Rival Attractions. PENNY JORDAN
standard size ten clothes and never had the slightest trouble buying things off the peg, which was probably more than could be said for Vanessa, who seemed to purposely choose clothes which drew attention to her small waist and disproportionately full breasts.
Charlotte knew it was illogical to suddenly become aware of the fact that her breasts were perhaps a little on the small side; it wasn’t something that had ever particularly bothered her, apart from once or twice during their engagement when Gordon had admiringly commented on the more generous charms of other women, but, illogical or not, she discovered that she was suddenly hunching her shoulders, as though trying to conceal her upper body from any curious glances.
Irritated with herself, she straightened up. It was idiotic to let Vanessa get to her like this.
‘Mind you,’ Vanessa continued maliciously, ‘I suppose you’ll be far too busy to go to London now that the new agency is opening up. I’ve told Adam that we must have this place revalued. We’ve really done everything with it that we can, and I rather fancy something a little larger. With this influx of people from London, we’re bound to get a good price.’
She gave a complacent laugh which grated on Charlotte’s ears, making her snap acidly, ‘The increase in prices might be good news to you, Vanessa, but you seem to forget that, the moment prices start to increase, it means that young couples down at the bottom of the salary scale are priced out of the market and often forced to move away from an area where they might have lived all their lives. And it doesn’t help when prices are driven up even further by greedy agents, who deliberately foster an upsurge in prices for their own benefit, without thinking about the unhappiness they’re causing. If you really want my opinion, the kind of agent who cold-bloodedly opens up just to cash in on a boom area is quite despicable. They don’t care about the misery they’re going to cause to local people.’
‘Well, of course you’re bound to feel resentful,’ Vanessa cooed, plainly delighted by Charlotte’s outburst, and too late Charlotte realised her own stupidity.
It was too late to recall her words now, she realised, too late to do anything at all, as Vanessa suddenly smiled at someone over Charlotte’s shoulder and said softly, ‘Oliver…there you are. Come and meet Charlotte Spencer, although I’m afraid you won’t get a very warm reception, and I must warn you that Charlotte has the reputation of being something of a man-hater.’ Vanessa gave a light, tinkling laugh that grated on Charlotte’s nerves. ‘She’s just been sounding off about the fact that you’re opening up in competition to her. I don’t think she’s very pleased about it. But then I suppose that’s understandable when you haven’t been used to competition. Personally, I’m all for it.’
Charlotte struggled to control her anger and her chagrin. She wouldn’t be in the least surprised if Vanessa had deliberately planned this, deliberately inveigled her into that outburst of righteous indignation so that she could make a fool of her, although honesty compelled Charlotte to admit that she had more than ably helped her. Why on earth hadn’t she kept her thoughts to herself? Why allow Vanessa to provoke her? She felt humiliated and embarrassed, and was dreading turning round and facing ‘Oliver’, who, no matter what she might think of his business methods, deserved at least to be treated with the cordiality due to a newcomer to the area.
Gritting her teeth, she forced a smile to her mouth and turned round.
The stilted words of apology died on her lips as she found herself confronting the driver of the Jaguar car. Now close up, she saw that his eyes were even more astonishingly dark blue than she had thought, and that at close quarters his maleness was every bit as formidable as she had imagined.
Uncomfortably she felt heat flood her skin—the heat of embarrassment and confusion. It crawled painfully along her throat and burned her cheekbones. She could almost feel Vanessa’s gloating malice, as the blonde woman placed one dainty hand on the man’s arm and smiled invitingly up at him.
‘Never mind, Oliver,’Vanessa said softly. ‘We aren’t all as unfriendly as Charlotte.You mustn’t mind her. She has a bit of a thing against men in general, I’m afraid. She’s our local feminist.’
Charlotte was bitterly, achingly furious, but there was nothing she could do. She met the speculative glance he gave her full on.
She could imagine all too well what he was thinking: that her supposed feminist views were because she was not physically attractive enough to appeal to the majority of men. A man like him, so arrogantly self-assured of his masculinity, could never comprehend that there were women whose lives were perfectly happy without being built around some man.
As he extended his hand towards her, he said shockingly, ‘I’ve been wanting to meet you.’
His words stunned her, holding her immobile. Wanting to meet her…? Why? Guiltily her mind sped back to the afternoon, to her sneaky acquisition of his parking spot.
‘I’m afraid Charlie doesn’t approve of you at all,’Vanessa was saying bitchily. ‘She seems to think that just because you’re successful you must be guilty of sharp business practice.’
The blue eyes studied Charlotte rather too shrewdly for her comfort for a moment, and then he said smoothly, ‘Well, naturally I’d deny such an allegation, although speaking of sharp practice—’
He was going to mention this afternoon, to amuse himself at her expense by recounting what she had done. Suddenly preternaturally sensitive, she felt the stinging colour in her face deepen. He was laughing at her, she knew. More amused than angered by her supposed antipathy towards him, enjoying her embarrassment.
Quite what would have happened if Adam had not suddenly come up to tell Vanessa that the hired staff were ready to serve dinner, Charlotte didn’t know.
As Vanessa, ignoring both Charlotte and Adam, turned away, taking Oliver Tennant with her, Charlotte discovered that she was trembling inwardly with a mixture of anger and impotence. Her anger was caused as much by Oliver Tennant’s patronising amusement at her expense as by Vanessa’s malice, and her frustrated impotence was the result of her own inability to escape from the role Vanessa had deliberately cast her into.
Vanessa had taken good care to paint her in colours to Oliver Tennant which, while having a basis in truth, were greatly exaggerated. Charlotte made no apology for her own belief that Oliver Tennant was cashing in on the property boom without any thought of how it would eventually affect their small community, but, given free choice, she would not have voiced those opinions so volubly or tactlessly in his presence. It was also true that there were certain aspects of the male sex which she personally found unappealing, but she was by no means the almost vigilante-like anti-men campaigner Vanessa had portrayed.
Unwittingly worrying at her bottom lip, as Adam escorted her through to the dining-room, Charlotte fumed over Vanessa’s deliberately derogatory description of her as a feminist. Vanessa had used the word as a malicious insult. Charlotte resented being classified as a specific ‘type’ under any name; she was an individual, and, if her upbringing and physical attributes made it impossible for her to mimic Vanessa’s cloying, clinging, supposedly ‘feminine’ manner with men, she preferred to think that it was because she had too much pride…too much self-awareness…too much self-respect to sink to Vanessa’s level.
If the male sex couldn’t see that beneath that sugary sweetness Vanessa was as corrosive as any acid, then they deserved everything they got.
Adam was saying something to her, clumsily trying to apologise, she recognised, her mood softening. Poor Adam. He most definitely did not deserve his atrocious wife. Sensing that he was genuinely concerned that she might be upset, she started to reassure him, and admitted, ‘I did rather over-react. I didn’t realise that the new estate agent was one of your guests.’
‘Vanessa invited him. She met him when she approached him to ask him to value this place.’ His face went dark red and he muttered uncomfortably, ‘I don’t know why she wants to move. I like this house…’
‘It’s all right, Adam,’ Charlotte told him, wanting to comfort him. ‘I’ve