Camille nodded.
“But how does he know? How could he know?”
“Presumably Hugo told his family. They were terribly worried by the whole situation. My mother needed Hugo for support. She must have realized her mistake quite early in her marriage. She renewed their friendship, relationship—oh, God, love affair. You know the result.”
Linda slumped back, rubbing her forehead. “Given your father’s nature, he’d have killed her had he known.”
Camille turned, an agonized look in her eyes. “No, Lindy, no!”
Linda said nothing.
“You surely can’t believe that!”
When Linda did speak, her voice was strained. “Milly, you must know he was capable of it.”
Camille couldn’t bring herself to reply. At last Linda said, “I want you to stay with us until you find somewhere to live.”
Camille shook her head. “Thanks, love, but I don’t want to be the one in the middle right now.”
“I can’t say I blame you.” Linda sat back and closed her eyes. “Stephen seems like a stranger these days.”
“It’s still bad, then?” Camille asked.
“It’s as though overnight we’re set on different paths. Everything was OK while I was doing what Stephen wanted. In the nicest possible way I was losing my independence. I see that now. If anything went wrong, it was my behavior, my attitude, that was questioned. Stephen sees his family differently. That’s natural, I suppose, but surely his first allegiance is to me, don’t you think?”
Camille nodded, “Of course it is.”
“Well, his mother has somehow planted in his head it was my fault I lost the baby, that in some way I deserved to lose it.”
“And you still don’t want Stephen to touch you?” Camille watched her friend’s face. Linda had told her that, ever since the miscarriage, she’d been turned off sex.
“It’s my body, Milly. I want it to myself for a while. Part of the sexual turn-on for Stephen was the littlegirl thing I’ve done. The amenable little creature who needed his touch to blossom.”
“It was that way,” Camille felt compelled to say.
“But it didn’t last. I don’t want it like that anymore. I’ve grown up. I’m a woman who’s been dealt a deep psychological blow. It shattered me inside. I don’t feel Stephen respects my grief. He doesn’t really know how much I’m hurting.”
“You’re still seeing Max Courtney, aren’t you?” Camille referred to Linda’s psychiatrist
Linda nodded a little awkwardly.
“Why not take Stephen along?”
“He won’t go,” Linda said bleakly. “Dr. Courtney suggested it, but Stephen refused point-blank. In his own words, ‘There’s nothing wrong with me.’”
“It’s a pity he’s taken that view. It would be better for the two of you to talk the whole thing through.”
“Yes, but according to Stephen, I’m the one with the problems, not him. He thinks I’m going out of my way to offend his family. God, I’m beginning to wonder if I ever really knew him.”
Camille couldn’t help but think back to her own broken engagement to Philip. “Lindy, even good marriages have trouble spots,” she said. “You’ve been very sad and withdrawn—with good reason. Maybe Stephen doesn’t think you need him anymore. He’s that kind of man, isn’t he?”
Linda gave a brittle laugh. “Sure he is. He’ll take care of me as long as I know the law. His law. He’s actually arranged a barbecue for tonight. The whole family. It’s supposed to be a get-together to patch up our little differences.”
“You didn’t agree to it?”
“I wasn’t told about it until this morning. It’s Stephen trying to make things right, but he’s going about it the wrong way. I’ll never be his family’s favorite person. I’ll never be one of them. That’s just the way it is. I’m not obeying Stephen’s wishes tonight.”
This was said so vehemently Camille gulped. “You won’t be there?”
“No. I’ve got a couple of the latest videos in the car. I thought you and I could watch them, instead, over a nice pizza and a glass of red wine.”
“Won’t that cause trouble?”
“It’ll be fine.”
“You know I’ll share the blame.”
“You can hold up, can’t you, Camille?”
“Sure I can,” Camille said simply. “We can talk our heads off like we did in the old days.”
“I’d die without you, Milly,” Linda said. “You’ve been such a good friend! I just wish I could be more like you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Didn’t I make a mess of my life? I got involved with Philip. You recognized what he was long before I did. What’s so smart about me? You have to be yourself, Lindy, once and for all. Or the new you. Maybe you need a whole year of doing something, interesting. You need time to help you heal.”
WHEN CAMILLE ARRIVED at the hospital the next day, she found Nick Lombard dressed and waiting. He stood at the window, his back to the door. She called out a greeting, feeling a powerful sense of relief at the sight of him. Even from behind he projected an aura of power.
He turned at her voice and let his eyes feast on her. Today she was wearing a sleeveless dress in yellow silk, a perfect foil for her skin and her fiery hair. She looked stunning, as always.
His thoughts suddenly darkened. A man needed to be wary of such beauty. Beauty inspired fear, as well as adoration. Beauty had brought his uncle, his childhood hero, to a ghastly end. Terrible images filled his mind. As chance had it, on that fateful day, he’d been the one to find his uncle, lifeless, slumped over his desk, a bullet through his splendid head. A dreadful unforgettable sight. His grandmother, so sprightly, so full of wit and charm, had overnight turned to stone.
Camille who’d been in the act of moving into the room, came to an abrupt halt. “Everything all right?” She felt daunted by his expression.
“I’m fine.” He smiled and instantly the severity was replaced by a totally disarming sweetness.
“What was going through your mind just then?” she asked.
“Not anything we should talk about.” He picked up his jacket, moved toward her. “It’s very kind of you to come for me.” He reached out to touch a strand of her hair.
“It’s nothing,” she insisted. “If it hadn’t been for you, yesterday might have been my last.”
“Don’t even think about it.” He gestured for her to precede him. “Amazingly you look none the worse for the experience.”
“I had my friend Linda over. We talked it out.”
“Linda of the doe eyes?”
“That’s the one.” Camille smiled. “I love her like a sister. Now, can we go? You have the all clear?”
“Nurse informed me I’m an excellent healer. They’d like to keep me here another day, but there’s no internal bleeding, which was what they were looking for. I’ll have a word with her and we can be on our way. I’m anxious to get home to Melissa.”
“She knows nothing about it?”
“No. I gave orders to the staff. She wasn’t to watch the television, either. Unfortunately it made the news.”
Camille nodded. “I know. You’ll have to break it to her gently. Even then she’ll be shocked.”
“Seeing us both will soften the blow.”
The reality, however, fell abysmally short.
Even from outside the front door they could hear Melissa screaming.
“Bitch, bitch, bitch! You’re mean and you’re ugly!”
“Come back here immediately!” a woman’s voice shouted. Miss Larkins, not precisely in control.
“Dear God!” Nick took off up the stairs. A man who should still be in hospital, Camille thought.
When they were in the entrance hall, their eyes fell on a frozen tableau. Miss Larkins was bent over Melissa, seemingly in the act of shaking her. Clare Tennant stood to one side, a strained expression on her perfectly painted face.
“Daddy, Daddy!” Melissa screeched, breaking away from
Miss Larkins and racing toward him. “I thought you’d been stabbed. I thought you were dead.” She gave vent to great hiccuping sobs.
Nick Lombard stopped her flight with one arm. “Hush, baby, hush. There’s nothing wrong with me. Can’t you see that?”
“Clare said it was all Camille’s fault.” Melissa looked at Camille with great accusing eyes.
“That’s not true,” her father told her firmly. “Not true at all.”
Both Miss Larkins and Clare Tennant began talking one hundred to the dozen until Miss Larkins, remembering her position in the household, abruptly broke off.
“We simply didn’t realize Melissa was there,” Clare Tennant explained. “Nanny and I were talking confidentially. Melissa crept up on us. She’s inclined to do that. Unfortunately she overheard what she shouldn’t. We’ve been agonizing about it ever since.”
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Lombard.” Miss Larkins all but wrung her hands. “We never thought for a moment Melissa was within earshot, although she does have a habit of eavesdropping.”
“In which case you might have made doubly sure she wasn’t around,” Nick Lombard rasped.
“Don’t be angry with us, Nick,” Clare Tennant pleaded. “It was the very last thing we intended to happen. I’ve been worried out of my mind about you. Nanny was only offering comfort.”
“And when did all this happen?” he demanded, the harsh note still in his voice.
“Barely twenty minutes ago,” Clare said. “Naturally it was all kept from Melissa according to your instructions. Nanny and I were simply having a private conversation. It’s been on the TV and all over the papers, Nick. People can scarcely talk of anything else. You’ll have to get someone in to field all the phone calls. The phone hasn’t stopped ringing.”
“If the lady didn’t stab you, what happened, Daddy?” Melissa asked in a high frightened voice.
“She hurt my shoulder, but the doctor has fixed it,” her father explained calmly. “Nothing bad happened to me.”
“Or to Camille?”
“Everything’s all right, Melissa.” Camille looked into the little girl’s wounded eyes. Melissa’s face was pinched, anxiety-ridden, entirely without color.
“I knew it wasn’t your fault,” Melissa said. “Clare doesn’t like you. Neither does Nanny.”
“Why, that’s simply not true, Melissa,” Clare Tennant protested, her cheeks flushing. She gave the child a mortified glance. “Poor Nanny! She’s never said a word against Miss Guilford, either.”
Melissa kept nodding her head. “I know, just the same. I hope the lady who did it to you, Daddy, goes to jail. She’s sick in the head. Mommy died. I want you to live.”
“He will, sweetheart.” Camille swallowed the lump in her throat. “Your father is very brave and very strong.”
“He put his life on the line for you. You of all people!” Melissa was a frighteningly good mimic. The vocal inflections were Clare Tennant’s exactly.
“It does have a certain irony,” Clare Tennant commented, her cheeks flaming even more. “Nick, surely you should be resting. If Miss Guilford was kind enough to bring you home, I can take over now.”
Melissa gave a quick little jerk, releasing her hand from her father’s. “Go home, Clare. Go away.” For emphasis she raised her thin arms, flailing them in the air.
“Aren’t you a strange one!” Clare Tennant tried to respond lightly, but her eyes were hard.
“I said, go away!”
“That’s quite enough, Melissa,” her father rebuked her. “Apologize to Clare this minute.”
Camille felt a surge of anxiety. Melissa was clearly light-years away from her best behavior.
“I won’t!” Melissa raged. “She pretends to be my friend, but she’s not. I’ve seen the way she looks at me.
“Shall I take her to her room, Mr. Lombard?” Miss Larkins stepped forward with folded hands.
He shook his head curtly. “It might be better if Melissa and I had a private chat. I don’t condone her rudeness, but it’s obvious she’s been deeply shocked.” He took his daughter’s hand and headed for the door. “I’ll be down again shortly. Might I prevail on you to organize tea and coffee in the garden room, Miss Larkins?”
“Of course, sir.” Miss Larkins, back as straight as a ramrod, turned away.
When they were alone, Clare Tennant gave Camille a thin tight smile.
“You’ve certainly demonstrated you don’t listen.”
“Please, Mrs. Tennant. This isn’t the time for threats.” Camille returned the hostile gaze without flinching.
“Why not? I’m not the sort of woman who sits back and lets things happen. I’m a determined person. I concentrate on what I want in life, and I want Nick Lombard.”
Camille went cold. “I’m not interested in your plans, Mrs. Tennant. I’m going through to the garden room.”
“Know the house, do you?” Clare Tennant moved with her, clearly on the attack.
“I have been here before.”
“When was this?”
“I don’t consider that any of your business, but I will tell you what does concern me, and that’s Melissa.”
“That’s been tried before, my dear,” Clare Tennant said with heavy sarcasm.
“I’m sure. But not by me. My heart goes out to her. She’s a very unhappy little girl.”
Clare Tennant gave a brittle laugh. “She’s the most uncontrollable child I’ve ever met Genetic, I’d say. Nick’s wife was very highly strung. One can scarcely blame him for being worried. I expect he’s wondering just how bad it’s going to get.”
Camille felt a sudden disgust. “For heaven’s sake, she’s just a child. A few behavioral problems can be worked out.”
“Obviously you know nothing about the mother.”
Completely out of her depth, Camille quickly entered the garden room with its magnificent assemblage of ferns and other plants. She chose an armchair, and looked fixedly out over the broad sloping lawn.
“Not that Nick doesn’t have his cruel side,” Clare Tennant went on, choosing an armchair opposite. She crossed her long elegant legs, assuming a mockfriendly expression. “He wasn’t at all kind to the poor woman. And she was the type to crave attention, just like Melissa. When Nick turned away from her, she soon got into trouble. She shamed and embarrassed him and he never forgave her. One only has to look at him to know he’s a very proud man. An unforgiving one, too.”
Camille turned back from her blind contemplation of the garden. “Mrs. Tennant, why are you telling me all this?”
The gray-blue eyes bored into her. “For heaven’s sake, dear, you don’t know Nick, do you? He’s not the man you think he is. He really knows how to hate.”
“Would I of all people have missed that?”
“Be that as it may, the problem seems to be getting less and less important. I’m not blaming you for being attracted to him, perhaps against your will. But you’re an intelligent young woman. The attraction has to be addressed. It’s loaded with problems.”
“Are these your usual tactics, Mrs. Tennant?” Camille’s tone was cool.
“I do have a reputation for moving quickly.”
“Well, I have to tell you I’m not interested in this contest, as you see it. You can maneuver all you like, but I really do hope he never marries you. For Melissa’s sake if no one else’s.”
“I won’t forget that, Miss Guilford,” Clare Tennant promised. “What Melissa needs, and very badly, is a firm hand. Nick has been spoiling her terribly. It’s called overcompensation.”
“Is it? A man in his position wouldn’t have a lot of time.”
“I’m actually talking about Carole, the mother. A cat would have done a better job. Not even Nick could call his child anything but plain. Carole, for all her odd temperament, was quite beautiful. The child does have Nick’s hair and eyes, but otherwise, she’s an unprepossessing little thing. Carole couldn’t bear to look at her. She regarded the child as her great cross. Not only was Melissa
distressingly plain, but she appeared to be backward, as well. I certainly believe that’s how Carole thought of her.”
Camille felt both surprised and shocked. Surprised, because Melissa had described quite a different picture of her relationship with her mother, and shocked that Clare Tennant could say such cruel things. “No wonder, then, Melissa has been so damaged. And no one with eyes like hers could ever be considered plain. Also, she’s exceptionally intelligent. But she’s been hiding it because she thinks no one, outside of her father, cares about her.”
Clare Tennant laughed. “Quite the advocate, Miss Guilford. But Nick, too, wants the child off his hands. A good boarding school would do it. I’m sure he prays every night she doesn’t turn out like her mother.”
It was too much for Camille. She held up her hands. “I don’t want to hear any more of this. It’s not my business. You claim to be a friend of Nick Lombard’s, yet all you do is speak ill of him, his late wife and his child.”
Clare Tennant shook her head, her eyes contemptuous. “How can filling you in on the facts be regarded as speaking ill of anyone? I adore Nick. His very complexity is what makes him so fascinating. I like a man of strong passions. God knows, I had enough of my poor old wimp of a husband.”
“I’ll bet he had enough of you before he was through,” Camille was stung into saying.
The older woman only smiled. “Mercifully he had a stroke before he could make another will. He left me a very rich woman. His family has never forgiven me, but who cares? Money opens a lot of doors.”
Camille looked away. “I don’t like you, Mrs. Tennant,” she said quietly.
“Not a lot of women do, my dear, Men are a different matter. I’m only seeking to protect my interests. I never go out on a limb unless I have to. You constitute a threat to me. You know it. I know it. In other words, consider yourself warned.”
Camille stood up abruptly. It struck her that Clare Tennant had the same sort of eyes as the woman who’d wanted to kill her. She felt sickened by what she’d heard, and doubly protective of Melissa. For all her blatant maneuvering, Clare Tennant was right about Nick Lombard. Whatever unholy magnetism drew her, Camille, to him she would have to develop a shield against it. He was a complex man and a master manipulator. Just because he’d saved her life didn’t mean he hadn’t worked out a vengeance of his own.
The Australian Heiress Page 12
