The Sister Secret

by Jessica Steele

  That chance, however, did not come. ‘Would you care for a drink?’ her escort enquired when the lights went up.

  She much preferred to sit where they were so that she could talk to him—tactfully. ‘No, thanks,’ she smiled, realising as she stared into his strong, good-looking face that she must have been mistaken about having amused him, because his expression was now as arrogant—not to mention hostile—as she remembered it.

  ‘You won’t mind if I do, I’m sure,’ he commented suavely, and so much for her decision to stay and talk because—and she was having a hard time taking it in—he did no more than get up and leave her!

  The pig, the utter pig! She hoped the bar was dry by the time he got there. She was still fuming many minutes later when, startling her out of her thoughts, a man somewhere around her own age came and sat down in the empty seat next to her.

  ‘Didn’t I see you with Latham Tavenner?’ he asked, turning sideways in the seat Latham had vacated.

  ‘Er—yes,’ she agreed.

  ‘Rodney Phillips,’ the man introduced himself. ‘At a rough guess I’d say I’ve not much time before he comes back—I don’t suppose you’d like to let me have your phone number, would you?’

  After so much tension, it was a great relief to find she felt like laughing. Rodney Phillips was transparent, and harmless. ‘Not a chance,’ she laughed.

  ‘Oh, you’re so beautiful!’ he exclaimed, and then, as if fearing he was being too familiar, ‘Can I get you an ice-cream or something?’ he asked earnestly.

  ‘What you can do, Phillips, is get out of my seat,’ Latham Tavenner addressed to his earnest back.

  Like someone shot, Rodney Phillips sprang to his feet. ‘Sorry, sir,’ he apologised, and as unexpectedly as he had arrived so he went.

  ‘Does he work for you?’ Belvia enquired.

  He nodded, and took his seat. ‘Was he annoying you?’ he enquired crisply.

  ‘I enjoyed talking to him,’ she replied—and take that whichever way you care to, she added inwardly.

  Aggravatingly, Latham Tavenner did not take it that she was hinting that it was nice to have somebody around to be able to talk to, but made it sound as though she liked to make a conquest of every male she came into contact with by commenting grimly, ‘He’s too young for you!’ Again Belvia wanted to thump him. Was he warning her to keep away from his staff?

  Belvia sat and fumed for the rest of the performance and, for herself, would have walked back to Surrey rather than spend another moment more in his company than she had to when the concert was over. But there was her father, who was relying on Latham Tavenner investing his money in his company, and, more importantly to her, there was Josy.

  ‘Thank you. It was very good, wasn’t it?’ She forced the words out between her teeth as they made their way out from the theatre.

  ‘I expect you’re hungry,’ he offered, which in her view was no sort of a reply, but it did hold a hint that he might feed her. Surely then she could get a word in to ask him to leave her sister alone, although, for her father’s sake, it would have to be done with the utmost tact.

  ‘Starving,’ she lied; she had been too stewed up to eat a crumb before she had left home, and felt pretty much the same now.

  As if by magic, the chaffeur-driven car she had arrived in pulled up alongside as they walked to the edge of the pavement. Latham said not a word to her as they drove, but she was unworried by that. She had better things to do—such as sorting her words into some kind of order.

  They arrived at an old, stately-looking building and, getting out, Belvia realised he had brought her to his club to eat. Good, she thought as they went in and she looked about. She would have a far better chance to talk to him in these discreet confines than in any nightclub.

  ‘I tried to phone you,’ she opened, with the latest of her rehearsed lines, ‘but—’

  ‘Why the hell would you want to do that?’ he demanded, and Belvia did not need any more than that to have it confirmed he did not like her and would take the gravest exception to her taking advantage of the fact that he had dined in her home last Friday.

  ‘Surprising as it may seem—I don’t fancy you!’ she hissed, and was saved from ruining everything and upending the water-jug over his head when the waiter arrived with their first course. It gave her the chance to get herself under control. So she bit down the words to tell Latham Tavenner to go and take a running jump, and dipped her spoon into her soup.

  ‘Mmm, this is good,’ she remarked civilly, much too preoccupied to have any idea what it tasted like. ‘Er—I’m sorry Josy couldn’t make it this—’

  ‘Your date for this evening obviously couldn’t make it either!’ he cut in sharply.

  ‘My d—?’ What was it about this man? ‘Men aren’t in the habit of breaking dates with me!’ she erupted, her chin tilting at a lofty angle. She did not like the hard glint that came to his eyes, and knew that she would have been better staying quiet.

  ‘My God, you need taking down a peg or two!’ he rapped.

  She hoped he did not think he was the man to do it! Not that she agreed with him, anyway. Though as it belatedly dawned on her that she was a mile away from being as tactful as she had decided she must be, she fought hard to hide the antagonism which this man aroused in her.

  ‘Look, I’m sorry if I’ve offended you,’ she began placatingly, and saw from his distrustful look that he was not placing any faith in her apology. ‘But the reason I tried to phone you was because Josy had a sudden tummy upset...’ She took a glance at him from beneath her lashes—and saw he was not believing that either. ‘And I thought—if I could get in touch with you—that I could explain about Josy not—um—being well.’

  ‘And when you couldn’t get in touch with me—you decided to come in her place?’

  The way he put it made it sound as if he thought she was some egotist to believe for a moment that he would consider herself a good substitute for Josy.

  Oh, to blazes with him, Belvia fumed as her anger against him once more spiralled. Suddenly she checked. Anger was just something she could not afford right now. She had to think only of her sister, and forget all about her own emotions.

  She looked across at him and knew that, even without his abrasive manner, her gentle, saintly sister would go under if she had to go out with him. He was so virile, so, so—absolutely everything. Poor, sad Josy just had to be protected.

  ‘Um—if—’

  ‘You seem to be struggling?’ he interrupted urbanely. ‘Surely not?’

  Viper! She smiled. ‘I’m searching for tact,’ she confessed.

  ‘Which means, no matter how you dress it up, that I’m not going to like it.’

  Shrewd was not in it. ‘Well, the thing is, Josy, my twin...’

  ‘I know who she is.’

  Somehow Belvia managed to keep the smile on her face, even while endearing thoughts of burying an axe in his head intruded. ‘The thing is,’ she forced herself to go on, ‘Josy is very shy. Extremely shy,’ she added for good measure.

  ‘She sounded all right on the phone this morning.’

  ‘She’s also extremely well-mannered,’ Belvia stated crisply, and had to weather his look that asked if they had both been brought up by the same parents.

  ‘You’re trying to tell me something?’ he enquired mockingly.

  Her temper flared; she forced it down, though her tone was sharper than she had meant when she told him, ‘My sister is not used to men!’

  ‘But you undoubtedly are!’ he rapped.

  Damn him, one of these days...

  Her temper cooled. She doubted that she would ever get the chance to land him one—as he so richly deserved.

  ‘Actually, I’m not,’ she replied, and felt her palms itch to come into sharp contact with his face at the look of total derision which he did nothing to hide. ‘But...’ She dug her heels in—she’d finish this if it killed her. ‘This isn’t about me, it’s about Josy and the fact that... Well, just this e
vening for a start—all those people, the cameras, the TV people—she’s not used to that sort of thing, she’d...’

  ‘She’d never cope?’ he suggested.

  ‘She wouldn’t.’

  ‘But you’re not used to it either—and you coped.’ Her beautiful brown eyes shot wide—she had not thought he had noticed. Not that he was offering a compliment of any kind.

  ‘I’m not Josy,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m different.’

  ‘I’ll agree there—I’ve never seen such a pair of mismatched twins.’

  ‘Don’t dress it up—insult me!’ she snapped—and actually saw his mouth twitch. A moment later and she knew from his stern expression that he was not in the slightest amused by her sharp tongue. And, oh, Lord, she realised, she was going to have to stop firing up like this! But his intimation that Josy was so likeable while she was quite the opposite had been hurtful—though why it should be hurtful when she couldn’t stand him either was a mystery. She took a deep and steadying breath. Tact, she realised, was wasted here, so as calmly as she could, her voice taut from the control she was exercising, she stated distinctly, ‘What I’m asking, Mr Tavenner, is that, if you feel you have to get in touch with my sister again, you bear in mind her painful shyness, and treat her with every kindness.’

  Latham Tavenner surveyed her coolly, his grey eyes unhurriedly taking in her clear, creamy skin, her delicate features. His glance strayed to her mouth and lingered there, before going up to her eyes again. He drawled, insolently almost, ‘I treat all women as they deserve.’

  Belvia could hardly believe her ears. In the next split second, however, as what he was really saying hit home—that she deserved to be treated no better than he was treating her—she was instantly outraged! In that moment she knew that she hated him more than she had hated anybody in the whole of her life!

  ‘Thanks!’ she spat—and stood up. He was on his feet too. She ignored him—and other interested diners—and, with her head in the air, she sailed furiously out of the dining-room.

  CHAPTER THREE

  BELVIA awoke on Tuesday morning, opened her eyes, and groaned. Oh, grief—too late now to regret her hasty temper. It was done.

  She was in the middle of contemplating how, so far as she could remember, she had never had much of a temper, still less such a hasty one—so it had to be all his fault that he could provoke her to such anger—when her bedroom door opened and Josy came in with a cup of tea for her.

  ‘It’s late?’ Belvia guessed.

  ‘You were late in. Father’s just gone to his office, but I couldn’t wait any longer to hear if everything was all right last night. Did...?’

  ‘You told Father I’d gone to keep the appointment?’ Belvia asked, sitting up and playing for time as she tried to sort out in her head just how much she should tell her twin.

  ‘I told him,’ Josy confirmed. ‘And save for grunting something cutting to the effect that at least one of his daughters was blessed with a sense of duty, he just had his dinner and went out.’

  ‘Not to worry,’ Belvia smiled. ‘I don’t think Latham Tavenner was too delighted that it was me in place of you last night, but his manners, in front of other people, were impeccable,’ she stated honestly, deciding at that moment to keep quiet about her own abominable manners in walking out on Latham mid-way through their soup course—she was feeling a tiny bit guilty that morning.

  ‘He—didn’t cut up too rough?’

  ‘I explained you had a tummy upset, and he must have swallowed it,’ she went on, wondering when she had become such an accomplished liar, ‘because after the show he took me to his club for dinner.’

  ‘Oh!’ Josy exclaimed, and her feeling of relief was obvious in her face. ‘Do you think he might transfer his attention on to you now?’ she asked hopefully.

  Belvia knew full well that there was not the smallest chance of that. ‘You never know,’ she smiled and, hoping to avoid further questioning, added, ‘Thanks for the tea—I’d better get up.’

  Belvia was barely out of bed when thoughts of Latham Tavenner pushed through her firm efforts to keep him out of her head. She had only been in his company twice but she found his good looks, his manliness unforgettable. She had been ill-mannered to get up and leave him the way she had—she could admit that this morning. But he had been very much out of order in her opinion, not even to pretend to believe her lies about Josy being ill, to tell her to shut up the way he had, to leave her sitting there in the theatre while he went and had a drink, and then insolently to tell her that he was treating her as he believed she deserved—and then expect her to sit there and eat with him!

  She had a quick shower, realising she was angry again, and got dressed not caring a damn that she had walked out on him—she would do it again any time. She doubted, though, that she’d be so lucky a second time as to espy the chauffeur of the limousine in conversation with one of the club staff.

  ‘You’re ready to go home, Miss Fereday?’ he had enquired courteously on seeing her alone and heading for the outside doors—by the sound of it he had been instructed to wait around to deliver her back to Surrey.

  ‘Mr Tavenner will not need you again this evening,’ she had been still angry enough to tell him, albeit with a smile. ‘Shall we go?’

  She was still not regretting any of her actions when she went down the stairs to join her sister. But as the day wore on she began to be visited, with a growing frequency, by thoughts about what her actions might have done to her father’s chances of doing business with Latham Tavenner’s company.

  She took herself off to exercise Hetty and returned to her home just after three, to be passing the phone in the hall when it rang. She picked it up, and heard the cool, detached tones of the man who had been in her head for most of that day.

  ‘You made it back to darkest Surrey, then?’ he enquired arrogantly.

  Since it had taken until now for him to pick up a phone to enquire, she doubted that her safe arrival home was on his list of priorities. But she swallowed the ire which just hearing him, arrogant and cool, produced.

  He had not said who he was, and neither had he asked which twin she was. ‘Thank you, yes.’ She hauled her manners back into shape. ‘How are things in darkest London?’ she returned, well aware that he had not dialled her number merely to dally with her over the phone but realising that, for her father’s sake, she had better make some effort.

  Latham Tavenner, she was swiftly to realise, had no thought of doing the same, for, ignoring her question, he asked, ‘Is Josy there?’

  ‘What do you want her for?’ she asked snappily, her protective claws unsheathed on the instant.

  The taut silence at the other end spoke volumes, and that was before, his tone stiff with annoyance at her impudence, he spelt it out. ‘I don’t think that has anything to do with you.’

  ‘It has everything to do with me!’ Belvia countered. ‘I told you last night how very shy she is!’

  ‘Do you vet all her personal phone calls like this?’ he barked.

  ‘Why wouldn’t I?’ she erupted, that word ‘personal’ somehow catching her on the raw. Crazily, she did not like the thought of him getting ‘personal’ with her sister—and for one horrifying moment had the oddest sensation that that did not stem from any sense of protectiveness over Josy. Abruptly Belvia sent that peculiar notion on its way but, because of it, felt sufficiently weakened to be placatory once more as she lied, ‘Josy’s—er—still not well.’

  ‘Oh, what a pity. She’s so sweet and charming.’ Belvia could almost hear him thinking ‘unlike you’. ‘I was hoping she might be up to coming out somewhere with me this evening.’

  At that very moment Josy came quietly down the stairs and into the hall. ‘I don’t think she is but, if you’ll hold on, I’ll go and ask her.’ With that she put her hand over the mouthpiece. ‘Latham Tavenner,’ she said in an undertone to her twin. ‘He wants to know how you are today and if you’d like to go out somewhere.’

  Josy w
as starting to look alarmed before she had half finished. ‘No!’ she exclaimed, vigorously shaking her head, distinctly starting to panic that he had not, as she had hoped, transferred his attentions to her sister.

  ‘It’s all right, don’t worry,’ Belvia assured her quickly, and, taking her hand from the mouthpiece, ‘I’m sorry, Latham,’ she told him, ploughing on even while she felt aghast at the natural way his name had just seemed to fall from her lips, ‘but Josy feels she wouldn’t be very good company just now.’

  ‘Another time perhaps. I’ll phone again,’ he threatened as he ended his call.

  Belvia put the phone down, knowing that she just could not tell Josy that last bit—she would be on thorns waiting for the phone to ring.

  ‘What did he say?’ she asked agitatedly.

  Belvia smiled reassuringly. ‘That he hopes you’ll soon be better.’

  Some lies, Belvia mused, as later that day she helped Josy with the evening meal, are essential. Already her sister seemed to have put the memory of that phone call behind her, and was even starting to look a shade less hunted. Was this the beginning of Josy starting to come to terms with Marc’s death? She did hope so—the poor love had suffered enough.

  Josy’s sufferings were far from over, Belvia discovered when, with their father home early, the three of them sat down to dinner. For he was at pains to tell them how desperate matters were at Fereday Products and how, with his renewed entreaty to the banks for more capital falling on stony ground, it was now more essential than ever that Latham Tavenner looked on him favourably.

  A squeak of an ‘Oh!’ escaped Josy’s lips, and drew Edwin Fereday’s attention.

  ‘What was that “Oh” about?’ he wanted to know.

  ‘He—Latham Tavenner—he rang today,’ Josy revealed shakily.

  ‘Mmm—interesting,’ her father replied, a speculative light appearing in his eyes which Belvia did not miss. ‘What did he ring about?’

  ‘I didn’t speak...’

  ‘I took the call,’ Belvia took over.