A Bid for Love & A Chance of Happiness Read online

  "Yes, thank you," Pippa said. "And Mr. Saunders is my employer, not my grandfather," she added, trying to put the record straight.

  "Oh, I see," Naughton said innocently. "Then obviously you're not Miss Saunders. You are . . ?"

  "Miss Gibson," Pippa said, feeling like a school ma'am.

  "I'm Mr. Naughton, Fabian Naughton. How do you do?"

  "How do you do?" They shook hands.

  His handshake was crisp and strong and he smiled at her with laughing eyes.

  "Would you mind if I joined you?" he asked politely.

  "If you must," Hubert said coldly.

  But the young man was not deterred. "I must!" The insult was like water off a duck's back. "It's a nice place this. I knew you'd know somewhere decent round here," he said, confirming the parasitic portrait Hubert had drawn.

  Pippa sat down and Fabian Naughton sat down next to her, placing his auction catalogue on top of hers.

  "Well, what did you think about Aspley?" Fabian asked.

  But Hubert wasn't prepared to give the young man any assistance and adroitly turned the question round.

  "Tell us what you think of Aspley?" Hubert said.

  "Very interesting," Fabian began, and actually sounded as if he knew what he was talking about in the short summary he gave them. He wasn't as much of an ignoramus as Hubert had led her to believe, and Fabian held forth until the pies arrived.

  "Shall I bring yours here, too?" the barmaid enquired.

  "Please," Fabian told her, and continued with his views.

  "So you'll be bidding?" Hubert asked Fabian at the end of his discourse.

  "I expect so. And you?"

  "Possibly," Hubert informed him. "I might be elsewhere that day," he added cagily.

  "Yes, there's a very good auction at Sotheby's, isn't there? I'm torn between the two. Mind you, have Porsche will travel. Of course, you could always send Miss Gibson on your behalf," Fabian suggested, and then, turning to Pippa, asked her if there was anything in particular she liked there.

  Deciding that it was dangerous to be drawn into her likes and dislikes, Pippa said there was nothing and knew she'd pleased Hubert.

  "Come off it! You must have liked something!" Fabian protested. He opened his catalogue. "You mean you didn't like the Sheraton table in the library?"

  "Stop sponging, Mr. Naughton," Hubert interjected. "You won't find anything out from us."

  "I'm not sponging. I'm just being civil." He sounded most put out. "I don't know what you think I am," he continued.

  "Actually, I think you're a parasite, Mr. Naughton, if you really want to know. I don't think you could tell Louis the fifteenth from Louis Armstrong."

  "Of course I can tell the difference," Fabian retorted. "Louis the Fifteenth played the xylophone."

  "I think I must go and powder my nose," Pippa said diplomatically, anxious to avoid laughing and getting involved in the two men's slanging match.

  When she returned, they were still talking, although rather more amicably, but Hubert stood up and made his way to the cloakroom, leaving Pippa alone with Fabian.

  "I don't know how you put up with him, Miss Gibson."

  "I've no intention of talking about Mr. Saunders behind his back, Mr. Naughton."

  "You're as bad as him, except you're rather more attractive," Fabian told her irately. "Anyway, you clearly know which side your bread is buttered."

  "I do, Mr. Naughton."

  "Bully for you, Miss Gibson." He paused for a moment and changed his tack. "I don't suppose you have a first name."

  "You're quite right, I don't," Pippa said, doing her best to keep him at bay.

  "You know, I think you and Hubert deserve each other. I'm going." With which Fabian Naughton grabbed his catalogue and said goodbye.

  "Goodbye, Mr. Naughton."

  Hubert appeared a few moments after Fabian had left the bar. "Got rid of him at last?" he asked.

  "Quite successfully, I think."

  "Well done! He's insufferable."

  "I think you put him in his place," Pippa assured her boss.

  "Damn well deserves it. Shall we go? Don't forget the catalogue."

  As Pippa picked it up, she noticed it was furled at the edge, which it hadn't been before. Instinctively, she opened it up to check that it was the right one. But her instinct was right. On the first page of the catalogue, in an elegant but strong hand, was the name "Fabian Naughton" followed by the date in Roman numerals. A letter addressed to him and marked "Private and Confidential" slipped out and fell to the floor.

  "He's got our catalogue!" Pippa groaned.

  "The young devil! See if you can catch him!" Hubert barked.

  She ran out of the hotel and into the road where Fabian had been parked, but there was no sign of the red Porsche. She walked back to the bar.

  "He's gone."

  "Damn him! It's got all the bids in it." Hubert was puce with irritation. "We'll have to get it back—but heaven knows how. It's a blueprint for someone like him. A gift! He's a sly fox."

  "It may have been an accident," Pippa said. "He has left a private letter behind in his."

  "A ruse!" Hubert said. "I know his sort. He switched them on purpose. He'd sell his grandmother if he could. He's outwitted us," Hubert added ruefully. "Still, not all is lost. But it's a point to him, I've no doubt about that." Hubert leafed through Fabian's catalogue. "Not a mark in it," he observed. "I tell you, the boy's no idea. Well, no idea about the antiques business, at least."

  If Fabian Naughton had switched catalogues on purpose then he would no doubt chuckle all the way back to London, Pippa thought. But she sensed that it had been a genuine mistake. And anyway, if he was as much of a charlatan as Hubert made out, there was every chance that he would never look at the catalogue again, in which case no harm would be done.

  They walked out to the Bentley and gallantly Hubert helped her in. They were on their way to London in no time, with Hubert still lamenting Fabian's deplorable behaviour.

  "Do you want me to call him when we get back?" Pippa asked.

  "I'm not sure. It may be better to let sleeping dogs lie. I'd hate him to think that I cared that he had the catalogue. Anyway, it's all sufficiently fresh in my mind at the moment. I think I can remember all the bids, so we'll jot them down when we get back."

  They returned to the Knightsbridge gallery in under two hours, and went up to Hubert's office on the first floor, where they were greeted by Diana Ellington, Hubert's elegant secretary.

  "Darlings! You're back!" Diana drawled in her theatrical manner, sweeping a well-manicured hand through her dark auburn hair. "Loads of messages, Hubert. And one from a man for you, Pippa," Diana said knowingly, and handed her a piece of paper with Fabian Naughton's name and telephone number on it. "Says it's urgent," she added.

  When it came to men, Diana had finely-tuned radar, and she had sensed immediately that Fabian Naughton had more than a professional interest in Pippa. Diana, bold survivor of two "ghastly" marriages and countless torrid affairs, could spot a man on the prowl from five hundred yards.

  "Probably wants a ransom."

  "Shall I call him back?"

  "No, leave it. Let's make him sweat," Hubert said, smiling. "I know what makes 'these people tick. In the meantime, let's get those bids listed."

  With the help of Fabian's catalogue, it didn't take them long to remember all their notes.

  "Young Mr. Naughton can whistle," Hubert said with satisfaction. "It makes no difference whether we get the catalogue back or not. I shouldn't call him if I were you."

  "I won't bother then," Pippa agreed. "I expect he'll want his letter back, though."

  "I doubt it," Hubert said knowingly, "but we'll see."

  Just as she was about to leave at five-thirty, Diana invited Pippa to join her for a quick drink in a cosy pub in Ennismore Mews, just off Knightsbridge. A "quick" drink was virtually impossible to have with Diana, for she found more comfort than was good for her in alcohol. The two women strolle
d up to the pub, Diana looking distinctly glamorous in a voluminous fur coat, a memento from husband number one.

  "So who's this Fabian Naughton?" Diana asked as they settled down at the pub. Despite her two unfortunate marriages, she was still fascinated by romance—especially other people's, which was always less painful.

  "Did Hubert ever tell you about the young man he taught a lesson at Phillips'?" Pippa asked her.

  "Oh! He's that one. What a hoot! I know who he is. He looks like a real sweetie!"

  "He's quite nice," Pippa said cautiously.

  "I think you should call him then. You could do a lot worse."

  "I don't want to get involved with him," Pippa explained.

  "I think he wouldn't mind getting involved with you. He asked a lot of questions about you. I know about these things, darling. I can just tell," Diana explained. "He asked what your first name was," she added.

  "Oh," Pippa said. "Did you tell him?"

  "'Fraid so. Shouldn't I have?"

  "I told him I didn't have one," Pippa explained to a bemused Diana. "Not that it's a state secret."

  "I don't suppose it is. I spoke to him for a little while, actually. Maybe I should call him back," Diana suggested. "Not that I expect he's the sort of chap who's interested in older women. And, God knows, I'm probably old enough to be his mother."

  "Not even you were that precocious!" Pippa assured her.

  "I don't know, darling," Diana drawled, having another gulp of vodka. "The sort of school I went to, anything could have happened!"

  They had another round of drinks before Pippa made her excuses and hopped on a bus to her studio flat in Notting Hill Gate. At home, she had a shower and then phoned a couple of friends, maintaining a deliberate silence on the subject of Fabian Naughton. Although she regarded him as an attractive and amusing young man, he was undoubtedly forbidden fruit, and she knew there was no point in making things difficult for herself. And, as always, she mused, there were other fish in the sea—which was fine, provided you were a mermaid.

  In the morning, Pippa was due at Hubert's Chelsea gallery to help out with some valuations and so she didn't reach Knightsbridge until shortly before noon.

  "Fabian Naughton called, if you're interested," Diana informed her casually. "Actually, he's called twice. Said he'd call again."

  "Oh," Pippa said, unsure whether this was good or bad news. But before she could decide, the telephone rang again and it was the man in question. Just as Diana handed her the phone, telling her it was Fabian, Hubert emerged from his office.

  "Persistent, if nothing else," Hubert said wryly. "Mind if I listen?" he asked Pippa.

  "Feel free."

  So Diana handed him another extension.

  "Hello, Philippa," he began. "It's Fabian Naughton." He announced himself as if he were the compere of a television chat show, and she wondered whether he expected her to applaud or simply swoon with excitement.

  "Oh, yes," Pippa said with a deliberate vagueness that took the wind out of his sails.

  "We met at lunchtime." He sounded rather less sure of himself.

  "Oh, I remember," said Pippa, trying not to laugh.

  "Look, the thing is, I seem to have picked up your catalogue by accident. I just wondered if, by any chance, you had mine."

  "I haven't looked," Pippa lied.

  "Well, take my word for it, you've got mine. And I left a letter in it."

  "Did you? I'll just have a look." She fumbled around, stalling for a moment. "Oh, yes. So you did, Mr. Naughton."

  "Please call me Fabian, Philippa," he said, ignoring her formality. "Unless you'd prefer to call me Fab."

  "I'd prefer to call you Mr. Naughton, Mr. Naughton." She was trying not to giggle.

  "I'm only trying to be nice," he moaned helplessly. "In fact, I was going to invite you out to a rather fancy lunch where we could swap catalogues and I could retrieve my letter. Actually, I really need it back—it's quite important."

  Pippa looked at Hubert who smiled and raised his eyebrows in surprise. Then he nodded at her, indicating that she should go. Unfortunately, at just that moment he sneezed and didn't cover the receiver in time.

  "Bless you! My word, you sound like an octogenerian," Fabian said ingenuously.

  "Yes," she said awkwardly. "Thank you… er, well, I suppose I could give you back the catalogue and letter."

  "Today?" He leapt at her acceptance.

  "All right." She controlled her enthusiasm.

  "Fine. There are such nice places round Knightsbridge. I'll come to the gallery at one, shall I?"

  "That'll be fine."

  "Wrap up. Don't want that cold of yours getting any worse. 'Byee." He put the phone down.

  "He's a smart-alec," Hubert grumbled. "I've no doubt he heard me sneeze."

  "Nor have I."

  "Well, watch him, my dear. Anyway, I suspect he's just after his letter and you—and who can blame him. He's such a charlatan he probably hasn't even looked through our catalogue, so it won't do any harm to retrieve it."

  Pippa was amused by the whole incident and she was actually looking forward to lunch. Fabian Naughton was fun, whatever Hubert said about him. He arrived on the dot of one, dressed in a dark grey suit, cream shirt and red tie, carrying the catalogue.

  "Nice to see you," he said, smiling broadly and making her feel as if she were the only girl in the world. "Shall we do the swap now or later?"

  "Might as well do it now," Pippa said, "before we forget."

  "Well, let's get something to eat, then," he said as he picked up his catalogue and checked his letter.

  There were so many good restaurants in Knightsbridge, Pippa wondered where he had in mind. Since she suspected that Diana was right and he was more interested in her than in business, she assumed he would treat her to one of the fancier establishments.

  "D'you like American?" Fabian asked.

  "Lovely," Pippa assured him, assuming that he would be taking her to Adam's Rib House or somewhere like that.

  "I know just the place. Follow me," he said, making it sound like a magical mystery tour.

  They set off in the opposite direction to the Rib House and Pippa had no idea where he was taking her.

  "Where are we going?"

  "You'll see! But it's nice…"

  To add to the mystery, she soon found herself in the back streets of Knightsbridge, before completing a circle which brought them back to the Brompton Road, where they had actually started.

  "Are you lost?" Pippa asked him.

  "Not at all. I know exactly where we are. I just like to work up an appetite, that's all."

  They continued walking along the Brompton Road and finally reached the mysterious destination.

  "Here we are," Fabian said with satisfaction, stopping outside a small hamburger bar.

  Pippa didn't know what to say. The big treat was something of an anti-climax for the cafe, excellent though it was, was no more special than any other fast food hamburger joint.

  "Shall we eat in or take-away?" Fabian asked her. But before she had time to answer, he said, "I know, let's eat in."

  And in they went.

  Chapter Two

  So much for the fancy lunch, Pippa thought, determined not to appear in the least nonplussed. Fabian seemed amused by his little surprise, and she could tell he was trying to stifle a smug smile as they waited in the queue.

  "What will you have?"

  Pippa looked up at the illuminated menu. "I'll have a cheeseburger—if that's all right?"

  "Oh, I think I can stretch to that. I'll have the same and we can share some fries," Fabian said earnestly.

  "If you like, we can go Dutch," Pippa told him.

  "No, it's fine—honestly. And, anyway, I haven't got my clogs! Would you like something to drink?"

  "I couldn't put you to such expense," Pippa replied, keeping a straight face.

  "Be a devil! Go on, have a milkshake."

  "If you insist. Chocolate."

  Fabia
n ordered the lunch and paid for it with a twenty pound note, which appeared to embarrass even him. Then they went downstairs and sat at a table for two.

  "You must admit I've got style," Fabian began. "I know how to give a girl a good time."

  "You certainly do. This is a real treat," Pippa said brightly.

  "I know. It's one of the best fast food burgers you can get," Fabian said, munching into his burger.

  "I wouldn't really know. I'm not exactly a connoisseur," she informed him. "You obviously are."

  "Oh, yes! Try yours, it'll get cold."

  Pippa started her cheeseburger, which was very good, even if it wasn't the height of gastronomic excellence. If this was what he called a fancy lunch, she dreaded to think what he regarded as a quick bite. He smiled at her as they ate in silence, and she forced a smile back, helping herself to some of the French fries. Unfortunately, she found her milkshake too cold and wished she had asked for a coffee instead. But Fabian had no such problem and sucked on his straw with immense concentration, slurping slightly as he reached the end.

  "Well, what will Hubert have to say to his youthful aide only being given a hamburger for lunch?" he asked.

  "I don't even see why he should know," Pippa said coolly.

  "Come off it! Don't give me that. I can't believe you're not going to tell him. I mean, he tunes into your phone conversations. For all I know, you're carrying a bugging device at this very moment."

  Pippa looked at him with astonishment. "I can assure you I'm not. It's probably just as well, too, because all you've done is slurp on your milkshake, which would scarcely make riveting listening."

  "I do not slurp!"

  "You do, as it happens, Mr. Naughton, and I only wish this was being recorded so that you'd believe me." Pippa thought she sounded very uppity considering that the subject of the conversation was so trivial.

  Fabian burst out laughing. "You're incredible, you know that? I'm surprised at you. You've been a surprise all the way along from the first moment I saw you. I mean, you look like a nice intelligent girl with a fair amount of commonsense, and yet you follow Hubert Saunders around with dog-like devotion. And you complain that I slurp!"

  "You do—not that it's very important. And I do not follow Hubert Saunders around with dog-like devotion. He's my employer, whom I happen to like, and I'm loyal. I don't see what's wrong with that."