Garden of Lies(4)

“I have just explained that something unforeseen has arisen,” she said. She was careful to keep her voice crisp and professional, aware that Slater would pounce on anything that hinted at uncertainty or weakness. “I regret the necessity of terminating our business relationship. However—”

“Then why are you terminating our arrangement?”

“The matter is of a personal nature,” she said.

He frowned. “Are you ill?”

“No, of course not. I enjoy excellent health. I was about to say that I hope it will be possible for me to return at a later date to finish the cataloging work.”

“Do you, indeed? And what makes you think I won’t replace you? There are other secretaries in London.”

“That is your choice, of course. I must remind you that I did warn you at the outset that I have other commitments in regard to my business which might from time to time interfere with our working arrangements. You agreed to those terms.”

“I was assured that, in addition to a great many other excellent qualities, you were quite dependable, Mrs. Kern. You can’t just walk in here and quit on the spot like this.”

Ursula twitched the skirts of her black gown so that they draped in neat, elegant folds around her ankles while she considered her options. The atmosphere in the library was rapidly becoming tense, as if some invisible electricity generator was charging the air. It was always like this when she found herself in close proximity to Slater. But today the disturbing, rather exciting energy had a distinctly dangerous edge.

In the short time she had known him she had never seen him lose his temper. He had never gone to the other extreme, either. She had yet to see him laugh. True, he had dredged up the occasional, very brief smile and there had been a certain warmth in his usually cold eyes from time to time. But she got the feeling that he was more surprised than she was when he allowed such emotions to surface.

“I do apologize, Mr. Roxton,” she said, not for the first time. “I assure you I have no choice. Time is of the essence.”

“I feel I deserve more of an explanation. What is this pressing matter that requires you to break our contract?”

“It regards one of my employees.”

“You feel obligated to look into the personal problems of your employees?”

“Well, yes, in a nutshell, that is more or less the situation.”

Slater came out from behind the desk, lounged against the front of it and folded his arms.

His sharply etched features had an ascetic, unforgiving quality. On occasion it was easy to envision him as an avenging angel. At other times she thought he made a very good Lucifer.

“The least you can do is explain yourself, Mrs. Kern,” he said. “You owe me that much, I think.”

She did not owe him anything, she thought. She had taken pains to make her terms of employment clear right from the start. As the proprietor of the Kern Secretarial Agency she rarely took assignments, herself, these days. Her business was growing rapidly. The result was that for the past few months she had been busy in the office, training new secretaries and interviewing potential clients. She had accepted the position with Slater as a favor to his mother, Lilly Lafontaine, a celebrated actress who had retired to write melodramas.

She had not expected to find the mysterious Mr. Roxton so riveting.

“Very well, sir,” she said, “the short version is that I have decided to take another client.”

Slater went very still.

“I see,” he said. “You are not happy in your work here with me?”

There was a grim note in his voice. She realized with a start that he was taking her departure personally. Even more shocking, she got the impression that he was not particularly surprised that she was leaving his employ, rather he seemed stoically resigned, as if it had foreseen some inevitable doom.

“On the contrary, sir,” she said quickly. “I find your cataloging project quite interesting.”

“Am I not paying you enough?” Something that might have been relief flickered in his eyes. “If so, I am open to renegotiating your fee.”

“I assure you, it is not a matter of money.”

“If you are not unhappy in your work and if the pay is satisfactory, why are you leaving me for another client?” he asked.

This time he sounded genuinely perplexed.

She caught her breath and suddenly felt oddly flushed. It was almost as if he were playing the part of a jilted lover, she thought. But of course that was not at all the case. Theirs was a client-employer relationship.

This is why you rarely accept male clients, she reminded herself. There was a certain danger involved. But finding herself attracted to one of her customers was not the sort of risk she had envisioned when she established the policy. Her chief concern had been the knowledge that men sometimes posed a risk to the sterling reputations of her secretaries. In the case of Slater Roxton, she had made an exception and now she would pay a price.

All in all, it was probably best that the association was ended before she lost her head and, possibly, her heart.

“As to my reasons for leaving—” she began.

“Who is this new client?” Slater said, cutting her off.

“Very well, sir, I will explain the circumstances that require me to terminate my employment with you but you may have a few quibbles.”