by Anne Mather
Juliet sank down onto the nearest chair. She was feeling sick and shaky, and she stared at the letter blindly, hardly able to believe what she’d just read. Lady Elinor—that bright, indomitable old lady—was dead. Dear lord, how must Rafe be feeling? He’d loved his grandmother. That had been evident. And now Cary would inherit Tregellin and the old house would be sold.
Curiously, she didn’t feel much compassion for Cary. It had been obvious from the start where his sympathies lay. He wanted to sell Tregellin; to realise its potential for development. He’d probably already started planning what he was going to do once probate had been granted.
But Rafe was different. Although he’d never said as much, she’d sensed he loved Tregellin, too. Certainly he’d defended it when Cary had made his pitch for selling the land. But now that Lady Elinor was gone, there was nothing to stop Cary from doing as he liked.
Oh, Rafe…
Unable to sit still, Juliet got to her feet again and paced about the apartment. She’d tried so hard not to think about him since she’d got back to London, and she’d almost succeeded. Time was a great healer. She’d learned that both when her father died and when David had betrayed her. She’d hoped that in time she’d be able to think about Rafe without emotion, but she feared that situation was some way off yet.
Besides, it had probably been foolish to imagine she could dismiss what had happened without heartache, even if the memory of that whole weekend had assumed the aspect of a dream. It had been real enough, she acknowledged. It was she who’d made it illusory. Pretending to be Cary’s fiancée; deceiving all of them, but most particularly Rafe.
She shook her head. And now Lady Elinor had died, possibly still believing she and Cary were engaged to be married. Why else would she have been invited to the reading of her will? Juliet felt so ashamed; so deceitful. She had no right to be involved in Lady Elinor’s affairs.
She looked again at the letter. She should write back to this solicitor—Mr Peter Arnold—and explain that she and Cary were no longer seeing one another. No longer! Her lips twisted. They’d never been seeing one another. But that would take too much explanation, and she wasn’t actually sure if what they’d done was entirely legal.
She bit her lip and frowned down at the sheet of paper. Whatever Cary had or hadn’t said, this was a family occasion, and she had no part in it. She should simply write a polite little note to these solicitors, expressing her condolences to the family, and excuse herself on the grounds that she couldn’t get the time off from her job. It was probably true, anyway. She hadn’t been at the boutique long enough to qualify for special treatment.
Then, when the tears welled up in her eyes, she realised she didn’t want to refuse the invitation. She’d liked Lady Elinor. She’d liked her a lot. She’d been kind to Juliet, offering her the ring and all. She was really sorry the old lady had died. And she would like to pay her last respects in person.
The knowledge that, if she did go to the funeral, she’d see Rafe again wasn’t an issue, she told herself. Since she hadn’t heard from him since she got back, it was obvious that what had happened had not meant as much to him as it had to her. Besides, he’d know her now for the liar she was. Cary couldn’t have kept up his deception. Not without her participation.
She was still undecided what she was going to do when she went to bed that night. Whatever way she looked at it, her presence would be an intrusion into the family’s grief. Poor Josie must be distraught, she thought. She and Lady Elinor had been together for so long. And when Tregellin was sold, she’d lose her home as well. Juliet didn’t fool herself that Cary would give the old housekeeper’s needs a thought.
After a restless night, she decided to ring the solicitor in Bodmin. She wanted to explain to him that she and Cary were no longer ‘involved’ and that, although she’d like to come to the funeral, she’d prefer not to attend the reading of the will.
She had to wait until her morning coffee break to ring the solicitor’s office. And then she was put on hold for several minutes before a man came on the line. ‘Ms Lawrence?’ he asked, and she confirmed her identity. ‘Oh—well, what can I do for you? I’m afraid my father’s busy with another client, but I’m Stephen Arnold, his son.’
Juliet stifled a sigh and briefly explained why she was ringing. She didn’t go into details, but she let it be known that she had no connection to the Daniels family any more. ‘I’m hoping to attend the funeral,’ she went on, ‘but I’ll return to London as soon as it’s over. I’m afraid my being invited to attend the reading of the will was a mistake.’
‘Oh, no.’ Stephen Arnold was very definite about that. ‘You are one of the beneficiaries, Ms Lawrence. Your inclusion was quite deliberate, I can assure you.’
Juliet’s breath caught in her throat. ‘No—that’s not possible. I’m not a member of the family.’
‘My father knows that, Ms Lawrence. But Lady Elinor was a very determined lady. When she made this clause in your favour, she told him you were a young lady she’d come to like and admire.’
‘Admire!’
Juliet wanted to die of shame. If only she’d told the old lady the truth; if only she’d had the guts to refuse Cary’s money before it was too late. As it was, the fraud they’d established had been perpetuated. And now that Lady Elinor was gone, there was no way she could make amends.
‘So you will be present on Monday afternoon?’ Stephen Arnold prompted pleasantly. ‘I know my father is looking forward to meeting you.’
Really? Juliet didn’t say the word out loud, but she must have made a suitable response, because a few moments later the phone went dead and she was forced to return it to its cradle.
‘Problems?’
Juliet was still sitting staring at the phone when Sandra Sparks came into the office, where she’d been making the call. The young manageress regarded her newest employee sympathetically, and Juliet gave a weary shake of her head.
‘You could say that.’ She paused. ‘Is it all right if I take next Monday off? I’ve got to go to a funeral.’
Sandra frowned. ‘A family member, is it?’
Juliet suddenly realised the difficulty. ‘No.’
‘Oh, dear.’ Sandra sighed. ‘Staff are only supposed to take time off to attend family funerals. Compassionate leave, so to speak. I’m really sorry, Juliet, but I can’t allow you to go.’
Juliet stared at her. ‘But I have to go!’ she exclaimed. ‘I’ve—promised. It’s important to me, Sandra, or I wouldn’t ask.’
Sandra sighed again. ‘Where is this funeral? Perhaps I could allow you to slip out for a couple of hours. You’d have to keep it quiet, of course. If it gets around that I’m a soft touch, all the girls will use it as an excuse.’
Juliet bent her head. ‘A couple of hours wouldn’t do it, I’m afraid. The funeral’s in Cornwall. At a place called Tregellin. Lady—Lady Elinor Daniels is—was—someone I’ve known for a long time.’ Which was only a slight exaggeration of the truth.
‘Lady Elinor Daniels?’ Sandra was obviously impressed. ‘So how do you know her? Was she your godmother or something?’
‘It’s a long story. She knew my father,’ said Juliet flatly. ‘Just recently—just recently, I stayed with her. It would mean a lot to me to be able to say goodbye.’
Sandra was weakening. Juliet could see it. ‘And you would only need the one day?’
Juliet nodded. ‘I’d go down on Sunday and come back Monday evening,’ she said, hoping it would work out. ‘I’m sure there must be trains. It’s the holiday season, after all.’
* * *
So, they were still together.
Cary had said they were, but Rafe hadn’t wanted to believe him. Certainly the last time Cary had visited their grandmother, Juliet hadn’t been with him. He’d made some excuse about her having a cold and not wanting to infect Lady Elinor, but Rafe had been suspicious. Even if he hadn’t had enough conviction to check up on her himself.
Which was just as well,
in the circumstances, he thought grimly, his eyes flickering over the couple who stood at the opposite side of the grave. But that didn’t stop him from feeling angry. So angry that he felt as if he was choking on it. And he didn’t even want to explore why that should be so.
Perhaps he’d hoped that she wouldn’t come, that some small shred of decency would prevent her from appearing at his grandmother’s graveside as if she had a right to be there. Had she no shame? She’d been engaged to Cary when he’d made love to her, and, despite that air of assumed innocence, she still was. How could she stand there, beside Cary, looking as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, when he knew damn well how hot she was?
His teeth ground together and Josie, who was hanging on to his arm, gave him a curious look. Her eyes were still swollen from the tears she’d cried since Lady Elinor passed away, but they were as sharp as ever and far too shrewd.
‘What’s wrong?’
Rafe shook his head. ‘What could be wrong?’ he demanded bitterly. ‘The old lady’s dead and Cary can’t wait to get his hands on Tregellin. Everything’s peachy.’
Josie sighed and patted his arm. ‘You shouldn’t jump to conclusions, Rafe,’ she said softly. ‘Your grandmother might have been old, but she was nobody’s fool. Give her a little credit, won’t you? I’d have thought finding out about those paintings would have taught you that she had her secrets, too.’
‘Too?’ Rafe cast a wary glance in her direction. ‘I’ve got no secrets. My life’s an open book.’
‘Is it?’ Rafe wasn’t sure, but he thought Josie cast a thoughtful look in Juliet’s direction. ‘Ah, well, we’ll know soon enough. When Mr Arnold reads the will.’
Rafe scowled. He’d have just as soon not attended the reading of the old lady’s will. There was so much hypocrisy in standing around, waiting to see how much his grandmother had left. Cary would be there, and Juliet, apparently. Scavengers, both of them, he thought savagely. They deserved each other.
Even so, he couldn’t prevent images of the last time he’d seen Juliet from filling his mind. He might not want to remember how shamelessly beautiful she’d looked when she’d told him she had no intention of breaking her engagement, but he was powerless to stop it. And in the three months since she’d left Tregellin, he’d lived a celibate lifestyle. He’d never been precisely promiscuous, but he’d never felt such an aversion to having sex with another woman before.
Perhaps that was what was wrong with him, he reflected tensely. It wasn’t just seeing Juliet and Cary together. It was the fact that it had been several months since he’d got laid. As soon as this pitiful charade was over he was going to drive into Bodmin, get a skinful of beer and find himself a woman. Any woman would do, he told himself. Just as long as she could drive all thoughts of Juliet out of his head.
Juliet, meanwhile, was not unaware of Rafe glowering at her from across the gravesite. If she’d ever had any doubts about his feelings, she could see now how foolish she’d been. He resented her being there. That was blatantly obvious. Their sexual encounter was something he’d sooner forget.
OK, she was guilty of not telling him the truth about her and Cary when he’d asked her about her engagement. But she’d been in a cleft stick, aware that anything she said would reflect on Cary in the most unfavourable way. Surely the fact that she and Cary had—as he would see it—broken up as soon as they’d got back to London should have told him something. If he’d wanted to hear it, of course, she appended. Which, judging by his present attitude, he evidently hadn’t.
She sighed, and Cary glanced at her. ‘It’ll soon be over,’ he said. ‘Then we can get back to the house.’
For ‘get back to the house’ read ‘hear what Lady Elinor’s will has to say’, Juliet thought bitterly. She doubted anyone around the gravesite had any illusions as to why Cary was really here.
The last words of the interment were said and Rafe bent to drop a handful of soil onto the brass-bound casket. ‘Sleep well, old lady,’ he said in an undertone, before turning and striding back to where the cars were waiting.
Juliet saw him go, but when she would have hurried after him Cary caught her arm. ‘Where are you going?’
Juliet snatched her arm away. ‘Is it any of your business?’ Since she’d arrived at Tregellin that morning he’d adopted a very proprietary air towards her, almost as if he were responsible for her invitation. Which she knew, most definitely, was not the case. ‘I’ll see you back at the house.’
Cary scowled. ‘You’re hoping to talk to him, aren’t you?’ he demanded angrily. ‘Well, forget it, love. I’m the one you should be seen with, not him.’
‘Why?’
‘Because—because they still think we’re a couple,’ muttered Cary, obviously with some reluctance. And at her look of horror, ‘What was I supposed to say? Did you want the old girl to find out I’d been lying to her?’
Juliet couldn’t believe her ears. ‘So you think the only reason I’ve been invited here is because of you?’
‘Looks that way.’ Cary was smug now.
‘I don’t believe it. I don’t believe you.’ She gazed at him with contempt. ‘Well, you’d better tell everyone that our “engagement” is over. And don’t follow me, Cary. Not unless you want me to broadcast the fact that there never was an engagement in the first place.’
Rafe saw her coming. He was leaning against the bonnet of one of the funeral cars, waiting for Josie to pay her last respects and join him. He’d intended to drive his own car to the service, but Josie had begged him to accompany her in one of the limousines. ‘People will expect it,’ she said. And he knew by ‘people’, she meant Peter Arnold and his son.
He felt the muscles of his face tightening as Juliet stopped beside him. He wasn’t going to speak first, he thought childishly. As far as he was concerned, he wanted no empty sympathy from her. Despite the fact of what being this close to her again was doing to his equilibrium.
She looked so innocent, he acknowledged bitterly. Although Lady Elinor wouldn’t have wanted anyone to wear mourning, Juliet’s pale grey suit and salmon-pink top showed just the right amount of respect. High heels gave her the extra height so she only had to tilt her chin a little to look up at him, her silky hair a precarious knot on top of her head.
‘Hi,’ she said, when he didn’t speak, and Rafe unfolded his arms and inclined his head politely. ‘I just wanted to say how sorry I am that Lady Elinor has passed away. She—she seemed so strong, somehow. So vital. I was shocked when I got Mr Arnold’s letter.’
That got his attention. ‘Arnold wrote to you?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know why.’ Juliet felt the same sense of uncertainty she’d experienced when she’d first opened the letter. ‘I did phone him. I thought it must be a mistake.’ She moistened her lips. ‘He said—or rather his son said—it wasn’t.’
Rafe’s brows descended. ‘You’re telling me Cary didn’t mention his grandmother’s illness?’ His lips twisted. ‘Forgive me, but even for Cary that seems a little unlikely.’
‘How could he?’ Juliet twisted the strap of her handbag. This was harder than she’d thought. ‘How could Cary tell me? I haven’t seen him since we got back from Cornwall three months ago.’
Rafe couldn’t hide his anger. ‘Do you expect me to believe that?’ he snarled. ‘What kind of an engagement do you have? An open one, obviously. But pretending you haven’t seen him—’
‘I haven’t!’ Juliet looked up at him with frustrated eyes. ‘Oh, what’s the use? I knew you wouldn’t believe me. Cary’s filled your head with so many lies, anything I say is just so much hot air.’
‘Hot, certainly,’ said Rafe provokingly, and Juliet gave him an angry glare.
‘Oh, believe what you like,’ she said, turning away. ‘You will anyway. If you must know, there never was an engagement. Cary persuaded me to act as his girlfriend, just for that one weekend. It was never intended to be an engagement. That was
Cary’s doing. I agreed because I needed the money. And he promised he’d give me a reference so I could get a proper job—’
Rafe stared at her incredulously. ‘Cary paid you!’
‘He was supposed to, but—in the end I wouldn’t take his money.’ She shook her head. ‘After—after meeting Lady Elinor, I felt such a—such a—’
‘Bitch?’
‘—a fraud,’ she amended huskily, feeling the hot sting of tears behind her eyes, but Rafe wasn’t impressed.
‘My God,’ he said contemptuously, ‘no wonder you were so anxious when I asked you if you were going to break your engagement. The old lady would have kicked both of you out if she’d known what a pair of liars you were.’
Juliet sighed. ‘Do you think I don’t know that?’
‘So aren’t you ashamed?’
‘Oh, God, of course I’m ashamed!’ Juliet caught her breath. ‘But I couldn’t let Cary down, could I? Can’t you see that?’
‘All I can see is a greedy, grasping female, with an eye to the main chance,’ retorted Rafe coldly. ‘But hey, this isn’t the time to be breaking your engagement, lady. Not when Cary is just about to scoop the pool.’
Juliet felt chilled. ‘I’ve told you, there was no engagement!’
‘Then perhaps this is the time to start thinking about one,’ he taunted, and she wondered how she could have ever thought that they might have a future together.
‘Do you think I care about the money?’ she asked bitterly, and Rafe lifted his shoulders in a careless gesture.
‘You did.’
‘No!’ She was aware of the other mourners leaving the graveside now, but she had to try and make him understand. ‘I was practically destitute. I needed a few pounds, that’s all. Just a few pounds to tide me over until I could find employment. But I’ve got a job now, so I don’t need anybody’s charity. And whatever you think, nothing—nothing—would persuade me to marry Cary Daniels. I don’t even like him.’ She swayed a little, but when he tried to help her she flinched away. ‘As soon as this is over, I’m going home.’
