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present, perhaps,’ he agreed. ‘Apart from the fact that you have a tongue like a shrew, you shouldn’t find it hard to attract a husband, particularly with the money I have offered you as a dowry.’

      Harriet’s newly acquired cool went up in smoke. ‘I wouldn’t touch a penny of your bloody money!’

      ‘Your language is unbecoming,’ he said icily. ‘If you think to force me into making a higher offer by your intransigence, then forget it. You’re not worth what I have already suggested, but I wish to have the matter settled quickly. The child’s grandmother wishes to see him.’

      ‘The child’s grandmother could have had every opportunity of seeing him over the past two years.’ Harriet’s voice shook.

      ‘Was that what your sister counted on?’ he asked. ‘That the birth of her child would give her the entrée into our family? How mistaken she was! Let me advise you not to fall into the same error, Miss Masters, of playing for stakes that are beyond you. You will only lose.’

      She took two hasty steps forward, her hand swung up, and she slapped him hard across his face.

      The sound was like a shot going off in the quiet room, and it was followed by a terrifying silence. Harriet stood in horror, watching the marks of her fingers appear across his swarthy cheek. She saw an almost murderous flare in his eyes and braced herself for some kind of retaliation, to be shaken perhaps, or slapped in her turn, but none came.

      At last he said, ‘Violent as well as insolent. What have you to say now?’

      She said, ‘If you’re waiting for me to apologise, then—you’ll wait for ever! You can report me to Sir Michael if you want—I don’t care. I suppose you must be a friend of his or he wouldn’t have let you use this room. But whatever you do, I’m not prepared to hear you say things like that about Becca. You—you didn’t know her, and that was your loss, but she wasn’t interested in your family for the sort of mercenary motives that you think. There was nothing about the way you lived your lives that attracted her. She wanted Kostas and Nicky and they were enough. But she saw that the—estrangement between you hurt Kostas, so she was hurt too. That’s all.’

      ‘A very moving story,’ he said cynically. ‘Kostas would seem to have chosen a rare gem for his wife. Unfortunately my knowledge of him and his judgment makes that doubtful. However, I give you credit for believing what you say, and for having affection for your sister. But let us not forget that the real issue is Nicos.’

      ‘Nicky isn’t an—issue! He’s a child, a little human being. He’s my nephew as much as yours, and whatever you may think I’m quite capable of bringing him up. And that’s what I intend to do,’ she added in a little rush.

      As she fumbled with the door handle she was afraid that he might come after her and stop her leaving, but he didn’t move, and at last she got the door open and shot through it into the outer room under Miss Greystoke’s startled gaze.

      As she reached the corridor she was crying, and she made straight for the staff cloakroom on the ground floor. Fortunately it was unoccupied, and she sank down on the bench against the wall and let her emotions have their way with her. She was sick and trembling when the tears finally stopped, and the face which stared back at her from the mirror looked pale and ravaged. She bathed her eyes with cool water, and let the tap run over her wrists in an attempt to steady her racing pulses. Then she snatched her blazer from its peg and slung it round her shoulders.

      Her thoughts weren’t particularly coherent, but the necessity to get Nicky out of London predominated. She had no idea where to go, or how to find a hiding place which Alex Marcos’ money would not disclose, but speed was of the essence.

      She had a little money in her bag, and more at the flat, and some savings in a building society. If she went to one of the big stations in the rush hour, she thought feverishly, it was unlikely anyone would remember a girl with a young child. She would travel as far as she could afford, and pretend Nicky was hers—that she was an unmarried mother. She could disguise herself, she thought wildly, dye her hair, or buy a wig. If she could lie low for long enough, surely Alex Marcos would get tired of looking for them and return to Greece.

      She bit her lip. There was no way she could make that sound convincing to herself. I said I’d fight him, so I’m damned if I’ll just give in without a struggle, she thought.

      She felt guilty about leaving the company without a word of explanation, or handing in her notice but she had no alternative. She didn’t think anyone had seen her leaving the building, but she kept glancing behind her as she anxiously waited for a bus.

      Manda looked surprised as she opened the door. ‘You’re early,’ she exclaimed. ‘I’ve just put him down for a nap.’

      ‘Yes,’ Harriet forced a smile. ‘I’m sorry, Manda, but I must take him with me. And he won’t be coming tomorrow—or until further notice. In fact I don’t know if—or when….’

      Manda gave her a searching look. ‘The kettle’s just boiled,’ she said. ‘Go and make yourself a cup of something while I get Nicky up and put his coat on. On your own head be it too,’ she added as Harriet moved obediently towards the kitchen. ‘He’s hell if he’s woken before he’s ready.’

      Nicky was plainly disgruntled when he appeared in Manda’s arms, but still too sleepy to be real hell. He held his arms out imperatively to Harriet, who took him, her welcoming smile wavering as she felt his warm little body curling trustingly into her lap.

      ‘Don’t squeeze him to death,’ advised Manda, refilling her own cup. ‘What’s the matter? Has the Wicked Uncle appeared and started putting pressure on?’

      Harriet nodded, and Manda sighed. ‘Well, I suppose it was inevitable.’ She put out a hand and affectionately ruffled Nicky’s thick dark hair. ‘Goodbye, love. Our yard today—a millionaires’ playground tomorrow. Can’t be bad.’

      ‘He’s not having him!’ Harriet’s voice was fierce.

      ‘I admire your spirit, but I don’t think you’re being very realistic.’ Manda sounded almost matter-of-fact. ‘Greeks are very patriarchal, you know, and Nicky has Marcos blood in his veins. And just suppose you did persuade his uncle to let you keep him—do you think Nicky would always be grateful? Unless he was superhuman, he might start reckoning up on some of the things he’d missed out on.’

      ‘That’s—horrible,’ Harriet said slowly.

      ‘Yes, isn’t it?’ Manda agreed. ‘But being an orphan doesn’t automatically confer sanctity as well, you know.’

      ‘So you think I should just—give him up?’ Harriet was astounded.

      ‘No.’ Manda frowned. ‘Of course not. But surely you should be able to do some kind of deal with the Marcos man—agree that Nicky should spend a certain amount of time with you each year.’

      Harriet groaned. ‘After what’s happened today, I don’t think he’d agree to Nicky even sending me a Christmas card!’ She gave Manda a succinct account of the day’s events, and her intentions, and Manda looked startled.

      ‘For God’s sake, Harriet, don’t do anything hasty. If you grab Nicky and start dashing all over the country with him, you’ll be giving Alex Marcos the gun to shoot you down with. He may be an arrogant swine, but you won’t beat him by acting like a madwoman. You run away and you’ll just be playing into his hands.’

      ‘Whose side are you on?’ Harriet joked weakly.

      ‘Nicky’s.’ Manda gave her a gentle smile. ‘Take him home if you want, but do some good, hard thinking once you get there. If you don’t you could end by losing out completely, and that would be a bad thing for you both.’

      Harriet’s thoughts were sober as she walked along, pushing the baby buggy. Nicky was fast asleep, his dark lashes making half-moons on his pink cheeks. She looked down at him with tenderness. The thought of losing him was frankly intolerable,

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