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‘You’ve done well. It must have been hard at times.’
Beginning to be puzzled, wondering whether she’d been wrong, but still cautious, Elaine answered, ‘Yes, especially at the beginning.’
He looked at her expectantly, obviously presuming that she would enlarge further, but at that moment Francesca and Tiffany Dean came out on to the terrace. An interested light came into Calum’s eyes as he looked at Tiffany and he immediately walked over to them.
He said, ‘Francesca, do you have any further instructions for Mrs Beresford on the party at the quinta?’
Francesca nodded, although rather reluctantly, and when she went into the sitting-room with Elaine she stood in line with the terrace door so that she could look out to where Calum had now gone to sit next to Tiffany. She seemed abstracted, her attention more on the other two than on the papers she was supposed to be looking through. Her behaviour puzzled Elaine, until she thought of an obvious reason for it, then her eyes widened a little in surprise. Was Francesca jealous of the interest Calum was showing in Tiffany? Francesca had often spoken of her cousin, but it had never occurred to Elaine that she might feel more for him than a cousinly affection. But now Francesca made a move as if to go outside and confront the two of them, so Elaine said hastily, ‘Do you know how many fado dancers and singers we’ll have to cater for?’
With obvious reluctance, Francesca looked at a list and said, ‘About twenty, I should think.’ She added some more people, and then said, ‘Oh, and the bullfighters and their assistants.’
Elaine stared at her incredulously, not having known they were having that kind of entertainment. ‘Bullfighters?’
Francesca glanced at her, then said reassuringly, ‘Oh, don’t worry, we don’t kill the bulls in Portugal. In fact, it’s forbidden.’
‘But the poor horses?’
‘We won’t use those either. The matadors will be on foot. It’s rather like a ballet,’ Francesca explained patiently. ‘All very graceful and very harmless. Really. You must watch it.’
Mentally deciding that she would definitely give it a miss, Elaine made a note on her list. She went to ask another question, but Francesca was looking out on to the terrace again where Calum was laughing at something Tiffany had said. The angry look came into Francesca’s eyes again, but just then her other cousin, Chris, came into the room and Francesca gave him an expressive but silent order to go outside and break it up.
He frowned, but did so, and it was interesting to see how annoyed Tiffany was to see him, although she covered it quickly and Calum didn’t notice. So apparently there were two women who were interested in the heir to the Brodey empire, Elaine realised. Though she wouldn’t have thought that either was right for Calum; the Brodeys were such a close family that marriage to Francesca would seem like incest, and Tiffany—well, she just didn’t look right for the part.
‘Elaine?’
She became aware that Francesca was waiting for her attention. ‘Oh, sorry.’
They spent a further ten minutes or so discussing the details of the quinta party, then Francesca went outside to join the others. Elaine watched them for a few minutes, feeling herself to be the outsider, the lookeron. But interested for all that. But then, people were always interesting, especially if their basic feelings were aroused for some reason. Elaine found that she quite enjoyed watching others, especially as she always carefully fought down any feelings of her own.
She went back to Calum’s office and typed out a detailed list of all that would be required for the big estate workers’ party. They would need more cutlery and crockery, yet more glasses for the barrels of wine that would be drunk. It meant calling the local company that was supplying all these things, and no one there spoke any English. Picking up her lists again, Elaine went back to the sitting-room to get Francesca to put the call through for her.
Chris and Tiffany had gone, leaving the other two alone. They were sitting together on the wall surrounding the terrace and Calum had his arm round Francesca. As Elaine approached she saw Francesca give him a look of open entreaty. Calum drew her to him and kissed her. Admittedly, the kiss was on Francesca’s forehead, not on her mouth, but the look she gave him in return was almost one of adoration.
Calum said something to her, then glanced up and saw Elaine. Immediately he let Francesca go and stood up. ‘Here’s Elaine looking for you again.’ Was there a warning in his tone? Elaine wasn’t sure.
Francesca made the call for her and Elaine went back to the kitchens, wondering if the cousins were having an affair. Was that why Calum hadn’t married—because he was in love with Francesca? But both of them were free, so what was to stop them? Unless their grandfather had put his foot down and forbidden it because of the close family relationship. But would that make any difference to two such self-assured people? If they loved their grandfather it might, Elaine surmised. Or if they were afraid of being cut out of his will.
She made sure that the preparations for dinner that evening were in hand, then went into the dining-room to put the name-cards into silver holders and set them round the table, following the seating plan. This room, like all the rooms in the palácio, was sumptuously furnished with antique pieces that looked as if they’d been there since the house was built—which they probably had. Elaine spent a lot of time preparing the table, arranging a beautiful centre-piece of flowers which the gardener had brought up for her. When she’d finished, the table looked really beautiful, a fitting background to this family celebration dinner.
Late that night, her work done and the family dinner over, Elaine took a last look round the dining-room, then went into the hall. The front door was opened by a key and Calum came in. Elaine knew that the chauffeur had been sent for earlier and that Calum had taken Tiffany home. A host’s politeness perhaps, or because he was keen on the girl? He certainly couldn’t have lingered; he had been gone only long enough to drive into the city and back. The thought strangely pleased Elaine.
Calum gave her a questioning look and nodded towards the folders she was carrying. ‘You’re not still working, surely?’
‘Just a few things I want to check over.’
‘About the bicentennial? Can I help?’ He put out an arm as if to steer her into the library.
‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘It’s for some functions back in England.’
‘You must learn to delegate,’ Calum said with a smile. It was a very charming smile, and he hadn’t taken his arm away. ‘Come and have a nightcap?’ he invited.
She hesitated, troubled, wondering if this was just wellmannered civility or whether he really wanted to. It flashed through her mind that it might be unwise to accept; not only was he her employer but he was also a very charismatic man. Having caught her watching him earlier, Calum might think that she was aware of him—as a man. He might make a pass. Might want to…Her thoughts fled in confused fright and she had to fight to stay calm. Fool! she chided herself the next instant; he’s just got back from taking another girl home and this afternoon he was kissing Francesca. ‘Thanks,’ she said lightly. ‘But it is very late.’
Calum gave a slow smile and Elaine had the distinct feeling that he could read her like an open book. A book that he’d read many times before and knew the text by heart? Was he that experienced with women, then?
‘Of course. And you still have work to do, don’t you?’
She thought she detected a touch of irony in his voice and said a hasty goodnight. He answered and she went on through the house, letting herself out of a side-door to cross the courtyard to her room. Sitting down at the desk, she opened the folders but found that she couldn’t concentrate. Going to the window, she looked across at the house. Had Calum gone straight to bed, or was he having his nightcap? And who was he thinking of as he held the delicate crystal glass between long, capable fingers—herself or Tiffany Dean? A car went by on its way to the garage, and she recognised Francesca at the wheel. Everyone, it seemed, was busy tonight.
The following evening there was to be a party for the Brodey Corporation’s local employees at their wine-lodge in Oporto. Elaine had been there once already to decide on the table layout, and had asked for a car to be available to take her there again early in the morning. At the specified time she came out of the house, dressed in her usual working outfit of trousers, with a sweater over a cotton shirt and her hair tied back in a thick plait, expecting to find one of the staff waiting to take her. Instead she found Calum standing by his car, and without his chauffeur, too.
He gave her his usual politely friendly smile. ‘I’m going to the wine-lodge myself, so I thought I’d take you with me.’
‘Thank you. I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.’
‘Not at all.’
He opened the passenger door for her and Elaine put on her dark glasses against the glare of the sun, which was still low on the horizon this early. She found that being alone with Calum disturbed her a little, so she quickly made some comment on the weather when he joined her and they chatted about nothing very much until they neared the town, when Calum had to concentrate on his driving. Elaine glanced at his hard profile—the high, lean cheekbones and strong, purposeful chin—trying to read the personality behind it. A very masculine kind of man, she thought. Standing no nonsense and probably quick to anger if he was crossed. She recognised the type. Neil had been in the Marines and many of his superior officers had been like that. Having spoken to Calum several times on the phone, she had already formed the opinion that he was authoritative, but actually meeting him when she had arrived in Portugal had been something of a shock: she hadn’t expected anyone so young and so very good-looking.
She had quickly hidden her reaction, but supposed that many women must find him attractive; that he must be used to it. Involuntarily, she glanced into the back of the car, where Calum must have sat with Tiffany last night. What had they got up to? she wondered. Not much, of course, with the chauffeur there. But had he arranged to see the blonde girl again, to take her out to dinner as soon as he was free?
Elaine had hardly been out on a date since Neil had died, although there had been opportunities enough—and opportunities for far more than just a date. A grim look came to her face as she remembered some of the offers she’d received. And from Neil’s co-called friends, too.
‘Here we are.’ Calum pulled into the wine-lodge and glanced at her. ‘Is anything the matter?’
‘What? Oh, no. I was—miles away.’
He frowned. ‘It must be lonely for you here, I should have realised.’
‘Oh, no—please,’ she said in some alarm. ‘I’m fine, Mr Brodey. Really.’
He gave her one of his charming smiles. ‘Please call me Calum. Mr Brodey makes me feel on a par with my grandfather.’
She gave a polite murmur and got out of the car. Calum appointed one of the girls from the sale-room who spoke English to be her translator, and Elaine set to work to organise everything for that evening’s function.
Calum was busy in his own office there for most of the morning, but at about twelve he came to look for her. He found her at the huge doors of the lodge, where the wine-barrels were loaded and unloaded, supervising the arrival of all the chairs which they had hired for the evening, the same chairs that had been used at the palácio the previous day and which would be taken by lorry to the quinta tomorrow.
‘I’m going to have an early lunch, and I wondered if you’d care to join me.’
Elaine looked up from the clipboard she was holding, trying to hide her surprise, and gave him a smile which she hoped did not look harassed. When your client invites you to lunch, then you go, she reminded herself. ‘I’ll need to wash. Five minutes?’
He nodded. ‘I’ll be in my office.’
Finding Ned Talbot, the ex-head waiter she’d hired, Elaine explained and passed the job on to him, then quickly washed her hands, put on fresh lipstick, and joined Calum. He drove her down the steep hillside to the waterfront, to a café, one of several right on the riverside. They sat outside on a kind of pier, which jutted out over the river, at a table with a bright red cloth. The sun was hot even though it was only spring, and there was a continental atmosphere to their alfresco meal.
‘These places specialise in fish caught fresh this morning,’ Calum told her. ‘You mustn’t miss the opportunity to try some.’
‘I’m afraid you’ll have to translate the menu.’
He leaned closer, pointing with his finger as he went down the dishes. He was sitting opposite her and his knee brushed hers. She moved her legs aside but felt a frisson of sexuality that surprised and disturbed her. Even if he had been interested, even if he hadn’t already got his hands full with Francesca and Tiffany, this was no man for her. She wondered why he’d invited her to lunch—out of politeness, perhaps? But then she remembered his remark earlier about her being lonely. He’d asked her out of a sense of duty, then, taking pity on the poor widow they’d hired. Immediately she felt a fierce stab of anger. She neither wanted nor needed his compassion. She had her own business and her own life; no way was she to be pitied.
‘I’ll have that one,’ she said shortly, stabbing at the menu and cutting him off abruptly.
Calum glanced up, about to say something, but stopped short when he saw the flame of anger in her eyes. ‘Er—yes, of course. And I think we’ll have a vinho verde to go with it.’ Calling the waiter over, he gave the order, then glanced at her again.
But Elaine had regained her self-control now. There was just casual interest in her eyes as she pointed to the barcos rabelos with their cargoes of empty wine-barrels which she could see moored further along the river. ‘Do they ever sail, or are they just moored here all the time, for the tourists?’
‘Oh, yes, they still sail. Every year we have a race from the river-mouth back here to the main quay. All the port companies compete and there are great festivities in the town—lots of drinking and fireworks in the evening.’
He was watching her as he spoke, curiosity in his gaze, but she had herself well in hand and didn’t let him see into her soul again.
‘And do you ever win?’
He smiled. ‘It has been known. My cousins always come over for the race and we crew it with some men from the company.’
‘You race it yourselves?’ Elaine said in surprise, not having expected him to be the type and having to do some mental revision.
‘Why, yes. Grandfather always took us along as soon as we were old enough. But unfortunately he’s too old to go now.’
There was true regret in his voice, and she realised he was genuinely fond of the old patriarch. ‘That’s a shame,’ she murmured.
He nodded, but gave a sudden grin that was so different from his usual polite smile that it startled her. ‘Yes, but he always comes to cheer us along, and I think he expends more energy doing that than he would if he was with us crewing the boat.’
The waiter brought the wine and Calum turned away, leaving Elaine free to marvel at the change in him, to wonder whether there were depths to his character that he didn’t often show. But then she shrugged off the thought. What did it matter what Calum Brodey was like? He was merely a customer she had to be polite to, to keep happy until this week was over and he had paid her astronomical bill. His other side was none of her business, even though he seemed more interesting every time she met him.
She found that she’d ordered a dish of squid cooked with minced ham and onion in a tomato sauce: tasty but filling. During the meal Calum told her something of the history of the wine-lodge, and so of his own family. He made the story fascinating, describing the misfortunes that had hit his ancestors when they’d first come here, and told it so graphically that he made it seem like yesterday.
‘You ought to write a book about your family,’ she remarked.
He gave her an interested glance. ‘Do you think so? We have all the family records at home, of course, but no one has ever attempted to collate them. I suppose we’re all so used to the stories that we take them for granted.’
‘I think it would make an absorbing book.’
He acknowledged the tacit compliment to his ability as a raconteur with a nod. ‘Perhaps you’re right. Maybe I’ll give it some thought.’ But then Calum gave a rueful smile. ‘If I ever have time.’
‘Doesn’t your grandfather have time?’
She had his whole attention now. ‘My grandfather?’
‘Surely he knows more about your family history than anyone? If he doesn’t feel up to going through the archives and writing it up, then don’t you think he could write down his own story? That would be interesting for all your family and a must for anyone in the future who wanted to write a history of the House of Brodey.’
‘What an excellent idea. I’m sure that Grandfather will be feeling very flat once this week is over; I’ll put it to him then. It will give him a new interest.’ He gave her a warm smile. ‘Thank you, Elaine. I’m grateful.’
She shrugged. ‘It was the way you told me about your family that gave me the idea.’
She had eaten only half her meal and drunk sparingly of the wine; she didn’t like heavy lunches when she was working, and never drank very much anyway. But she had enjoyed this lunch, which was strange because she hadn’t expected to. Maybe it was sitting outside in the sun. Or maybe it was because of her companion.
Calum glanced at his watch. ‘I’d better get you back to the wine-lodge. I have to be back at the house this afternoon.’
‘Will you be working in your office there?’ Elaine asked. ‘I’m expecting a fax and I wondered if you could telephone it through to me,’ she explained.
‘I’ll arrange for it to be done,’ he told her. ‘We’re expecting Tiffany to call so I might be busy myself.’
‘Oh, of course.’
So he had made a date with Tiffany. It surprised her, though, that it was for the afternoon and at the house. Somehow Elaine had expected Calum at least to take his dates out to dinner. But then she remembered that he was a well-known and important figure in Oporto; maybe he didn’t want to be seen in public with Tiffany yet, didn’t want to give the gossips something to talk about.
Calum dropped her at the wine-lodge and lifted a hand in a casual wave as he drove on. Elaine watched him go, this handsome man in his sleek car, heading eagerly for a date with his blonde. Had he found the love of his life? she wondered. The fair English girl that his family tradition demanded? Well, whether he had or not, it was nothing to do with her.
Shrugging, Elaine went into the wine-lodge to get back to work, but again she found it difficult to concentrate and had to give herself a mental ticking-off before she could put Calum out of her mind.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_00860272-8132-59f1-b202-5ef80f2e8b94)
BY ABOUT four Elaine had done as much work at the wine-lodge as she could before the actual event, so she and Ned Talbot took a taxi back to the palácio, intending to have a rest before the evening. Her chef, Malcolm Webster, was overseeing the preparation of the food in the kitchens of a nearby hotel and had telephoned in to say that all was going well.
Calum hadn’t telephoned her fax message through so Elaine went along to his office to see if it had arrived. It had, so it would appear that he was too engrossed in his date with Tiffany to have remembered her request. The fax was from London, detailing some changes that were being made for a business function for which she had already quoted. The organisers, of course, wanted her revised estimate urgently, so she spent the next hour sitting at the desk working it out. She was just typing it all out to fax through when Ned came in with tea on a tray.
‘I thought you’d like a decent cup of tea,’ he told her. ‘The people here don’t know how to make it properly even though they work for an English family.’
‘Have you had a rest, Ned?’
‘I napped for a while.’ He leaned towards her. ‘There’s great excitement here. They’re all talking about it in the staffroom.’
Elaine smiled; trust Ned to hear all the gossip, even if it was in a foreign language. He was in his forties, glossily clean, and still slim and pleasantly good-looking. He was single, and when she’d first hired him she’d been afraid that he might run after the waitresses, but soon found that he and Malcolm, the chef, were an item and had been for years. Now she had taken both men on to her permanent staff and all three of them worked in perfect harmony.
‘Why, what’s happened?’ she asked, knowing he would tell her anyway.
‘You know that big American—the one who got his face slapped at the party yesterday? It seems the Princess invited him here this afternoon at the same time as the girl who hit him. In the kitchen they’re saying that the girl and the American probably cooked up the whole thing between them. They said that there have been several girls over the years who’ve tried to attract Calum one way or another.’
‘Well, he seems to have fallen for this one,’ Elaine remarked.
Ned shook his head. ‘No, Calum sent for his car and the girl’s been taken home.’
‘He didn’t go with her?’
‘No, the chauffeur took her.’
So Francesca had spiked that budding romance, Elaine thought as she stirred her tea. She wondered how Calum would feel about it, and whether he would turn against Francesca for having spoiled it for him. But it was a risk the Princess had obviously been prepared to take. A thought occurred to her. ‘Didn’t the American leave with the girl?’
‘No. They said he left later in his own car.’ Realising what that implied, Ned said, ‘So maybe he and the girl didn’t plot it between them. Maybe she used him.’
It would seem that the latter theory was right, because when the family arrived at the wine-lodge that evening the American, Sam Gallagher, was with them. He was evidently a last-minute addition to the guest-list because Elaine hadn’t been told about him. Calum sought her out as soon as he arrived and, with a wry smile, asked her to set another place. He added, interestingly, ‘At least we know about this extra person; he isn’t a gatecrasher like the last time.’
‘The last time?’ Elaine questioned.
‘Yes. It seems that Tiffany Dean crashed the garden party,’ Calum said tersely. His mouth twisted, and for a moment there was a bleak look in his eyes, but then he recovered and said, ‘I blamed you for not setting enough places, didn’t I? I’m sorry.’
She shrugged, interested to see how it had affected him. ‘It’s nothing.’
