He felt as if he'd been slapped in the face. He felt hurt and betrayed. Yes, dammit, he felt as if she'd betrayed him, as if she'd offered him something indescribably beautiful only to let him discover that the glittering shell covered something vile and loathsome.
Yet no way could he let her cope with the trauma of her mother's accident on her own. From what he could remember of her sister Katie she would be more of a liability than a help in this sort of situation.
Besides, he had to see old Elinor Farr at some time in the very near future. He could get that over with and deliver Caroline to her mother's bedside on the same journey. Do what was right then wash the whole troublesome family out of his hair.
Caro rubbed her fingers over her forehead. Everything was in a muddle. His mother had to be the Mrs Helliar Sandra had spoken of. And when she herself had spoken of his needing Mrs Helliar's opinion before he went ahead and purchased a new house she had been referring to his wife and he, of course, had been talking of his mother when he'd said she would be in England only one month out of twelve.
'So your mother doesn't live here,' Caro said, wondering why he looked so tense. Something was bugging him and she didn't know what it was and it was doing her head in.
If she was going to have to spend more time with him then she supposed she must try to keep everything normal on the surface. Forget he'd sacked her, acted as if he loathed her—for absolutely no good reason that she could see—then turned into something her mother would have called A Tower Of Strength, in capital letters. Forget that she only had to look at him to grow weak with longing.
'No.' Something caught at his throat and filled it, tugged at his heart and nearly broke it. At least, that was what it felt like, he amended savagely. Sophie, tired of crawling round the furniture, had clambered up on Caroline's lap, wound her chubby arms around her nanny's neck, and tucked her curly head into the curve of that same nanny's elegant neck.
They made the perfect picture. He couldn't drag his eyes away. And it hadn't been so very long ago that he'd had the desire to see her hold their baby in her arms, love her until the end of his days, care for her and their children, provide and protect. His thoughts were becoming intolerable.
He cleared the tightness from his throat, called 'Come!' as a room-service waiter tapped on the door, and answered Caroline's question. 'Lucy, my mother, settled back in her native Canada after my father died. Up until then they'd been enjoying Dad's retirement in the south of France. Tea?'
He handed her a steaming cup, whether she wanted it or not, and sat Sophie back against the cushions with her feeding beaker of milk. 'She came over with us for a holiday. She's visiting with friends in Surrey but she's more than happy to come and baby-mind Sophie for a couple of days while I get to grips with whatever it is that's rattling your formidable grandmother.'
He watched her assimilate the information he'd given her while she took small, not very interested sips of tea. Elinor Farr had called her eldest granddaughter a chip off the old block. But was that true? Staunch, intelligent, strong and forceful—yes, he'd go along with that. But one thing was out of kilter. Elinor Farr wasn't sneaky and devious, lacking in moral fibre. Caroline Farr, as he'd discovered, was.
Over the next few hours, stuck with her as he was, he would do well to remember that.
CHAPTER TEN
Finn was bathing the baby when Lucy Helliar arrived. 'Sophie's had a very busy day,' Caro explained. 'So Finn thought it best to get her to bed before we left because if she knew you were here she'd get overexcited and wouldn't sleep.'
'Oh, bless her!' Lucy flopped down on the sofa and patted her iron-grey curls into place. 'He's quite right, of course. I've missed the little treasure. I helped Finn bring her up, you know, right from the first. Poor Fleur was too ill—is that fresh tea in the pot?' 'No, but I'll ring down for some.' 'Oh, don't go to that trouble.' She reached for one of the tiny cucumber sandwiches left untouched from the tea that had been served earlier. 'Fix me up a gin and tonic from the mini bar, there's a good girl, and tell me how you like working for that son of mine. I was truly pleased when he let me know he'd got fixed up with a nanny for Sophie so soon. He's very good with her but he's not going to be able to be with her twenty-four hours a day for ever, is he? And do give me your honest opinion of that property he's thinking of buying. He phoned, earlier this afternoon, and told me the news—that he'd found the house he wanted to buy.'
Lucy Helliar was so open and friendly, she practically took Caro's breath away. She only wished the lady's son had inherited some of that openness, then she wouldn't have to keep tormenting her mind wondering why he was acting the way he was.
He had obviously phoned his mother on the mobile outside the borrowed cottage when he'd rudely asked her if she'd lost the use of her legs, emphasising his need for privacy. He might have told his mum about Mytton Wells but he obviously hadn't told her he'd already sacked the new nanny. And Caro wasn't about to remedy the omission.
'I think you'll love the house when you see it.' She set the drink on the low table in front of the sofa. 'I know your son thinks it will be the perfect place for little Sophie to grow up in. Perhaps you'll love it so much you'll consider making your home there with them?'
Perhaps she shouldn't have said that—she was fully aware that it really wasn't any of her business—but she suddenly ached to hear that Finn's little girl would have her grandmother around when her father was, of necessity, away working. She didn't like to think of the tiny girl being brought up by professional carers.
'No, I shan't be living in England. Oh, I'm not saying I won't visit—of course I will. For a couple of months at a time each year. You might call me selfish, but I have my own life, home, family and friends back in my own country. And Finn and Sophie have their life here. It was Finn's wish and choice to return to the land of his birth and make a home for them both. Of course, it was only natural that he should bring Fleur to me after their marriage. We knew by then that she was so dreadfully ill.'
Lucy patted the sofa. 'Please sit down while you're waiting for Finn. And tell me all about yourself.'
Again the friendly invitation, but Caro couldn't do that. She really, really couldn't.
How could she possibly tell this nice friendly soul that she was no more a nanny than her next-door neighbour's cat was, that she had sneaked her way in here with the express intention of seeking revenge? And she wasn't going to tell any more lies. Which left, 'I'd rather you told me about little Sophie's mother.'
For some reason she couldn't bring herself to refer to Fleur as having been Finn's wife and the aversion had nothing whatsoever to do with her protective feelings for her sister.
It had more to do with the way she was beginning to feel about him: as if she couldn't bear to let him out of her sight, as if he belonged to her and no one else. And if she knew more about the glamorous French singer, Fleur Ferrand, and what had happened to her, then she might feel closer to him. She wanted to know everything about every part of his life.
'So Finn didn't give you the details.' Lucy sipped her drink reflectively, then set the glass down, nodding slowly. 'He doesn't like to discuss it, and that's perfectly understandable when one considers the circumstances. Such a terrible tragedy.'
Her eyes lingered on one of the silver-framed photographs. 'She was so lovely, wasn't she? Finn insists those photographs are on display wherever they happen to be so that Sophie will always know who her mother was and what she looked like. And apparently she'd suddenly shot to fame and had a great future ahead of her in the pop music world.'
She sighed deeply, shaking her head. 'Fleur would have hated to think that what happened to her became public knowledge. She always said she wanted the public, especially back in her native France, to remember her as being young, beautiful and successful. But as Sophie's nanny I guess you have a right to know. At least, you should know about the illness that claimed her life.'
'Not if it's personal�
�private—' Caro floundered. She felt perfectly dreadful. A low-life of the sneakiest possible kind. She had no right to know anything.
And how easily Lucy had been deflected from her request to learn more about her granddaughter's nanny; how generously had the elderly lady offered to give her details on a private family tragedy. She was going to have to confess, tell Lucy Helliar that she was no longer in her son's employ—
'She's out for the count.' Finn walked through, buttoning the cuffs of the crisp white shirt he'd changed into as he came to greet his parent with a hug. 'Thanks for coming. I wouldn't have asked you to break into your visit if it hadn't been important. I should be back later tonight, but if I think I need to stay longer with Elinor Fair I'll let you know. Dad helped set up some complicated trust funds when her husband, Ambrose, was alive, remember?'
'Very well,' Lucy concurred. 'They were great friends. And you must stay as long as you feel you need to.'
'Just long enough to find out why she suddenly feels there's cause for anxiety.' He shot a look at his wristwatch, his voice cooling noticeably as he asked, 'Ready, Caroline?'
She nodded, her throat closing up. He was looking at her as if she were a particularly virulent form of poison. She collected her shoulder bag and the canvas hold-all she'd packed the rest of her gear into and Lucy said, 'I do hope your mother makes a full and rapid recovery. But don't worry about this end—I'm more than happy to take your place for as long as you need. I've got plenty of time to go visit my friends again.'
'So you didn't explain that I'd thrown you off the job,' Finn remarked coldly a few minutes later as the lift carried them down to street level. 'You let her think you'd be coming right back. What a devious, sneaky little creature you are.'
He knew his reaction was over the top. It was perfectly understandable that she would have felt embarrassed at having to explain.
But he wanted to lash out at her and grabbed any excuse to do so because he couldn't give her the real reason for his bitter anger. He couldn't admit to her that he felt angry enough to shake her until her teeth dropped out because he'd come within a whisker of falling in love with her. And while he didn't expect her to be an angel he didn't want her to be the type of woman who'd play around with a married man.
Caro gave him a cold look, sick of his evil temper, and yes, OK, she really should have explained the situation to Lucy, and she felt bad about prying into what had happened to his dead wife. But she hadn't learned anything and he wasn't so all-fired perfect, was he?
'You should be thankful I kept my mouth shut.' She glared at him, no longer afraid to meet his eyes because of the contempt that was there every time he looked at her now. 'If I'd told your mother you'd sacked me because I'm not the qualified nanny I pretended to be—and I'm not so sure about that,' she added witheringly, 'since you claim you knew I wasn't all along and were apparently perfectly happy to say nothing at all about it—then I would have had to tell her why I stooped to such devious behaviour to get the job in the first place.'
She walked out, her head high, as the lift doors whooshed open and he didn't say a word until they were both in the car, which had been brought round for him and was waiting on double yellow lines. And then he asked, his voice as smooth and cold as a steel blade, 'And why exactly did you stoop to what you've admitted was devious behaviour? To earn a few extra bucks to plough back into an ailing business? Or did you have a darker motive? I think I'm beginning to know you well enough to suspect the latter.'
He put the engine into gear and edged out into the early evening traffic and Caro wished she'd insisted on hiring a cab to take her to the hospital. But she hadn't and he'd asked a question and she was going to give him the answer and he didn't have to like it.
'I wanted to hurt you for what you did to my sister Katie. Remember her? Katie Farr? I thought a great opportunity would present itself if I worked for you.' She risked a look at his profile. Clear-cut, unforgiving, the sensual mouth compressed. She transferred her gaze back to the rear end of the red London bus they were stuck behind. 'Not one of my better ideas, as it happens.'
'And your grandmother always claimed you were so level-headed. Did you know,' he tossed out conversationally, 'the way she talked about you, yoi could well have been some kind of sainted super woman? A right pain in the you-know-what. With respect, she's such an opinionated old lady, learning jus how wrong she is about you could seriously damage her health. So shall we make a pact not to tell her?'
'Whereas your halo shines in the dark,' Caro came back, almost light-headedly, 'for all to see and wonder at.' It made her feel giddy, the way they were calling each other names, but oh, so very politely. She gripped her hands into fists, making her fingernails bite into the tender skin of her palms, primarily tc stop herself from bursting into hysterical laughter.
It wasn't funny.
'Yet at the moment you appear to believe it's tarnished.' He saw the traffic snarl-up ahead and made an avoiding left turn into a side street. 'Would you like to explain exactly what it is I did to Katie? Bui tell me, did she ever get around to doing something about that floral decorator's business she was so keen to set up?'
'I don't know what you're talking about.'
'No? Then Katie doesn't confide in you? I wonder why? Too much in awe of her brilliant big sister?'
'Hardly.' Remembering how Katie had always run to her with her problems, big or little—and mostly little—real or imaginary—and mostly always imaginary until Finn had entered her life and turned it sour—Caro sighed and Finn took his eyes off the now relatively quiet road ahead to shoot her a sardonic look.
'Hit a nerve? Does that mournful sigh mean a smidgen of contrition?'
'It means you're talking through the back of your head. I don't know whether you make a habit of it, but in this case I'm finding it a bit tedious. Get your facts straight, Finn.'
'And they are?'
He didn't sound so laid-back now. There was a very slight edge to his voice.
Caro gave him a quick appraising glance, found his profile an enigma as usual and let him have it in a voice as cool and impersonal as she could make it. 'Katie confides in me. Not in Gran—she's terrified of her. Not in Mum, either, because she tends to get in a flap. But she tells me things. Such as why she tried to drown herself.'
She heard the harsh, disbelieving inward drag of his breath and ignored it, reminding him, 'She was head over heels in love with you and believed you loved her. Do you always tell them you think you're falling in love? Have you found it the quickest way to get them into bed? It certainly worked with Katie, didn't it?'
Aware of the sudden brittleness that had appeared in her voice, of the interpretation he just might put on the reason for it, she smoothed down the sharp edges and swooped for the jugular. 'She could see no reason for living when she woke up one morning and saw your wedding photographs splashed all over the front of her newspaper. The fact that your bride was well and truly pregnant with your child didn't help much, either. I wanted to hurt you back. For her.'
His silence alarmed her; it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up on end. If he told her that it was all lies, that he barely knew Katie and certainly hadn't seduced her, she knew, to her eternal shame, she would believe him because she didn't want to believe he was that bad.
Much as she loved her younger sister, she had to admit that Katie had always had a penchant for self-dramatisation, a sometimes worrying habit of appearing to shut herself away in a dream world of her own making.
Believing him would free her up to admit her true feelings for him. She didn't want to do that, didn't want to fall in love with a man who really and truly disliked her because she had mentioned his still deeply mourned dead wife and sullied her memory by daring to speak of her.
The blistering silence continued and of course he could have been concentrating on his driving, but they were well on the open road now and the traffic was relatively light, so it looked as though he was trying to come t
o terms with what she'd told him, perhaps trying to dream up excuses and come up smelling of roses.
But she knew he couldn't even be bothered to do that when he said, 'We're about ten minutes away from the hospital. We're going to have to talk about what you've told me. But not right now.'
CHAPTER ELEVEN
'Too silly.' Emma Fair's eyes drifted shut at last, her lashes dark, fluttering smudges against her white skin. 'Daydreaming.'
Daydreaming and didn't see the other car rounding the bend in the narrow lane, her instinctive evasive action heading her straight into a high stone wall, according to the information Katie had given her.
'Don't try to talk, Mum. That's good; rest as much as you can,' Caro approved softly.
Katie looked at her sister with big, big eyes and whispered, 'It's great to see her sleeping naturally. Before, it was awful; we thought she'd never regain consciousness.'
Emma Farr, given time, was going to be fine, so the young doctor in charge of her case had affirmed. After getting this expert prognosis Finn had delivered her to the door of Emma's private room and had left without a word, not even saying goodbye, striding away as fast as his long legs would carry him.
And goodbye to you, too, Caro had muttered darkly inside her head, swallowing tears and anger in equal measure. So much for his suggestion that they discuss Katie's accusations at a more convenient time. If he'd had any intention of doing that he would have made some mention of it, told her he'd be in touch.
He'd done nothing of the sort. Simply made himself scarce. If she ever heard from him again she'd turn into a monkey's uncle!
Which meant he had to be the louse she'd believed him to be right at the start, before his charisma and her suddenly over-active hormones had made her doubt.
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