if I were free. But I won't be.'
Before the girl could protest he caught Caroline's arm and steered her towards a table in the corner, and they sat down.
'I must apologise for Helen,' he said. 'She's inclined to be possessive.'
'Maybe she has a reason,' Caroline said innocently.
' I have a reason for condoning her behaviour. I was responsible for her parents' death in a plane crash. Not technically,' he added, 'but morally. They hadn't wanted to fly that day, but I insisted.' He half sighed. 'Since then, Helen's looked on me as her father. She's a good kid, and when you get to know her better you'll like her.'
Caroline doubted it. From what she had learned of Helen, the girl's rudeness stemmed from jealousy, and if Matthew Bishop didn't realise it he must be a fool.
The waitress came over to take their order, and as she set the cups and plates down Caroline had a chance to study Matt. He was physically rugged, with wide shoulders, and had difficulty fitting his long legs under the top of the small table. His hair was almost black, and very thick, worn brushed straight back from his high forehead and worn long at the nape of the neck. His nose, in the slim, lightly tanned face, was rather long—aristocratic-looking, she decided, as was the wide but thin-lipped mouth.
'Do I meet with your approval?' he asked.
She flushed. 'You must think me very rude, staring at you like that, but I'm rather inclined to judge people by first impressions.'
'I hope I'm making a good one!'
'I'm sure you're not worried about my opinion.'
'I always worry about the opinions of a beautiful woman.' He paused as their tea was set before them, and then continued, 'You're the first model I've met with a title.'
'I never use it,' she assured him.
'But you will if you and your brother do this job for Mark? The idea would be pointless without it.'
'I agreed to do it as a favour to my brother.'
'What a wonderful sister you are!'
Caroline knew at once that he had thought she was playing hard to get, but because she did not want to go into any explanations about Tom she silently poured the tea and began to eat. Deliberately she made no conversation, and to her surprise neither did he.
Only when she put a large cream pastry on her plate did he speak.
'Now that you're not as hungry I hope you're in a more responsive mood.'
'I'm always like this,' she said sweetly.
'Have some more sugar, then.'
She couldn't help a smile, and instantly Matt returned it.
'That's better,' he said. 'Now perhaps you'll have dinner with me.'
She laughed. 'Couldn't we make it another night?'
'Of course. But I want to have dinner with you tonight as well!'
Again it was impossible for her to keep a straight face and he took her smile as acquiescence. 'No more pastries,' he warned, 'or you won't be hungry later on.'
'Don't bet on that. I eat like a horse!'
'No calorie counting?'
'Rarely.' She took another bite of her pastry. 'Food —eating as well as cooking it—is one of my hobbies. If there'd been as much money in it as modelling, I'd have taken it up professionally.'
'Surely you don't need to work?'
'Having a title doesn't automatically mean you're rich. My parents died when Tom and I were children and we were brought up by my mother's sister and her husband, who are far from wealthy.'
'But aristocratic, I assume?' His tone was faintly mocking.
'You assume wrong.' She said no more and glanced at her watch. 'If you don't want me to look like an old hag, I'd better go home and freshen up.'
With a nod Matt stood up and draped her jacket over her shoulders. His hands brushed against her arm and she was startlingly aware of it.
Hoping he hadn't noticed, she followed him out to a wine-coloured Rolls that was parked in the half moon of the marble and glass entrance. A uniformed chauffeur nipped out smartly and held open the door.
'Will you let me take you home?' Matt asked.
Caroline nodded and gave the chauffeur her address in Hampstead.
'Where do you
Before the girl could protest he caught Caroline's arm and steered her towards a table in the corner, and they sat down.
'I must apologise for Helen,' he said. 'She's inclined to be possessive.'
'Maybe she has a reason,' Caroline said innocently.
' I have a reason for condoning her behaviour. I was responsible for her parents' death in a plane crash. Not technically,' he added, 'but morally. They hadn't wanted to fly that day, but I insisted.' He half sighed. 'Since then, Helen's looked on me as her father. She's a good kid, and when you get to know her better you'll like her.'
Caroline doubted it. From what she had learned of Helen, the girl's rudeness stemmed from jealousy, and if Matthew Bishop didn't realise it he must be a fool.
The waitress came over to take their order, and as she set the cups and plates down Caroline had a chance to study Matt. He was physically rugged, with wide shoulders, and had difficulty fitting his long legs under the top of the small table. His hair was almost black, and very thick, worn brushed straight back from his high forehead and worn long at the nape of the neck. His nose, in the slim, lightly tanned face, was rather long—aristocratic-looking, she decided, as was the wide but thin-lipped mouth.
'Do I meet with your approval?' he asked.
She flushed. 'You must think me very rude, staring at you like that, but I'm rather inclined to judge people by first impressions.'
'I hope I'm making a good one!'
'I'm sure you're not worried about my opinion.'
'I always worry about the opinions of a beautiful woman.' He paused as their tea was set before them, and then continued, 'You're the first model I've met with a title.'
'I never use it,' she assured him.
'But you will if you and your brother do this job for Mark? The idea would be pointless without it.'
'I agreed to do it as a favour to my brother.'
'What a wonderful sister you are!'
Caroline knew at once that he had thought she was playing hard to get, but because she did not want to go into any explanations about Tom she silently poured the tea and began to eat. Deliberately she made no conversation, and to her surprise neither did he.
Only when she put a large cream pastry on her plate did he speak.
'Now that you're not as hungry I hope you're in a more responsive mood.'
'I'm always like this,' she said sweetly.
'Have some more sugar, then.'
She couldn't help a smile, and instantly Matt returned it.
'That's better,' he said. 'Now perhaps you'll have dinner with me.'
She laughed. 'Couldn't we make it another night?'
'Of course. But I want to have dinner with you tonight as well!'
Again it was impossible for her to keep a straight face and he took her smile as acquiescence. 'No more pastries,' he warned, 'or you won't be hungry later on.'
'Don't bet on that. I eat like a horse!'
'No calorie counting?'
'Rarely.' She took another bite of her pastry. 'Food —eating as well as cooking it—is one of my hobbies. If there'd been as much money in it as modelling, I'd have taken it up professionally.'
'Surely you don't need to work?'
'Having a title doesn't automatically mean you're rich. My parents died when Tom and I were children and we were brought up by my mother's sister and her husband, who are far from wealthy.'
'But aristocratic, I assume?' His tone was faintly mocking.
'You assume wrong.' She said no more and glanced at her watch. 'If you don't want me to look like an old hag, I'd better go home and freshen up.'
With a nod Matt stood up and draped her jacket over her shoulders. His hands brushed against her arm and she was startlingly aware of it.
Hoping he hadn't noticed, she followed him out to a wine-coloured Rolls that was parked in the half moon of the marble and glass entrance. A uniformed chauffeur nipped out smartly and held open the door.
'Will you let me take you home?' Matt asked.
Caroline nodded and gave the chauffeur her address in Hampstead.
'Where do you
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