by Lyons, Mary
‘He never actually told me that I wasn’t allowed to interview his fiancée.’ she said aloud, trying to sound a lot more brave and confident than she felt. Because it was no good trying to fool herself. She knew very well that Leo would be absolutely furious when he learned what she’d been up to.
Well...that’s just too bad! she thought defiantly. He shouldn’t have let drop the fact that he was going to be out of the country. It was, after all, asking too much to expect her to forgo the opportunity of having a proper, in-depth, ‘all girls together’ type of interview with Fiona. Something that would be quite impossible with her fiancé present.
Besides, Leo had made it very clear that he loathed the whole idea of her article. He was obviously going to do all he could to avoid going through with their agreement. Making sure that Fiona was kept under wraps and well away from the ‘gutter press’ was an obvious way of torpedoing the feature, and making it very difficult for Alex to write anything worth reading.
However, she hadn’t worked on newspapers for the past four years without learning how to cope with such problems. Leo might think he was a really smart, clever guy. But, if he thought she was going to allow herself to be out-manoeuvred, he was in for a big surprise, Alex told herself grimly as she started up her car and pulled out into the traffic.
In the past, he’d been the one holding all the cards. So it was going to give her great pleasure to turn the tables on the foul man. That would teach him, she told herself viciously, before a quotation she’d come across recently suddenly popped into her head. Who was it that had said, ‘Always be civil to the girls, you never know who they may marry’...? Or—more accurately in her case—what job they might end up with! So, maybe by the time she’d finished with Leo, the next time he had any dealings with a young, vulnerable teenager he might take care not to be quite so ruthlessly cruel and dismissive.
As the traffic ground to a slow crawl, due to lane closures for some roadworks, Alex leaned back in her seat and gave a heavy sigh.
If only she hadn’t been such an idiot! If she hadn’t been urged on by her stupid pride—and an equally foolish determination to score off Imogen Hall-Knightly—she wouldn’t be rushing around the country, trying to make good her promise that she could, and would, produce the St Valentine’s Day article. Nor would she have been forced to face those ghosts which she had spent so many years trying to forget.
Instead of which—thanks to her own stupidity—her job was now firmly on the line. And, even worse, ever since she’d seen that piece of gossip about Leo’s engagement, her mind had been almost permanently swamped by unhappy memories of the past...
While it might be unfair to blame her mother, there was no doubt that it was one of Gina Rothstein’s many disastrous marriages which had led to so much trouble for her daughter.
Alex often wondered if her supremely selfish mother had ever known, or cared, about the problems which she’d caused so many people before her own life had been abruptly terminated by that plane crash in Mexico. Piloted by her sixth husband, a rich young Argentinian polo player, the fatal accident had finally brought to an end Gina’s marital escapades, which had led to her nickname, ‘The Bolter’.
There was no reason why Gina Rothstein, a much cherished only child born late to immensely wealthy parents, should have turned out to be so wild. Extraordinarily beautiful, she had been expected to make a glittering marriage. But, headstrong and well out of control by the age of seventeen, Gina had run away from home to enjoy a rip-roaring, very public love affair with Johnny Pemberton—an equally wild, wealthy young racing driver.
Johnny’s death in a race at Nuremberg had left Gina both inconsolable for a time—and pregnant. However, clearly not having a maternal bone in her lovely body, Gina had soon dumped the newborn baby girl on her mother, and swiftly ‘bolted’ once more to join the jet set, subsequently marrying and discarding a whole string of husbands.
Alex smiled as she fondly recalled the small, upright and imperious figure of her grandmother, whose heart of true gold had been buried deep beneath a very stern exterior. A widow and, at sixty years of age, not exactly a spring chicken, she had nevertheless brought up the little girl—whom she’d christened Alexandra Rothstein—as carefully and strictly as if she’d been her own child.
Lucky to have been raised in a grand mansion, situated deep in the English countryside, Alex now knew that she’d been even more lucky to have had such a happy, secure start in life. And, when she’d been sent to a boarding school at the age of twelve, she’d soon discovered—after listening to the unhappy stories of some of her new friends—that a rich, privileged background meant nothing without the warmth and love of a caring family.
However, all good things must come to an end. And they had ended abruptly for Alex just before her sixteenth birthday. Only a few days after completing her school exams, she’d learned that her grandmother had suddenly died in her sleep.
Continually ‘bolting’ from one husband to another, Gina had clearly forgotten all about her young daughter. Which was possibly why their one and only meeting, in the pouring rain at the graveside of Alex’s grandmother, had been such a disaster.
‘Oh, my God—I simply don’t believe it!’ Gina had exclaimed in horror-struck tones. Her baby-blue eyes widening in disbelief, she had stared up at the thin, gawky teenager who, at a height of five feet ten inches, towered over her own delicate, petite figure. “There must be some mistake. I couldn’t possibly have given birth to a girl who’s as plain as ditch water!’
Still in a complete state of shock and misery, Alex had felt hot tears roll down her face as she gazed bemusedly down at the beautiful, elegant stranger.
‘It’s just as well that your grandmother left you all her money,’ Gina had drawled when the service ended, clearly furious at being cut out of her own mother’s will. ‘Because, quite frankly, darling—with those looks, you’re going to need every penny you can lay your hands on!’ she’d added spitefully, before turning to the deeply tanned, handsome young husband by her side and demanding to be taken immediately back to London in her chauffeured limousine.
Not only was that the first and last time she’d ever seen her mother, it was also the day that Alex had learned of her huge inheritance. Not that it had meant anything to her at the time, of course. Totally stunned and grief-stricken by the loss of the one person who had ever really cared for her, she’d hardly heard the dry-asdust tones of the lawyer informing her about the trust fund, which was designed to make sure that she would always be financially secure.
Still mentally frozen with misery, Alex had returned to school, spending the remaining few weeks of the summer term in a complete daze. However, while she was totally listless and apathetic about her future, it seemed that her headmistress and trustees had been active on her behalf.
Realising that Gina was obviously a broken reed, they had contacted the only one of her ex-husbands who could, by any stretch of the imagination, be considered a respectable man. In fact, Sir Geoffrey Lucas, a well-known diplomat at the Foreign Office, had only been briefly married to the beautiful and fascinating Gina, before she’d upped and run away with a French pop star.
However, despite his second happy marriage to a widow—who already had a son, Leo Hamilton, some seven years older than Alex—Sir Geoffrey had kindly offered to look after the orphan girl whom he’d never met, inviting her to spend the summer vacation at his holiday home in Tuscany.
Now, as she looked back at that long, hot summer, Alex could easily understand why Sir Geoffrey’s wife, Eleanor, hadn’t been at all happy about having a young teenager dumped on her.
‘I can’t think what my husband thought he was doing,’ she’d grumbled on Alex’s arrival. ‘You’re far too young to have anything in common with Leo or his friends. So you’ll just have to try and amuse yourself. And what on earth possessed you to dye your hair that frightful colour is quite beyond me!’
Unfortunately, Alex had been unable to supply a sensible
answer. In fact, she’d had no idea why, after that disastrous encounter with Gina at her grandmother’s funeral, she’d suddenly decided to embrace the Gothic style, as if almost deliberately trying to look as ugly as possible.
‘I’m simply not prepared to put up with such a hideous sight,’ Eleanor Lucas had told her firmly. ‘We can’t do much about that awful dead-black colour, of course. However, as soon as I can make an appointment, I’m going to insist on taking you to my hairdresser and having it cut off as short as possible. In the meantime, you will kindly keep to your room. I see no reason why my guests should have to set eyes on such a ghastly sight.
‘There is just one more thing I’d like to say,’ Eleanor had continued sternly. ‘Whatever else you do, Alexandra, kindly don’t make the mistake of falling in love with my son, Leo. Young girls in the throes of unrequited love are such a bore,’ she’d added with an exasperated sigh. ‘And there are far too many silly, empty-headed females mooning around after him as it is!’
But, of course, as Alex now bitterly acknowledged, she’d been a total and utter fool. Because, barely moments after setting eyes on the tall, dark, handsome twenty-three-year-old, she’d forgotten all his mother’s really excellent advice... and fallen blindly in love with Leo Hamilton.
The sudden sound of a sharp, angry toot on a horn from the car behind her suddenly jerked Alex back to the present.
Clearly, while she’d been daydreaming about the past, the traffic had begun moving once again, and she was holding up a long line of vehicles. Swearing under her breath, she quickly put the car into gear, doing her best to forget the past—and concentrate on her forthcoming interview with Fiona Bliss.
However, as it turned out, Leo’s fiancée turned out to be not at all the sort of girl she’d been expecting to meet.
Having finally arrived at the huge, quite hideous Victorian Gothic house, Alex was startled to be informed by a starchy, old-fashioned butler that she should not have knocked on the front door but should have taken herself around to the tradesmen’s entrance.
‘I believe Miss Fiona is interviewing applicants in the stable block,’ he added with a loud sniff of disapproval, before firmly shutting the large oak door in her face.
‘Charming!’ Alex ground out sarcastically, unused to being treated like a bad smell, or something nasty the cat had dragged in.
However, determined not to be put off by the first obstacle, she spent some time exploring the outside of the enormous, gloomy-looking house and its many outbuildings. Gazing with a jaundiced eye up at the mass of ornate turrets and stone battlements, she decided that it looked far more like her idea of Count Dracula’s castle in Transylvania than an English manor house.
With the pale February afternoon light fading fast, and just about to admit defeat, Alex finally tracked down both the large stable block—and Fiona.
‘Hello...?’ a small voice greeted her as she peered into the large interior. ‘Have you come about my advertisement for a groom?’
As her eyes gradually adjusted to the dim light, Alex was able to make out the heads of various horses, chewing hay and regarding her with interest over the top of their individual stable doors. The sound of a sudden clatter of hooves on cobblestones quickly drew her attention to a chestnut-coloured horse tied up in an open stall, the animal seeming to tower over the small figure of a girl busily engaged in stuffing hay into a large net bag.
‘Er ... no, not exactly,’ Alex muttered, wishing she hadn’t bothered to change into a tweed suit and smart, high-heeled shoes. A pair of old jeans, a thick polo-necked sweater and her trainers would have been far more appropriate, she realised, stepping gingerly over the small puddles of muddy water and bundles of straw which littered the stone cobbled floor.
Keeping a wary eye on the horse, which seemed to get larger and more dangerous-looking as she approached the open stall, Alex introduced herself, and explained the reason why she’d made this trip down to Hampshire.
‘I really don’t think...I mean...I’ve never met a journalist before, and...’
‘There’s no need to panic!’ Alex smilingly reassured the other girl. ‘Yes, I’m a reporter on the Chronicle. But, as I also happen to be Leo’s stepsister, I’m not likely to write anything which would upset either his family or your parents.’
While she’d been speaking, Alex had taken advantage of the opportunity to take a good, hard look at Leo’s new fiancée. And a frankly depressing sight it turned out to be.
In the first place, the girl’s photographs definitely hadn’t done her justice. With a heart-shaped face, fresh peaches-and-cream complexion and large, warm brown eyes framed by short, dusky curls, Fiona wasn’t just merely pretty... she was outstandingly beautiful!
Towering over the petite girl—whose slim, slight figure and anxious, spaniel-brown eyes were practically guaranteed to bring out the chivalrous, protective feelings in any man—Alex had no problem in understanding exactly why Leo was intending to marry Fiona. In fact, she was only surprised that he hadn’t placed a wedding ring on her finger long before now.
‘If you’re really his stepsister, I suppose it must be all right...’ Fiona murmured doubtfully, picking up a curry comb and dragging it through the horse’s mane. ‘But are you quite sure that he doesn’t mind?’ she added breathlessly, biting her lip as she turned to gaze nervously up at Alex. ‘I know that he normally loathes having anything to do with the press, and simply hates seeing his name in the papers. So...” Her voice died away, her cheeks flushing a bright crimson as she realised that this tall, elegant blonde girl might think she was being deliberately rude and unhelpful.
‘Relax! I’m well aware of Leo’s views on the gutter press!’ Alex laughed. ‘However, I can give you my solemn word of honour that he has agreed to let me write about you both, for our Valentine’s Day supplement. If it makes you feel any better,’ she added, carefully sticking to the truth, ‘Leo has insisted that he see and approve of anything I’ve written before he’ll allow it to appear in the newspaper.’
‘Oh, well...in that case...’ Fiona gave a heavy sigh of relief.
Alex was just wondering why the other girl appeared to be so extraordinarily apprehensive, and almost frightened about Leo’s reaction to their meeting, when she found herself shivering in the cold, damp air of the stable.
‘I’m absolutely frozen,’ she exclaimed. ‘Is there anywhere a little bit warmer where we can sit down and have a good talk?’
‘There’s a nice hot fire in the tack room. We could go there, I suppose...’
‘That sounds great. Lead me to it!’ Alex said firmly, reluctantly abandoning any hope of being invited to have a comfortable and warming cup of tea, with crumpets and maybe some sinful chocolate cake, in the main house. This girl was clearly so nervous and uncertain about meeting a journalist—let alone spilling the beans about her romance with Leo—that it would be a wonder if they even got as far as the tack room—whatever that might be.
The mystery was soon solved as Fiona led the way into a small room off the stables, whose walls were covered with row upon row of leather bridles and saddles.
Lowering herself onto an old, broken-down leather sofa, Alex warmed her hands at the blaze from the small coal fire, her nose twitching at the various smells of leather, saddle soap and resin as she gazed at the mass of rosettes pinned on a board above the fireplace.
‘I heard you were mad on horses. Did you win all those?’ she asked, suddenly feeling a lot more cheerful as Fiona produced a Thermos of hot coffee.
The other girl nodded, blushing modestly as she busied herself pouring the steaming liquid into two battered tin mugs.
‘I do love horses, of course. But I’m chiefly interested in three-day eventing,’ she said, handing a mug to Alex before coming to sit down beside her.
‘Eventing...?’
‘Well, it basically means that you spend many years patiently training a horse to face three days of hard competition,’ Fiona explained. ‘On the first day they
have to perform a complicated dressage routine. On the second—and much the toughest day—there’s an arduous cross-country race over very difficult jumps and obstacles, and finally, on the third day, you have to take your horse into the ring to face a show-jumping exercise against the clock.’
‘Training a horse to do all that sounds like hard, tough work,’ Alex said slowly. ‘And you really love doing that sort of thing?’ she added, amazed that anyone so small and light-boned could possibly control a large brute like the horse she’d just seen in the stable.
‘Mmm...’ Fiona nodded happily. ‘It’s wonderful! The sense of achievement and sheer thrilling enjoyment you get when you manage to do a clear round over a dangerous and difficult cross-country course is better than...well, better than anything else I can think of!’
‘Better than sex...?’ Alex grinned, considerably interested to note that this girl was obviously far more at home and relaxed in this messy old tack room than she was ever likely to be in the large house.
‘Oh—definitely much better!’ Fiona agreed with a giggle. ‘In fact,’ she confided, ‘I generally prefer horses to most of the people I know.’
‘So ... what about Leo? You must prefer him to horses, surely?’ Alex queried dryly.
Oh, wow! What wouldn’t she give to have the rotten man here right now? If only to hear about his lovemaking technique—which had just been so ruthlessly dismissed by his fiancée! That would definitely serve the swine right. Especially as Fiona must know what she was talking about. Because it was practically unheard of, nowadays, for two people to become engaged without having been to bed with one another. So... could it be that Leo really wasn’t such a hotshot between the sheets after all...?
‘Oh, yes, I wasn’t referring to Leo. He really is so kind,’ Fiona breathed, looking positively starry-eyed at the thought of her fiancée.
‘How did you meet? Was it at a polo match?’ Alex asked, quietly extracting a writing pad from her handbag and being careful not to interrupt the other girl, who was now launched on a long, involved story about her first meeting with Leo.
