Harlequin Romance February 2016 Box Set

by Barbara Wallace

  ‘Dreadful, dreadful day,’ she agreed tonelessly. ‘The worst.’ She gestured to his counter full of cakes. ‘I’m looking for something that will make me feel better.’

  Sugar wasn’t the answer. They both knew that. But she blessed his tact in remaining silent on the subject. He packed her up an assortment. She trudged upstairs to her flat and sat at the table. She stared at the cakes for several long minutes—a chocolate éclair, a strawberry tart, a vanilla slice and a tiny lemon meringue pie.

  She couldn’t dredge up the slightest enthusiasm for a single one of them.

  The longer she stared at them the more her eyes stung. A lump lodged in her throat. Shaking her head, she lifted the chocolate éclair to her lips and bit into it. She chewed and with a superhuman effort swallowed. She set the éclair back down. Its dark brown icing gleamed the exact same colour as Jack’s hair—

  Slamming a halt to those thoughts, she picked up the lemon meringue pie, bit into it, chewed and swallowed. She did the same with the strawberry tart and then the vanilla slice. With each bite the lump in her throat subsided. It lodged in her chest instead, where it became a hard, bitter ache.

  She stared at the delicacies, each with a dainty bite taken out of them, and pushed the cake box away to rest her head on her hands.

  * * *

  Jack started when he realised darkness had begun creeping across the floor of his hotel room. He barely remembered returning here earlier in the afternoon, but the stiffness in his muscles told him he’d been sitting in this chair for hours.

  He glanced across to the window. The grey twilight on the other side of the glass complemented the greyness stretching through him.

  He closed his eyes. Every fibre of his being ached to go and find Caro and change her mind—to fight harder for her—but...

  He rested his head in his hands. The look on her face when he’d told her he loved her... He’d wanted to see joy, hope, delight. He’d wanted her to throw her arms around his neck and tell him she loved him too.

  Instead...

  He dropped his head back to the headrest of his chair. Instead she’d stared at him with a kind of stricken horror that had made his heart shrivel.

  He understood now how out of character it had been for Caro to fall in love with him so quickly six and a half years ago. How out of character it had been for her to marry him after knowing him for only four months. By nature Caro was a careful person, but she’d loved him back then. She’d trusted him completely, and when he’d left he’d not only broken her heart, he’d broken faith with her, he’d made her doubt her own judgment.

  He should have fought for her five years ago!

  He’d misinterpreted her reserve as meaning she didn’t love him. Instead of challenging her, though, he’d run away. Like a coward.

  He’d blown it. He’d get no second chance with her. She’d never let him close again, regardless of the promises he made her.

  What promises have you made? What exactly have you offered her?

  He frowned at the gathering darkness. With a curse, he leapt to his feet and switched on the lamp before reaching for his laptop. There were no promises he could make that Caro would believe, but he had promised to do all he could to retrieve that damn snuffbox. That was one thing he could do for her.

  Settling earphones over his head, he tuned in to the listening devices he’d placed in the house in Mayfair earlier in the week. Give me something!

  Two hours later he pulled the earphones from his head and flung them to the desk.

  Eureka!

  He backed up the files in three different locations, emailed them to each of his email accounts, burnt them to a CD and loaded them on to a thumb drive as a final precaution. Next he researched the government’s National Archive. Forty minutes later he tossed both the CD and the thumb drive into his satchel. Throwing the bag over his shoulder, he set off on foot for Mayfair.

  * * *

  ‘Mr Jack,’ Paul boomed when he opened the door. ‘It’s very good to see you.’

  That wasn’t what the treacherous snake in the grass would be saying in ten minutes’ time.

  ‘Jack?’ Barbara appeared in the doorway of the drawing room. ‘Is Caro with you?’

  ‘No.’

  He might have misjudged Barbara—just as Caro had said—but she was still as treacherous as Paul in her own way. Though at least now he understood her.

  Barbara moved more fully into the foyer, a frown marring the china doll perfection of her face. ‘Is everything all right, darling? Is Caro all right?’

  ‘Caro is fine, as far as I know.’ And he meant to keep it that way. ‘But everything is far from all right. I need the two of you to listen to something. Do you have a CD player?’

  Barbara swept an arm towards the drawing room and directed him across to the far wall, where a stereo system perched on an antique credenza.

  ‘Don’t go, Paul,’ Jack added, not turning around but sensing the older man’s intention to withdraw. ‘I want you to hear this too.’

  He put the disc into the player, surreptitiously retrieving one of his listening devices as he did so. He’d retrieve them all before he left this evening. He pressed the play button.

  ‘You might want to sit,’ he said, gesturing to the sofas.

  Barbara and Paul both remained standing.

  ‘This necklace didn’t come from Roland, Paul, and we both know it.’

  As her voice emerged from the speakers, Barbara sank down into the nearest chair with a gasp, her hand fluttering up to her throat.

  ‘There’s only one person who could possibly be responsible for this, and that’s Caro.’

  A short pause followed, and then Paul’s voice emerged from the speakers. ‘Yes.’

  Jack could almost see the older man’s nod as he agreed with Barbara.

  ‘I don’t want to do this any more, Paul. I want Caro to know the truth.’

  ‘We can’t! We promised her father! And there’s your mother to think of. You could never afford her medical bills on your own.’

  Jack reached over and switched the CD player off. ‘I could let it keep running, but we all know what it says.’

  Barbara lifted her head and swallowed. ‘I’m glad the truth will come out now.’

  And yet only a couple of hours ago she’d submitted to Paul’s bullying.

  ‘Are you utterly faithless?’ Paul shot at her.

  His words were angry, but everything about him had slumped, as if he were caving in on himself.

  ‘Faithless?’ Jack found himself shouting. ‘What about the faith you should’ve been keeping with Caro? She loves the two of you! She considers you her family. And this is how you treat her?’

  Barbara wasn’t a woman easily given to tears, but she looked close to them now. He sensed her regret was genuine. And, considering the bribery Roland had used to sway her, he could almost forgive her. Almost.

  He shoved his shoulders back. ‘Shall I share the conclusions I’ve come to?’

  Barbara spread her hands in a please continue gesture. Paul said nothing, but his back had bowed and he’d lost his colour.

  ‘Sit, Paul,’ Jack ordered.

  The other man’s head lifted. ‘I’m the butler, Mr Jack. The butler doesn’t—’

  ‘Can it! You lost all rights to butler etiquette the moment you started this nasty little game.’

  Without another word, Paul sat. Jack stared at them both, trying to swallow back the fury coursing through him.

  ‘Before he died, Caro’s father made the two of you promise to sabotage Caro’s job at Richardson’s in an attempt to have her fired—so you could force her hand and have her finally take over the administration of that damn trust.’

  Barbara hesitated, and then nodded. ‘He thought that by making her the sole beneficiary of his will it would soften her attitude towards both him and the trust.’

  ‘And of course the two of you were to do everything you could to encourage that softening?’

  Sh
e winced and nodded.

  ‘I also know that if you succeeded, you were both to be rewarded.’

  Barbara’s head came up.

  ‘I suspect your mother’s hospital bills and her care were to be guaranteed if you succeeded.’ He named the medical facility where Barbara’s mother resided. ‘I know the kind of care she needs, and I know how much that costs.’

  She shot to her feet, visibly shaken. ‘How do you know about that?’

  ‘I’m a private investigator. I’m trained to follow a lead.’

  He’d found out Barbara’s mother’s name and had tracked her to a private medical clinic in Northumberland. A phone call had confirmed that she had a severe dissociative personality disorder and needed round-the-clock psychological monitoring. She was receiving the very best of care. The fees, however, were astronomical.

  Barbara sat again, brushing her hand across her eyes. ‘I can’t even visit her. It upsets her too much. Making sure she gets the best of care is the one thing I can do.’

  He couldn’t imagine how difficult that must be. ‘I’m sorry about your mother, Barbara.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Roland blackmailed you?’

  She glanced up and gave a strained shrug. ‘In a way, I suppose. But you see I did love him. Ours wasn’t a wild, romantic relationship, but... I wanted him to be happy. It didn’t really seem too much to ask of Caro, to administer that wretched trust, but...’

  ‘But?’

  She lifted her head. ‘But, regardless of what the rest of us think or want, Caro has a right to make her own decisions in respect to her life.’

  His heart thumped. ‘I couldn’t agree more.’ He just wished she’d made the decision to include him in her life. Pushing that thought aside, he turned to Paul. ‘What I don’t understand is why you’d agree to Roland’s games. I thought you cared about Caro?’

  ‘I do!’

  Nobody spoke for several long moments.

  ‘He just loved Caro’s mother more,’ Barbara finally said, breaking the silence that had descended.

  Jack fell into a seat then too. Paul? In love with Caro’s mother?

  ‘I went too far.’ Paul rested his head in his hands. ‘What are you going to do, Mr Jack?’ he asked.

  If Caro didn’t care about these two so much he’d throw them to the wolves. But she did care about them.

  It occurred to him then that his idea of family had been utterly unrealistic—a complete fantasy. Family, it appeared, was about accepting others’ foibles and eccentricities. It was about taking into account and appreciating their weaknesses as much as their strengths.

  He leaned towards the other two. ‘Okay, listen carefully. This is what we’re going to do...’

  * * *

  Caro was brushing her teeth on Friday morning when Jack’s knock sounded on her door.

  She knew it was Jack. She refused to contemplate too closely how she knew that, though.

  She rinsed her mouth and considered not answering.

  ‘Caro? I have the snuffbox.’

  His voice penetrated the thick wood of her door. She stared at it, and then flew across to fling it open. ‘If you’re teasing me, Jack, I’ll—’

  He held out the snuffbox, and for a moment all she could do was stare at it.

  ‘Oh!’

  She could barely believe it. Maybe...maybe disaster could be averted after all.

  With fingers that trembled she took it from him, hardly daring to believe this was the very same snuffbox she’d lost. She took Jack’s arm and pulled him into the flat, and then ran to get her eyeglass. She examined it in minute detail.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Making sure it’s authentic and not a replica.’

  ‘Well...?’ he asked when she set the eyeglass to the table.

  She wanted to dance on the spot. ‘It’s the very same snuffbox I lost last week.’

  She wanted to hug him, but remembered what had happened the last time she’d let her elation overcome her reserve. She pressed a hand to her chest to try and calm the pounding of her heart.

  ‘You’ve saved the day—just as you promised you would. How? How did you do it?’

  He shuffled his feet and darted a glance towards the kitchen. ‘Is that coffee I smell?’

  She suddenly realised he was wearing the same clothes she’d last seen him in, and that he needed a shave. She padded into the kitchen and poured them a mug of coffee each. She set his mug to the table.

  ‘Have a seat.’

  With a groan, he unhooked his satchel from his shoulder and dropped it to the floor, before planting himself in a chair and bringing the mug to his lips. ‘Thank you.’

  She frowned at him. ‘Have you had any sleep in the last two days?’

  He made an impatient movement with his hand. ‘It’s no matter. I can sleep on the plane.’

  He was returning to Australia today? An ache started up inside her.

  It’s for the best.

  Except the misery he was trying to hide beat at her like a living, breathing thing.

  She sipped coffee in an attempt to fortify herself. ‘How did you find the snuffbox? Who had it?’

  ‘It was all a comedy of errors, believe it or not, and frankly you needn’t have hired me in the first place.’

  She frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’

  He eyed her over the rim of his mug. ‘You have an army of cleaners coming in to the Mayfair house twice a week, yes?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘It appears that when Barbara made her midnight raid on the safe she dropped the snuffbox on the stairs.’

  So why hadn’t she or Paul found it?

  ‘The next day the maid dusting the staircase found it and placed it in the sideboard in the dining room. She thought it was some kind of fancy spice pot, or something along those lines.’

  ‘And therefore thought it belonged with the dining ware?’

  ‘Of course she forgot to mention to anyone what she’d done.’

  She gaped at him. ‘So it was never Barbara? Oh, I should burn in brimstone forever for thinking such a shocking thing of her!’

  His lips pressed together in a thin tight line.

  ‘It’s such a simple explanation! But...how did you find all of this out?’

  ‘I rang the cleaning service you use, spoke to the woman in charge and asked her to check with the staff.’

  Amazingly simple—and yet...

  ‘I’d never have thought of that. I did right in hiring you, Jack.’ She swallowed. ‘You’ve saved the day and I can’t thank you enough.’

  ‘I’m glad I could help.’

  He rose and her heart started to burn.

  ‘It’s time I was going.’ He barely looked at her. ‘Goodbye, Caro.’

  She couldn’t make her legs work to walk him to the door. It closed behind him and she had to blink hard for several moments and concentrate on her breathing.

  Last night’s cake box still sat on the table. Seizing it, she strode into the kitchen and tossed it into the bin. Sugar wasn’t the answer. Nothing but time would ease the pain scoring through her now.

  She limped back to the table and picked up the snuffbox, clasped it to her chest. ‘Thank you, Jack,’ she whispered to the silent room. ‘Thank you.’

  She went to turn away—it was time for her to dress for work—when something black and silver under the table caught her attention. She reached down and picked it up. A CD. Had she dropped it? Or had Jack?

  It wasn’t labelled. With a shrug, she slotted it into her CD player. If it belonged to Jack she’d post it to him in Australia. She glanced at the case again, but it gave no clue.

  And then two voices sounded from the speakers and her mug froze halfway to her mouth.

  ‘I don’t want to do this any more, Paul. I want Caro to know the truth.’

  ‘We can’t! We promised her father!’

  CHAPTER TEN

  CARO PLANTED HERSELF in a chair and listened to the CD tw
ice more.

  ‘So...’ She drummed her fingers against the table. ‘The maid never put it in the sideboard after all...’ She pressed her fingers to her temples. Paul and Barbara had joined forces to take the snuffbox together. She stared up at the ceiling. ‘I didn’t even think they liked each other.’

  Actually, the recording didn’t change her mind in that regard. Obviously her father had compelled them to sabotage her career. No doubt in the hope that she’d take over that damn trust. What did he have on them? Why would they agree to do such a thing to her? She’d thought they cared about her!

  She shot to her feet to pace about the room. Why had Jack lied? Why hadn’t he told her the truth? For a moment she wanted to throw things at the walls and shout No one can be trusted. No one!

  She passed a hand across her eyes. Except that would be histrionic—not to mention an unwarrantable generalisation—and she didn’t do histrionics.

  With the most unladylike curse she knew, she spun away to storm into her bedroom. She’d just had over a week’s leave. The least she could do was get her butt over to Fredrick Soames’s house in Knightsbridge and sell him this rotten snuffbox.

  * * *

  Freddie set the snuffbox to his desk and pursed his lips. ‘It’s a pretty piece, I grant you.’

  ‘It is pretty.’ Caro crossed her legs. ‘But...?’

  ‘The price is rather steep.’

  ‘That’s nonsense, Freddie, and you know it.’ She’d known the Honourable Frederick Robert Arthur Soames for her entire life. Her father and his father had both been at Eton together.

  He pulled a notepad towards him. ‘I’d be prepared to pay...’ He jotted down an amount, turned the pad around and pushed it across towards her.

  The sum was significantly lower than the price she’d just quoted him.

  Freddie loved to play games. And he really loved a bargain.

  Caro crossed out the amount and jotted down a significantly higher figure. ‘In all conscience I cannot allow my client to accept an amount lower than that. If you choose to pass at that price then we’ll take our chances at auction.’

  His face dropped comically. ‘But...but that’s the original asking price.’

  She smiled. After all the trouble this snuffbox had caused, she had every intention of getting the best price possible for it.