A Fall from Grace - Maggie Ford (have you read this book TXT) 📗

invested some money for him. She knew what she was doing here. What they reaped would make him feel easier in his mind, able to put his hand in his wallet for his own money rather than she having to put it there for him in the first place.

A few days later she told him of her plan. Immediately he protested as he usually did whenever she offered to do something for him.

‘All I seem to do is sponge off you,’ he said in that humble tone that always tugged at her heart strings.

‘Don’t be silly,’ she told him. ‘You can’t go anywhere without money in your pocket. And who else can help you on that score – certainly not your parents.’

It was the wrong thing to say, she knew that immediately. ‘I don’t want to talk about them!’ he said sharply, putting an end to it.

This evening they were going to the Savoy to see The Gondoliers, he rather liking Gilbert & Sullivan. She’d already bought tickets, good seats, but there’d be drinks to pay for in the interval and supper afterwards. She handed him thirty pounds which as always he took as though it seared his hand, hastily pushing it into his wallet, stuffing the thing into his breast pocket as if it had been stolen.

‘I hate it, having you always giving me money for whatever we do together.’

It was then she made up her mind – she would invest in a few shares for him, just enough so that he wouldn’t have to feel so dependent on her, embarrassed every time she sought to finance him. So long as it didn’t suddenly yield an unexpectedly huge profit as sometimes happens – not often, but possible – suddenly providing him with enough money in his pocket to go off and leave her, maybe for someone else? It could happen. Being left on her own again – she didn’t think she could stand it a second time…

She pulled her thoughts up sharp. He wouldn’t do that. Not after all she’d done for him. That night, they made love and she knew her fears were totally unfounded.

Even so, she’d go for small-yielding stock. She knew what she was doing – her eye on one particular small company, its shares modestly on the rise. She had already studied the company, weighed the degree of risk attached very carefully. There was always a certain degree of risk in everything but she herself would stand that, her own portfolio healthy and sound. She’d developed a sort of sixth sense about these things – when to take risks and when not to – and so far she’d always done well, give or take a few minor hiccups.

But where Ronnie was concerned she would be cautious about taking risks, judging carefully when the time was right for him to sell. He must not benefit so much that he’d begin to feel independent of her, start to feel his feet, decide to go off into the blue without her.

She was being silly, of course. He loved her, yet always that fear of once again being left all alone sat on her shoulders. But she was judging him before the act. Her fears were completely unfounded. She only had to see the look in his dark eyes when he gazed at her to know that.

The following day she told him what she aimed to do. His protests allayed her fears even more. ‘I can’t let you do that, Madeleine. Your money…’

‘To do with as I like,’ she interrupted. ‘And what I’d like is to see you with a bit of money of your own. Everyone should have money of their own.’

The look of gratitude on his handsome young face made her heart go out to him with all the love in her body.

George Foster, when she told him what she had in mind, was not so happy.

‘I’m virtually your financial adviser as well as your partner,’ he said, ‘and my advice is to think before you do anything. From what you tell me, he seems to take you a little too much for granted for my peace of mind.’

She was shocked by his statement. ‘I thought you liked him. I still remember all the nice things you said about him when you introduced us.’

‘He’s a likeable chap,’ Foster said, sitting at his desk, seeming very much intent on shuffling through papers lying there while she sat on the opposite side of the desk watching the exercise.

‘All I’m saying is that you shouldn’t indulge him so, paying for every little thing,’ he said as he looked up at her.

‘And even after all this time you… we… don’t know all that much about him. We still don’t know who his parents are or why they never come to see him, though that’s none of my business.’

‘No, it’s not,’ she countered testily.

‘All I wish to do,’ he went on in his quiet voice, ‘is see you OK. I promised James, your late husband and my old partner, that I’d keep an eye on you, make certain you were safe. And it has worked well so far. But this idea of using your own money – not his – to invest in shares in his name and his letting you do it – his reaping the benefit, well, it’s—’

‘This was my idea, not his,’ she cut in.

‘Maybe, my dear, but he’d be better being out there and finding work for himself. Most young men want to stand on their own two feet rather than be beholden to someone else. It does make me wonder.’

‘That’s probably my fault,’ she said huffily.

Having him refer to her as ‘my dear’, the way James used to made her cringe as it had often done when she was with James. But he was still speaking.

‘Millicent and I haven’t seen him since that Christmas we introduced him to you. Then we’d felt sorry for him. We’d befriended him and wanted to help him, a young man little