The Trouble with Trent! Page 3

  `At the risk of sounding ungallant, I don't believe it.'

  `This is like drawing teeth!' she exclaimed frustratedly. 'Don't believe what?'

  `You have beautiful teeth too,' he said, delaying a moment more. But, having flattered her, he went on to reveal the appalling truth. 'According to your mother—though I must say she couched it in much better terms ... basically what she meant to convey was that you are only going out with me in the interests of career advancement.'

  Alethea, innocent of all charges, went scarlet. 'I ... You ...' she tried, but was rendered temporarily speechless. It was left to Trent, his eyes on her unhappy colour, to try to make her feel better.

  `I'm too conceited to believe that, of course.' He attempted to coax a smile out of her.

  Alethea could not have smiled had her life depended upon it. How could her mother have said such a thing? She would have liked to have believed otherwise, of course, but she knew her mother. 'You have your own company, don't you?' she guessed.

  `I do,' he owned.

  `You told my mother, and ...'

  `I didn't so much as tell her—just gave her my name.'

  Her mother never ceased to amaze her. Some days she never went outside the house and yet, when Alethea arrived home from work, her mother was up to date on all the gossip. But now, local gossip aside, it seemed her mother had mental index cards on the London business world!

  `Shall we go?' she offered bluntly. The coffee they had ordered to finish their meal had only just arrived, but her sensitivity was such that she was wondering why Trent hadn't left her home there and then, without

  waiting for her to present herself downstairs. That was what her mother had wanted, of course.

  `You're not going to let what I've told you spoil what has been a very pleasurable evening for me—and I hope for you too—are you?'

  `Trent—I Alethea halted, and realised that, in ad-

  dition to her mother not wanting her evening with Trent to start, her parent would be quite pleased, if, since start it had, it should end badly. Alethea knew her mother hadn't wanted Maxine to leave home and thereby break her mother's sphere of influence. Mother had done everything in her power to prevent Maxine's marriage. But, from what Alethea could see now, her mother wasn't waiting for her to go so far as to become involved with anyone. At the first sign that Alethea was going out with any man who might be strong-minded, her mother was out to nip in the bud any remote possibility that might lead to her other daughter leaving home. Alethea took a shaky breath, and stared across into a pair of dark eyes that were silently, steadily watching her. 'To answer your question,' she said, 'my father left home when I was ten.'

  Trent's look was warm and encouraging. Tor another woman,' he stated, seeming to know it for a fact, though Alethea hardly thought that her mother had imparted that piece of knowledge.

  Normally Alethea would have clammed up on the subject, but just then she was feeling cross enough with her mother not to care. Alethea knew full well that, should she challenge her mother tomorrow over what she had told Trent, Mrs Pemberton would tell her she was making a fuss over nothing.

  `Yes, for another woman,' she confirmed, whether Trent needed confirmation or not.

  `And your mother thereafter set about trying to see to it that no man came near you or your sister.' He paused a moment, then commented lightly, `Um—she seems to have failed miserably with your sister—I counted three children.'

  `She has only three,' Alethea stated, Trent's manner and his humour causing her to feel better.

  `But their father, or fathers, aren't allowed inside the house?' he suggested.

  Alethea shook her head. 'Maxine married. Only her marriage recently broke up.'

  `That's a pity,' he commented, and Alethea was unsure if he meant for the children's sake, Maxine's sake, or marriage's sake. 'It can't be easy for her,' he added.

  `Apparently it wasn't the first time her husband's eye had wandered,' Alethea said, not wanting Trent to think that her dear sister was in any way to blame for the marriage split.

  `But this time she decided to return home?'

  `Bringing her furniture with her,' Alethea commented, not wanting to tell him the other, more dishonest facts of it, and wondering if Trent would be nursing a bruise on his shin tomorrow.

  `So that accounts for the chest in the hall,' he grinned.

  `We are a touch overcrowded,' she laughed, and was suddenly feeling good again. She heard herself tack on, `I've been toying with the idea of moving out and finding a place of my own—though I don't suppose I will.'

  `Your mother wouldn't let you?'

  Honestly! Instantly she was up in arms. 'I'm twenty-two!' she informed Trent crossly. 'The decision is mine.' She stared with hostility at him, sparks of annoyance flaring in her eyes. But, as she looked at his dark, unwavering gaze, so she glimpsed a dancing light. He, she

  realised, had aggravated her deliberately! 'Provoking devil!' she mumbled, but had to smile. 'I think it's time I went home,' she stated.

  Trent settled the bill and, without comment, escorted her outside. Though just when she was starting to think, in a slightly miffed way, that he'd had enough and couldn't wait to drop her off at her door, he sent that notion clear out of her head by offering, 'With your house so overcrowded, shall we go back to mine for coffee?'

  `I've just had coffee,' she reminded him, feeling better that he seemed to want to prolong the evening But he was the sophisticated type and she was not green; coffee could well be another word for what he was actually offering!

  `I thought we might talk, get to know each other,' he answered, as he saw her into his car.

  I'll bet! Alethea waited until he joined her in the car. `We've been talking all night,' she thought to mention.

  `All I've learned about you, apart from my observations on your sensitivity and sincerity, is that you live in an overcrowded household of women, that you may or may not be intending to find somewhere less overcrowded, and might I suggest—if the high-pitched squealing that was going on when I arrived is anything to go by—you need somewhere a little more peaceful to live. I've also discovered that you work as an assistant PA.'

  `That isn't enough?'

  Her words had sounded sharp, she realised, when Trent looked at her long and hard. But whatever he was thinking, his manner remained mild. 'Should we row on our first date?' he asked.

  First date! She liked him; she must do, or she would not be here now. But at his hint of a second date she felt wary. 'I'll take you to your home,' he said before she could make up her mind how she felt about going out with him again.

  Trent drove easily, effortlessly, and in no time at all it seemed that they were pulling up outside her home. When he got out of the car and came round to her door, Alethea got out feeling nervous and unsure.

  She wouldn't ask him in. Lord knew what surprises awaited them—her embittered mother had had hours in which to build up a fine head of vitriol. Or perhaps Maxine was walking the downstairs rooms trying to pacify a wailing Polly.

  At the door she turned. 'Thank you for a pleasant evening,' she trotted out, and was all jittery inside. Silently, unspeaking, he stared down at her in the porch light. She didn't know if he would try to kiss her, nor how she would react if he did. As yet she had formulated no answer, should he ask for the second date he had hinted at.

  But Alethea was totally mystified when Trent neither attempted to kiss her nor to ask her out again. But, his tone even—he could have been discussing the weather—he replied civilly, 'The pleasure was mine. Goodnight, Alethea.' And with that he went back to his car.

  Alethea did not want to see him drive off. Motivated by pride that insisted he should not go away with any idiotic notion that she might be hanging on his every word and deed, she did a rapid about-turn and swiftly let herself in through the front door.

  Only when she had the door shut—she was on the inside and he was on the outside—did she pause to take stock. He hadn't so much as tried t
o kiss her, much less

  ask her out again! Not that she'd have gone out with him again if he had asked, she firmly decided. But then all thoughts of Trent de Havilland were momentarily taken from her mind when the stair light came on and her sister came hurrying into view.

  `Has he gone?' Maxine whispered, leaning over the bannister rail, either because of the possibility of Trent de Havilland still being around, or because she was scared of waking one of the children.

  `Yes, just,' Alethea whispered back.

  `Shall I make you some hot chocolate?'

  By the sound of it, Maxine wanted to talk. 'Lovely,' Alethea accepted, and the two of them went quietly into the kitchen.

  It was there that Alethea soon realised that her sister's need to talk did not stem from a loneliness of spirit, as she had supposed, but from an urgent need to have a discussion that would not wait until morning, when there was every chance they would be interrupted.

  For, without so much as enquiring, Did you have a nice evening?, Maxine launched in to ask, 'Do you know who Trenton de Havilland is?'

  Alethea stared at her. Trent had introduced himself to Maxine and their mother as Trenton? But she concentrated on Maxine's question. Alethea knew that Trent was a nifty Viennese waltzer, was interesting, not to say stimulating to go out with, and also that he was a friend of her employer. But Maxine had asked if she knew who he was. 'Who is he?' Alethea queried.

  `He didn't tell you that he owns Science Engineering and Consulting?' Maxine pressed.

  `I know he has his own company,' Alethea answered, feeling slightly perplexed and wanting to know what Maxine was getting into a state about, for she was cer-

  tainly growing more and more agitated by the second. `He told me he was in science engineering, but...' Alethea broke off suddenly, remembering how Trent had only had to mention his name for it to mean something to her mother. 'Are you saying that, like Mother, you know of his business?'

  `I should do—Keith works for him!'

  `Keith ...' Alethea stopped, horrified, Science Engineering and Consulting suddenly clicking in her head to be SEC, who had suspended her brother-in-law while investigations into his honesty were taking place! Oh, my stars, her brother-in-law was employed in a trusted position by Trent and had abused that trust. 'Does Trent know Keith works for him?' she asked, alarmed.

  `Heavens, no. Keith's not that far up the corporate tree that his chairman would know of his existence!'

  That was some small relief to Alethea. She felt she would never have survived the embarrassment had Trent known all the time he had sat opposite her this evening that her brother-in-law, his employee, was a crook who had robbed him. 'Mother knew all about Trent being the man who pays Keith's salary, though, didn't she?'

  `She saw Keith's letter today from SEC. It had the name of the chairman and directors on it. You know Mother's sharp brain. She'll have filed away all that information without even realising she was doing it.'

  `Oh, grief!' Alethea exclaimed, and remembered how both her mother and sister had looked when she had come into the sitting room at a minute before seven that evening. 'Mother seems to be permanently bitter about men. But is that why you looked a degree or two more sour when Trent was here? Because ...'

  `How else could I look?' Maxine asked tearfully. 'Here am I stuck in this house which, since Mother insisted I

  bring everything that wasn't nailed down so that some other woman couldn't have it, is so crammed full you can't move without tripping over, and there were you, all dressed up to go out for a fun evening with a man who I'd just realised could be ultimately responsible for bringing a court action against my children's father!'

  `Oh, Maxine!' Alethea exclaimed as her sister started to cry. Men, men, rotten men, she fumed as she hurried over to her.

  Alethea wasn't sure that she meant all men as she tried to comfort her sister. When Maxine was a little calmer, she made her the drink which Maxine had offered to make her. And when, half an hour later, she and her sister were upstairs and in their rooms, one thing was set like concrete in Alethea's mind Maxine's disclosures about who was in charge of SEC made it well and truly settled. Even if Trent de Havilland did make contact to ask her for a second date, now that she knew that, ultimately, he was the man her brother-in-law had stolen from, there was no way she could ever go out with him again!

  CHAPTER THREE

  WEDNESDAY and Thursday passed uneventfully, although Alethea found that thoughts of Trent de Havilland were slipping into her head far more frequently than she would have expected—given that she was never going to go out with him again, even if he did ask ... which he wouldn't.

  Evidence that Trent de Havilland was not thinking of her so frequently—if at all—was plain from the fact that her phone at home stayed silent. Not that she was at all bothered, of course. It saved her from looking for some excuse to give him. How could she go out with him when her sister's husband had cheated his firm out of money?

  Life at home, however, seemed to be growing increasingly difficult. Her mother was forever badgering her on the subject of Trent de Havilland, even though Alethea had stated that she had no intention of going out with him again. No need to tell her mother that chance would be a fine thing—a girl had her pride.

  `The children have been up in your room,' her mother greeted her when she arrived home from work on Friday. `All of them?' Alethea asked faintly.

  `Just Sadie and Georgia. I looked after them after

  school while Maxine took Polly to the doctor. I don't think they did any harm.'

  `How is Polly?'

  `It's just a bit of a cold. The doctor said there's nothing to worry about.'

  Bracing herself, Alethea went upstairs to her room. `Oh, grief!' she muttered as she went in. Someone had added an extra table to the room, which was already filled to capacity, and her wardrobe door was ajar. Her clothes had been gone through, garments tried on and then crumpled by the inexpert attempts of shorter persons to hang them back on the rail. Her dressing table was a disaster area. The idea of having an apartment of her own had more and more appeal. Her mother would have a fit if she suggested leaving home, she knew that in advance, but ...

  Sadie and Georgia, of course, had no school the following day and were allowed to stay up a little later—if they were quiet. But they seemed to be noisier than ever that evening. Alethea joined in the general sigh of relief when at last all three girls were in bed and silence reigned.

  Then the telephone rang. Most peculiarly, for there was not the smallest reason why, Alethea felt her heartbeat quicken. She looked across at Maxine. 'It's for you, I expect,' she commented, but Maxine was already halfway out of her chair.

  `She's far too soft with him!' Eleanor Pemberton stated abruptly as Maxine disappeared into the hall to take the call in the alcove under the stairs. 'What she wants to do is—' She broke off as Maxine came back into the room.

  `It's for you, Alethea,' Maxine informed her. `Who is it?' their mother wanted to know.

  `Trent de Havilland,' Maxine answered, and Alethea felt her face go a warm pink.

  'I thought you weren't going to go out with him again!' Eleanor Pemberton snapped.

  `I'm not,' Alethea answered, and went out into the hall. Why on earth she felt the need to swallow before

  she could pick up the phone and say, 'Hello,' she had no idea.

  `Lucky I caught you in!' Trent responded. Was he being funny?

  `You're on your way out yourself, I expect,' she commented lightly, hoping he'd think that was the way it was with her, too, and that the sun never set for her on a Friday night.

  `I'm just back after a few days in Italy,' he drawled easily, and, getting down to the point of his call, he continued, 'I'm having some people round tomorrow evening—any time from eight to midnight. Can you make it?'

  He did want to see her again! She wasn't going, of course, but, she realised, she felt much better for being asked. 'I'm sorry,' she began, useless when it came to telling lies,
but striving hard to think up some excuse.

  `It was a long shot,' he cut in pleasantly. 'I hardly expected you'd be free.'

  `You know how it is,' she murmured, wondering why she didn't tell him outright that she was not going to see him again—probably because she was certain to receive a very short and sharp answer for her trouble. Or perhaps it was solely good manners that held her back.

  `Of course,' he answered blandly, but straight away he went on to astonish her by adding, 'Perhaps you'll make a note of my address. If you and your date are in the area, both of you might like to drop in.'

  She hadn't found his address on file at the office. So, like the efficient assistant PA that she was, Alethea automatically had a notepad before her, a pencil in her hand, as Trent dictated his address. Don't hold your breath, she thought sourly—clearly Trent de Havilland didn't give a button that she had a date with someone

  else tomorrow—and he wasn't to know that she hadn't, was he! Not that she wanted him to give a button anyway! 'I'll see what I can do—thank you for asking,' she said prettily, and knew, as she was sure Trent knew, that his small 'get together' tomorrow evening would take place without her.

  She said goodbye nicely and, tearing the slip of paper from the notepad, she put it in her pocket and went back to the sitting room.

  `You were a long time,' her mother accused her. `Was I?' Alethea thought she hadn't been speaking with Trent for more than a few minutes.

  `What did he want?' Eleanor Pemberton demanded.

  Alethea didn't want to tell her. Somehow, she just knew it: the fact that Trent de Havilland had invited her out for a second time would be all her fault.

  `He's having a small —er—party tomorrow night. He asked if I'd like to go along.'

  `You're not going?' It sounded more of a statement than a question.

  Wondering what her mother would do if she said yes—have apoplexy on the spot, she wouldn't wonder Alethea merely answered with a dutiful, 'No.'