White Heat Read Free Page B

so happened that there were few celebrities on board, and of that number the most important pair preferred to remain cloistered in their suite on A Deck, so Mrs. Makepiece was accommodated with her seat at the one table that became the cynosure of all eyes once the captain made his appearance and joined the rest of his guests. And as Karin was Mrs. Makepiece’s companion she, also, was allotted a place at the table.
    Karin would have preferred to be less in the limelight while taking her meals, and she would have preferred it if her employer had made a little less obvious effort to attract a good deal of it to herself once the captain’s steward had seen her comfortably seated. Her slightly outrageous gowns and her jewellery caused raised eyebrows and amused smiles amongst those who were not as favoured as the plump widow, and Karin could have understood it if Kent Willoughby, who sat opposite to her, had copied their example and looked at least a trifle supercilious when introductions were made on the first night, and Mrs. Makepiece acknowledged his formal bow with a beaming smile and a positive flood of inquiries concerning his background and members of his family whom she thought she might have met.
    But his reaction had been that of a perfect gentleman, and he hadn’t hesitated to provide the information Mrs. Makepiece desired. Apparently his family was well known, not only in England — where he had an estate — but in Australia, and parts of Africa. They had been Empire-builders, soldiers, too. Mrs. Makepiece thought her sister might have been at school in Paris with an aunt of his, and it created a bond. They discovered there were quite a large number of people with whom they were mutually acquainted, and the talk lasted throughout the length of the meal. Even the captain found it difficult to get a word in edgeways while the discussion lasted.
    After dinner Kent had accepted an invitation to play bridge, and on the following night he was quite prepared to play bridge with her only she was confined to her cabin. In fact, there were only two people at the captain’s table that night apart from the captain, and they were Karin and Kent Willoughby.
    Conversation was practically non-existent — or it would have been if the captain hadn’t gallantly turned all his attention to the slim girl in the neat little black dress who was strangely ignored by the frozen-faced man opposite her — and on the following night, Mrs. Makepiece being at the top of her form again, she and Willoughby disappeared with Colonel Ridley and Mrs. Beaumont into the card-room.
    Since then there had been one night when the programme was repeated, and now, tonight, after being insulted by him in the afternoon, Karin had literally to force herself to enter the dining-saloon and take her place opposite him.
    He appeared to be in a somewhat more reserved mood than usual, and even Mrs. Makepiece could not draw him forth. After failing with a whole series of topics like diamond mines, the African situation, European hotels and winter sports centres, the widow gave up — albeit with a mild air of surprise and hurt vanity — and concentrated her attention to the captain, who responded with rather less unwillingness, and Willoughby frowned over his soup, his main course, and a savoury which he dismissed after he had barely tasted it, and left the table well ahea d of anyone else, to be swallowed up in one or other of the public lounges before Mrs. Makepiece could get over the shock of finding he was not always as charming as he seemed on the surface ... although, as she confided to Karin as they made their way to a powder-room to attend to their make-up, she was fairly certain he had something on his mind.
    A man as completely reasonable as Kent Willoughby would not behave as he had done tonight unless he had something quite serious on his mind.
    Karin — who could have retorted that she hoped it was the recollection of his rudeness to her that was