illuminated the little car. ‘I’m glad to hear that, Katharine darling,’ was about all he could manage at this moment. Kim knew that he had been leading Katharine along until she made some sort of verbal commitment to him. This was the strongest statement he had heard in the few months he had known her, but for the time being it sufficed. Within seconds his warm, easy-going manner was completely restored, and he eventually launched into a long story about the planting of new trees at Langley. Katharine settled back to listen, although this was only with half an ear.
She was engrossed in her own thoughts. Victor Mason was most prominent in them. She wondered if he had been to the play tonight, but more importantly, whether he had kept his promise to her. Quite unexpectedly, Katharine’s heart missed a beat and she caught her breath. For the first time she was struck by the precarious nature of her immediate plans. They hinged on one man – Victor Mason. If Victor let her down then she had wasted weeks of precious time, and everything would have been in vain. My God, if she had misjudged him the setback would be enormous. She clasped her handbag more tightly, and admitted, with a sinking feeling, that despite her meticulous planning, she had not allowed for one vital contingency: the possibility that Victor Mason might change his mind.
Katharine was a peculiar amalgam of naïveté and sophistication. Whilst she was inexperienced in some aspects of life, she nonetheless had an innate shrewdness and was perceptive about people, often displaying amazing insight. Her understanding of human nature was astonishing in one so young, and she rarely made mistakes in her judgment. She took solace in this now, deciding she had no alternative but to trust her instincts. They confirmed her original assessment of Victor as being wholly correct. She relaxed her grip on the handbag, absolutely convinced he had kept the promise he had made to her several weeks ago. Perhaps not out of friendship, or generosity of spirit towards her, but for one other very simple reason, and it was the most compelling reason of all. Self-interest. Victor Mason needed her, and she had astutely recognized this the first time she had met him.
Cynical as this thought was, it did happen to be the truth, and recalling that Katharine cheered up. Also, to her relief, she discovered she was feeling much better physically. The exhaustion which had been so debilitating at the end of the evening performance had miraculously disappeared. The quick walk from the theatre to the car had been invigorating, and the fresh air, damp though it was, had filled her lungs with oxygen.
‘Anyway, those trees do make all the difference at the far end of the Long Pasture, and Father is really pleased I thought of starting the small copse. It’s going to be invaluable in years to come,’ Kim was saying.
‘That’s wonderful. I’m glad it worked out so well,’ Katharine answered automatically. Kim was given to waxing eloquent about the land, and even though she had heard it all before, more or less, she always endeavoured to show real interest. She had come to understand, very early in their relationship, that Kim’s love of the land reached deep into his soul. He was a dedicated farmer, and would be for the rest of his life. Langley, and all it encompassed, was his life.
‘Well, here we are,’ Kim announced briskly, bringing the car to a standstill in Chesterfield Street.
Katharine said, ‘You know, you haven’t told me much about your sister, except that she’s pretty, Kim. Don’t you think –’
‘And I haven’t told her much about you either,’ Kim interrupted laughingly. ‘It’s better that way. Neither of you has any preconceived ideas about the other.’
‘But she must know I’m an actress.’
‘She does.’
‘Does she work? Does she do anything special?’ Although Katharine was neither nervous nor apprehensive about meeting Kim’s sister, she did harbour a few reservations, even doubts, about the chances of their becoming close friends. Lady Francesca Cunningham, titled in her own right as the daughter of an earl, might easily be one of those cold, snobbish debutantes so typical of the British aristocracy. The fact that Kim was the exception to the rule in this class-conscious society did not guarantee that his sister was cut from the same cloth. And if this was the case they would have little in common, and there would be no real basis upon which to build a friendship. Of course it wasn’t absolutely necessary for them to become bosom chums, Katharine acknowledged. As long as there was a cordiality between them everything would work out, and certainly it would make the situation much easier to control.
‘From your silence, I gather she’s a lady of leisure,’ Katharine went on lightly. Her fingers curled around the door handle and she made to alight.
Kim reached out and restrained her gently. ‘She doesn’t go to work but she does work hard,’ he explained. ‘She’s a writer. At the moment she’s doing research for an historical biography. She’s always poking around in history books and she’s practically moved into the British Museum. Anyway, she’s kind of artistic, so I know you’ll have lots in common. Don’t worry.’
‘Oh, I’m not in the least bit worried,’ Katharine assured him with a bright self-confident smile, and she meant every word, for few things ever fazed her.
The moment Katharine Tempest entered the drawing room Francesca’s eyes were riveted on her. She found herself staring in astonishment and she thought: This girl is too improbable to be real. Everything about her is improbable. Only Francesca’s good manners prevented her from displaying her startled reaction as she rose from the chair near the fireplace to welcome her guest.
The girl who walked with an easy swinging grace across the floor was obviously in her early twenties, perhaps twenty-one or twenty-two. She wore an extremely sophisticated dress, and in consequence, to Francesca, she looked like a little girl dressed up in mother’s clothes. Made of fine black wool crepe, the dress was of mid-calf length, with a draped neckline, a straight skirt and dolman sleeves, and it was unrelieved by any touches of accent colour or jewellery. It struck Francesca that it was the perfect foil for the girl’s looks, and she decided it was exactly right on her after all.
Kim followed closely on Katharine’s heels, smiling broadly, and when they neared the fireplace he stepped forward to introduce the two girls to each other.
As Francesca stretched out her hand she found herself looking into the most extraordinary face she had ever seen. Katharine Tempest was lovely, and breathtakingly so. Her eyes, not blue, not green, but a unique turquoise, made the initial impact, and they were startling in their vividness of colour. They were large and set wide apart, fringed with silky black lashes, and they appeared to swamp her face with radiance.
Francesca thought the girl’s features could not have been more exquisite if they had been chiselled by a sculptor. They were harmoniously distributed in an oval face that was perfectly balanced: a smooth brow, a small straight nose, high cheekbones above hollow cheeks, and a rounded chin. The symmetrical brows matched the rich dark-chestnut hair. This was parted in the centre and cascaded in glossy waves to her shoulders. Her white skin, which was exceptionally fine, was totally devoid of colour, which was why her full mouth, painted with the brightest of red lipstick, seemed all the more striking. Yet it was a child-like mouth, and now, as she smiled, it turned up at the corners to give her a look of innocence. There was also an unusual sweetness in her face that was both poignant and touching. In those first few moments, Francesca could only stand and stare speechlessly at this slender young woman who was accompanying her brother.
It was Katharine who broke the silence.
‘Thank you for inviting me.’ She spoke softly and her gaze was open and friendly as she regarded Francesca with not inconsiderable interest. Aware though she was of her own startling beauty and the impact it made, vanity was not one of Katharine’s chief characteristics. In some ways she was even self-effacing at times, and she strove always to find something special in others, especially those she wanted to like. She said to herself: Kim didn’t do his sister justice. She’s really lovely. The perfect English rose.
‘And