That wasn’t the impression she had given before the housekeeper had arrived with the mail; in fact Brice was positive Sabina had had every intention of turning down his invitation until that moment.
But for some reason she recognised that particular green envelope, knew who the letter was from without even opening it. And it had disturbed her enough for her to want to accept Brice’s dinner invitation…
Curiouser, and curiouser.
‘Fine,’ he said before she had chance to change her mind. ‘I’ll call for you at about seven-thirty, if that’s okay?’
‘Perfect,’ she agreed quickly, obviously anxious for him to leave now.
So that she could read the letter in that pale green envelope…?
His mouth twisted ruefully. ‘Shall I book the table for three—or will you be giving Clive the evening off?’ He certainly didn’t relish the idea of sitting down to dinner with Sabina under the other man’s watchful gaze, sitting outside the restaurant or otherwise!
Sabina gave him a reproachful glance. ‘I’m sure I can manage without Clive for one evening,’ she bit out tersely before glancing at her wrist-watch. ‘I’m sorry we don’t seem to have got very far this morning, Brice, but I’m afraid I have to go now.’ Her obvious need for him to leave now became even more intense. ‘Otherwise I’ll be late for my luncheon appointment.’
‘And that would displease your mother,’ Brice drawled. ‘And we mustn’t have that, must we?’ he acknowledged derisively.
But he really shouldn’t complain, he berated himself as he picked up his things and prepared to leave; he had achieved much more this morning than he had expected to.
Sabina had told him more about her family than he had ever thought she would, her older parents, her conventional mother who now lived in Scotland—which part? he couldn’t help wondering, with his own family connections in Scotland—her closeness to her father, his death five years ago.
Yes, he had learnt all of that about her today, and it was so much more than he had expected. But what he really wanted to know was, what was it about the letter she had received that had so upset her…? Because he was more and more convinced that it had been the letter and not him that had brought about that transformation in Sabina. Damn it, she had been so anxious to get rid of him after receiving it that she had even accepted his dinner invitation!
Maybe over dinner this evening—without the watchdog, Clive—he would have a chance to ask her about the letter in the pale green envelope…?
‘Call for you, Miss Sabina,’ Mrs Clark informed her later that day when Sabina picked up the telephone extension in her bedroom. ‘It’s Mr Latham,’ she added lightly.
Richard…!
‘Thank you, Mrs Clark.’ Sabina eagerly took the call. After the day she had just had, she was longing to hear the normality of his voice! ‘Richard,’ she greeted warmly. ‘How are you? Is everything okay? There’s no delay in your coming home tomorrow, is there?’ she added worriedly.
‘Hey, one question at a time,’ Richard’s reassuringly familiar voice teased her indulgently. ‘I’m fine. And everything is okay for my return tomorrow. I have a business meeting soon, but I just thought I would give you a call first to see how your week has been.’
Until earlier today it had been fine. She had been so busy that she hadn’t really had the time to even think about the fact that Richard was in New York for four days. But that had all changed this morning. And now she just wanted him to come home!
‘Fine,’ she answered dismissively. ‘Very busy work-wise, of course.’
‘And what are you doing this evening?’ Richard asked interestedly.
Well, so far she had showered, and washed her hair before drying it, had applied her make-up, put on a black sheath dress, and now she was sitting here in her bedroom waiting for Brice McAllister to arrive to take her out to dinner.
But somehow she knew she couldn’t tell Richard quite so bluntly that she was going out to dinner with the other man.
She had had every intention of refusing Brice McAllister’s dinner invitation, but then Mrs Clark had brought in the post, and thrown Sabina into complete confusion. So much so that, in an effort to get Brice to leave, she had accepted the dinner invitation, after all!
But quite how she told Richard about that she didn’t really know…
She winced. ‘Actually, I’m seeing Brice McAllister this evening,’ she began reluctantly.
‘That’s good,’ Richard told her approvingly. ‘How are the sittings coming along? Has the great man come down out of his ivory tower now and realised that you’re the most gorgeous creature on two legs and that he just has to paint you?’
‘Not exactly,’ she answered dryly, at the same time knowing that Richard had completely misunderstood her reason for seeing Brice this evening, that he believed it to be for another sitting.
Not that there was anything wrong with her having dinner with another man; she had done it dozens of times in the course of her modelling career. She just knew that dinner with Brice McAllister didn’t quite come into that category…
She drew in a deep breath. ‘Actually, Richard—’
‘Just a minute, Sabina,’ he cut in apologetically. ‘I have a call on my other line.’
Sabina waited patiently while he took the other call, but the longer she waited, the more her courage was failing her. She had no doubt that Richard would have no problem with her meeting Brice McAllister for a sitting, but having dinner with the other man—with not a sketch-book or pencil in sight—was something else completely.
She wasn’t altogether happy with the arrangement herself, but, having once accepted the dinner invitation, she hadn’t felt she could phone Brice McAllister and cancel it. Part of the reason for that, she knew, was that Brice McAllister was sure to know exactly why she had cancelled it. And he seemed to find enough reason to mock her already, without adding to it!
‘Sorry about that, Sabina.’ Richard came back on the line. ‘My business appointment just arrived, so I have to go. I’ll call you later this evening if I get a chance, okay?’
No, it wasn’t okay! What if Richard telephoned while she was still out and Mrs Clark told him she was out to dinner with the other man? And yet, at the same time, she knew this wasn’t the right time to talk to Richard about it, either; he was obviously in a hurry to get to his appointment, meaning she wouldn’t be able to explain things to him properly before he had to rush off.
‘I was actually thinking of having an early night,’ she told him instead. ‘But I’ll meet you at the airport tomorrow, anyway.’ When she would definitely explain about seeing Brice this evening.
‘There’s no need for you to come all the way out to Heathrow,’ Richard assured her lightly. ‘Just send Clive with the car.’
As far as Sabina was concerned, there was every need. Besides, the privacy in the back of the car would give her a chance to talk to him on the journey home.
‘I’m not doing anything tomorrow, and I would really like the trip out,’ she assured him.
‘Okay, fine,’ Richard answered distractedly. ‘I’ll see you then,’ he added before ringing off.
Wonderful! Not only was she having dinner with a man she would rather not spend time alone with, but she had also just lied to her fiancé about it.
What was it about Brice McAllister that made her so nervous she felt compelled to do such a thing?
Those green eyes that looked directly into her soul, came the instant answer to that question.
Those deceptively sleepy green eyes actually missed nothing, Sabina was sure. He was completely aware of her aversion to sitting for him. Her nervousness about this morning’s sitting had resulted in her talking far too much. Ordinarily a very reserved person, she still couldn’t believe she had talked to Brice about her family in the way that she had this morning.
She was also sure Brice hadn’t missed her reaction this morning to the arrival in the post of that green envelope…
It had been three weeks since she’d last received one, the longest time ever, lulling her into a completely false sense of security, she now realised. Her reaction to receiving one this morning had been all the stronger because of that.
And Brice had seen that response.
Consequently, Sabina had been in a very agitated state by the time she’d met her mother for lunch. So much so that she’d almost missed what was different about this half-yearly visit to London by her mother.
‘Have you and Richard set a date for your wedding yet, Sabina?’ her mother enquired lightly as they both ate a prawn salad accompanied by a glass of white wine.
Sabina almost choked as she took a sip of that white wine. Why was it that everyone—Brice McAllister, most recently—seemed to be showing an interest in exactly when she and Richard were going to be married?
‘Not yet,’ she answered noncommittally, not even her mother having any idea of the almost businesslike arrangement of the engagement. ‘We aren’t in any rush,’ she added to take any sting out of her words, watching as her mother carefully replaced her own wineglass on the table after taking a small sip.