingly. 'Have you had breakfast? ' she asked, and smiled with no change of expression when Felicity told her they had, and were now going on a tour of the house.

She took Curtis up winding stone steps to the top of one of the twin towers, where they could look at a panoramic view of the countryside above the carved, stone edge of the battlements. And he listened intently to the stories she told of the house and its connections with Cromwell and other great names in history. His knowledge of architecture and history pleased her, and she warmed to the subject so close to her heart, her home.

'I hope I'm not boring you, ' she said as they entered the long picture gallery where so many long-deceased members of the Vale-Norton family looked down at them from the panelled walls.

'On the contrary, I'm enjoying it immensely. It's only when one walks around places like this, steeped with history and tradition, that one realizes that it's man's creative beauty which endures and not the kind of ugliness with which we are surrounding ourselves in the present age. '

He lingered for some time before a picture of Blain and herself painted when they were four years old. His eyes were intent upon the angelic small faces, Felicity's large, solemn eyes and cascade of golden hair, Blain's mop of curls.

Felicity chuckled. 'Blain hates this picture of him. He says he looks too much like a girl. '

'Which explains why he's so busy proving he's not, ' Curtis commented dryly. 'Tell me about him. '

'He's nice really. He's an excellent sportsman, a crack shot, first-class horseman, swims like a fish, loves rugby and can do the repairs to his car. ' She laughed at his raised brows. 'Have I said enough to be going on with? '

'Enough to convince me that he's all male, ' murmured her companion.

Felicity came straight to the point. She looked serious again.

'You will... take on his case, won't you? ' she asked with a suspicion of a tremble in her voice. 'You see, Daddy wants him to go into politics later, so it's important for someone like you to stand for him. '

He nodded. 'On the other hand, ' he slid slowly, 'it would do him good not to be able to extricate himself so easily this time. I'm not sure that your brother is the kind we want in politics. The son of an indulgent mother is the last candidate I would want to represent me in Parliament. '

She went pale. 'That's clever of you, ' she said.

'It's part of my job to be able to see below the surface of my clients, and your brother is easy enough to read. I had a talk with him before I came down here. ' He gave a slow smile, and once again she thought how very attractive he could be. 'He appeared to think his only sin was being found out. '

She looked at him hopefully. 'Does that mean you'll help him? '

'As I'm representing Mrs Staffordly, I have no other alternative, ' he answered.

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