The Monte Carlo Proposal

If looks could kill she would have slaughtered us both on the spot. But mostly me.

‘Well, this is a pleasure,’ she said. ‘At last. Even if a somewhat unexpected, not to mention delayed, pleasure.’

‘You’ll have to forgive the delay,’ he said. ‘We’ve been rather wrapped up in each other.’

Grace was looking me up and down in a way that made me very conscious that my neck was cut low and my skirt was slit high, and that was all there was.

‘I trust you’ve had a pleasant evening?’ she said, with a little smirk.

‘She’s had a misfortune,’ he said quickly, saving me from having to answer. ‘She had to leave her ship suddenly. Her things will be arriving at any moment, but in the meantime I’m taking her below before she gets pneumonia.’

He whisked me away, giving nobody the chance to say anything.

If I’d had any lingering doubts about who he was they were quelled as soon as I saw his cabin—although suite would be a better word. The decor was vaguely ancient Roman, and the last word in luxury. There was a bathroom with a sunken bath, and taps that looked like solid gold.

A quick inspection proved that they really were. I told you, I’m an expert on these things.

‘Mr Bullen—?’

‘After what went on in the boat, don’t you think you should call me Jack?’

‘Jack—and, by the way, you should have warned me that my name is Cindy.’

‘It isn’t. That’s just what Grace calls you. I’m afraid she means it as a put-down. What’s your real name?’

‘Della Martin.’

‘Fine.’ He pointed at my dress. ‘Take that off—quickly.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Before you catch your death of cold.’ He took a large white towelling robe from the closet. ‘Then have a hot bath and put this on.’

‘Lovely,’ I said, shivering. ‘I can’t get over this place. I thought you were poor.’

‘Does that matter? You think I need help less than a poor man? I need it more. If I didn’t have any money I wouldn’t have a problem. Selina’s father is a banker, and they all want me to make an “alliance” with the family. I’m trapped. What can I do? I don’t want to be outright rude.’

‘Why not?’

He sighed.

‘I’m not very good at it,’ he admitted, sounding slightly ashamed. ‘Not with Grace, anyway. She keeps reminding me that she’s been my second mother. It’s easier to play dumb and let her realise gradually that she’s wasting her time. So now you’re my best hope—my only hope.’

‘She isn’t going to be easily fooled.’

‘She never was,’ he said with a reminiscent sigh.

As if to prove it there was a step outside and the sound of someone trying to open the locked door. Then his sister’s voice.

‘Jack, open this door at once. We have to talk.’

‘Not just now, Grace,’ he called back. ‘We’ll talk later.’

‘I said now.’ The lock rattled again. ‘Open this door at once.’

‘Goodnight, Grace.’

This time there was iron in his voice, and anyone else would have been deterred by it. But not her.

‘I’m not going away until we’ve had this out,’ she called. ‘You may think you’ve got me fooled, but I don’t believe a word about this woman who’s appeared so conveniently. She’s probably some cheap little waitress you picked up somewhere. Open this door!’

He ground his teeth. My temper was rising. I’d never disliked anyone so much after such a short time as I did this woman.

‘Goodnight, Grace,’ he called again.

‘Open this door!’

‘That’s it,’ I muttered. ‘Now I’m mad. It’s time for action.’

He looked nervous. ‘Are you going to be violent?’

‘If necessary. Come here!’

I reached for him, hooking my arm about his neck, drawing him very close, very fiercely. He barely had time to draw breath, but after that I think I managed to make him forget about breathing. When we parted he was gasping.

‘I hope I’m never the one you’re mad at,’ he managed to say.

‘Shut up!’

I returned to the action, but this time I freed one hand and unlocked the door, so that Grace came marching in to find us wrapped in each other’s arms.

I did it purely out of expediency. He’d been good to me, and I was going to be good to him. It had nothing whatever to do with the way he’d kissed me in the boat. I was not looking for an excuse to do it again.

And you can believe that or not—as you like.

With the audience being closer this time, we had to make it look realistic, and he really worked at that. I could feel his hands roving all over me, and I wondered how much more my nervous system could stand in one evening.

Grace, I’m happy to say, nearly went ballistic. She stood there yelling, ‘Will you stop this and listen to me?’

I don’t know how long she kept it up. Everything was fuzzy, and I was only vaguely aware when she stopped abruptly and a man’s voice said, ‘Jack!’

We managed to disengage ourselves, and I saw a young man and woman whom I’d vaguely noticed on deck. Now, as then, they were holding hands. They seemed to come as a pair.

‘There’s someone to see you, Jack,’ the young man said, standing aside so that we could all see Vanner.

‘Thanks, Charles,’ Jack said.

Vanner was managing a rough version of a smile, as if he still hoped to get some sort of profit out of this. He kept the smile riveted in place as he held out a brown envelope to me.