by Margaret Way
Leila gave the queerest laugh. “Suppose I have you killed? It could be arranged. An accident crossing the road…”
“Wouldn’t do you a bit of good.” Miranda’s glance slid over this beautiful woman with sick resignation. “It’s all on the record,” she improvised. “Anything untoward happens to me, the finger points right at you. So don’t talk foolishly. And, incidentally, criminally.”
Leila’s tight smile was more a sneer. “You think I’m fool enough to trust you? You could change your mind at any time. So could that stepdaughter of mine. So let’s come up with a solution. How much?”
A wave of anger swept Miranda, but she didn’t allow it to show. “How does ten million sound?”
“Ten million?” Leila sat back grimly, as if she was already deciding on the right hit man.
“That’s sterling, of course,” Miranda said. “Roughly double in the Aussie dollar. I’d be set up for life. You understand that, don’t you, Leila? That would have been your very thought the moment Dalton Rylance’s roving eye fell on you. I can get this man. Be rich!”
Leila stared back in genuine disbelief. “How could I get hold of that kind of money?”
“Sell a few jewels?” Miranda suggested. “You can’t ask your husband. I understand that. We could do it in stages, if you like. The odd million here, a couple of million there…”
“You’re unbelievable!” Leila spat.
“You astonish me, Mother,” Miranda said. “Look at yourself. What you’ve become. My role model. Your husband isn’t looking beyond the beautiful face and body. The acquired polish. What happens if and when he does? The most beautiful, seductive women have to age. None of us can escape the process. Once past their use-by date, they’re not wanted any more. Some men only want trophy figures, after all.”
Leila jerked up in volcanic anger. Outraged. And outflanked. “Cross me and you put your life on the line. You’d better know that.”
“At long last I’ve met my mother,” Miranda breathed. “A woman who considers she has never done anything that requires explanation. You broke your loving parents’ hearts. You’ve haunted me, but I’ve managed to keep my heart intact. No, Mother dear. No need to go back to the hotel and rifle through your little black book for a hit man. I want to make it perfectly clear to you I don’t want anything from you. So you can sit down again and relax. You have your life. I have mine. I’m not going to simply vanish, like you. I might pop up from time to time. But your former life—the life you’ve secreted away—is safe with me. Gran saw nothing of you in me. Thank God for that. Most women would find their only child the crowning glory of their life. Not you. It might strike me as shocking, but I accept it. Gran loved you to the end, you know? But she knew in her heart you weren’t worth a bumper.”
Leila stood for a moment, apparently numb. “I can trust you?”
“Would that be your first experience of trusting? Maybe your husband doesn’t trust you? That’s why he takes you with him wherever he goes. You can trust me. The mother-daughter relationship is a powerful and unbreakable bond. I don’t want to see you come a cropper. I’m really not a vengeful person.”
Leila stared into her daughter’s crystal-clear turquoise eyes. “Don’t feel sorry for me, Miranda,” she said bitterly. “I have everything I want.”
Everything? I don’t think so. She wants the man you love.
Point taken, Gran.
Leila appeared to brighten. “Well, that’s it, then!” She gathered up her expensive designer bag. No doubt worth thousands of dollars. “I’m taking it Corin knows none of this?”
“Zara is my friend,” Miranda offered by way of an answer.
“Keep it that way,” Leila said. “You’re smart enough to realise it would do you no good at all to expose me. Corin and I are close. I would strike back. There are always ways.”
Miranda stood up. “You have my word, Leila. On your mother’s grave. She wouldn’t want me to destroy you. Your life is your own. By and large it always has been. It’s never been mine.”
Leila started to head towards the door. “Dalton was rather taken with you, in an avuncular sort of way. You’re extremely attractive, but you really ought to let your hair grow. He wants to take us all out to dinner before we leave, which is at the end of the week. Both Dalton and Corin have to be in Beijing for a round of business meetings. What say tomorrow evening? You can’t refuse.”
“Like I don’t know that!” Miranda said very dryly. “Could I bring a friend?”
Leila turned, smiling. A real smile. “A boyfriend? Of course you’ve got one.”
“His name is Peter. Australian. He’s a brilliant young cellist. I’ve known him for years. He’s studying at the Royal College of Music here in London. He’s been assured he has a future.”
“Fine, fine,” Leila said, putting up a hand to her immaculate hairdo. “Call me a cab, would you? I’m meeting Corin for lunch.”
Now that was silly!
Miranda cast off the suspicion.
“Bring your Peter by all means,” Leila said, as though a burden had been lifted off her. “I think we’ll dine in. We’re at Claridges. Wonderful hotel. It suits us perfectly. Even you will have heard of Gordon Ramsay’s restaurant there.”
“We’ve all heard of Gordon Ramsay, Leila.”
“Now, I can give you some money, you know,” Leila offered. “I guess I owe you that much.”
Miranda shook her head. “It’s not about money, Leila. I’m going to get ahead. I’m going to become a doctor. Just like my father’s family. That’s one mystery you’ve solved.”
Leila showed a shadow of concern. “I’m just enough of a mother not to want you to get hurt. Like me. I can’t stop you from finding out who they are. I can see you’re a very smart girl. But I can warn you to keep well away. Your paternal grandmother, my dear, unlike me, is a total bitch.”
Leila sounded as though she truly believed she was basically a good person.
“How old was he? My father?” Miranda asked quietly. She wasn’t showing it, but inside she felt deeply wounded. A father she would never meet. As an individual, she was very short on relations.
“The same age as me,” Leila admitted carelessly, as though they were talking ancient history. “He’d never had a girl before. Not that I was a virgin. He was. He was head over heels in love with me. Not the only one, I can tell you.” She walked to the door, then turned back for a moment. “Until tomorrow evening, then, Miranda. Where did Mum rake up that name? Blue-green eyes, I suppose. I only saw them as navy. Dress up. Tell your friend black tie.”
CHAPTER SIX
AFTER she was gone, Miranda curled back in her chair like a young woman in pain. She felt very strange, as if severely dehydrated. Why not? Leila had all but drained the life out of her. Where was this mystical love that was supposed to exist between mother and child? Certainly her lovely grandmother had loved the daughter who had turned her back on them all to the end. And she, herself, had been the central figure in her grandparents’ lives. They had lavished their love on her. They had been so proud of her. Going on the evidence, Leila had no need whatever for any mother-daughter relationship. She had been biologically capable of giving birth. Tragically, she was mentally and morally incapable of nurturing that child. To her, motherhood was only a commitment that dragged a woman down.
Corin arrived back earlier than expected, at 2:30 p.m. She watched him bound towards the front steps, reinforcing the impression he was very anxious to get home to her.
No need to be volunteering information. Let Corin do the talking.
She didn’t know at this stage when her inner voice started and her grandmother’s stopped.
Because you’re part of me. We’re part of one another.
Corin was inside now, devastatingly handsome in his elegant city clothes, the pristine white collar of his blue-and-white striped shirt accentuating a deep golden tan that could never came out of a bottle. He drew her into his arms without saying a word. So eas
y to take refuge. So easy to dissolve into him, to feed off his blazing energy. So easy to suspend deep concern.
He tipped up her face to kiss her, long and lingeringly. “Got away without much trouble,” he murmured, when he lifted his head. “I hear you’ve had a visit from Leila.”
She looked directly into his eyes. What was she looking for? Deception from Corin? Leila had really undermined her confidence. “How did you know?”
He reacted to the strain in her voice. “She rang my mobile, of course. What else? Leila lives to alienate people. It would serve you well not to forget that. She sounded super friendly. She’s the ultimate con-woman. Seems we’re all invited out to dinner tomorrow night. Dad, apparently, took to you. Never could resist a pretty woman.”
“When was it she rang you? You didn’t see her?”
“Hey, what is this, Miranda?” His tone was different from before. Anger was stirring. “Listen to what I’m saying. I refuse to be put under suspicion. I refuse to have my integrity questioned. I’m an expert at evading Leila. I’d been tied up with the meeting. Which went well, thank you for asking,” he added crisply. “She caught me about two minutes before I flagged down a cab. She said you were bringing your boyfriend along. I take it she meant Peter?”
“I don’t think Leila would care to hear my boyfriend is you.” Miranda knew she was on dangerous ground. Throwing down the gauntlet, as it were. But he had to pick it up. “I was getting around to asking about your meeting, but my priorities seem to be all screwed up.”
He turned her to face him. “So why don’t you tell me about them? I’m here now. Peter is a smokescreen. I’ve got that, although I know you’re very fond of him. What did she have to say to you?”
“Actually, I did a lot of the talking.”
“Which seems to have exhausted you. Are you going to let me in on the conversation?” His dark eyes were trained on her face. It would be a disaster if he lost her trust.
She lifted her head to him, seeing herself reflected in the brilliance of his eyes. “I must repeat I’m not going to expose my mother, Corin. Not for you. Not for anyone. Deep down I think she’s a very unhappy, driven person without any real self-esteem.”
Corin’s hands dropped away. There wasn’t just disapproval in his voice, there was outright disgust. “Even if it were true, Miranda, I couldn’t care less. She’s caused too much harm to my family. She’s failed to be any sort of a mother to you. For the record, as it appears I’m under investigation, I don’t believe I’ve ever said I was going to expose her.”
“So what do you intend?” Discord was growing between them like a malignant plant.
“Why sound so ominous?” he challenged. “It means we’ll leave it alone. Zara and I care too much about you, Miranda, to override your wishes. You don’t want to reveal Leila’s history. That’s it!”
“You’ll keep your word?”
His expression toughened. “With one proviso. Leila must swear not to further upset you or interfere in your life. Should she do that, the position will change. She knows Zara and I know?”
“She thinks only Zara knows. That’s all. She did ask if you knew. My answer was ambiguous, but she took it at face value. I told her Zara was my friend.”
“So you and I are not supposed to be close?”
She stared back at him, wanting the discord to cease, but unable to stop its escalation. “I played it that way, Corin. Safer, don’t you think?”
“Only for a time.” There was a brooding expression on his dark, handsome face. “All we have is a breathing space. I won’t let you go out of my life, Miranda. You can’t think for one moment I will.”
She gave a broken laugh. “Well, we are related by marriage.”
“Oh, stop it!” He drew in a tense, frustrated breath. “Leila has only just arrived on the scene and already she’s causing trouble. You can’t let her get to you, Miranda. Bad enough she’s started to erode your trust in me. There will be difficult times ahead. Leila would like nothing better than to see you out of the way.”
“I realise that,” she said quietly, averting her head.
“Don’t let it weigh you down. Zara and I have had years and years of Leila. You’ve only had a matter of hours. Yet she’s messed up your thinking, hasn’t she?”
“Give me time, Corin.”
“Of course.” He drew her into his arms again, his own expression softening. “Don’t let Leila come between us, Miranda,” he begged. “She’s so good at that sort of thing. I wish I didn’t have to leave you, but Dad and I have the China trip.”
That was the hardest part. “Leila’s going along?”
“She always does,” he clipped off.
“She can’t want to go all the time—be on her own for hours on end. Doesn’t he trust her?”
Corin gave a bitter laugh. “Would you? It’s just as well billionaires aren’t all that thick on the ground, or Leila would be running off with a younger one.”
Her unspoken like you hung in the air.
Insight into her thoughts sharpened his tone. “I’m not a billionaire yet, Miranda. I won’t be until my father dies, and I want him to last for another twenty-five years. He hasn’t been much of a father, but he’s all I’ve got. He does give me due credit as a fitting heir. In his own strange way he loves me. He has need of me as a business confidant. He keeps things so close to his chest, and I’m sure I’m the only one he truly trusts.”
“And he has some suitable young woman lined up for you?” Miranda continued to look questioningly at him. “Annette Atwood, isn’t it?”
“Are there no limits to gossip?” He sighed. “There’s no chance in the world, Miranda. I can’t marry a woman I don’t love with all my heart. I had thought that was you. Now I have to ask. Do you want me to love you with all my heart, or does that frighten you? Were our days and nights in Venice just too perfect, too unreal? You can’t believe in what we had now you’ve hit the first obstacle? I refuse point blank to allow a woman like Leila to destroy our relationship.”
She stared blindly at a landscape on the wall. “I’m not holding you to anything, Corin. I care too much to bring more trauma into your life. Leila mightn’t want to have anything to do with me, but I can never escape being Leila’s daughter. It’s like a stain.”
The melancholy note in her voice pierced his heart. He drew her against him, his arms steely strong, the muscles rigid. “I won’t allow you to see it like that,” he said forcefully. “You’re lovely, inside and out. When you think about it, you escaped your mother. Instead, you were blessed with your grandparents. They brought you up. As for me, I refuse to let you go. You’ve given yourself to me of your own free will. So I’m keeping you, Miranda. God knows, I’ve had to resist every temptation so you could get on with your studies undistracted. You have your science degree in your pocket. That’s the first step. I’m very proud of you and your sense of commitment. I’ll support you every inch of the way in your ambitions. But you’re twenty-one now. I want more of you. You’ve seen Leila. You’ve felt her destructive power. Don’t let her reach you.”
“In her way, she’s the one who should fear,” she said, taking great comfort from his words and his arms around her. “She has so much to hide.”
“Indeed she has!” Each word was flattened, as though weighted down. “But don’t let’s waste any more time talking about Leila. I want to take you shopping.”
The dazzling change of topic brought out a flicker of a smile. “Do you really?” She was picturing the two of them together. “I thought men hated shopping?”
“Well, we shopped in Venice, didn’t we? You have that beautiful gold-shot glass horse from Murano.”
“And I treasure it,” Miranda said. “Are you going to tell me what we’re shopping for?”
There was unrestrained ardour in his dark eyes. “A dress for you to wear tomorrow night. I want you to knock Dad and our dear Leila dead.”
Peter, giddied to be invited, presented very well in a hired di
nner suit. He had the height, the wide shoulders, and he had put on much needed weight.
“Peter, you look great!” Miranda reached up to kiss his cheek.
“Bought the dress shirt and the black tie—rented the suit.” He grinned. “You look out of this world!” He fell back theatrically, gasping with unfeigned admiration. “If I were wearing my glasses they’d be steamed up. The dress is fabulous! You look a million dollars. Surely they’re not diamonds dripping off your pretty ears?”
She smiled impishly, fingering one of the diamond-studded drops. “Real, absolutely! On loan from Zara. Come on in. Zara and Corin will be down soon. Both of them are so pleased you’re coming along tonight.”
“To be honest, I’m blown away to be invited,” Peter said, moving farther into the entrance hall and glancing up the grand staircase to the art-lined gallery. “Word is Mrs Rylance is a real knock-out.”
“Well, you can make your own mind up.”
“Goodness, how intriguing!” Peter looked quickly back at her, but her silver-gilt head was turned away.
Whatever did Miri mean?
To his perfectly tuned ears it sounded as though she hadn’t taken to the second Mrs Rylance at all. He reminded himself he had always respected Miri’s judgment…
Miranda was glad she had become familiar with the full on dazzle of Claridges black-and-white marble front hall, with its tall mirrors and superb Art Deco ironwork, so her head wasn’t swivelling like Peter’s. The hall led on to the sumptuous foyer, where she and Zara had enjoyed afternoon tea on several memorable occasions—once when a famous movie star had been seated at a table only a few feet away. She might have been reared on a small farm in rural Queensland, but she was taking the glittering London night life in her stride. This was a time to be enjoyed. A time to capture and relive in memory.
