by Anne Mather
‘No. Just an interest.’ His eyes challenged hers. ‘Did he speak about me?’
‘Olivia hesitated. ‘He—he told me how your mother died, actually. I never knew.’
‘I see.’ Alex considered her reply. ‘And what was your reaction?’
‘I was shocked, naturally.’ Olivia moved her shoulders. ‘I can understand why you’re so bitter.’
‘Can you?’ Alex made a derisive sound. ‘It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?’
Olivia held up her head. ‘Not necessarily.’
‘You mean you’re going to hand the estate back to me, on a plate!’
‘I can’t do that.’
‘No, I don’t suppose you can,’ he remarked caustically.
Olivia was stung by his tone. ‘That’s not to say I wouldn’t want to,’ she declared recklessly, ignoring Adam’s advice. ‘I don’t want Henry’s money. I never did.’
‘So why did you marry him?’ Alex was contemptuous.
Olivia opened her mouth to tell him, then closed it again. How could she? she realised with horror. How could she explain her reasons for marrying Henry to his son? Particularly when her mother’s affair with his father was the sole reason she and not Alex had control of the estate!
‘Well?’ Alex taunted. ‘It isn’t the first time I’ve asked you. You’ve had plenty of time to think of an answer. You don’t marry someone without a reason, and somehow I find your protestations of hatred a little hard to swallow.’
‘I don’t have to answer you,’ exclaimed Olivia hotly. ‘You father asked me to marry him and I accepted. You can make what you like of it.’
Alex propped his chin on one hand. ‘But if you didn’t want his money and you hated him—’ He shook his head. ‘You must have wanted something from him. What was it—revenge?’
Olivia forced herself to meet his dark gaze with grim determination. If she showed any dismay, he would know he was on the right track, and he was the kind of man who would pursue it to the bitter end.
‘I think you’re allowing your imagination to run away with you,’ she said tautly. ‘Eat your lunch. You don’t want to keep Miss Eve waiting.’
‘No, we don’t, do we?’ he retorted, and Olivia decided it was easier not to argue.
After Julie had served the coffee to finish the meal, Alex rose to his feet. ‘Are you ready?’ he asked, thrusting his hands into his jacket pockets, and Olivia had, perforce, to look up at him.
‘Am I ready?’
Alex sighed. ‘Would you prefer it if we spent the afternoon pursuing your reasons for marrying my father?’
Olivia’s nails curled into her palms. ‘Is that a threat?’
‘Just a promise,’ he replied evenly. ‘Relax, Liv. I won’t expose your petty reasons. If they justify what you did to you, why should I destroy them? Besides,’ his gaze moved insolently over her breasts, ‘I’ve no doubt you consider you paid for the privilege of calling yourself Mrs Henry Gantry!’
Olivia rose to her feet. ‘You are—’
‘—despicable?’ He shrugged. ‘I know. You’ve told me. Now, get your coat, like a good girl, and meet me in the hall.’
Olivia walked out of the room, determined not to obey him. But something, some quirk of fate, made her glance back. Alex was standing where she had left him, staring broodingly out of the window now, and as she watched, he ran both hands over his scalp to grip the hair at the back of his neck. It was a curiously defeated gesture, and for a moment she knew a quite ridiculous desire to comfort him. But Alex Gantry did not need her sympathy, she thought, climbing the shallow steps to the entrance hall, and after Mary had collected her fur jacket from her room and slipped it about her shoulders, she despised the sudden weakening that had made her give in to his demands.
The Maserati was waiting at the door by the time Alex joined her. He had not troubled to put on a coat and Olivia, aware of the chilly air outside, was obliged to suggest that he might find an open-necked shirt and jacket rather inadequate.
‘The car’s warm,’ he remarked, putting a hand beneath her elbow to guide her outside, and her skin prickled even through the thickness of her sleeve. ‘But I’m touched that you care.’
‘I don’t want another cold,’ Olivia retorted shortly, but his complacent smile revealed his disbelief in this statement.
All the same he was right. The Maserati’s heater soon dealt with the cool air and Olivia relaxed in her seat as the security guard closed the gates behind them.
‘Some castle,’ observed Alex, glancing back over his shoulder. ‘The Bank of England can’t be better protected!’
‘You didn’t seem to find the walls too difficult to scale,’ she responded, and he smiled.
‘I guess I knew all the right passwords, hmm?’ he suggested, and Olivia glanced quickly at him.
‘You used to live here, didn’t you?’
Alex’s eyes narrowed. ‘Is that a serious question?’
‘No.’ Olivia shook her head. ‘No.’ She looked out of the window. ‘Where are we going?’
‘Chalcott.’
‘Chalcott?’ She stared at him. ‘You mean—this girl has been staying in Chalcott since you came here?’
‘No.’ Alex shook his head now. ‘As a matter of fact, since she arrived in England two weeks ago she’s been staying with some friends in London.’
‘And the boy?’
‘What boy?’
‘Her son!’
‘Oh—yes.’ Alex hunched his shoulders. ‘Him, too.’
Olivia frowned. ‘Did—did she come back from Africa with you?’
Alex sighed. ‘Not with me. But she has been living in Africa, yes.’
‘In Tsaba?’
‘Yes.’
‘In that place you mentioned—what was it? Gstango?’
Alex nodded. ‘She’s a nurse. She worked at the hospital there.’
‘Is she English?’
‘South African, actually,’ replied Alex shortly. ‘This is some inquisition! I thought you weren’t interested.’
‘If she’s going to be staying at the house, I should know something about her,’ exclaimed Olivia defensively.
‘You will.’ Alex spoke flatly. ‘Here’s the hotel. Do you want to come in with me or wait here?’
‘I—I’ll wait.’
‘Okay.’
Alex vaulted out of the car, and she watched him walk into the hotel. He moved with a lithe easy stride, indicative of the energetic life he had led. She thought of Henry, prematurely aged by the constant struggle to increase his fortune, a fortune he could neither spend nor dispose of in his lifetime, and knew a fleeting sympathy for the waste of human relationships. If Alex had been more understanding; if Henry had been more forgiving; but how could she condemn either one when she had so much to reproach herself with?
A movement near the entrance of the hotel attracted her attention and glancing round she saw the toddler and his mother she had seen in the park the previous afternoon. She recognised the child’s fleecy jump-suit and the young woman’s distinctive auburn hair, and she was about to smile a greeting when a man came out of the hotel behind them, carrying two suitcases.
It was Alex, and even as she watched he spoke to the young woman with the easy familiarity of long association. Oh God! Olivia thought, swinging round in her seat with a distinctly sick feeling. No wonder she had thought the child looked like Alex! It was his! It was his son. And the young woman, this Lilian Eve, was not his girl-friend or his mistress; she was his wife!
But no! That couldn’t be so, unless Alex was lying. He had insisted she wasn’t married. So what was she? His common-law wife? Did they have such things in South Africa? Or were they simply living together?
Olivia was in a state of some agitation by the time Alex swung open his door and lifted the small boy into the back of the car. ‘Here we are,’ he remarked unnecessarily, drawing the young woman forward. ‘Allow me to introduce you. Liv, this is Lilian; Lilian, meet Mrs Gantry. Mrs Henry Gantr
y!’ He made a careless gesture. ‘Sorry if we’ve kept you waiting.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
OLIVIA could only move her head in a negative gesture, but Lilian Eve had no such misgivings. ‘I’m so pleased to meet you, Mrs Gantry,’ she exclaimed, taking the rather limp hand Olivia offered her as she climbed into the back beside her son. ‘And this is Sacha. Sacha, say hello to the lady. He’s a bit of a handful,’ she added apologetically, ‘but I’ll try and keep him out of your way.’
‘Oh, I—there’s no need.’ Olivia made a determined effort to be civil. She could not take her resentment out on the child. ‘Hello, Sacha. How old are you?’
‘He’s nearly two,’ replied Alex, having disposed of the cases and a folding pushchair into the boot, and levering himself behind the wheel beside her. His eyes held hers with careless arrogance. ‘He’s a handsome little fellow, isn’t he? And quite a handful, as Lilian says.’
‘You would know,’ said Olivia, between tight lips, and Alex’s mouth twisted.
‘Would I?’
‘He looks like you,’ retorted Olivia almost inaudibly, under cover of his starting the car.
‘Does he?’ Alex glanced behind him before pulling out into the stream of traffic. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment, however it was meant.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she demanded impassionedly, as Lilian pointed out some horses and their riders to the small boy, and Alex gave her an aggravating look.
‘Tell you? Tell you what?’ he responded. ‘I didn’t think it would matter to you what the boy looked like.’
Olivia’s jaw ached with the pressure she was putting upon it. ‘You’re deliberately misunderstanding me,’ she hissed. ‘What I can’t understand is why you have to lie about it!’
‘I’ve told you no lies about Sacha,’ he retorted flatly. Then, casting a look over his shoulder, he said: ‘You’re going to like staying with Mrs Gantry, Sacha. She has plenty of room for you to play.’
Mrs Winters was waiting when they arrived back at the house, and her eyes widened with delight when she saw the little boy.
‘Well, and isn’t he just the image of what Master Alex was when he was little more than a baby!’ she announced, seemingly unconcerned at the ambiguity of her remark. ‘Come along with me, Master Sacha, and we’ll find some milk and biscuits, hmm?’
Lilian glanced at Alex, and he nodded. ‘Let him go with Mrs Winters,’ he said easily. ‘She’ll look after him while we have tea with Mrs Gantry.’
Olivia could hardly evade that pointed reminder of her hostess duties, and after giving the housekeeper her instructions, she led the way into the small drawing room.
‘Won’t you sit down, Mrs—Miss Eve?’ she suggested, indicating one of the soft velvet sofas that faced one another across a wide hearth. Although the room was small compared to others in the house, if was still of generous proportions, and with Alex and Miss Eve on one side of the hearth and herself on the other, she felt she would be more able to cope with the situation.
But although Lilian seated herself on the sofa she had indicated, Alex chose to join Olivia, stretching his length on the cushioned seat beside her, deliberately, she was sure, leaving only an inch of space between them. It was disturbing and embarrassing, particularly with Lilian watching their every move, and she wondered if it was a deliberate attempt to show the other girl he still had no intention of marrying her.
‘You have a lovely home, Mrs Gantry,’ Lilian exclaimed, while Olivia was endeavouring to come to terms with this latest development. ‘This is a beautiful room. And what a wonderful view!’
‘Yes.’ Olivia’s tongue circled her upper lip. ‘We—we are very fortunate.’ She paused. ‘I understand you’re a South African.’
‘I was born there,’ Lilian nodded. ‘In Cape Town. I did my nursing training there, but after I’d qualified, I moved away. First to Zambia, and then later to Tsaba.’
‘Where—er—’ Olivia glanced at Alex, ‘where you met my—stepson.’
‘Yes.’
Lilian agreed, but she seemed a little uneasy now, and while her eyes darted nervously about the room, Olivia exchanged a look with the man beside her. Alex did not seem at all perturbed, however, and his arm along the cushion behind her was much too close for comfort.
‘Have you been to England before, Miss Eve?’ she ventured, wanting to ask about Sacha, but incapable of doing so, and the other girl returned her gaze with evident relief, obviously glad not to be asked any more pointed question.
‘No,’ she said now. ‘This is my first visit. But I like it. It—it’s civilised.’
‘Isn’t it, though,’ remarked Alex, half under his breath, and Olivia knew the strongest impulse to call his bluff there and then. But to do so would be to expose Lilian, as well as himself, and Olivia found she was developing a liking for the girl.
Mrs Winters brought the tea trolley herself, chuckling when Alex asked what Sacha was doing. ‘He’s got Mr Murdoch playing pick-a-back round the kitchen,’ she declared, smiling at Olivia’s surprise. ‘Yes, I was as astounded as you were, Mrs Gantry. I never thought to see that man lose his dignity.’
‘I hope he’s not being a nuisance,’ Lilian murmured doubtfully, as Mrs Winters quickly shook her head.
‘Bless you, no. We’re all delighted to have a baby in the house again. When—well, when your father married Miss Olivia, Master Alex, we thought—I hope I’m not speaking out of place, but—well, we thought there might be another baby before too long. Of course, it was not to be, and in the circumstances, perhaps it was just as well, but now—’ She gave Olivia an apologetic look. ‘Young Sacha makes us feel young again. Like when Master Alex was a baby.’
Lilian turned anxious eyes in Olivia’s direction, and Olivia guessed she was apprehensive of her reaction. For her own part, she didn’t know which was the stronger emotion—embarrassment or compassion. She had never imagined Mrs Winters and the other members of the staff might expect her and Henry to start a family of their own. Their relationship had been so different from what anyone imagined, and there had never been any question of children. As for Lilian, she must be living in constant fear of her association with Alex being discovered, for how could she sustain any credibility here if their real relationship was revealed? But why hadn’t he married her? He obviously cared for the boy, or he would never have suggested bringing him to England. What was he trying to do, get the child away from its mother? Or did he intend to use Sacha to further his own claims to the Gantry estate?
‘After you’ve had tea, shall I show Miss Eve where she and the little one are going to sleep, Mrs Gantry?’ Mrs Winters added, when Olivia made no immediate response, but before she could respond, Alex forestalled her.
‘No, I’ll do that, Mrs Winters,’ he averred easily. ‘The suite overlooking the swimming pool, didn’t you say?’
‘That’s right.’ Mrs Winters seemed relieved that at least he had not taken offence at her familiarity. ‘Is that all right, Mrs Gantry? You’ve got everything you need?’
‘Thank you, Mrs Winters.’ Olivia forced a smile to show she was not displeased. ‘I’m sure we’re all going to benefit from Sacha’s arrival.’
‘Yes, Mrs Gantry.’ Mrs Winters was definitely easier now, and with a final twitch of the traycloth, she made a thankful departure.
Olivia was obliged to serve tea, which wasn’t made easier when Alex moved forward on the couch, too, his thigh brushing familiarly against her leg. ‘Cream—cream and sugar, Miss Eve?’ she asked, as Alex’s breath fanned her cheek, and Lilian leant to take her cup with endearing eagerness.
‘Thank you,’ she said, accepting a smoked salmon sandwich as well. ‘Hmm, these are gorgeous! I think smoked salmon is my most favourite food!’
Olivia’s smile was strained, particularly when she gave Alex his cup and his lean fingers touched hers with deliberate intimacy. God, what was he trying to do? she thought, staring at him in helpless indignation, but Alex’s expression never wavere
d, his careless mockery only evident in his eyes.
‘You’ve got a loose hair—just there,’ he said, his fingers lingering against her neck longer than was necessary to remove the errant strand. ‘You smell delicious,’ he added, for her ears only, and the wave of warm colour that swept up her face was totally uncontrollable.
Lilian seemed undisturbed by this exchange, however, and Olivia felt a hopeless sense of bewilderment. The boy was Henry’s grandson, he had to be! And yet Lilian was acting as if she was completely indifferent to Alex’s behaviour. Didn’t she care? Was that why they had never got married, because she didn’t care about him? And was Alex using her to make Lilian jealous, instead of the other way about?
She was utterly relieved when tea was over and Alex rose lithely to his feet. ‘Come along, Lilian,’ he said, holding out his hand to help her up. ‘It’s time for Cinderella to see the rest of the palace!’
‘Oh, Leon!’
Lilian spoke carelessly, releasing herself from his grasp as soon as she was on her feet and punching him lightly on the arm. But then she seemed to realise exactly what she had said, and with hot colour darkening her cheeks now, she cast an anxious look in Olivia’s direction.
‘I—er—I always call—Alex—Leon,’ she offered feebly. ‘It—er—it’s my name for him.’
Olivia gave a tight smile. ‘Don’t mind me. I have private names for him myself.’
‘And I you,’ Alex countered lazily. ‘Come on, Lilian, let me show you how the other half lives.’
Olivia did not see either of them again before dinner. After Julie had cleared the trolley away, she decided it was too late to take the walk she would have liked, to clear her head, and instead she made her way to Henry’s study, and attended to some of the correspondence which had piled up while she was unwell. As Henry Gantry’s wife, she was expected to contribute to various charities, and there were matters concerning the estate to be dealt with, which she would have to discuss with Francis next time she saw him.
Thinking of Francis, she wondered how he would view her latest action. She could not believe he would approve of her allowing Alex to bring another woman into the house, and when he saw Sacha he could not fail to see the resemblance, as she had done.
