Masquerade. Part 11

"Very good." Patrick ran a casual hand over his tie before walking across to the door of the morning room.

When he entered the room he found Barbara impatiently flicking over the pages of the Totler. She looked up at his entrance and upon seeing him she rose instantly to her feet.

"Darling! I've been waiting ages. Where on earth have you been?"

She crossed the room and bestowed a light, perfumed kiss on his hard cheek before allowing him to speak.

"I've been to see Andrew," replied Patrick, withdrawing himself from her, and walking lazily across to the window. "I'm sorry you've had such a wait. You should have rung first to see if I was in."

"Yes, darling, I know," said Barbara, apparently unperturbed by his coolness of manner. "But I wanted to see you and I naturally thought you would scarcely be out of the house before ten. It's not your usual procedure."

Patrick turned and nodded in a.s.sent. His displeasure at seeing her had not changed, but if he wanted to get his own way he would have to appear more gracious than he was acting at present.

Smiling his disarming smile, he said: "Forgive me for my abrupt manner, Barbara. I'm absorbed by the new play at the present time and I'm afraid I tend to withdraw into myself for no apparent reason."

Immediately Barbara was all contrition. "Oh, I'm the one who should apologize," she exclaimed warmly. ' Coining here shamelessly like this without invi tation, disturbing you."

"Nonsense," said Patrick smoothly. "I'm not working this morning, as you can see. Now, would you like some coffee?"

"Well, Mrs. Chesterton did offer me some earlier on, and I refused. Yes, I think I would like some."

Patrick went to the door and issued instructions to his housekeeper and then returning to Barbara he offered her a cigarette.

"Tell me," he said without preamble, "why have you stopped Samantha from going out with Drew?"

Barbara was taken aback. She applied the tip of her cigarette to the flame of his lighter before replying. It gave her a moment to gather her thoughts.

"Well," she said slowly, "I can't really say that I've act ually prevented her from going out with Drew...."

"Haven't you? I understood from him that you told him Samantha had contracted a chill after her arrival in England.

You never mentioned that to me when we dis cussed Samantha yesterday."

"No... well... actually, it was only a slight cold. I was worried about her, that was all."

"So then you've no actual objection to her friendship with Drew?"

Barbara bit her lip. "No ... why should I have?"

Patrick half-smiled, rather sardonically. "Why indeed! The reason I am posing these questions is that my sister rang me to tell me that she and her husband are having a barbecue this evening. They have invited us to go, you and I that is, and Drew of course. I thought Samantha would like to go as Drew's partner."

Barbara was clearly at a crossroads. Her own natural desire for his company was marred by the invitation to her daughter.

She obviously did not like the idea of Sam antha going with them, and Patrick had a strong suspicion why.

"I... I think I ought to discuss this with Samantha," she said, slowly. "She ... well ... she may have other plans. She and Mother are leaving for Daven in the morning."

Patrick drew swiftly on his cigarette. He, too, was puz zled.

He could not fully understand his own reasons for wanting to protect Samantha. Since he met her on the aeroplane he had felt a strange responsibility for her and he had known Barbara long enough to know that heir acceptance of Samantha as her daughter was not altruistic.

But he could not understand why she had accepted the girl as her daughter at all in the circ.u.mstances. There had got to be a reason, and he would not rest until he had found out that reason.

Was it possibly anything to do with John Kingsley? After all, he had no reason to love Barbara after the way she had treated him.

He realized that she wanted to keep Samantha away from him for a more personal reason, but it was unlike Barbara to be jealous of anybody. Samantha was a lovely girl, of course, and if she was already discontented before her daughter had been with her for any length of time, why did she not send her away again?

Barbara was a rich woman. She could easily afford to send Samantha back to Italy, or to some other place, where she need not interfere with her own life. The more he heard about the affair the more concerned he became.

Barbara was such a fiery-tempered creature arid unpre- dictable when crossed. If Samantha was causing any great inconvenience to her mother, there might be drastic re- percussions.

"Ring her," he said coolly. "Or shall I?"

Barbara rose to her feet again. She had seated herself on a low lounger, but at his words she moved swiftly to the telephone...

"I ... myself will ring her," she said. "I expect she will be out, though. She and Mother were going shopping this morning."

Patrick did not offer any further comment and without looking at him again, Barbara lifted the receiver.

Patrick walked over to the telephone while she was mak ing the call. He had no intention of allowing her to say that Samantha was not at home if she was.

As it happened, Samantha herself was allowed to ans wer the phone. In the last few days, someone had always answered the telephone instead of her and as she had no reason to suppose they would he, she thought that Andrew had not tried to get in touch with her.

Now, hearing her mother's voice, she said: "Yes, it's Samantha here. Do you want Grandmother?"

"No." Barbara ran a tongue over her lips. "Samantha, I'm with Patrick. He has asked me to ask you whether you would like to go to a barbecue tonight at his sister's house. She lives on the coast. Andrew is going and he would like you to go as his partner."

Samantha gasped. Although hearing that her mother was with Patrick Mallory had slightly dulled the feeling of well-being it gave her, she nevertheless knew she would go anywhere if he was to be there.

"Thank you," she said formally. "I'd be delighted to accept."

"You have nothing planned with Mother?"

Samantha thought for a moment, "Oh, no. She said she was going to have an early night so that the journey to Daven tomorrow wouldn't tire her."

"I see." Barbara sighed. "Very well then, I'll relay your answer to Mi. Mallory."

"I gather she would like to come," said Patrick rather dryly, after Barbara had hung up.

"Yes. Thank you for asking us." Barbara resumed her position on the lounger. "Tell me, what do you think of my daughter?"

The question was not the simple one it appeared, but Patrick did not hesitate before answering. To do so would arouse Barbara's suspicions.

"I think she's a very attractive girl," he replied easily. "Not as beautiful as you, Barbara, because your slight ness precludes any definite resemblance. I think she must be more like her father."

"Yes, she is. John was tall and well built, too."

"John.... Kingsley."

"Yes." Barbara looked swiftly at him, but Patrick looked relaxed and unconcerned and she returned her gaze to the coffee cup in her hand "Tell me about your late husband," continued Patrick, interestedly. "What did he do?"

Barbara replaced her cup on the tray and then said: "Well, he was a schoolmaster, actually. He taught here in London."

"I see." Patrick stretched his legs out in front of him, relaxed and lazy in a low chair.

Barbara got up and went over to him, perching on the arm of his chair. She ran a hand down his cheek and bend ing her head, put her lips to his ear.

"Darling, don't let's talk about John. Let's talk about us."

Patrick looked up at her. She was a very lovely woman, and dressed this morning in a light tweed suit edged with silver mink she was quite devastating. He wondered why her particular charm no longer seemed to work with him. He had known all along the kind of woman she was, self-centered and indulgent, but his own life had not been so blameless that he looked for perfection in others. Barbara had been a pleasure to take around and she was quite a stimulating companion. Only now, whenever he was near her, the face of her daughter superimposed itself upon his mind and he found himself wishing it was Samantha who was trying to make love to him.

Not that Samantha had ever shown any tendencies in that direction. On the contrary, she seemed to resent his interference in her affairs and apparently found Andrew more to her liking.

He obviously struck her as being too old and experienced for her and he ought to feel that way himself. He has never been any woman's possession and he did not want to start now.

Pulling Barbara on to his knee, he put his mouth to hers, allowing her aims to encircle his neck arid press him closer. He despised himself for acting this way, but perhaps she might be able to lift the depression which was settling like a monkey on his back.

Barbara was excited and pa.s.sionate. It was well over a month since Patrick had made love to her and her senses were aroused to fever pitch.

"Darling," she whispered ecstatically, her lips caressing his ear. "You do care, don't you? I adore you so much..."

Patrick's stomach tautened. He felt nauseated by his own behaviour and with a wrench, he rose to his feet, de positing Barbara unceremoniously on the chair.

He ran a hand round the back of his neck, and shrugged his shoulders almost imperceptivity. Sighing, he looked down at her flushed face.

"I'm sorry, honey," he muttered. "I know that's inade quate, but this isn't the right time ... or place ...for ... that!

Barbara swung her legs to the ground, and trying to contain her disappointment, she rose slowly to her feet.

She looked at him curiously, and then reached for her bag.

"What time do you intend picking us up tonight?"

Patrick straightened his back. "Let's see. Would six o'clock suit you? It's quite a run over to Sandwich."

"Yes, that's fine." She looked up at him archly. "We might find this evening is more convenient, mightn't we?"

Patrick allowed his lips to form a smile. "We might," he murmured softly, and opened the door for her to leave.

CHAPTER V.

Samantha was in a panic. She alternatively longed for, or dreaded, the evening ahead. She and Barbara were barely civil to one another, now and an evening spent in each other's company would be an ordeal for both of them. Since the fateful c.o.c.ktail party, Samantha had spent sev eral hours in her mother's presence. Barbara had been in vited to open a South London Women's Guild Flower Show and Fete and Samantha had had to attend. Simi lady, they had attended a luncheon given by the Theatre Organisers' a.s.sociation and also visited a hospital in Chelmsford.

Lady Davenport of course did not attend, and the time they spent alone was a trial and a bore. Barbara had taken an almost ridiculous dislike to her daughter and white Samantha did not care much for her mother, she still felt, that she should make the effort. But all her overtures were in vain and only Clyde, who went everywhere with Barbara, knew the real state of affairs.

Lady Davenport consoled her granddaughter as best she could, and only the thought of Daven in the very near future had sustained Samantha through the past few days.

The evenings were spent alone with Lady Davenport, while Barbara went out. Samantha never knew who with. She supposed it must be Patrick Mallory, and tortured herself with thoughts of them together.

She realized she was deteriorating into a wretched misery, but the mental agony of the last few days could not be denied.

Thus it was that she faced yet another period in Barbara's company and this time she would be forced to watch while Patrick Mallory and her mother behaved in the accepted way of lovers the world over. That night at the c.o.c.ktail party he had been shocked and angry. Now there was nothing to interfere with his undivided interest in Barbara.

She dressed in slacks and a long red sweater. She rarely wore red, but tonight she felt like being reckless for a change.

She no longer had any real desire to stay in Lon don, so she might as well make her final evening memor able.

Lady Davenport was looking tired and wan when Samantha looked into her room to say goodbye. Her grandmother had retired early and was in bed when Samantha entered the room.

"You look very young, my dear," she said warmly. "Surely Barbara can have no complaints tonight."

"I hope not." Samantha smiled gently. "Oh, Grandmother, what would I do without you? You make every thing seem so much more normal."

"You would manage," replied Lady Davenport. "You're not without charm, you know. Everyone I've met who has spoken to you finds you utterly delightful; so I'm lore you would not have any difficulty."

Samantha chuckled. "I think you must be leaving Bar bara out of that list. Anyway, darling, I must go. I've got to collect my coat and it's almost six now."

"All right, my dear. Have a good time, and don't let my daughter bally you."

"I won't." Samantha bent and kissed her cheek, and then withdrew quietly from the room.

She slipped on her llama coat, and was examining her pace in the mirror when the door opened. She swung round, surprised, and found herself face to face with Patrick Mallory.

He was wearing close-fitting denim trousers, together with a thick green pullover, and over all he wore a short thick, fur-lined coat. His hair was slightly tousled by the wind. His tawny eyes were lazily amused as he watched her, and she felt her heart stand still for a moment before continuing its mad racing.

"Hi!" he said softly. "Are you ready ?"

Samantha pressed a hand to her stomach. "I... er .. yes. Are you alone?"

"For the moment. Drew's waiting downstairs in the car. We have to pick Barbara up yet."

"I see. Well, shall we go?"

"Sure. That's why I'm here."

She flushed. He was mocking her again. Patrick, seeing the hot colour stain her cheeks, moved towards her.

"Did you think I was amusing myself at your expense?"

He was close now, only a few inches away from her and doubly dangerous in this sweet and gentle mood.