A Bid for Love Read online

  "And I might be the Queen of Sheba."

  "Yes, you might," he said with a firm smile. "You might very well, your Majesty."

  Pippa stood up. She wasn't going to finish her milkshake, and she had had quite enough of the infuriating and distasteful Naughton.

  "Aren't you going to finish your milkshake?" he asked.

  "Forgive me, no," Pippa said, putting on her coat.

  "More for me!" He grinned like a naughty schoolboy and, picking up the milkshake, swapped straws. He stood up.

  "Can I walk you back to the shop?"

  "I'm sure you can, but there's no need. Thanks for lunch."

  He looked quite annoyed, Pippa thought. She was beginning to feel uneasy as she sensed people in the cafe looking at them.

  "Love to Hubert," he said sarcastically.

  "I'll remember to pass it on." With which Pippa left, her heart racing, to her immense irritation. Fabian Naughton had had an effect on her and she didn't like it one bit. As she made her way back to the gallery it started to rain, and she suspected that it was going to turn into one of "those" days.

  Diana was curious to know what had happened as Pippa was back very early from a luncheon date. Pippa told all, and Diana was most amused.

  "He's got a nerve, hasn't he?" Diana said.

  "No doubt about that," Pippa agreed, feeling better for talking about it.

  When Hubert returned she related the tale again, and Hubert was infuriated on her behalf.

  "A hamburger! Damn cheek. I'll buy you a decent lunch to make up for it tomorrow, and that's a promise."

  The rest of the afternoon passed slowly, and Pippa wished she had had rather more work to occupy her because, with time on her hands, she started thinking about Fabian Naughton. The lunchtime episode was etched vividly in her mind and she couldn't shake his image from her thoughts. What made it very much worse was her realisation that she fancied him—even if he was one of the most arrogant and exasperating men she had ever come across. But she knew he spelt trouble and she hoped that she would have nothing further to do with him. His comment that she should get used to working against him worried her and suggested that Fabian Naughton was going to be part of life for a time to come. Instinctively, she knew that he would prove a powerful adversary.

  The next day, as promised, Hubert took Pippa for lunch to the Brasserie Mes Amis near Harrods, and she had the sort of lunch she had anticipated having with Fabian Naughton. Hubert was on good form and told her not to worry about the threats that Fabian had made.

  "We're bigger, better and more intelligent than Mr. Naughton, so have no fear."

  "I'm not afraid, but I don't like being on the wrong side of people," Pippa explained. "I mean, apart from lunch, which was a bit of a fiasco, I didn't have any axe to grind with him. But I imagine he could be a real thorn in one's side."

  "He's no more irritating than a bluebottle," Hubert assured her.

  Pippa smiled, for there were many things Fabian Naughton reminded her of, but she would never have likened him to a bluebottle.

  "Well, I'll invest in some fly spray then," she said.

  "Make sure you take it to Aspley Manor in case you come across him there. I want you to cover the auction for me—I've decided to handle Sotheby's. Will that be all right?"

  "I'd love to."

  "Will you drive down?" Hubert enquired.

  "I should think so. I expect my little Mini can manage a quick run down the A40," she told him, looking forward to another day in the country.

  But Fabian Naughton was looking forward to his day out in the country as well, because he telephoned Pippa to tell her so. At least, that was partly his reason when he called her after she had returned from Mes Amis.

  "Actually, I'm just phoning to see if you got back all right."

  "Yes, I got back fine—thanks very much. A boy scout helped me across the road."

  "So you go for the younger man?" Fabian asked. "Most definitely," Pippa said, hoping to deter him.

  "I'll start taking the elixir then… Look, er, I'm sorry about lunch. I was just a bit narked that Hubert was listening to our conversation, and I was blowed if I was going to lavish a posh lunch on you if you were coming just because he told you to." Fabian was perfectly blunt.

  "I thought it was very funny," Pippa said. "It's not every day I'm taken out by the last of the big spenders."

  "Ha, ha, ha!"

  "Well, I thought perhaps I could make amends. If you're going to Aspley maybe you'd let me chauffeur you down there, and I'll treat you to something a little more spectacular."

  "That's very kind of you, but I don't even know if I'm going yet," Pippa fibbed diplomatically, as she was keen not to commit herself.

  "Well, if you do, give me a call. And if you don't, let's have lunch somewhere of your choice in town." He sounded eminently reasonable.

  "Thank you very much," Pippa said politely. "Goodbye, Mr. Naughton."

  "Goodbye, Miss Gibson."

  As she put the phone down, she was puzzled by his sudden change of attitude. His olive branch was hardly consistent with his threat to work against her, and she wondered whether it was all part of some devious scheme. Perhaps he intended to way-lay her and prevent her from attending the auction while somebody bid on his behalf. Still, it didn't matter. She had declined his invitations. She could not accept his offer of the lift or of lunch. That way she would not be so exposed to the dangers he presented. And, anyway, he looked like the sort of man who probably drove his Porsche much too fast, and Pippa knew she would be happier in her Mini.

  Over the weekend, she prepared her car, checking the tyres, the oil, the radiator and the screen wash. She even gave the car a quick bath. Generally, she decided, it looked very good, even if the gearbox was a trifle sticky. On Tuesday afternoon, Hubert gave her a final briefing, having changed his mind about a couple of pieces he wanted her to bid for, and then she went home, determined to have an early night so that she was fresh for the important day ahead. It was, she thought, quite a responsibility to be entrusted with fifteen thousand pounds' buying power, not that she expected to spend that much.

  Pippa was up at seven-thirty the following morning and, after a quick shower, was dressed and ready to leave at eight o'clock. In view of the dismal weather and the fact that she was going to the country, she decided to wear her brown paisley skirt with a light brown jumper. She also wore a string of pearls, left to her by her grandmother, which always made her feel affluent. After all, with fifteen thousand pounds to spend, it was only right that she looked the part.

  The traffic down to Shepherd's Bush was slow, but once she was on the A40 her progress out of London was swift and she arrived at Aspley with just under an hour to spare. The car park was much fuller than it had been the previous visit and, all in all, the whole place seemed less charming. Perhaps it was because she had arrived in considerably less style on this occasion. She parked her car and, just as she was locking the door, Fabian Naughton's red Porsche swept into the parking area. She hoped that he hadn't seen her but she was out of luck. He honked his horn three times and the red Porsche sped across the gravel car park, and drew to a halt in the space next to hers. The electric window zizzed open.

  "So you are here!" Fabian said, stating the obvious.

  "I can't deny it," Pippa replied, feeling slightly embarrassed about not letting him know she was coming.

  "I thought you were going to call me."

  "It was a last-minute decision," Pippa explained.

  "Are you on your own?" Fabian enquired.

  "Yes, Mr. Saunders is elsewhere."

  "So he's sent you to buy all the goodies?"

  "Yes."

  "I see." She could tell he was not pleased with her. "Well, if we find ourselves bidding against each other, may the best man win."

  "Or woman," Pippa added.

  "I don't know about that."

  "I'll see you later," Pippa said, extricating herself from the encounter and making her way to the gr
ounds where a vast, well-decorated marquee had been erected for the auction.

  There must have been close on a hundred people already gathered, and Pippa recognised the occasional face and said hello to an acquaintance from a gallery in the Fulham Road. Every now and then she caught sight of Fabian Naughton, who was flitting from person to person, more as if he was at a cocktail party than an auction.

  He was exuding charm like an aerosol air-freshener and he obviously saw himself as a golden boy, an image enhanced by the brown Harris Tweed suit that he was wearing for the occasion. He looked very much the young country squire and, on the couple of occasions that she caught his eye, she turned away, irritated for giving him the impression that she was looking at him. He seemed to have a good word and a smile for everybody, and some people appeared to have a good word for him, too.

  One girl in particular, a tall horsey-looking woman, threw her arms round him and screamed "Fab!", rather as if he were some teeny-bopper pop star. The woman promptly slipped her arm through his and began introducing him to other people. At roughly the same time, Pippa was approached by Keith de Ville, whom she had known at college, and they chatted for a few minutes until the horsey woman who had cornered Fabian came over with the man himself.

  "Keith, darling! How lovely to see you. You know Fabian Naughton?"

  "No. How do you do?" Keith said, extending his hand.

  "Hello," Fabian said.

  "This is Pippa Gibson… Fiona Barrington-Hyde… Fabian Naughton," Keith said, by way of introduction.

  There were more "How do you do's," although Fabian behaved as if he had never met Pippa before. He was clearly fond of playing his little games.

  "We have met, haven't we?" said Fabian vaguely. But Pippa had no desire to play games with Fabian in front of all these people, for it would make him think that she was happy to conspire with him. To have their own private joke would suggest an intimacy between them that did not exist and which she had no wish to encourage.

  "Yes, of course we have," Pippa began. "You very generously took me out for lunch only last week, Mr. Naughton. Don't you remember, we went to a cafe off the Brompton Road and we both had burgers? And you parked your car next to mine today and even said hello outside. You must remember, surely?"

  "Of course!" he said. "Just a little joke!"

  "How funny!" Fiona Barrington-Hyde shrieked.

  "Hysterical," Fabian muttered sourly.

  Then the double-barrelled lady whisked Fabian away with another screech and introduced him to somebody else.

  At eleven o'clock precisely the auction began, and Pippa took a seat in the second row in front of the auctioneer, a jovial middle-aged gentleman with greying hair and an ample tummy. Fabian Naughton was sitting in the row behind her but about fifteen seats to her left, and she sensed him looking at her. The auction was composed of a variety of lots, some of which would possibly fetch hundreds, even thousands of pounds, and others that would realise relatively small amounts. Pippa sat through thirty-four lots until the first item that Hubert wanted came up. It was a small mahogany writing-desk, officially described as a Davenport. With the adrenalin flowing through her veins, she made her first bid for seven hundred pounds.

  "Eight hundred pounds," said the auctioneer, and then, looking at the woman sitting two seats away from Pippa, "eight hundred and fifty pounds."

  Pippa nodded her head decisively, which the auctioneer interpreted as another fifty pounds.

  "Nine hundred pounds. Nine hundred and fifty pounds."

  Someone over the other side of the marquee was bidding, but Pippa didn't dare look round in case her movement was misunderstood. Then she nodded again.

  "One thousand pounds." The auctioneer looked round the marquee. "One thousand and fifty pounds."

  Pippa increased her bid by fifty pounds.

  "One thousand one hundred pounds… one thousand one hundred and fifty pounds."

  Pippa upped her bid again but it was topped once more by the bidder on the other side of the room. She had been instructed to go no higher than one thousand four hundred pounds, a matter of a few bids.

  "One thousand two hundred pounds. One thousand two hundred and fifty pounds."

  Her heart was racing. The bidding was now exclusively between her and the bidder on the other side of the room and Pippa felt like a horse trying to win a race.

  "One thousand three hundred pounds," the auctioneer said, accepting her latest bid. "One thousand three hundred and fifty pounds," he added, looking at the other bidder. Like a tennis umpire's, his head was switching between the two sides of the marquee. "One thousand four hundred pounds…"The auctioneer accepted her final bid but accepted another fifty pounds from the other bidder. "One thousand four hundred and fifty pounds…"He turned back to Pippa but she was motionless. He looked around the marquee, his eyebrows raised expectantly. "One thousand four hundred and fifty pounds. I say it once. One thousand four hundred and fifty pounds… Going, going… sold to the gentleman in the brown tweed suit."

  Pippa looked round and caught the eye of the gentleman in question. Fabian winked at her and smiled with a definite air of superiority.

  The next lot she was to bid for didn't come up for another fifteen minutes. It was a William IV mahogany dining-table and it was without doubt one of the best items on offer. Her top bid was four thousand pounds, and the bidding increased in steps of one hundred pounds. There were numerous bidders and the price reached three thousand five hundred pounds with alarming alacrity. Then most of the bidders dropped out, leaving the field to Pippa, a man at the back of the marquee and Fabian. Once again she was outbid and the table was sold to the gentleman in the brown tweed suit. She glared at him and hoped he sensed her fury, but he simply smiled warmly back at her. She recalled his warning that she would find it easier to work with him than against him.

  By the time he had acquired the next two lots she had been after, she was quite convinced that she wasn't going to buy anything that day. Fabian was buying up so much that the eyes of the marquee were fixed on him, and she detected a faint smirk on his lips.

  The adrenalin that had coursed through her veins at the beginning of the day had disappeared and she felt decidedly flat. Although Hubert had not expected her to succeed in buying everything he wanted, she was sure he expected her to return home with something. And at this rate she wouldn't.

  When a superb eighteenth-century longcase clock came up, she hoped that she would have better luck. And she was right. Fabian did not appear to be bidding, since the auctioneer was not receiving bids from Fabian's side of the marquee. There were ten bidders, eight of whom dropped out after the price reached one thousand five hundred pounds, leaving the field to Pippa and a dealer in the front row. He dropped out at one thousand seven hundred and fifty pounds, and Pippa's heart started to beat a little faster. She was within a hundred pounds of her top limit and she bid another fifty pounds.

  "One thousand eight hundred pounds." The auctioneer looked at Pippa but she was the last bidder and there seemed to be no other bid. "I say it once… One thousand eight hundred pounds…"

  Suddenly somebody cleared his throat very loudly and the auctioneer's eyes switched to the other side of the marquee.

  "One thousand eight hundred and fifty pounds? Was that a bid, sir?" The auctioneer looked back at Pippa, but she wasn't permitted to go any higher. "One thousand eight hundred and fifty pounds… Going, going… sold to the gentleman in the brown tweed suit."

  At that moment Pippa could have screamed because he had beaten her at the last minute after coming from nowhere. He had filled her with a sense of false security and then led her on to humiliation. She took a deep breath to calm herself down and refused even to look in her rival's direction. She sat there fuming silently for another fifteen minutes before she needed to bid again. The next lot was the heart-shaped enamel box that she had had her eye on since the preview. She knew it wasn't worth a fortune and she had decided that she was prepared to pay twenty pounds for it.
Just when she thought she had secured it for eighteen pounds, Fabian stepped in and upped the bidding to twenty. Suddenly all thoughts of the true value of the box were swept aside and she carried on bidding. The box had become a symbol of victory over Fabian Naughton and she wanted it desperately. She was prepared to go up to thirty pounds, but knew she would have to draw the line there. As it transpired, the box became a symbol of his victory over her as he acquired it for thirty-five pounds.

  Pippa had had enough. All she wanted to do was get away from the marquee and Fabian Naughton. Fortunately, there was nothing else she was required to bid for before lunch and so she made her way out to her car. Her head was pounding and it was a relief to get out into the crisp open air. She drove out of the grounds and found a small pub in a village three miles away where she treated herself to a ploughman's lunch accompanied by an abstemious glass of Coke, although she was in the mood for something very much stronger.

  If she hadn't been specifically instructed to bid for certain items, she would have driven straight back to London. She called Diana to see if Hubert wanted her to cut her losses, but he was still at Sotheby's, and she agreed with Diana that she had better stay for the afternoon session. It was just possible that Fabian Naughton would not be attending the second half of the auction, and she might be able to make up lost ground.

  With a heavy heart, Pippa returned to Aspley Manor. She noticed that the red Porsche was not in the car park, which was a promising sign. Nonetheless, she decided she wouldn't take any chances and she sat right at the back of the marquee so that if he did turn up she could have him in full view, and he would find it more difficult to see what she was bidding. If necessary, she would stand up to ensure the auctioneer was aware of her bids. But as the second session began, Fabian was nowhere to be seen and she was disappointed that her ploy had been in vain.

  Pippa's first bid of the afternoon was for a pair of Georgian silver candlesticks for which she was permitted to spend eight hundred and fifty pounds. Three other people were bidding, and she heaved a sigh of relief as the bidding ceased with her bid of eight hundred pounds.