by Lucy Gordon
‘I’ll bet you’re no odder than me,’ she riposted.
‘I’ll take you up on that. Promise me a dance tonight.’
‘She declines,’ Darius said firmly.
‘Oh, do I?’
‘Definitely.’
Marcel chuckled and murmured in Harriet’s ear, ‘We’ll meet again later.’
‘Are any of the others here?’ Darius asked.
‘Jackson. Travis isn’t coming. He can’t leave America-some television series he’s working on. Leonid tried to get here but an urgent meeting came up at the last minute. And our honourable father arrived an hour ago, but I expect you already know that.’
‘No, he hasn’t been in touch. I’m in his black books at the moment. Anyone with him?’
‘Janine and Freya.’
Harriet’s teasing impulse got the better of her again and made her say, ‘Ah, yes, she’s the one you’re supposed to be marrying, isn’t she?’
‘You can stop that kind of talk,’ Darius said, while Marcel grinned.
‘A lady with a sense of humour,’ he said. ‘That’s what I like. Believe me, you’re going to need it. I said before that it was a circus, and Papa is the ringmaster. He cracks the whip and we jump through hoops-or at least we pretend to.’
‘Yes,’ Darius growled.
‘I gather you’re not playing his game,’ Marcel said, his eyes on Harriet again.
‘Right, and so I’ve told him. Let’s hope he believes me.’
‘You realise that means he’ll set his sights on Jackson or me next,’ Marcel complained. ‘Luckily, Freya finds me irritating.’
Darius grinned. ‘I can’t think why.’
‘Neither can I. Right, I’ll be off. I’ll see you at the reception.’
He blew Harriet a kiss and hurried away.
‘I like your brother,’ she said when the door had closed.
‘Most women do,’ Darius observed wryly.
‘No, I mean he looks fun.’
‘Most women say that too.’
‘Which is why you find him irritating?’
‘He’s a good fellow. We get on most of the time. It may have crossed my mind that he sometimes has it too easy in certain areas. Mary used to accuse me of being jealous of his charm, and perhaps she was right. Charm isn’t one of my virtues.’ He gave her a wry look. ‘As you’ve found out.’
As he spoke he reached for her hand, and some impulse made her enfold his in both of hers, squeezing comfortingly.
‘Charm isn’t always a virtue,’ she said. ‘A man can have too much of it.’
‘Well, nobody’s ever accused me of that.’
‘Good. Just honesty-’
‘I hope so.’
‘And upright virtue.’
‘Nobody’s ever accused me of that either,’ he said with an air of alarm that made her chuckle. ‘You teasing little shrew. What are you trying to do to me?’
‘Cheer you up,’ she said. ‘You really need it.’
‘Yes, I do. And I might have guessed you’d be the one to see it. Come on. Let’s face them together.’
On the way down in the elevator he said, ‘Mary’s here. I saw her this afternoon.’
‘And the children?’
‘Briefly. None of us knew what to say, but that was because he was there.’
‘He?’
‘Ken, the guy who thinks he’s going to replace me as their father. They’re all in the same suite, a “family”, Mary says.’
‘How do they get on with Ken?’
‘They seem to like him,’ Darius sighed. ‘Good.’
For a moment he scowled, but then sighed and said, ‘All right, say it.’
‘If they get on with their stepfather they’ll be happier. And I know you won’t spoil that because you love them too much.’
A faint ironic smile touched his lips. ‘All right, teacher. I’ve taken the lesson on board.’
‘Just make sure that you pay attention,’ she commanded him severely.
His eyes swept over her glamorous appearance. ‘I am paying attention,’ he assured her. ‘But that wasn’t what you meant, was it?’
‘No, it wasn’t. Bad boy. Go to the back of the class.’
‘Fine, I’ll get an even better view of you from there.’
‘Behave!’
‘Aren’t I allowed to say that you’re beautiful and gorgeous and-?’
‘No, you are not allowed to say it.’
‘All right. I’ll just think it.’
She’d done what she’d set out to do, put him in a cheerful mood for the evening. And nothing else mattered. She had to remember that!
As they emerged from the elevator downstairs they could see people already streaming towards the great room where the reception was to be held.
As soon as they entered Harriet saw their hosts on a slightly raised dais at the far end. There was Mary, smiling, greeting her guests. Beside her stood Ken, the man she was about to marry, and on the other side were the children, dressed up in formal clothes and looking uncomfortable.
Harriet was alive with curiosity to meet the woman Darius had loved and married, who had borne him two children, then preferred another man. An incredible decision, whispered the voice that she tried vainly to silence.
‘Ready?’ Darius murmured in her ear.
‘Ready for anything.’
‘Then forward into battle,’
She was aware of heads turned in curiosity as Mary’s ex-husband advanced with another woman on his arm, and now she was glad he’d arrayed her in fine clothes so that she could do him proud.
Mary was a tall, elegant woman, with a beauty Harriet could only envy. But she also had a down-to-earth manner and an air of kindness that Harriet hadn’t expected from the woman who’d spoken to her sharply on the phone.
‘Mary, this is Harriet,’ Darius said. ‘Harriet, this is Mary, who was my wife until she decided she couldn’t stand me any longer.’
There was real warmth in Mary’s embrace, and her declaration, ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you.’ But the way she then stood back and regarded Harriet was disconcerting. It was the look of someone who’d heard a lot and was intensely curious. It might have been Harriet’s imagination that Mary then gave a little nod.
Ken, her fiancé, was quiet, conventional, pleasant-looking but unremarkable. He greeted Harriet in friendly fashion, acknowledged Darius and escaped as soon as possible.
‘We’ve spoken on the telephone,’ Mary said to Harriet. ‘I recognise your voice.’
‘Yes, Harriet was part of the lifeboat crew that saved me,’ Darius said.
‘Then she’s my friend.’ Suddenly Mary’s eyes twinkled. ‘And I was right about something else, wasn’t I? You denied that you were his girlfriend but I knew.’
‘Have a heart, Mary,’ Darius growled.
‘All right, I’ll say no more. I don’t want to embarrass either of you.’
But Darius was already uncomfortable, Harriet could tell. At the sight of his children his face lit up with relief and he opened his arms so that they could hug him.
She knew that Frankie was ten years old and Mark nine. Both were lively, attractive children with nice manners.
‘Here she is, guys,’ Darius said. ‘This is the lifeboat lady that I told you about.’
Both of them stared.
‘You work on a lifeboat?’ Mark asked, awed.
‘Not work. I’m on call if they need me.’
‘But how often do you have to go out saving people?’
‘It varies. Sometimes once a month, sometimes twice a day.’
‘It must be ever so exciting,’ Frankie breathed.
‘Hey, she doesn’t do it for fun,’ Darius protested. ‘I didn’t find it exciting to be stuck in the water, wondering if I’d ever get out.’
‘But Dad, she saved you,’ Mark pointed out.
‘Yes,’ he agreed quietly. ‘She saved me.’
He might have said more, but something he saw over their sh
oulders made him straighten up, tense.
‘Hello, Father,’ he said.
So that was Amos Falcon, Harriet thought. Research had made her familiar with his face, but the reality was startling. This was a fierce, uncompromising man with dark eyes shadowed by heavy brows. His mouth might once have been merely firm, but now it looked as though a lifetime of setting it in resolute lines had left it incapable of anything gentler. This was a giant, to be feared. And she did fear him, instinctively.
More troubling still was the astonishing resemblance between him and Darius. They were the same height and with broad shoulders, features that were similar, even handsome. They were undoubtedly father and son.
In how many ways? she wondered. Was Darius doomed to grow into a replica of a man everyone called awesome? Or was there still time for him to seek another path?
Darius drew her forward for introductions, and she was surprised to see that Amos studied her intently. Of course, he was naturally concerned to know about his son’s companion. But she sensed there was more. His eyes, boring into her, seemed to combine knowledge, curiosity and harsh suspicion in equal measure. It was unnerving
He made a polite speech of gratitude for Darius’s life, then introduced his wife, Janine, who smiled and also spoke of gratitude. She struck Harriet as a modest, retiring woman, which probably suited Amos.
‘And this is my daughter, Freya,’ she said, indicating a tall young woman beside her.
This was the wife the powerful Amos had chosen for Darius. She didn’t look like the kind of female who would shrink back and let herself be a pawn. She was tall, fair, well, but not extravagantly dressed, with an air of self-possession. She shook Harriet’s hand vigorously and said all the polite things before hailing Darius with an unmistakable air of sisterly derision. Harriet discovered that she liked Freya a lot.
There were more arrivals, people approaching the dais to be greeted, and the crowd moved on and shifted her with it. When Darius began to lead her around the room, introducing her to people, she couldn’t resist looking back and found Amos staring after her.
Glancing about her, Harriet was more than ever glad that she was dressed in style. This was a gathering of the rich and mighty, and at least she looked as though she belonged amongst them, however fake it might be.
It was clear that Darius really did belong in this gathering. Many of them knew him and spoke respectfully. They knew he’d taken a hit, but so had they, and his fortunes could yet recover, so they addressed him as they had always done, crossing their fingers.
Harriet found herself remembering the day she’d overheard him on the phone vowing, ‘no mercy!’ How long ago that seemed now that she’d discovered his other side. But these people had never discovered it, and wouldn’t have believed it if she’d told them.
And nor, she realised, would Darius want them to believe it. Much of his power depended on a ruthless image.
‘What’s the matter?’ he asked suddenly.
‘Matter? Nothing?’
‘Why are you giving me that curious look?’
‘I didn’t know I was.’
‘What’s going on in that mind of yours?’
‘Nothing. My mind is a pure blank.’
He grinned. ‘You’re a very annoying woman, you know that?’
‘Have you only just found that out?’
‘I guess I’m still learning. Come on, let’s have a good time.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
S UDDENLY Darius’s face lit up at something he’d seen over Harriet’s shoulder. ‘Jackson, you young devil. Where have you been?’
The young man approaching them was sufficiently like Darius to be his brother, yet better looking. His features were more regular, less interesting, she thought. Most women would have called him handsome.
He greeted Darius with a friendly thump on the shoulder and stood back to survey him with pleasure.
‘I’ve been abroad,’ he said. ‘I just got back yesterday to find that nobody had seen hide nor hair of you for ages. Where did you vanish to?’
‘Herringdean. I’m the unexpected owner of an island off the south coast. This lady-’ he drew Harriet forward ‘-lives there and has been kind enough to be my guide and friend.’
Jackson beamed and engulfed her hand in his. ‘I don’t know how you put up with him,’ he said.
‘Neither do I,’ she said, liking him immensely.
‘Did I hear right? Herringdean? The Herringdean?’
‘I don’t know of any other,’ she said.
Delight broke over his face. ‘You’ve got fulmars there, haven’t you?’
‘Yes, plenty of them. They’re beautiful.’ Light dawned. ‘Hey, I’ve seen you before, haven’t I? On television?’
‘I’ve done a programme or two,’ he agreed. ‘But never one about fulmars. Could you and I have a talk some time soon?’
‘Of course we can.’
‘Then you can really have a deep discussion about fulmars,’ Darius observed. ‘I don’t know how you can bear the suspense.’
Laughing, the other two turned on him.
‘They’re birds,’ Harriet said. ‘Very big and lovely. They look like gulls but they’re really petrels.’
‘Fascinating!’ said Darius, who wouldn’t have known a gull from a petrel if they’d attacked him together.
‘They nest high up on cliffs,’ Harriet continued, ‘and they’re one of the beauties of Herringdean.’
Darius regarded her with comic irony. ‘And I’ve owned these fabulous creatures all this time and you didn’t tell me?’
‘Nobody owns fulmars,’ Harriet said. ‘It’s they who own the world, especially that bit of it called Herringdean.’
Jackson looked at her with appreciation. ‘I see you’re an expert,’ he said. ‘Don’t waste yourself on this fellow. Let’s go and have that talk now.’
‘Yes, be off while I make some duty calls,’ Darius said.
She was briefly afraid that the exchange might have offended him, but he kissed her cheek, saying, ‘Take care of her, Jackson.’
Now she remembered Darius saying that his brother was a naturalist. ‘Not an academic. He just works a lot with animals and charities. Does TV a bit, goes off on expeditions. You’d find him interesting.’
And she did. Jackson knew his stuff, and as she also knew hers they plunged into a knowledgeable discussion that pleased them both.
Darius did his duty, going from acquaintance to acquaintance, saying the right things, avoiding the wrong things, smiling mechanically, performing as expected. Nothing in his demeanour revealed that he was intensely conscious of Harriet and Jackson sitting at a side table, their heads close together, each so absorbed that they seemed to have forgotten the rest of the world.
Gradually, he managed to get near enough to eavesdrop but what he heard brought him no comfort. He couldn’t discern every word, but Jackson clearly said, ‘It depends whether you’re talking about northern fulmars or southern fulmars…’
His last words were drowned out, but then Harriet said, ‘It’s a pity that…any old rubbish…almost makes you want to…’
Jackson asked a question and she replied eagerly, ‘That’s always the way with Procellariidae, don’t you think?’
‘What?’
Jackson looked up and grinned. ‘Here’s my brother. Perhaps you’d better return to him before he goes out of his mind.’
He touched Darius on the shoulder and departed. Darius drew Harriet’s arm through his, saying, ‘I hardly dare ask what you were talking about. What the blue blazes are procellar-whatever?’
‘Procellariidae. It’s just the name of the family that fulmars belong to, just like crows and magpies are Corvids-’
‘Are they really? You’ll be telling me next that wrens are dinosaurs.’
‘Oh, no, wrens are Troglodytidae.’ Her lips twitched. ‘There, and you thought of me as a silly little creature who didn’t know any long words.’
‘Well, if I was foolish
enough to think that you’ve made me sorry. I feel as if I’ve been walked over by hobnailed boots.’
‘Good,’ she teased. ‘Serve you right.’
She was looking up at him with gleaming eyes, and he couldn’t have stopped himself responding, however much he wanted to. But he didn’t want to. He wanted to take her hand and follow her into the world where only she could take him-the world of laughter and good fellowship that had been closed to him before but now seemed to open invitingly whenever she was there.
A few yards away Jackson watched them, unnoticed, a curious expression on his face. After a while he smiled as though he’d seen something that satisfied him.
Harriet had tried to prepare herself to cope among Darius’s family. She told herself that she was ready for Mary, for Freya, even for Amos. But it was the children who surprised her. After doing their social duty, Frankie and Mark effectively took her prisoner, corralling her into a corner and sitting one each side, lest she have ideas of escape. Like all the best hostage-takers, they provided her with excellent food and drink, but there was no doubt they meant business.
First she had to tell the story of Darius’s rescue, suitably edited for their childish ears. Then they wanted to hear about other rescue trips, listening in awed silence, until Mark said breathlessly, ‘But aren’t you scared?’
She thought for a moment. ‘Not really.’
‘Not even when it’s terribly dangerous?’ Frankie persisted.
‘There isn’t time to be scared. There’s always so much to do.’
Frankie looked around before leaning forward and whispering, ‘It’s more fun when it’s dangerous, isn’t it?’
Harriet hesitated, aware of a yawning pit at her feet. She must be careful what she said to children. Especially these two. Frankie’s gleaming eyes showed that she already had her own opinion of the joys of danger.
‘No,’ Harriet said, trying to sound firm. ‘And that is a very irresponsible point of view. Danger has to be taken seriously.’
‘Yes, Mrs Connor,’ Frankie said, straight-faced.
‘Harry. My friends call me Harry, like yours call you Frankie.’
United by the bond, they shook hands.
She liked them both enormously, but with Frankie she also had the connection of like recognising like. As a child, she too had felt that danger could be fun. Truth to tell, she still often found it so, as long as it was only her own. Other people’s peril had to be taken seriously, but there was a ‘ping’ about fighting for one’s own survival that most people wouldn’t understand, and certainly not sympathise with.
