by Morey, Trish
She pulled her hair off her neck and, taking the band from her wrist, twisted it up into a loose ponytail. ‘It’s so hot. Do you want another drink?’
Rashid shook his head.
‘I will.’ She got up and went inside for a moment or two, returning with a second pineapple juice with twice the amount of ice. ‘I’m sorry you can’t see your father before he dies,’ she said, sitting down again, ‘but I think you’re right. Bahiyaa needs you more. What does Prince Hanif say about it?’
‘Very little. I’ve persuaded Hanif it’s better if he doesn’t. Bahiyaa is safe with me and that’s really all that’s important. There is nothing to be gained by both of us making the same sacrifice.’
‘Difficult for him, though.’
‘Yes.’
‘I wish life wasn’t so complicated,’ she said on a sigh.
Rashid watched the shadow pass over her face, and wondered what she was thinking about, fearing he knew.
‘It’s so hot,’ she said again, holding the iced glass against her cheek. ‘How do people cope in summer?’
‘By shutting the doors and giving thanks you live in an age of air-conditioning.’ His head nodded towards the French doors propped open. ‘It’s an option now. You’d be cooler inside.’
She gave a soft laugh. ‘That would feel like cheating. There was no air-conditioning when my great-great-grandmother lived here. I wonder how long it took her to adjust to the temperatures. You kind of imagine she’d have taken the whole thing in her stride, don’t you?’
A shrill beep caught his attention. ‘Is that your phone?’
Polly jumped up. ‘Yes, I think it must be. I’m so rubbish with these things. Half the time I’ve not got it switched on and the other half I forget where I’ve put it.’
Rashid let his eyes wander out over the manicured gardens of the Al-Ruwi Palace Hotel while he waited for her to return. He still needed to tell her about her stepbrother. There was a situation that wasn’t fixable.
‘Well, that was Graham,’ Polly said, returning. ‘Just checking I didn’t wish to join them for lunch. I’m really not that hungry when it’s hot like this.’
‘In Amrah we tend to opt for a simple rice dish midday,’ he agreed, absent-mindedly. The trouble with delaying telling Polly the truth was that it felt dishonest, in a way it hadn’t when he’d thought she might have been involved.
‘Polly?’
She looked up.
‘Why have you stayed at Shelton Castle? I know you love the house and that you grew up on the estate, but haven’t you ever imagined something different for yourself?’
She looked up into his face, her eyes meeting and holding his.
That had to be the key to finding a way of ensuring Polly didn’t suffer unduly. She had told him this was the first thing she’d ever done ‘entirely for herself’ and it was clear she was relishing everything about her Arabian adventure. She seemed to crave excitement. Yet she’d stayed with what she’d known from childhood. There had to be more to that decision than he knew—and if he knew why he would be in a far better position to offer her an alternative.
‘What would you do if you had a completely free choice of what to do with your life?’ he prompted.
‘They’re two very different questions.’
‘And?’
‘Why have I stayed?’ she repeated slowly.
He nodded.
She hesitated, her eyes holding real sadness. ‘I told you I initially came back because my mother was struggling to adjust to life as the Duchess of Missenden, didn’t I?’
‘Yes.’
‘That…was true, but it was all a bit more complicated than that.’ Her fingers splayed out on the table between them.
Rashid waited, by no means sure she would tell him anything.
She looked up. ‘It concerns Anthony, so I need you to promise you won’t tell anyone.’
She was lovely. The Duke of Missenden deserved no such loyalty and yet he had it.
‘If any of this ended up in the British tabloids it would be horrendous.’
‘I would never betray your confidence.’
‘No. Sorry. It’s just I never talk about the family.’
‘The family’ as opposed to ‘my family’. It was a distinction he was beginning to understand. Nick had been right in his assessment of Polly’s role at Shelton.
‘But it’s hardly fair to ask you questions about yours and then refuse to tell you anything about mine. So…’ She took a deep breath. ‘In order to minimise death duties Richard had already passed ownership of the castle to Anthony by the time he married my mother.
‘That’s not unusual,’ she said in response to his raised eyebrow. ‘It really is the only way to make it possible for the great houses to be passed intact from one generation to the next. Crazy, isn’t it? You’d think they could work out a better system but, anyway, that’s what Richard did. It usually works well.’
But… Rashid waited for the ‘but’.
Polly twisted one of her small stud earrings. ‘Unfortunately for Shelton, Anthony is a gambler.’
She knew. Relief surged through him.
‘Richard said he didn’t know, but I think he must have. On some level, anyway. Everyone on the estate knew. But I think we thought Anthony wouldn’t touch Shelton.’
‘And he did?’
Polly nodded. ‘Oh, yes, it’s an addiction. As soon as Richard transferred ownership he borrowed huge sums against the house. Sold a number of small things he thought no one would notice.’ She tried to smile, but it faltered almost immediately. ‘My mother did, of course.’
Her blue eyes looked almost grey. Polly was miles away, thinking about a time that clearly gave her pain. Rashid could all too easily picture how difficult it must have been for the new Duchess to challenge her husband’s heir on missing treasures.
‘And there was nothing your stepfather could do?’
‘He’d transferred ownership. Shelton was Anthony’s. But, at the time, Richard and my mother were still living at the castle—’ She broke off, drawing in a painful breath. ‘Do you want to know all this? Really?’
‘I want to know why you have stayed at Shelton.’ If it hadn’t been so important for him to know Rashid didn’t think he could have forced her to continue.
She shrugged. ‘Oh, well, this is the “why”. I’d come home for the summer after I finished at uni. I had some vague plan about doing a PhD but, to be honest, I’d had enough studying for a bit and Richard asked me to help.’
Her face changed, softened, as kinder memories ran through her head.
‘He was the loveliest man. Real old school. He believed he was the custodian of Shelton for future generations and his one aim had been to hand the castle on to his heir intact.’
‘Only for the heir to start dismantling it.’
‘Right. It began with some of the minor paintings Richard had put into storage. Pieces of china. A few clocks. They all went to pay the interest on the loans.’
‘And your stepfather knew this?’
‘By the time I came home he did. Anthony was quite scared, I think. Everything had snowballed so quickly and he agreed to let his father take on the day-to-day running of the castle again.’
The day-to-day running, which, having read that final report, he now knew was Polly’s responsibility.
‘We divided the jobs between us. My mother continued as housekeeper. Richard concentrated on the financial side of things. And I tried to drum up new money-making enterprises to make a start on repairing the roof.’
‘Successfully?’
‘To an extent. Shelton is a money pit. But it was interesting work and it seemed worth doing.’ She looked to him as though she were searching for his approval. ‘It was only meant to be a very temporary thing.’
Polly brushed a hand across her face. ‘Richard was sure Anthony would seek help…’
And, of course, that hadn’t happened.
‘But, gambling is an addiction and
the problem had been there a long time. Richard and my mother moved out of the castle into a house on the estate and that helped maintain the peace. Anthony and Georgina took up residence in the main house.’
‘And you?’
‘Moved back down to the staff quarters. Much nicer.’ She took a breath before continuing, ‘But then there was the accident.’
Rashid saw the pulse beat in her neck and her hands move convulsively against her glass. He asked gently, ‘Is that how your mother came to be in a wheelchair?’
She swallowed hard, her voice husky. ‘Three years ago in May they were coming back from a party. Richard was driving and he had a stroke. Their car hit a ditch and they somersaulted. My mother broke her back but Richard never knew. He had a second stroke within twenty-four hours and died.’
She brushed a hand across her eyes. ‘Damn, I’m sorry. I hate thinking of it.’
‘So you stayed.’
‘Of course. While I was waiting for her to come home I installed ramps in the ground floor of the house, lowered work surfaces, fitted a bathroom in part of the garage and made a bedroom out of the other part.’
Rashid didn’t really need to hear the rest of her story. He could piece it together himself.
‘The upstairs I turned into a flat for me and I moved out of the staff quarters. And I tried to take over the things my mother and stepfather had been doing.’
‘Why?’ He knew few women who’d put their life so comprehensibly on hold. Certainly not for the years Polly had. No wonder she craved adventure. Her life was boxed in by a combination of circumstance and misplaced loyalty.
‘Minty says that. She says Shelton is Anthony’s responsibility and that I need to move away.’ Polly tried to smile. ‘And I do. I know I do. Even my mother says I do. But it’s hard to let Shelton go. Mentally I accept I need to, but I can’t quite do it. It feels like I’m admitting failure.’
‘It’s not your failure.’
‘But I know I’d be letting Richard down. I know he’d have wanted me to carry on as long as Anthony lets me. And, if I left, where would I go? My mother needs care. I have a strange CV.’ She took another sip of her drink. ‘I’ve got no references. Unless Anthony can be persuaded to write me one. And, even then, who’d believe it? He’s my stepbrother. I’m not sure anyone would take that seriously.’
Rashid frowned slightly. ‘Does Anthony want you to stay?’
‘Hell, no. He’d like to sell the castle. Only he can’t quite bring himself to do it while I’m there. It’s as though I remind him of his father and make him feel guilty.’
As well he might. Rashid sat back in his chair. Richard had been a man not unlike his friend. From the moment he’d become the Duke of Aylesbury, Nick had spent every thinking, breathing moment planning the future of his crumbling pile of ducal stones. Absolutely determined to secure it for the son he hoped he’d have one day.
‘And the Beaufort Stud?’ he asked, drumming his fingers on the table. It was beginning to sound as though the only person he’d hurt by dismantling Shelton was Polly.
‘It’s owned by the Lovell family, and has been for three generations, but it’s really Georgina’s baby now. She’s Anthony’s wife, the present Duchess of Missenden.’
‘Do you like her?’
‘I don’t know her. She considers me “staff”.’
It was an unholy mess. ‘Perhaps,’ he suggested carefully, ‘it would be better if your stepbrother sold the castle. Then its care could be entrusted to someone who would cherish it.’
‘That won’t happen.’ Polly looked at him. ‘Anthony will make much more money if he sells it off in bits and pieces. And I suspect the castle will be divided up into upmarket apartments, sold off on some kind of long lease. That would probably be enough to salvage his pride.’
Of course, she was right.
Most disturbing from his perspective was that, instead of taking from Anthony Lovell something he valued, he was allowing a weak man to abdicate responsibility for wasting his inheritance.
It needed thinking about.
‘And my second question?’
Polly looked at him, bemused for a moment, then her eyes seemed to smile. He had no idea how they did that. They seemed to light up from within.
‘What would I like to do?’ She leant forward and thought for a moment or two, her elbows resting on the table. ‘I don’t know. I like being here. I like this.’
This. He liked this, too.
Being with her. Talking to her. Even though it wasn’t comfortable listening.
‘In the end I’ll have to go home, though. My mother will always need care.’
‘Do you own the house you live in?’
‘My mother does.’
That was better than it could have been. At least Anthony couldn’t sell it from under them.
‘So you see I don’t have very much time for dreams. I mustn’t waste a moment.’ Polly glanced down at her wristwatch. ‘There are still over four hours before I need to meet the others.’
‘Do you wish to rest?’
‘No.’ She looked slightly hesitant. ‘I was wondering whether we might go and see something of Al-Jalini? Or do you need some time alone? I can easily explore the hotel complex.’
That was the last thing he wanted. Alone he’d have too much time to think. Rashid shook his head. ‘It will be a pleasure to show you something of my country.’
An opportunity to salve his own conscience, too. He was as guilty as anyone of not considering Polly’s wishes. He might have more justification than most, but he’d arbitrarily taken decisions that would affect her profoundly. ‘Where do you wish to go?’
‘I don’t mind. Somewhere that isn’t on the itinerary, perhaps?’ she suggested, her eyes sparkling.
Adventure. She craved adventure. And the real Arabia.
‘I will arrange that,’ he said, standing up. ‘There is somewhere I should like to show you.’ He smiled. ‘Somewhere I think you will like.’
CHAPTER NINE
POLLY let Rashid go. She shouldn’t have asked to leave the hotel. Her smile became rueful as she gathered up the glasses and carried them through to her bedroom. She’d a pretty good understanding now of what forces were at work in Amrah. The timing of their visit was difficult. And she ought to be co-operating with the plans Rashid had already put in place, not making things more complicated.
But maybe it would be good for him, too. The cold, shut-down look he’d worn earlier had vanished while they’d been talking.
Polly walked over to the dressing table, her own brush and comb laid out. Her make-up bag to one side. She turned her head to look at her suitcase resting on a stand.
Everything must have been unpacked. She didn’t even bother to check. It didn’t seem to matter if some faceless someone thought she ought to buy better quality underwear. She had other things to think about. Problems that would all be waiting for her when she got home.
She sat on the edge of the king-size bed and searched her handbag for the small folded piece of paper on which she’d written the international dialling code for the UK and the number of the Al-Ruwi Palace Hotel. Phoning home felt difficult. Her mum refused to talk about what was happening at the castle, saying she preferred to hear all about her daughter’s travels, but Polly knew her too well. She could hear the weariness in her voice, the false brightness.
Today was no exception. Her mother was pleased to hear from her. Keen to tell her that Mrs Ripley, who came each morning and evening to help her get in and out of bed, was wonderful. That she’d been out to dinner with friends, and insisted they could talk about the quotes that had arrived from three local plumbers when Polly got home.
Polly ended the call absolutely certain all was not well. Anthony had become more acerbic of late and it was usually her mother he took his frustrations out on. Without her there to deflect the snide comments Polly imagined she’d be having an unpleasant time of it.
And it made her feel more trapped than ev
er. How could she ever leave? It wasn’t in her nature to walk away from people who needed her, but coming to Amrah had made her realise she did want more.
The soft tap on her door startled her, but it brought her head up. She was not going to spoil the now. Time with Rashid was precious, because whatever the future did hold for her it certainly did not hold Amrah’s playboy sheikh.
Fixing a smile, she opened the door, but it couldn’t have been very convincing because Rashid immediately asked, ‘Are you feeling well?’
Polly brushed a hand over her eyes. ‘I’m fine. I’ve just rung home.’
‘Are there problems?’
‘My mother assures me everything is “wonderful”, but I don’t believe her.’
‘Polly,’ Rashid said, stepping close. The lines around his mouth were more defined than she had ever seen them. ‘Polly, if there is anything you are worried about, at Shelton, please talk to me.’
She laughed, the sound breaking on a hiccup. She believed Rashid was a man who could move mountains, but the problems at Shelton Castle were beyond his fixing. ‘I think you’ve got enough going on in your life without me pouring out the nonsense in mine.’
Polly turned away to search the drawers for the blue lihaf Bahiyaa had insisted she pack.
‘Polly—’
She found the scarf and pulled it out. ‘I ought to take this. It’s so hot out there.’
Rashid nodded, his expression unutterably weary. His beautiful, strong face. Polly felt a sharp pull on her emotions, an intense compulsion to smooth the worry lines from his forehead, to reach out and cradle his face between her hands and kiss away everything that was bothering him.
He must be under so much pressure from all sides. It put her troubles into perspective. The future of a kingdom was surely more important than that of a house, however beautiful.
‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ she said.
‘Of course.’
‘Really?’
