Time Fuse

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn’t see the other two people in the hallway until she reached it. The colour receded quickly from her face as she saw Piers Gresham standing beside his mother chatting with the Seatons.

‘Selina, my dear, there you are.’ Dulcie Gresham greeted her warmly. ‘I was just asking Susan where you were. I would have hated to leave without saying goodbye. Piers, why on earth didn’t you tell me what a charming girl Selina is?’

His mother was laying it on a trifle thickly Selina thought, but she was still unable to repress the small gleam of amusement that lit her eyes, a totally natural smile curving her mouth.

‘Perhaps because I suspected it was something you’d soon discover for yourself,’ Piers drawled, helping his mother on with her coat. His voice was mild, but there was nothing mild about the look he gave Selina. It dulled the light in her eyes instantly, her mouth freezing in its half-smile as she caught the full force of his icy stare. That she should be amused by his mother’s comment plainly infuriated him and he was making no bones about letting her know it.

Turning away Selina felt her heart plummet as Harry strolled into the hall. On seeing her there he exclaimed triumphantly. ‘Just going… You must let me give you a lift. Now…no protests, I know you don’t have a car.’

Before she could speak, Selina heard Dulcie Gresham saying calmly, ‘No need for that, Harry, we’re dropping Selina off. Come along, dear,’ she added, touching her arm. ‘Best not to keep Piers waiting, he does hate it so, but then I suppose you’ve noticed that already.’

Too bemused to protest, Selina let herself be shepherded towards the door, unhappily aware of the speculation and chagrin in Harry’s eyes as he glanced from Piers to herself. No doubt he was assuming that Piers was the ‘date’ she had fibbed to him about. Well, it was scarcely important, she told herself, taking a deep breath as the front door closed behind them.

‘It was very kind of you to rescue me like that,’ she began, refusing to look at Piers, but all too aware of his dark, magnetic presence behind her, ‘but really I can make my own way home.’

‘Nonsense.’ Dulcie’s tone was brisk. ‘Of course we will give you a lift.’

‘Perhaps Miss Thorn is trying delicately to inform us that she would have preferred to accept Harry’s invitation,’ Piers put in smoothly. ‘After all, Mother dear, you didn’t actually give her any chance to respond.’

‘Selina loathes the man,’ his mother told him succinctly. ‘And don’t be so pedantic, Piers. I’m not a member of one of your juries you know. You didn’t want to go with Harry, did you, Selina?’

She was caught in a trap. If she told the truth she would be obliged to accept the lift that Dulcie had offered, and yet she could hardly be more unaware of Piers’ disinclination to give her a lift.

In the end she opted for the middle road. ‘I didn’t particularly want to go with Harry, no, but you really need not give me a lift. The tube is very convenient.’

‘There you are, Mother.’ Piers’ voice was oddly harsh. ‘Miss Thorn has as little liking for our company as she does the obnoxious Harry’s. And since she’s old enough to make her own decisions I suggest we allow her to do so.’

‘Piers, really!’

Selina could tell both from his mother’s expression and voice that she genuinely was embarrassed. Wanting to put her at her ease she said quickly, ‘No, really, Mr Gresham is quite right…I…’ She turned away and rushed down the drive, not wanting either of them to see the sudden sheen of tears she knew was in her eyes. Why did she never learn, she demanded fiercely of herself as she made her way home; why had she laid herself so open to his contempt and humiliation. She had known from the first what manner of man he was. Perhaps if she had not refused to dance with him in quite such strong terms they might…but no…he had openly admitted that he was suspicious of her, Selina reminded herself.

What had she let herself in for in giving in to the compulsion to know more of her father? It was too late to turn back and yet every instinct she possessed warned her to keep away from Piers Gresham; to avoid him at all costs. Unwittingly, she touched her mouth, withdrawing her fingers as though they burned when she realised what she was doing. Just for a moment she had been reliving the pressure of his mouth on hers; fierce and angry, communicating to her a thousand emotions too complex to analyse but which had somehow pierced all her barriers and distrust of his sex to provoke from her a physical response which still had the power to disturb her.

CHAPTER THREE

IT was several weeks before Selina saw Dulcie Gresham again, and then only by chance. She had slipped into a local record shop on impulse during her lunch hour, tempted inside by a window display which featured a Vivaldi recording she had coveted for a long time. Music was one of her great passions, and having just received her salary cheque there was no reason why she should not indulge herself a little.

Dulcie Gresham spotted her while she was studying the recordings on offer.

‘Selina, my dear,’ she exclaimed touching her lightly on the arm. ‘What a piece of good luck, I have been meaning to call in at chambers for some time to see you, but somehow or other other things have intervened. Ah, you are tempted by the Vivaldi I see. They’re having a brief season of his work at the Opera House soon. I’m a great Vivaldi fan myself, I don’t suppose you’d consider keeping me company there one evening?’

Selina knew she ought to refuse. Dulcie Gresham was her employer’s sister and the mother of a man who had been bluntly rude about his suspicions of her, and yet, half-bemused by the invitation, she heard herself accepting. She liked Dulcie Gresham; there was no getting away from it. She was a woman of her time, but she had a strength that Selina felt drawn to.

‘Good girl. I normally would have gone with Piers, but he’s very tied up with a new case at the moment.’ She gave Selina a thoughtful look. ‘I must apologise for his rude behaviour the other week.’

‘There’s really no need,’ Selina forced a smile. ‘I’m afraid the plain truth is that your son and I simply don’t get on.’

‘Umm…’ This time the look she gave Selina made the latter colour slightly defensively. ‘Yes, I’m afraid it is mutual, although in your son’s case his dislike of me is intensified by the fact that he’s decided my presence as Sir Gerald’s PA is motivated by some dark and sinister purpose.’

It was impossible not to keep a faint bitterness out of her voice and on the point of marvelling at how easy she found it to speak freely to this woman of all women, Selina was checked by the thread of amusement in her voice when she said solemnly, ‘You don’t say? Good heavens, he must have a far more inventive imagination than I ever dreamed. Seriously, my dear,’ she added gently, ‘I suspect a good deal of this antipathy that exists between you springs from nothing more than hurt male pride, although I’m sure he’d be furious to hear me say as much. My son prides himself on his logical mind; he tends to forget that he is as equally vulnerable to human emotions as the rest of us, unfortunately.’

Selina didn’t have much of her lunch hour left, and because hearing his mother talk about him to her in a way she knew he would resent made her feel acutely uncomfortable for some reason, she made her excuses and hurried back to the office.

Sir Gerald was out for lunch and she intended to make good use of his absence to catch up on her work. They had developed a good working relationship; she had discovered in him an ability to condense even the most complicated information in a way that made listening to him an education. There were times it was true when she was almost overwhelmed by the need to turn to him and tell him who she was, but she knew deep inside herself that she never would. She cherished the tenuous link of affection that was developing between them too much to hazard it by telling him the truth and seeing him withdraw from her. She had been right in thinking that applying for this post could cause her pain; and yet there was a joy mingled with that pain. She was learning to know the father she had never had as a child, and although sometimes she was contemptuous of herself for taking so much pleasure from so little she knew that if that link was severed now it would cause her to suffer.

When Sir Gerald returned Piers was with him. In her own mind now Selina had got used to calling her father ‘Sir Gerald’ and she responded warmly to his smile when he walked in, until she realised he wasn’t alone.

‘I want to go over the Hardwicke case with Piers,’ he told her. ‘There are several aspects of it that I’m not happy with. Could you bring us the file please, Selina. Oh, and I’d like you to stay and take a few notes.’

One of the first things Selina had done since starting her job had been to sort through the files. The wealth of legal documents and notices each one held was far too complex for Sue, the secretary, to be able to handle and now each file possessed a chart just inside the front cover, documenting its progress.

Piers frowned briefly when she placed the file on the desk between the two men. She had not seen much of him at all, much to her relief, but she could tell from the way his cool gaze rested on her for a second that he had not changed his mind about her; he still did not trust her. She moved the file closer to her father and in doing so tautened the fabric of her silk blouse across her breasts. Her movement had not been a provocative one and yet she was instantly aware of Piers’ attention switching from the file to her body. Anger fired through her as she was forced to withstand his openly sexual appraisal of her, but she banked it down, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of provoking a response. It was far better to simply pretend that she was unaware of his scrutiny.

She thought she had succeeded until Sir Gerald excused himself from the office to go and give Sue a message for a client he was expecting. As soon as they were alone Piers lifted his eyes from the document he was studying and said, ‘What is it about my looking at you that makes you feel so uncomfortable I wonder?’

Infuriated both by his arrogant air of superiority and her own response to it she retaliated curtly, ‘That wasn’t discomfort it was annoyance—exactly the same annoyance you would feel were a woman to look at you in the way you were looking at me.’