Alex moved towards her. ‘I really must apologize for my presence here. We haven’t been introduced — my name is Alex Barkley, I cabled from New York. Are you Mrs Taverner?’ He looked into steely, penetrating eyes the colour of turquoises. There was not a scrap of make-up on the flawless skin.
‘I am Mrs Taverner — I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?’
‘Alex Barkley.’
She did not take his outstretched hand for a moment, and he was about to withdraw it when she suddenly slipped her cool fingers into his grasp. It was a fleeting gesture, and he felt foolish. Mrs Taverner turned back to the door, paused a moment. ‘Barkley, you said? And English, from your voice?’
Feeling exceedingly uncomfortable, Alex nodded. He felt she was scrutinizing him from head to toe. ‘I think I should tell you that I am a private collector, I am not connected with the auctioneers.’
She twisted the diamond ring on her wedding finger, held her head slightly to one side. ‘You spoke to my secretary? Well, I’m sure if you have permission then it’s all right. Don’t let me detain you.’
He could smell her perfume in the cold air, a fresh, clean smell. He remained standing as the click, click, click of her heels receded down the corridor. Then there was silence. He returned to examining the furniture, putting Barbara Taverner out of his mind.
But Alex was in Mrs Taverner’s mind. She walked into her study where Miss Fry, her secretary, was typing at a large desk. ‘Miss Fry, who is Alex Barkley? And why is he here?’
Miss Fry blushed and gestured to Mrs Taverner that she had someone waiting. Ming rose to meet her, hand outstretched, smiling. ‘Mrs Taverner, I am delighted to meet you, I am Imura Takeda.’
Ignoring Ming’s hand, Mrs Taverner turned to her secretary. ‘Miss Takeda is the designer you were interested in for your New York apartment.’
Ming smiled again, although tempted to walk out, she was given such a thorough once-over.
‘Is Mr Barkley your client?’
Ming unzipped her portfolio and began to lay out the large colour photographs of Alex’s chateau, together with the press cuttings of the other houses she had done, and Mrs Taverner glanced through them, showing perfunctory interest. ‘Well, this is interesting, really fine... does Mr Barkley live in New York?’
Ming gave Mrs Taverner details of Alex’s background, embroidering everything, while she displayed more photographs and brochures. She did it so cleverly no one would have guessed it was a ‘hard sell’. Throughout Ming’s presentation Mrs Taverner’s long, blood-red fingernails tapped on the edge of her desk, then she held out a languid hand for the press cuttings and sat down. ‘Miss Fry, why don’t you see to some coffee... I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?’
Ming repeated her name, and received a dazzling smile.
Mrs Taverner turned on the charm while Ming sipped her coffee. ‘Your client, Mr Barkley — perhaps he is interested in buying the ranch?’
Ming informed her that Alex had come to look at some seventeenth-century furniture.
‘Oh, yes, you said... Well, I am impressed, this chateau is splendid... Would you like to look over the plans for my apartment in New York? You’ll be able to get some idea of the size of the place... Miss Fry, would you see about a little lunch for Miss Takeda...’
She followed Miss Fry out of the room, closing the door behind her, and sent her off to invite Alex to a private luncheon, one Ming was not invited to.
Half an hour later, Barbara Taverner knew virtually every corner of the chateau, Ming giving her a highly professional sales pitch. She now knew that the Duke and Duchess of Windsor were personal friends of Alex’s, and she surmised that Alex was one hell of a catch, rich enough himself not to be after her fortune. Not that his money amounted to anything approaching Barbara’s inheritance, only another oil baron could match her vast income.
Alex was led into a small lounge on the first floor. Bright, deep-seated sofas in yellows and greens with orange scatter cushions offended Alex’s sense of colour, but the glass-topped table on the verandah, set with chilled champagne, looked inviting.
‘Mrs Taverner will join you shortly, Mr Barkley.’
A Spanish maid attended him, offering him champagne, then stood quietly in the shadows.
Barbara Taverner was used to making entrances. She had changed, and was now wearing another simple, wildly expensive dress. Alex rose from the sofa, and she waved her hand for him to join her at the table. She spoke in fluent Spanish to the maid, who served them cold poached salmon and salad.
‘This is really most kind of you, Mrs Taverner.’
‘Please call me Barbara... Alex, isn’t it? I just adore your designer, and I desperately want her to begin work on my New York penthouse. She’s looking over the drawings right now... more champagne?’ She rang a small gold bell beside her plate, and the maid refilled Alex’s glass. Barbara made polite conversation, charming him, and he could smell her lovely fresh perfume. He also noticed that she hardly touched her food, waiting politely for him to finish, then placing her knife and fork together and ringing the tiny bell. Alex made a point of being very attentive, smiling at her remarks, but if asked, he could not really have recalled one thing she said to him. She fascinated him with her coolness, her precise gestures, her softly drawling voice and husky laugh. For her part, Barbara noticed everything about the Englishman. His perfectly tailored suit, his gold cufflinks, his shoes, his tie — his well-manicured hands and broad shoulders. She was making a list in her head and he was getting tick after tick... She could tell his body was firm beneath the starched shirt. ‘Are you staying locally, Alex?’
He told her which hotel he was booked into, and that he would be leaving within the week.
‘Oh no — I see I will have to persuade you to stay a little longer. You have to see Dallas, meet everyone, I insist you at least promise to have dinner with me. Have you met my daughters? I married very young, and I’m divorced now, but that is too long a story to go into at our first meeting. Would you like me to show you over the ranch, the rooms they won’t be pawing over?’
Stealing a quick glance at his watch, Alex smiled and gave a formal little bow. She took his arm and they toured the house. Alex was charm itself, giving all the right responses, but wondering all the time how long it would take to get to the point — how much Barbara Taverner would accept for the pieces. And he had still not unearthed the prized bed.
As she led him from room to room, she divulged little bits of her background, her relationship to Hunter Hardyman. ‘He was my mother’s father, and I think she loathed him almost as much as I did... He was a dreadful man, domineering, and the most ruthless man I ever met in my life. I was left this, and all I want is to get rid of everything he ever touched. He destroyed my mother’s life — and even mine. My marriage was over before it really began. I was sixteen, and HH arranged it, as he arranged the life of every member of his family. I don’t know if you have heard the gossip, but Grandpa had numerous families, and none of us really get along.’
She was open and at ease with Alex, and he began to enjoy her company. Of course, Barbara was making sure he knew she was divorced, unattached. Finally Alex looked at his Rolex and said he really had to watch the time as he intended to return to his hotel before nightfall. Barbara wasn’t about to let this catch out of her hands — she smiled sweetly and told him it would be madness to return to the hotel. He must stay to dinner.