Man with two Faces Read online

  Man with two Faces by Jane Corrie

  As an act of kindness, to help out her friend Barbara, Rebecca had agreed to work part-time in Barbara's secretarial bureau. But unfortunately for Rebecca, it was a gesture that misfired, since it led to her meeting with the maddening Janus Leon. He was a stern, not to say unreasonable, taskmaster, for a start. But, like the Roman god after whom he was named, Janus had two faces — and the other was that of a heartless playboy. Would he turn that face to Rebecca — and could she survive if he did?

  printed in Great Britain

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  Tragedy greeted Thea when she arrived in the Virgin Islands to visit her brother—only to learn that he had been killed in a car crash. But when her brother's boss, the formidable Marcus Conan, asked her to marry him it looked as if she was going to have a happy ending after all. Until Sapphire Durley burst her dream bubble for her ..

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  Because they shared the same name, it had been fairly easy for Corinne's cousin to persuade her to go to the Canary Islands in her place, to claim a legacy. But it wasn't as simple as that—as Corinne found when she met the co-inheritor Juan Martel and found herself trapped into marrying him!

  All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the Author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or' names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the Author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

  The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the prior consent of the publisher in any forth of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  First published 1982

  ISBN 0 263 74120 605-0283

  CHAPTER ONE

  `I WISH,' declared Barbara Basnett vehemently, `that I'd chosen an easier way to make a living, but I didn't envisage having to put up with a perfectionist, or having to go into the mother hen routine when a shattered chick returns to the roost reduced to tears.' She stared gloomily down at her coffee cup. 'I tell you, Rebecca, if my financial affairs were on a healthier footing I'd tell the wretched man to take his business elsewhere. Not that he'd have any trouble, Jackson's would jump at the chance of taking over.' She sighed loudly, and looked at Rebecca, her brown eyes behind her horn-rimmed spectacles narrowing speculatively. `There are times when I wish I were like you,' she said wistfully. 'With your looks and experience, I'd stop him dead in his tracks.'

  Rebecca Lindsey cast her friend an amused glance. 'Thanks for the compliment, although it could have been better phrased, particularly, the "experience" bit!' she commented dryly.

  `You know what I mean,' Barbara said impatiently.' Working among all those gorgeous dons and professors, and scything through their proposals of undying love with a casual "You'll feel better in the morning!" You could handle Janus Leon with a hand tied behind your back!'

  `You've been absorbing too many of those romantic novels you're typing for Rosalie Stanton,' Rebecca replied lightly, but with a hint of amusement in her voice. 'Successful, over-opinionated authors are definitely not my scene, in spite of your overrated opinion of my competence, let alone the injustice you're doing to my learned employers. It's not at all like that,' she added indignantly, her lovely sapphire-blue eyes opening wide at her insistence.

  `That's not how Dulcie Jeans told it,' Barbara said quickly, 'she came down from Cambridge a fortnight ago, and she's green with envy+ at the chances she said you'd passed up.' She eyed Rebecca with a look of speculation in her eyes. 'There's a John Sanderson, I believe, son of the celebrated Sir George, who, as well as belonging to one of the most influential political families in the country, has not only inherited his father's brains, but his looks as well,' she gave, Rebecca another sly look. 'Not to mention Ralph Hastings, whom I'm sure Dulcie had a definite soft spot for, plus half the girls in her college, and who completely dries up in the. middle of a lecture on the Napoleonic Wars if he happens to catch sight of you walking across the square, and what's more, it's apparently his favourite subject—need I say more?' she queried lightly.

  The door of Barbara's office was opened suddenly at this point, and the appearance of a tearful girl prevented Rebecca from attempting any clarification of the facts, and Barbara's dismayed, `Oh, no!' on the abrupt entry of the girl took her

  mind off her annoyance at being classed as a heartbreaker.

  `I want to hand in my notice!' declared the girl, angrily brushing away a stray tear that coursed down her cheek. 'And I'll only stay on if I can be excused from any work of Mr Leon's!' she ended furiously.

  Barbara shot Rebecca a look that said, 'What did I tell you?' and taking a deep breath before replying as brightly as she was able to under the somewhat trying circumstances,' 'Very well, Jean. I'll put someone else on to his work. Er—how far did you get?' she queried.

  The girl gave a sniff and replied in a voice that spoke of relief at attaining her object and keeping her job. 'I finished the ninth chapter. Mirabelle did the eighth, and I think Sandra did the seventh. I'm not sure who did the six

  `Yes, well, we won't worry about that,' Barbara interceded swiftly with a weary note in her voice. `You'd better send Linda in to me,' she ordered, and as the girl left the office, she turned to Rebecca. `You see how it is?' she asked dismally, 'and here's another lamb for the slaughter,' she added under her breath as a slim, pretty girl entered the office.

  `You wanted me?' queried Linda, tossing her fair hair back from her face in a movement that spoke of vanity, and in spite of the question Rebecca, idly watching her, felt she was quite sure of the reason behind the summons, and there was a touch of importance in her bearing as she awaited her employer's orders.

  `How far have you got with Passionate Night?' Barbara asked the girl.

  'Oh, I ought to be through with it by this afternoon,' the girl replied brightly, and waited expectantly.

  There was a short pause while Barbara studied her, then she gave her a quick smile. 'So I can tell her she can have it tomorrow, then,' she said. 'All right, Linda, thank you,' and she dismissed the puzzled-looking girl.

  Rebecca's brows lifted in query as the door closed behind her, but she made no comment, and her thoughts returned to that rather unfair accusation Barbara had levelled against her earlier, making her sound like the college flirt, but she decided against making an issue of it. 'How's Dulcie making out?' she asked casually. 'I haven't seen her since she left college. Did she get that job she was after?'

  Barbara gave a noncommittal grunt that showed her thoughts were far away from college affairs. `Who can
I send him now?' she said worriedly, addressing her question to the room at large as if seeking inspiration from the office furnishings.

  As the question had not been directed at Rebecca, she did not attempt to give a reply, not that she could have done anyway, as apart from the fact that her friend ran a typing agency, she knew nothing of the actual running of the business.

  At this point the telephone on Barbara's desk shrilled out an imperious command, and with her thoughts still on her problem she reached out for the receiver with a mechanical action. `Basnett Typing Agency,' she said, then as she listened to the voice on the other end of the line, drew in a

  quick breath before saying stiffly, 'Of course, Mr Leon. We shall do our best, although I'm not sure about tomorrow ' There was a short pause while she listened to the reply, and her lips straightened in fury before she replied, 'Very well. Tomorrow,' and slammed the receiver down on its rest, then sat staring at the top of her desk, before saying wearily, `So it will have to be Linda. Damn the man!'

  Rebecca glanced at her watch. She was due at the British Museum at twelve to pick up some data for Professor Donan, and she had to remember to call in at the Oxford Street bookshop to collect the book they'd promised to get for Bill Harper, and the way things were going for Barbara that morning, she would cope better without distraction. Taking a hasty swallow of the last of her coffee, she drew her handbag towards her in preparation for her departure. leave you to get on with your work,' she said, with a smile of sympathy. `I've got to get to the Museum before twelve. Anything you want me to pick up for a meal tonight—or will we be eating out?' she asked her friend.

  Barbara shook her head as if to clear the fog that had descended around her and made an attempt to concentrate her thoughts elsewhere. `Oh, I thought we might eat out,' she replied vaguely, then as Rebecca got up to leave suddenly asked her, 'What did you think of Linda?'

  Rebecca's fine brows rose at the question. 'I can hardly pass an opinion,' she replied lightly, 'not on such a short showing,' she added, as she walked

  towards the door. 'I'll think about it, but she looked capable to me. Anyway, I must get going,' as she cast another quick glance at her watch.

  `Blast the Museum!' Barbara said explosively. `Why can't they do their own shopping? And why on earth should they expect you to do it during your vacation? Let alone have to go to the trouble of posting the stuff off to them. Here I am, in the devil of a, hole, and all you can do is mutter about doing a few errands! Look, I'll send one of the girls to collect the stuff for you, and do any other shopping you want done. What I want you to do is use that cool brain of, yours and see if we can't come up with a solution, because if we can't, I shall lose the Agency,' she added dismally.

  Rebecca turned from the door and walked back slowly towards the desk again. 'Lose the Agency?' she echoed with a hint of disbelief in her voice. `But you said you were doing fine,' she added accusingly, 'and it didn't look as if you were short of work when I came in. The clatter of typing out there proves that. It's a positive hive of activity!'.

  Barbara sighed loudly, and pointed towards the chair that Rebecca had just left. 'Appearances,' she said slowly, 'can be deceptive.' Then she gave a shrug. 'Oh, well, I might as well come clean. I've had my eye on some new offices for some time now, and two weeks ago they became vacant.' She took a deep breath. `So I took a gamble and put a deposit on them before they were snapped up by someone else. Getting Janus Leon's work was the turning point for me—at least I thought it was,' she added with a sigh. 'He's such a big name, you

  see, and it was bound to bring in more business for me. What I didn't take into account was that not one of my staff came up to his high standards, and the more the wretched man bullies them, the worse they get. They're positively terrified of him, and shrink down on their chairs trying to look frantically busy each time another casualty slinks back to the bureau.'

  She pressed a bell on her desk, and when the summons was answered by one of the girls, she requested that Ann should be sent round to the British Museum, and got Rebecca to write down the name of the Professor and the data to be collected. The book she had promised to pick up for Bill Harper could wait, Rebecca decided, and she shook her head when asked if there was anything else she wanted done.

  With that out of the way, Barbara settled down to her problems again. 'It wouldn't be so bad,' she went on, 'if he'd send the work in to the bureau, but no, he insists on having the work done at his place, which at the moment is in an hotel, where he occupies a suite until he decides whether to settle down here, or go back to Australia. At least, that was the inference I got from the blurb of one of his books. I just can't afford to lose his business now,' she wailed. 'I'm only existing on a shoestring at the moment. All the capital I have in the world is tied up in the new offices.' She gave a shrug. 'I would have to move anyway, in time, this whole block's been taken over by a cash-and-carry store and it would be just a question of time before they gave us notice to quit,' she added dolefully.

  Rebecca sent her friend a sympathetic look, but

  apart from that did not see what other help she could give her. 'What about this Linda?' she suggested hopefully. 'She didn't look the type to be cowed. If she's at all competent she ought to manage, and it did look as if she was hoping for the assignment.'

  `Linda,' Barbara announced with an ironic note in her voice, 'is a fool. Oh, she's competent enough. She's also nice looking, and she knows it.' She screwed up her eyes. 'I can see her now, tossing those fair locks of hers back in what she thinks is a provocative come-on, not to mention fluttering her eyelashes at what she deemed to be the appropriate moment.' She gave a heavy sigh. 'Linda,' she said sourly, 'wouldn't last a day. Janus Leon has the reputation of being a playboy, but he doesn't believe in mixing business with pleasure, as our Linda will soon find out. Besides that, models and society butterflies are more his line of country, he wouldn't lower his standards where a small-town typist was concerned.'

  `Well, can't you give her a hint on those lines?' Rebecca suggested.

  `Can you see her listening?' Barbara' replied dryly, 'because I can't, so I might as well save my breath, and keep the girl in the bureau. She's a good worker, as long as there are no distractions.'

  There was a heavy silence after this, then Rebecca said, 'Well, if there's no one else to send, it looks as if you'll have to risk it.'

  Her friend did not seem to have heard her. 'One week,' she said musingly. 'That's all I want,' then she gazed speculatingly at Rebecca.

  Rebecca returned her look with a trace of puzzlement in her lovely eyes. She was to remember afterwards that she ought to have seen it coming; she was very fond of Barbara, but she had a nasty habit of organising other people's lives, particularly when it concerned good causes, and this good cause was decidedly nearer to home than any of the others had been.

  `You're not due in Berkshire until the eighteenth, are you?' she asked Rebecca with a gleam in her eye, then looked down at her desk quickly as she saw the look of wariness that appeared somewhat belatedly in the other girl's eyes.

  `I haven't made up my mind to accept John's invitation yet,' Rebecca replied slowly, then added hastily, 'and if you're thinking what I think you're thinking, it's no go—but definitely no go! I want a rest, not a wrestling match with an overflated egoist.'

  `Who said anything about a wrestling match?' Barbara queried with a look of innocent indignation in her voice, but she did not fool Rebecca. `Look, it's just a straightforward job of audio typing—kid's play to you. No dictation to worry about, not personal dictation, it's all on tape. The only thing you'll have to put up with is the wretched man hovering over you for the first day or so, to make sure you don't ruin his precious novel. I shouldn't think he'd bother you after the first ten minutes, once he's seen your capabilities.' She shot Rebecca a pleading look. 'Please, Rebecca. It's only for one week, and it will keep the pot boiling until Margaret Morton joins us.'

  Rebecca threw her a dark look. 'Just for the recor
d,' she said dryly, 'what if this Margaret whatnot can't make it—or has 'flu or some other indisposition that prevents her from taking over—I presume you've thought of that, because if you haven't I'd advise you to start thinking now. If I take over, and it's a big if,' she said warningly, at Barbara's swift sigh of relief as if it were already settled, 'it will only be for a week, and then only to oblige you, but if he starts any funny business, then I'm off. I have enough to put up with at college and don't intend to spend my vacation being chased round an office desk—not for you or for anyone!' she declared vehemently.

  `I've told you, you've nothing to worry about in that direction,' Barbara replied soothingly, 'and not in the other either. Margaret won't let me down, she's a personal friend and utterly reliable. After spending twenty-five years as a court stenographer, she's more than ready for a less hectic post. I'd like to see Mr Janus Leon try to bully Margaret, she'd flatten him with one look, and have his work ready for him before he could turn round,' she added, with a note of satisfaction in her voice.

  By the time the girls had had lunch at a nearby café, everything was settled, and Rebecca was scolding herself for letting herself be talked into doing something that she didn't want to do. She was too soft, that was her trouble, and it was as well for her that she was able to draw the line where affairs of the heart were concerned, and skilfully sidestep any embroilment in that line.

  To the casual observer this attitude had produced a certain amount of speculation. That she was heartless was one label given her. Too proud was another, and failing any other explanation, that she was desperately in love with a man who was not free to marry her.

  In all fairness, Rebecca did not qualify for any of them, unless her view of not accepting any invitations from a man she was unable to feel anything for, apart from friendship, qualified her for the 'heartless' title, in which case she was guilty.