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Penny Jordan's Crighton Family Series - Пенни Джордан - Читать любовный роман онлайн в женской библиотеке LadyLib.Net
Penny Jordan's Crighton Family Series - Пенни Джордан - Скачать любовный роман в женской библиотеке LadyLib.Net
Джордан Пенни
Penny Jordan's Crighton Family Series
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BOBBIE woke up with a start to realise that someone was knocking discreetly on her door. Whoever it was, it thankfully could not possibly be Luke Crighton; discretion and that man could never be said to go hand in hand.
The waiter standing outside with a table fully set for a breakfast for two, which included freshly made Buck’s Fizz, refused to listen to her insistence that she had most certainly not ordered such a lavish and highly obvious ‘the morning after the night before’ breakfast.
‘This breakfast was most definitely ordered for this room,’ he informed her.
‘It can’t possibly have been...’ Bobbie began to deny and then changed her mind, an ominous thought occurring to her as she demanded warily, ‘Ordered by whom?’
‘I’m afraid I don’t know,’ the waiter apologised, but Bobbie suspected that she did.
No doubt this was another of Luke Crighton’s little tricks to convince Fenella that he had spent the night here with her, although how on earth he expected the other woman to discover that he had ordered breakfast for two for Bobbie’s room, she had no idea, unless Fenella was the type who made a habit of checking up on that kind of thing. Perhaps she did. Bobbie made a small moue of distaste before surveying the feast she had been left with. Buck’s Fizz... Strong coffee was her normal breakfast indulgence. Somehow she had never seen herself as the kind of woman who drank Buck’s Fizz for breakfast and neither, she suspected, did Luke Crighton, not for a moment.
Recklessly she reached for a glass and took a sip. The orange juice was freshly squeezed and deliciously tangy, the champagne icy cold, making her taste buds shiver in pleasure.
If she had been sharing this treat with a lover, she doubted that it would have done anything to encourage her to leave the warmth of her bed—or him—rather the opposite.
Disconcertingly, just as she raised the glass to her lips to take a second rebellious sip, she was revisited by the same disturbing mental image of Luke she had had the previous evening.
The bubbles in the champagne made her splutter slightly, which just went to show how highly dangerous it could be to consume alcohol first thing in the morning, she told herself sternly, firmly replacing the glass.
An hour later, having consumed two cups of strong coffee and eaten some wholemeal toast, she was downstairs in the hotel lobby comfortably dressed in a pair of soft, cream trousers and a soft, silky knit top.
She wasn’t here in England to waste time lying in bed and drinking champagne, she reminded herself firmly, and she certainly wasn’t here to indulge in crazy mental images of disconcerting and recklessly intimate scenarios between her and a man who she had good reason to know was never likely to partner her in the kind of highly sensual and erotic love play their tangled bodies had indicated. She walked determinedly across to the reception desk and asked the clerk behind the counter if there were any messages for her.
Smilingly he handed her a couple of sealed notes. Frowning a little since she didn’t recognise the handwriting on either of them, Bobbie opened the top one and then dropped it on the desk as though it had burned her fingertips when she read the message contained inside.
‘Thank you for last night, you were wonderful. I can’t wait until tonight, Luke.’ As the clerk picked up the note and discreetly handed it back to her, Bobbie realised that she was now not the only one to have seen his outrageous message.
He certainly believed in acting out the part, she acknowledged wrathfully as she stuffed the note into her pocket and started to walk away from the reception desk. She opened the other envelope. Its contents, too, were unexpected, but in a very different way from the message contained in Luke’s.
It was signed by Olivia and read:
I tried to catch you before we left, but unfortunately we missed you. There is something I would like to discuss with you following our chat last night and I wonder if you are likely to be free to have lunch with me today? If so, could we meet at the Brasserie here at one o’clock?
Olivia
Pensive, Bobbie worried at her bottom lip. She knew, of course, what it was Olivia wanted to discuss; she knew, too, how Sam would feel if she turned down such a golden opportunity. Working for Olivia would give her a good chance to put their plan, or rather Sam’s plan, into action. There was no doubt that Olivia would be a valuable contact, but she had liked her so much last night...enjoyed her company and that of her husband so much that she...
She had nothing to lose by at least listening to Olivia, she reminded herself, and potentially an awful lot to gain and not just a free lunch! No, not if she discounted her own sense of honesty and, of course, Olivia’s respect and burgeoning friendship....
‘Will you be in for lunch?’ the receptionist asked her when Bobbie handed in her room key.
‘I...yes, I’m lunching with ... a friend in the Brasserie at one,’ Bobbie told her. There, she had made her decision, committed herself.
As she walked out of the hotel and into the bright sunshine, she wondered if Joss and his family were already on their way back home to Haslewich.
Joss... It was odd to think of him and Max being brothers.
She spent an hour wandering around the town, pausing every now and again to consult her guidebook and admire the city’s ancient buildings. Outside the castle she stopped a little longer than she had done anywhere else and even longer outside the building facing onto the river that had a discreet brass plate by the door bearing the legend, ‘Crighton, Crighton and Crighton’.
A flutter of movement at an upstairs window made her glance around uneasily and then walk past. Surely there was no one actually working in the offices on a Sunday.
It was half an hour, spent lazily and apparently purposelessly meandering through the narrow streets on a route she had planned earlier, before she arrived at her real destination.
Chester’s cathedral had originally and uniquely been a monastery, only later being converted into a church, but fascinating though the history of the building was, Bobbie didn’t have time to follow the other tourists in the direction of the ancient arched crypts but instead hurried eagerly in the direction of the graveyard.
It didn’t take long to find what she was looking for. In Chester the Crightons had been men of substance and law for many, many generations as the large mausoleum in which they had chosen to bury their dead testified.
Bobbie gazed at it with mixed feelings. Some of the names inscribed on the marble tablet affixed to one end were so faded it was almost impossible to read them; others were much brighter, much newer. Unsteadily she reached out and traced one of the names.
‘He was my great-grandfather,’ a familiarly unwelcome voice said from behind her.
I know, Bobbie wanted to say, and it was his disapproval of his youngest son’s marriage that led to the latter leaving home to establish the Haslewich branch of the family with his new wife, but, of course, she said no such thing. She didn’t even turn round.
Instead she simply said as levelly and as calmly as she could, ‘Luke, what are you doing here?’
‘I rather think that question would be more appropriate coming from me to you,’ he responded dryly. ‘For such a young woman you seem to have developed a rather morbid penchant for visiting graveyards, first in Haslewich and now here in Chester.’
‘It’s an interesting way of discovering more about the families who lived in the area,’ Bobbie returned neutrally, adding more challengingly, ‘and it certainly isn’t a crime.’
‘No, not unless you’re planning on exhuming one of the bodies, it isn’t,’ Luke agreed, stepping forward so that he was standing alongside her, but Bobbie still didn’t look directly at him. ‘So it’s your interest in local history that brings you here, then. Local history in general or more specifically one particular local family?’ he asked pointedly.
‘I was looking around the cathedral,’ Bobbie told him, shrugging her shoulders dismissively. ‘I took a wrong turning and found myself out here. This mausoleum caught my eye and I came over to look at it...’
‘And by the greatest coincidence, discovered it belonged to the Crightons,’ Luke supplied for her. ‘You’re lying,’ he confronted her bluntly, adding before she could speak, ‘And don’t bother perjuring yourself by denying it. I’ve been watching you. I saw you stop outside the office. You didn’t come out here in error, you—’
‘Watching me? You mean you’ve been following me, spying on me,’ Bobbie burst out furiously. ‘Back home we have laws against that kind of...of harassment...that kind of pervert,’ she raged on forcefully, curling her lip and glaring at him in determined outrage.
‘Indeed, well, we all have our own beliefs about what does and what does not constitute violation of privacy. I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing or what you’re after, but believe me, I intend to find out,’ he warned her grimly, ‘and when I do...’
‘You’ll what...use your legal powers to have me thrown in jail? I don’t think so,’ Bobbie told him scornfully. ‘If I were you, instead of persecuting me and worrying about me, I’d be looking into my family tree to see if there’s any history of paranoia lurking there because, boy oh boy, are you ever exhibiting some,’ Bobbie said even more scathingly, praying that he would put her flushed face and obvious agitation down to anger and not to the sickening sense of guilt and dread that was gripping her.
‘I can see you’re an aficionado of the cult that believes that attack is the best form of defence,’ Luke responded dryly. ‘I’m not a young boy of Joss’s age to be beguiled and deceived by a head of blonde hair and a pair of blue eyes, you know,’ he told her harshly.
‘No,’ Bobbie agreed bitingly. ‘At least not unless it comes packaged with a simpering smile and is under five-five in height.’
She held her breath as she saw the ominous surge of anger darken his skin and harden his mouth.
‘We’re getting off the point,’ he returned tersely, but as she started to exhale her pent-up breath in a leaky sigh of relief, she quickly realised he had picked up the attack again. ‘You still haven’t explained why it was our family mausoleum that attracted your attention,’ he demanded.
‘It was simply that I recognised the name,’ Bobbie fibbed. ‘It caught my eye and I came over to have a look and—’
‘You had to walk past four other family vaults to get here.’ His brows rose, underlining the cynicism in his voice as he pointed out, ‘Something must have made you pick it out.’
‘I’m a woman,’ Bobbie told him sweetly. ‘I never go for the obvious.’
‘You could have fooled me,’ he replied dryly as he elucidated, ‘They don’t come much more obvious than Max and last night you couldn’t take your eyes off him.’
‘He’s a very good-looking man,’ Bobbie offered carelessly.
‘He’s also a man with a wife,’ Luke reminded her again sharply.
Bobbie frowned as she caught sight of her watch. Twelve-thirty. She ought to start back if she was going to be in time to meet Olivia. ‘I have to go,’ she told him. ‘I have a lunch date.’
Luke was frowning. ‘With Max?’ he pounced.
‘Work it out for yourself, Counsel,’ she taunted him, headily relieved that he had stopped cross-questioning her about her interest in the mausoleum.
It had given her a bad shock when she had heard his voice and realised that he was standing behind her, and an even worse one when he had informed her that he had seen her outside the offices, she acknowledged as she stepped back from him and started to walk away, so sure that he would make some attempt to either stop her or follow her that she had to turn around when she had reached the exit just to check where he was.
He was standing with his back to her in front of the family grave, and as she watched, he suddenly knelt down and with very great care, tenderness almost, started to remove the weeds that had rooted in the soft grass around the tomb, so engrossed in his task that she might not even have existed.
Shakily she turned away and started to walk quickly in the direction she had originally come.
She made it back to the Grosvenor with ten minutes to spare, and by the time she returned from her room where she had gone to tidy up and brush her hair, Olivia was waiting for her in the foyer.
‘Oh good,’ she exclaimed when she saw Bobbie heading towards her. ‘I was beginning to think that you weren’t going to come.’
‘I spent the morning exploring the cathedral,’ Bobbie explained, ‘and I got back a little later than I’d planned. Your note said that there was something you wanted to discuss with me.’
‘Yes,’ Olivia agreed as they headed for the Brasserie, obviously a popular place for lunch on a Sunday, Bobbie realised when she saw how full it was.
The maître d’ still welcomed them warmly, though, as he showed them to their table.
‘It’s not so much something I wanted to discuss as a proposition I wanted to put to you,’ Olivia confessed once they were sitting down and had been handed their menus. ‘I mentioned to you last night the problems that Caspar and I are having finding a nanny for Amelia and you said you had some experience with children.’
‘Yes,’ Bobbie replied cautiously, sensing what was coming. ‘You said that Caspar had taken on the role of househusband during the summer vacation.’
‘That’s right,’ Olivia agreed. ‘But now, with the new academic year looming, he really needs to get down to some preparatory work. Ruth is marvellous helping out when she can, but it really isn’t fair to expect her to do more than the occasional babysit for us.’
‘No, I suppose at her age...’ Bobbie began, but Olivia shook her head.
‘Oh, heavens no, it’s got nothing to do with her age. Ruth might have just hit her seventies but she looks more than ten years younger, and so far as her intellectual and energy levels go, she certainly puts me to shame. She’s wonderful with children, as well. It’s such a shame that she’s never had any of her own.’
‘Some women just aren’t particularly maternal,’ Bobbie offered quietly.
‘Some aren’t,’ Olivia concurred as the waiter took their orders and removed the menus, ‘but Ruth most certainly is. It’s a pity that she never married.’
‘Perhaps she never found anyone who could give her enough to compensate for losing her right to call herself a Crighton,’ Bobbie suggested.
She could see Olivia giving her a puzzled look.
‘It’s true that some male members of the family do see themselves as coming somewhere just a little below God and most definitely very much higher than anyone else, but Ruth has certainly never held that kind of view. No, I think the fact that she has never married has more to do with the fact that her fiancé—a fighter pilot—was killed during the last war than anything else, although according to Caspar...’ Olivia paused, frowned and then without completing her original statement continued, ‘Joss absolutely adores her and she thinks the world of him.’
‘Because he’s a boy...a male,’ Bobbie offered dryly.
‘No, because he’s Joss,’ Olivia told her firmly. ‘We seem to have given you a rather off-putting view of her. I don’t know how. She really is the most wonderful person... caring...understanding...and very wise somehow.’ She gave a tiny shake of her head.
‘I’m letting myself get rather sidetracked.’ She smiled at the waiter who had brought their food, then waited until he had gone before continuing quietly, ‘Caspar and I were wondering, since you said you’d planned to stay in the area for a while, if you would consider coming to work for us on a part-time basis to keep an eye on Amelia so that Caspar can get on with some work. You needn’t worry that you’d be left in full-time charge of her—Caspar will still be based at home.’
Bobbie put down her fork, the food on it uneaten. ‘I don’t know what to say... I haven’t really got the experience....’
‘You did say at Katie and Louise’s birthday party that you’d worked at a local creche in the holidays,’ Olivia reminded her.
Bobbie nodded her head. ‘Yes,’ she admitted slowly, ‘but that was a nursery for children with special needs, older children who needed special trained help,’ she emphasised. ‘I, we...I was just there to fetch and carry, really.’
The way Olivia was watching her made her feel slightly embarrassed and she wished now she hadn’t mentioned the voluntary work she had done as a teenager, following in a family tradition that made it natural and instinctive for her to want to help others less advantaged than she was herself.
‘There aren’t any small children in our close family,’ she felt she had to point out to Olivia, ‘and I’d be lying to you if I said anything other than I don’t really have the remotest idea of what it’s like to have sole responsibility of a very young child.’
‘You won’t be expected to—at least not on your own,’ Olivia assured her promptly. ‘As I said, Caspar will be there and I promise you that not only is he a dab hand at changing nappies and giving bottles, much better than I am myself if I’m honest,’ she admitted ruefully, ‘but he’s also the type of doting father who actually enjoys doing so.
‘No, it’s simply a matter of your being there so that Caspar can work in peace. I’m afraid a lot of the time it will probably be quite boring for you. She doesn’t do much at this stage apart from eating and sleeping, although Caspar is convinced that she’s already showing early signs of having inherited his intelligence.’
They both laughed.
‘I...how long would you need me for?’ Bobbie asked hesitantly. It wasn’t, after all, what she had planned and would certainly curtail her freedom, her ability to come and go as she chose, but there was no doubt that it would also put her in a very advantageous position when it came to...
‘Four weeks, possibly six,’ Olivia told her hopefully.
‘I’m really not sure that I’d be the right person....’ Bobbie hedged, her emotional misgivings surfacing.
‘Yes, you are,’ Olivia reassured her firmly. ‘I know it sounds a silly thing for me to say, especially with my legal training,’ she added ruefully, ‘but from the moment we met I felt...’ She paused and gave Bobbie a wry look. ‘I’m not normally given to bold pronouncements and vague utterances about instinct and the like, but all I can say is that I felt so instantly at home and comfortable with you almost in a way as though you were family that I know that Amelia will feel the same, and Caspar agrees with me.’
‘That’s some compliment,’ Bobbie admitted shakily as she felt her eyes blur slightly with emotional tears. ‘I’m not sure I can live up to it....’
‘Of course you can,’ Olivia countered robustly. ‘And look, if it makes you feel more comfortable, why don’t we agree on a week’s trial on either side, which would give us both the option to back out gracefully if we should feel the need? You did say that you needed to earn some money,’ Olivia reminded her.
Yes, she realised she had said that and there was no doubt that taking the job Olivia had so unexpectedly offered her had many advantages, not the least the fact that she would now have a completely legitimate reason for remaining in the area.
‘I ... look, can I think about it and tell you tomorrow?’ she asked Olivia.
‘Tonight,’ Olivia stressed determinedly.
‘Tonight,’ Bobbie agreed with a smile.
‘Good... now there’s just one more thing,’ Olivia said, pushing back her chair. ‘Would you excuse me for a moment?’
‘Of course,’ Bobbie replied. No doubt Olivia was going to telephone Caspar to tell him how their interview had gone, she decided, but five minutes later when Olivia returned, her face wreathed in smiles and carrying a small bundle wreathed in blankets, Bobbie knew that she had guessed wrong.
‘Meet your new charge-to-be,’ Olivia announced, unceremoniously placing the bundle in Bobbie’s arms.
Just for a second her first reaction was to reject it...her...thrust her away, but then the baby opened her eyes and Bobbie’s heart caught in a painful lunge of recognition as she looked down into the tiny baby features and instinct took over from caution and she was holding Amelia tightly in her arms, cooing inanities and breathing in the delicious baby smell and hopelessly, desperately, falling head over heels in love with her.
The difficulty was not going to be whether she could take to Olivia and Caspar’s baby, she acknowledged shakily, but whether she could bear to let Amelia go!
‘She’s beautiful,’ she told Olivia huskily.
Olivia gave her a pleased maternal smile. ‘We certainly think so,’ she said, ‘although it is quite unusual in this family to have a redhead, and as for those eyes...’
‘It’s something to do with the combination of dark and fair genes,’ Bobbie explained absently. ‘It sometimes produces this particular colouring apparently—dark red hair and sea green eyes.’
‘Yes, Aunt Ruth said much the same thing,’ Olivia agreed, exclaiming happily, ‘Oh look, Luke’s just come in,’ and standing up, she waved him over before Bobbie could say or do anything.
As they waited for him to weave his way towards them through the busy room, Olivia confided to Bobbie, ‘At least he seems to have shaken Fenella off at last, thank goodness. There was a moment when we began to think she was going to manage to manoeuvre him into taking her back. That woman is a positive leech and Luke is such a softy at heart. Mind you,’ she added coyly, ‘I rather suspect that the two of you are on much better terms than you want the rest of us to believe.’ She explained knowingly, ‘I saw that he’d left you a note when I left mine. I recognised his handwriting.’
Bobbie’s heart sank. This was a development she hadn’t anticipated and certainly didn’t feel equipped to cope with. ‘Olivia, you don’t understand,’ she started to protest.
But Olivia simply gave her a mischievous smile and shook her head, telling her, ‘You don’t have to explain to me. I can still remember how it feels when you first fall in love.’
Fall in love! This was terrible! Dreadful! But before she could say anything more, Luke reached them.
‘Luke,’ Olivia exclaimed fondly as he leaned down to kiss her cheek before taking a seat.
Bobbie saw his eyebrows lift as he glanced at her, his gaze sharpening as he saw that she was holding Amelia.
‘It’s all right. Your god-daughter’s in perfectly good hands,’ Olivia teased him, adding, ‘so good in fact that we’re hoping to persuade Bobbie to keep on holding her.’
‘Oh?’ Luke questioned, looking sombrely from Bobbie to Olivia.
‘Yes,’ Olivia continued easily, patently unaware of the undercurrent of dislike and hostility emanating from Luke to her, which Bobbie was so keenly conscious of. ‘Caspar and I have asked Bobbie if she would be willing to stay on in the area for a few more weeks to take care of Amelia so that Caspar can get some work done prior to the start of the new term.’
‘I thought you already had a qualified nanny,’ Luke returned sharply, emphasising the word ‘qualified’.
‘We did,’ Olivia agreed.
‘I really must go,’ Bobbie announced, getting up ready to hand the baby back to her mother, but before she could do so, Luke, too, stood up, firmly removing Amelia from her arms and standing so close to her whilst he did so that she could actually smell the scent of his skin—and his body....
The baby gurgled delightfully up at him, a huge smile curling her mouth.
‘You can tell she’s going to be a man’s woman,’ Olivia said, laughing fondly as she, too, got to her feet. ‘I’ll ring you later ... about seven,’ she told Bobbie as she walked with her towards the exit. Then unexpectedly Olivia reached out and gave Bobbie a swift hug. ‘Oh, please don’t say no,’ she pleaded. ‘I know you’re going to be just right, and by the way, I forgot to say, you can live in with us if that’s convenient for you. You’d have your own room and bathroom, but if you prefer not to, then that’s equally fine.’
Bobbie had just got as far as the bank of lifts that gave access to the upper floors of the hotel when she heard Luke calling her name with crisp firmness. Suppressing a childish urge to pretend she hadn’t heard him and step into the lift that had temptingly opened, she turned round.
His ‘I want a word with you,’ instead of intimidating her as she suspected he had intended, made her straighten her spine and draw herself up to her full height, an impressive and, to some men she knew, an awesome sight, not one that sat well with their vulnerable male egos. However, it was obvious that Luke was not exactly impressed, but then of course, she did still have to tilt her chin just that betraying little bit extra in order to look into his eyes.
‘Why did you let me think that you were having lunch with Max?’ he asked her without preamble.
‘I let you think?’ Bobbie queried dryly.
‘You know what I mean,’ he flung back curtly. ‘You were perfectly aware of what I thought but you didn’t correct my misconception.’
‘Didn’t I?’ Bobbie asked him dulcetly, and then seeing that they were beginning to attract the interested and amused attention of a small group of people waiting to step into the adjacent lift, she told him quickly and quietly, ‘Whom I do or do not choose to have lunch with is no business of yours.’
‘Max is a married man,’ he reminded her grittily.
‘And so you keep saying, and for all you know I may very well be a married woman,’ Bobbie retaliated.
‘What?’
The look in his eyes as he stepped forward and took hold of her upper arm, drawing her back out of earshot of anyone else and into the partially secluded shadows of the corridor, gave her such a shock that she actually felt physically weak and light-headed.
‘Are you married?’ she heard him demanding.
‘No,’ Bobbie admitted shakily.
She had heard of people going weak with fear and even with nervousness but to actually feel this intense sense of physical dizziness simply because of the way a man was looking at her... A phrase she had heard a girlfriend use once and at the time teased her for suddenly came back to her.
‘He makes me feel quite literally weak with lust,’ she had said.
Weak with lust—her—for a man whom she positively disliked. Never. Impossible. She must be imagining things, getting her signals all mixed up.
‘Do you intend to accept this job that Olivia’s offered you?’ she heard Luke asking her abruptly.
‘I don’t know, I haven’t made up my mind yet. Why are you asking me all these questions?’ she asked him defensively, wishing that her voice didn’t sound quite so vulnerable and breathless and that her heart wasn’t beating quite so betrayingly fast.
He had released her arm now but he was still standing very close to her, and to her chagrin, she could actually feel her body reacting to the proximity of him. Thank the Lord she was wearing a jacket, because there was simply no way she could have passed off the sudden burgeoning of her nipples as a mere automatic reaction to an adverse change in temperature, and she knew that if Luke could see what she was feeling, he would be as aware as she was herself of what was happening to her.
He still hadn’t answered her question but as she started to look past him, back towards the lifts, he told her bluntly, ‘Well, let’s just say I’m following the same line of investigation as when I asked why you had a penchant for visiting graveyards.’
Bobbie could feel the anxious tension starting to chum her stomach. ‘Look,’ she told him huskily, ‘that was just a coincidence.’
‘So you said earlier,’ he agreed, ‘but not, I have to say, very convincingly.’
‘What are you trying to suggest?’ Bobbie demanded, hoping that he couldn’t tell just how nervous and guilty he was making her feel.
‘Nothing,’ he replied, but before she could draw a shaky breath of relief, he added warningly, ‘as yet. Let’s just say that I’m holding a watching brief.’
‘It’s Fenella you should be watching and not me,’ Bobbie advised as she quickly stepped away from him and darted into the lift. She reached out to press the button and then tensed as he followed her and placed his hand against the door, preventing it from closing.
‘I rather suspect that in comparison to you, any element of danger that Fenella might represent would be minimal indeed,’ he parried.
‘That’s your expert opinion as a barrister, is it?’ Bobbie quipped flippantly.
‘No, that’s my gut instinct as a man,’ he told her cynically.
She removed his hand from the door and it slid shut before Bobbie could come up with any suitable reply.
Once she had gained the relative sanctuary of her room and double bolted the door, Bobbie picked up the telephone receiver and punched in her parents’ New England home number, keeping her fingers crossed that it would be her sister who answered her call and not her mother.
Fortunately it was. ‘Sam...?’
‘Yes, it’s me,’ her twin affirmed unnecessarily, adding, ‘You sound a mite out of breath. Anything wrong?’
‘Nooo...’ Bobbie denied unconvincingly, then asked anxiously, ‘How are things back there?’
Their mother had been advised by her gynaecologist to have a hysterectomy some time ago, and whether as a result of this or because of her having hit fifty, in the months since the operation she had suffered from uncharacteristic bouts of a troubling depression.
She was over the worst now and they were not to worry, nor were they to pamper her or indulge her foolishness, she had insisted to both her daughters and her husband, but all three of them were very much aware of the shadowed sadness in her eyes and the unfamiliar droop of her mouth when she thought that no one was watching her.
‘So so,’ Samantha replied guardedly. ‘The folks are still down in Washington but they’re due back tomorrow. I spoke to Dad last night and he said they’d both be glad to get home. I guess he’s thinking that he may not run for office next time around. He thinks it might be too stressful for Mom.’
‘Oh, Sam,’ Bobbie protested.
‘I know,’ her elder twin sympathised, asking her, ‘How are you getting on?’
‘I...I’m not sure,’ Bobbie told her hesitantly. ‘You remember I told you about the party I was invited to? Well, one of the other guests, a member of the family, invited me out to lunch today to ask me if I’d like a temporary job with them, looking after their baby, but—’
She stopped speaking as her sister interrupted her excitedly, saying, ‘Wow, that’s wonderful, just the kind of break we needed. You’ll be able to—’
‘Sam. I’m not so sure that I ... I like Olivia,’ she tried to explain hesitantly to her sister, who had suddenly gone ominously quiet, wishing as she had wished so often over these past few days that Samantha were here with her. ‘She’s so genuine ... so kind, and I feel—’
‘You like her?’ Samantha questioned fiercely. ‘Bobbie—Roberta—have you forgotten who she is ... who they are,’ she demanded insistently, ‘what they did?’
‘No...of course I haven’t. It’s just...I hate to be deceitful like this, Sam, and—’
‘This is no time to go all soft-hearted,’ Samantha told her sister assertively. ‘Look, I’ve got to go. Ring me tomorrow.’
After she had replaced the receiver, Samantha stood staring out of the window of her parents’ handsome drawing room at the empty drive outside. The creeperclad, solidly built New England mansion was one of the finest examples of late eighteenth-century buildings in the area. It had originally been built by one of their father’s ancestors and in due course would pass on into the ownership of their brother Tom, now presently at Harvard, but it was not the thought of her younger brother ultimately inheriting the house in which both she and Bobbie had grown up that was causing a deep frown to crease her forehead.
‘I knew I should have gone to England,’ she muttered under her breath. ‘Bobbie never did have much of a stomach for fighting dirty.’
It was she who had masterminded the plan they were now putting into action, she who had been the driving force behind it, and unlike Bobbie, she who knew she would never have fallen into the trap of ‘liking’ those cussed and accursed Crightons, as the twins had grown into the habit of calling them when they had inadvertently stumbled on the secret that their mother had found so shameful that she hadn’t wanted them to know about.
It had been their grandfather in the end who had answered their questions. And even now, although they were adult and had known the story for many years, their mother still did not like to talk about it or hear it mentioned because it still hurt her so much, all the more so, Samantha suspected, because of their father’s very distinguished and strait-laced Puritan ancestry.
Not that knowing the truth made their father love their mother any the less, nor did they, but it still hurt to see her vulnerable.
‘It’s not fair. Why should Mom be the only one to suffer?’ Samantha had demanded of Bobbie. ‘It wasn’t her fault. We should make them pay.’
‘But how can we?’ Bobbie had asked her.
‘I’ll think of a way,’ Samantha had promised.
And so she had ... or rather she had thought she had until Bobbie started to turn chicken-hearted.
If only she wasn’t committed to her college classes and her vow to make up for the time she had taken off to travel. Still, there was no point in regretting that now; she would just have to make sure that Bobbie didn’t weaken still further.
In Chester, Bobbie paced her bedroom unhappily. She just didn’t possess Sam’s fiercely stubborn determination and adherence to any cause she took on; she lacked her sister’s strength, she knew that. It wasn’t that she cared any the less about their mother. It was just...
Face it, she told herself sternly, you’re a coward. You just can’t abide any kind of fighting or confrontation. You’re a real scaredy-cat, she taunted herself.
But what was she so afraid of? Seeing the friendship and warmth in Olivia’s and Joss’s eyes turn to dislike and contempt when they discovered how devious and underhand she had been, or seeing the triumph in Luke’s when all his suspicions of her were confirmed?
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