Mistaken Mistress

by Margaret Way

  “Why the interest?” His tone was sardonic.

  “It’s possible we’ll see a lot of each other.”

  It was at once pain and pleasure. “That’s your heart telling you that. Your intelligence might tell you something quite different. You realise I have to go to the airport to pick up Delma. You’ll need to be gone by the time we get back. It would never do for Owen to have to face a terrible scene. Believe me Delma is quite capable of making one.”

  “With her husband in a hospital bed?” Eden couldn’t help asking.

  “I’m very much afraid that won’t stop her. Woman-like she’ll realise at once you’re the cause of Owen’s mystery trips. He’s been making them for the past six months without explanation to anyone.”

  “That was wrong. He’s made it hard for both of us but he’s a man who must have his way. He’ll explain everything today. He’s given me his solemn promise.”

  His eyes were lit with something like pity. “Well when Delma goes up in flames just remember what I’ve said.”

  Owen was sitting up in bed in his private room, the lacerations on his face perversely looked far worse than yesterday. His left arm was in a sling for his broken collarbone, his wound hidden beneath his loose pyjama jacket, but he managed to flash a big smile the instant they appeared at his door.

  Eden went to him, arms outstretched, cupping his face between her hands. “Hi…Dad.” She bent to whisper meaningfully into his ear.

  “Good morning, my darling,” he responded, his deep voice full of emotion. “Great to see you, Lang.” He put out a hand to his partner. “You’ve never seen me have a single sick day since we met.”

  “I’m hoping you won’t have any more.” Lang went forward to grip his friend’s hand. “You gave us some bad moments,” he told him wryly.

  Owen nodded. “I had a few bad moments myself. But thank the good Lord my number wasn’t up. Sit down. Please…sit.” He gestured to the chairs, speaking a shade excitedly.

  Lang brought up two chairs, saw Eden seated at the bedside, remained standing by the window removed from them. “I don’t have a lot of time, Owen,” he explained. “Delma’s flight will be in at eleven. I’m picking her up at the airport. She’s very anxious to see you.”

  Amazingly Owen nodded happily. “And my boy, Robbie?”

  “He’s not much good on a long flight as we know. Delma left him at home with the housekeeper. She’ll take him to school, bring him home, look after him.” Lang hesitated, then looked directly at his friend, marvelling at his attitude. “Forgive me, Owen, but I think I ought to ask what Delma will be walking into. For that matter what I’ll be walking into. I’ve left it to you to tell me, but your accident seems to have precipitated a crisis. I want to make it plain I’m thinking of you, of Delma, of Robbie, of Eden even. It would be cruel for Delma to have to confront her.”

  Eden gave a little broken laugh. It had occurred to her many times that Delma, when she discovered her husband had kept so much from her, would turn on her as the scapegoat.

  “Tell him, Owen,” she urged, dismayed Owen needed so much prompting. “You can’t possibly keep silent.”

  Owen touched her hand, his dark eyes full of old griefs. “I’ve kept silent so long dredging up the past is a truly terrifying thing.” He shifted his gaze to his partner, who continued to stand motionless by the window. “Since I’ve known you, Lang, I haven’t kept much from you,” Owen began. “We’ve been closer than friends and partners. We’re darn near family.”

  Here it comes, Lang thought trying to shrug off the hard constriction around his rib cage. He didn’t think he could face this. The upshot would be chaos.

  But Owen was still talking. “Twenty years ago I discovered I had a daughter,” he said. “The woman I loved, the woman who bore her was Cassandra, Eden’s mother.”

  “What?” Shock ripped through Lang combined with an anger approaching rage. “God Almighty, Owen,” he burst out, “how is it possible you didn’t tell anyone? Forget me. But what about Delma, your wife?”

  Owen looked like every word had hit home. “I went to speak a million times but I lost heart. Or the guts. Take your pick. In a way I self-destructed.”

  As did my mother, Eden thought reaching over and clasping her father’s hand. “You’ve found the courage now.” Even as she spoke Lang Forsyth’s condemnation bore down on her.

  “Cassandra and I were both young and passionately in love.” Owen tried hard to explain how it was, but nothing could recapture their grand passion. “I was penniless in those days. Her father was totally against me. In the end he won. He and the man Cassandra married. She was carrying my child.”

  “And you let it happen?” Lang’s brilliant eyes flashed. What went on in Owen’s head he now considered beyond him. Did anyone truly know another?

  “I didn’t know until much later.” Owen tried to defend himself, from the intensity of his expression reliving the past. “It was three years into Cassandra’s marriage. She wrote to me. Try to understand, Lang.” He looked at his friend’s dark shuttered face. “I know we’re different on lots of levels. I know you wouldn’t have reacted as I did. But Cassandra begged me to keep her secret. She told me she and our child were happy and secure. She had named her Eden after my own mother.”

  “Good God!” Lang shook his raven head almost dumbly; thinking this woman Cassandra must have spent her life living a lie. It seemed extraordinary to him anyone could act that way. Cassandra and Owen. As for Eden! She’d made a complete fool of him by allowing him to believe she and Owen were sharing an intense affair. Couldn’t she have spoken out? Except she chose not to. He glanced at her, his expression grim.

  Her beautiful eyes were deeply troubled as well they should be. “You’re shocked aren’t you?”

  “I’m not only shocked, I’m totally at a loss. I can’t understand how either of you could have allowed me to believe your relationship was other than it is.”

  “But I never for a moment considered you thought any such thing,” Owen protested, totally unaware Lang had seen them together. “Good God, man I may be many things, but I don’t take up with bits of girls. I’m a married man. Eden is my daughter. She’s part of me. My own flesh and blood.” Now Owen sounded outraged.

  “Well you’ve taken a long time to discover it,” Lang bit off, not caring in that moment if he and Owen went their separate ways.

  “I had my reasons, Lang,” Owen said quietly, reading his partner’s expression.

  “I’m sure.” Lang looked through the window, sunlight streaming over his tall striking figure. “Who am I to judge you anyway?”

  “You’re my good friend,” Owen said. “Hold tight to that. I don’t expect you to understand. I truly don’t understand myself. Sometimes I think my capacity for loving went with Cassandra. You didn’t know her. She was truly unforgettable. She’s haunted me for more than twenty years. I attended her funeral. It was there I first saw my daughter. In the midst of tragedy I tell you I knew elation! It was my time with my daughter.”

  Lang turned back to face the man in the bed. “And it’s been Eden you’ve been meeting all these months?” Now the pieces were falling into place.

  Owen nodded. “It hasn’t been easy for Eden. She’s had to come to terms with her short history. She’s very loyal to the memory of her mother but she’s had a lot of pain and hurt feelings to confront. We needed time to work things through. I had every intention of telling you at dinner. I tried to say something before they wheeled me away to the theatre. But it was not to be.”

  “Try to understand.” Eden turned fully to appeal to Lang. “Deceit was never intended. It was just an unfortunate charade. Dad wanted to tell you the whole story himself.”

  “But surely his accident presented a dilemma?” His silver eyes slashed over her, hard and challenging. “Anyway the truth is out now. It might not sound like it—I think I need a little time—but I’m very glad for you both. Finally Owen might know some peace.” Lang shot his blue lin
en cuff and glanced at his watch. “I’ll have to go now if I’m to meet Delma’s plane. Needless to say I won’t be telling her any of this.”

  “I won’t be here, if that’s what’s worrying you.” Eden stood up, an enchanting figure in her very pretty clothes. “Dad must tell Delma alone.”

  “I’d prefer if it you were here,” Owen said with curious insensitivity.

  “Listen, Dad. I can’t be.” A bright warmth enclosed her. She didn’t know if it was anger or not. Anger with herself. With Lang Forsyth, his high mettled head thrown back, staring down his nose at her. Or anger at her father. Owen had allowed the past to dominate his life. Worse, he wasn’t being fair to his wife. Eden knew who was going to get the blame for that.

  “All right, sweetheart, whatever you say,” Owen relented. “I just thought if Delma saw you she would understand everything.”

  Eden was amazed. Didn’t her father know women at all? “Understand what, Dad? That I’m the image of my mother? The girl you loved. I don’t think I could risk it.”

  “Maybe you’d like to come with me,” Lang offered, in a clipped voice. “I can drop you off at your home before continuing on to the airport. You have no car.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Owen broke in, perhaps with a certain falsity. He really wanted Eden to stay but although he had forced her to keep her peace regarding their “secret” he could see she was determined on going her own way now.

  “That was a brief visit,” Eden remarked when they were back in the car.

  He pulled out into the traffic, unspeaking.

  “At least it will give Dad time to get his story straight,” she continued.

  His voice was deeply ironic. “How much time does he need? He’s had twenty years.”

  “You’re very unforgiving aren’t you?” Eden said, looking straight ahead.

  “Compared to some, I’m a hero. The patron saint of family. I don’t much like being made a fool of either, Miss Carter. I dare say that poor devil Sinclair didn’t much like it, either. I wondered what was wrong between you two.”

  Eden thought about that, moved on. “I didn’t know he wasn’t my father until Owen approached me and showed me my mother’s letter.”

  “And then it all fell into place?” He spoke with deliberate black humour.

  “I didn’t have a happy childhood if that’s what you mean. But the man I called ‘Father’ for all of my life tried to do his best by me. I had everything I wanted. Education, clothes, travel.”

  “No doubt your grandfather would have had something to say about that if you hadn’t. He seems to figure very largely in all this.”

  “My grandfather is a broken man.” Eden spoke quietly, his upset with her and Owen obvious.

  “Your mother left a trail of broken hearts.”

  Undeniable. “So she did, but I think she was just a catalyst for other people’s emotions.”

  “A bit of a problem. Don’t let it happen to you.”

  She inhaled deeply. “I’m a lot tougher than my mother. A lot better educated. She didn’t get to finish her studies. I have a law degree.”

  “Then you should know all about frauds?” He glanced at her, his eyes scathing.

  “I wanted to tell you. Did you think I liked the way you looked at me?”

  “You expect me to believe Owen bound you to silence?” he challenged her. “I thought silence didn’t exist for women.”

  “That’s a cheap shot.” Her violet eyes darkened. “It was his story after all. You’d have been told when the time was right. It was sheer chance that made you dine at the same restaurant we did. I didn’t know who you were then, either, but I was shocked by the way you were looking at me. The disdain. You do it terribly well.”

  “Do please accept my profound apologies.” He gave a brief laugh. “Owen or no Owen, I would have put it straight.”

  “I dare say.” He was a decisive man of action yet she couldn’t fight the taunt. “You seem like a very trenchant person.”

  “Trenchancy has its uses. And Sinclair. What does he make of all this?”

  “Why should I tell you?”

  Another glance. “Oh, for goodness’ sake, weren’t you the one who said we were going to see a lot of each other.”

  “I think I’ll have to brace myself for that. My adoptive father only admitted last night he’d always known in his heart I wasn’t his child.”

  “So you can’t stay there.” He frowned as if she were in some sort of danger.

  “Where? You mean my own home?”

  “That’s exactly what I mean,” he answered curtly. “People can turn ugly. Surely you know that? Sinclair is a man betrayed. He must have his moments when he knows blind rage.”

  “More like terrible coldness. He would never harm me,” Eden said. “Redmond Sinclair is a man of the law. He’s going away very soon. He intends to travel. He wants me to have the house or the proceeds from its sale. It could already be sold for all I know. Many people appear to want it. It may be a mausoleum but the right architect could alter the facade.”

  “So you’re an heiress?” Another brilliant glance.

  “I told you I’m very comfortably placed.”

  “How nice. Owen, however, figures in the Rich 200.”

  Eden stared out at the broad deep river carrying its ferries. “As do you.”

  “You’ve checked?”

  “Hardly. So you can spare me the sarcasm. Owen told me making money is your thing.”

  “Owen is worth a great deal more.”

  “That means nothing to me.” She thought for a second of asking him to stop the car but she’d had her comeuppance.

  “That’s good,” he clipped off, “because Delma sees her son as Owen’s heir.”

  She studied his handsome profile, the strong elegant hands on the wheel. He was a very confident and expert driver. “How much money does one person need?” she asked quietly. “Money has never made my family happy. I know lots of people who live full contented lives without wealth.”

  “It’s handy to have it all the same,” was his sardonic reply.

  “I still say it’s not essential.” Eden bent her head, her voice low and full of apology. “I want to tell you how sorry I am that I had to deceive you. Would you please forgive me?”

  It was a very poignant appeal delivered by a very beautiful, repentant, young woman, but he reacted as if the very air would ignite.

  “Sorry, Miss Carter. It’s too late.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  FEELING like some inexorable process had been set in motion, Lang waited a good hour before he returned to the hospital. Owen and Delma had much to talk about he thought grimly. He had no wish to be around. Although Delma had his sympathy—Owen really didn’t pay her anywhere near enough attention—he was well aware Delma had set up any number of domestic arguments. No doubt due to her insecurity. Though she was far removed from being a woman scorned, Delma’s big problem was that Owen had never loved her as a man should love his wife. In essence, Owen had devoted his emotional life to a memory.

  He knew he was having a bad attack of disillusion with Owen, his mentor. The whole thing was beyond him. What sort of people were Owen and his Cassandra? Both of them had treated their daughter only in terms of themselves. Every child has a right to know who their birth parents were. Everyone needed their emotional roots nourished. It hadn’t happened for Eden. If he weren’t so damned—what? He couldn’t really express his truly contradictory and confusing feelings.

  If she hadn’t made such a fool of him, he could find it in his heart to forgive her deception. But the strange hostility wouldn’t ease. It was like a constriction around his ribs, yet it carried its own excitement. He thought for a moment. Unwarranted guilt?

  His physical desire for her had manifested itself the moment he laid eyes on her. It made him feel raw and vulnerable. He didn’t much like sensations which resulted in so much upheaval. He’d had enough of that in his life. The emotional jangle could well be co
mpounded by his loss of esteem for Owen. By the same token, he had never thought himself so judgmental. If anyone had asked him to account for his actions of late he’d have been at a loss. And that was another cause for concern. Nowadays he liked to think of himself as a man in control. God knows it had taken so much mental stress to work the family’s way out of perilous circumstances and re-instate his mother’s life-style. Perhaps he’d have to put his feelings for this girl down to some kind of fear of another crisis in his life? On the one hand he’d wanted to protect her; but when she had appealed for his understanding he had cruelly rejected her. It was so unlike him. He was a man at war and that was a highly unstable way to be.

  When he’d dropped her off at her home—even more of a monstrosity in broad daylight—she had thanked him with quiet courtesy. He knew she had fire in her, he’d seen the flashes in her beautiful blue-violet eyes, but her whole manner was governed by a gentle discipline that was probably due in part to the circumstances of her life and heightened by her legal training.

  It wasn’t the end of the dilemma, either. Owen was a married man. He had to appease a wife who was already on emotional short rations. Owen would be hoping to see his newfound daughter every day. Eden had given every indication she wanted to see her father. Now there was Delma to head up the triangle. A very great deal depended on how Delma would react when Owen told his grand secret. Very clearly it served to explain the less than happy state of their marriage.

  From the moment he walked into the room it couldn’t have been more obvious the private talk had gone badly. Delma looked a wreck. He wanted to turn and leave—let them face it together—but couldn’t. Owen was in no state to handle combat. He was signalling with his eyes he needed support. The whole business was getting messier and messier. Delma would probably never accept Owen’s daughter. He couldn’t imagine, either, Owen would allow Delma to over-ride his decisions, or interfere with his plans. He was even beginning to believe Owen wouldn’t think twice about ending his marriage if he thought Delma was going to do something so incredibly foolish as to say she wanted Eden banned from the house. Knowing Delma as he did Lang wouldn’t have been all that surprised.