Unknown by Unknown

shirt and the only elegant shoes she had with her, dressy courts, high-heeled and slim in bronze patent leather. The reflection which stared back at her from the mirror was a minor shock. Four months in a remote cottage, out of reach of a hairdresser, had transformed her smooth, sophisticated hairdo into an over-long, over-thick mess. She regretted having washed it, but the bathroom in this apartment had been more than she could resist; after four months of tin baths in front of the kitchen fire, Jerome Manfred’s luxuriously appointed bath had drawn her like a magnet. She had wallowed in sybaritic luxury, up to her chin in delicately perfumed water, and it had seemed sinful not to wash her hair at the same time, so she had lathered and rinsed until the chestnut mass squeaked between her fingers. Now the short ends were curling about her temples and on the nape of her neck, refusing to lie smoothly, and the rest of her thick mane had an ungovernable air. Resolutely she reached for her brush and started methodically to tame it.
    Kate laid out her few remaining bits of make-up on the dressing table and surveyed the scanty collection with grim satisfaction. They would have done for Kate Forrest in a cottage on Bodmin Moor, but here, in London, in this luxury apartment, they were woefully inadequate. She shrugged to herself. There was nobody to see her here except Jerome Manfred, and he had seen her in the cottage—and in any case, she didn’t care what he thought. It might be a good idea to make herself look as repulsive as possible. If he thought he was marrying Noelle Lowe or even having dinner with her, he was in for a rude awakening and a severe disappointment!
    He didn’t appear to be disappointed when she joined him in the dining area where he was inspecting her preparations. He seemed ... nothing! There was no expression on his face, his features were cold and impassive and his eyes hooded and unreadable. He looked down at her, one sweeping glance taking in Kate.
    ‘If you were expecting Noelle,’ she was belligerent, ‘I’d better tell you now so that you won’t have any wrong ideas for the future. That lady only existed for the photographers. The person you see standing before you is me, Kate Forrest, ex-schoolteacher. This is the way I look, the way I like to look. Take it or leave it!’ His eyes slid down over her body and she felt the hot blood in her cheeks and a throb of fear in her veins. It was as if he had stripped her and was assessing the smooth, shapely body underneath.
    ‘There’s a lot of Noelle Lowe left,’ he murmured. ‘I mean the basic material on which the girl was built. I can do without that smooth, egglike face with the features painted on so exquisitely and I can do without the sexy clothes which clung in all the right places. You’re a fool, Kate, if you insist that there were two different people, Kate Forrest and Noelle Lowe. Stop deceiving yourself. Noelle never existed at all, she was only ever Kate, dressed up and wearing a painted mask on her face.’
    ‘And there you’re wrong!’ She struggled with the ties of a gay plastic apron, going red in the face with effort. ‘I am Kate Forrest, I invented Noelle and she existed all right! She did things which Kate would never have done and I disliked her very much. Four months ago I ended her existence. She didn’t even think like me!’
    There was a quirk of grim amusement about his mouth as he carefully sorted out the tangled tapes of the apron and drew it from her. ‘You don’t need this. Sit down, Kate, and stop worrying. Whichever woman I find, I shall call her “Kate”.’
    She subsided into the chair he had pulled out for her and carefully ignored the glass of sherry which he offered. She looked at the counter where the bottles of table wine stood ready and her lips firmed. Whatever happened, she was going to drink nothing but water. If he thought he was going to get her into his bed in a drunken stupor, then he was