Читать книгу The British Bachelors Collection - Сара Крейвен, Kate Hardy - Страница 24
ОглавлениеSO WHO WAS ANNALISE?
Violet was pleased that she had not been tempted to ask the second they had left his mother’s room. She didn’t know, didn’t care and was only going to be in his company for a short while longer in any case.
Infuriatingly, however, the name bounced around in her head over the next week and a half, as their visits to the hospital settled into a routine. They met at a predetermined time in the same place, exchanged a few meaningless pleasantries on the way up in the lift and then played a game for the next hour and a half. It was a game she found a lot less strenuous than she had feared. Eleanor Carver made conversation very easy. Little by little, Violet pieced together the life of a girl who had grown up in Devon, daughter of minor aristocratic parents. Childhood had been horses and acres of land as a back garden. There had been no boarding school as her parents had doted on their only child and refused to send her away and so she had remained in Devon until, at the age of seventeen and on the threshold of university, she had met, fallen head over heels in love with and married Damien’s father, an impossibly dashing half Italian immigrant who had wandered down from London with very little to offer except ambition, excitement and love. Eleanor had decided in seconds that all three were a better bet than a degree in History. She had battled through her parents’ alarm, refused to cave in and moved out of the family mansion to set up house in a little cottage not a million miles away. In due course, her parents had come round. Rodrigo Carver might not have been their first choice but he had quickly grown on them. He offered business advice on the family estate when fortunes started turning sour and his advice had come good. He had a street smart head for investment and passed on tips to Matthew Carrington that saw profits swell. In return, Matthew Carrington took a punt on his rough-diamond son-in-law and loaned him a sum of money to start up a haulage business. From that point, there had been no turning back and the half Italian immigrant had eventually become as close to his parents-in-law as their own daughter.
Violet thought that Eleanor Carver probably believed in fairy tale endings because of her own personal experience. Whirlwind romance with someone from a different place and a different background...a battle against the odds... Was that why she had accepted her son’s sudden love affair with a woman who could have been from a different planet?
She had posed that question to Damien only the day before and he had shrugged and said that he had never considered it but it made sense; then he had swiftly punctured that brief bubble of unexpected pleasure by adding that it was probably mingled with intense relief that she had been introduced to a woman who wouldn’t run screaming in horror at the thought of wellies, mud and the great outdoors.
For once, Violet arrived at the hospital shop ahead of schedule and was glancing through the rack of magazines when she heard him say behind her shoulder, ‘I didn’t get the impression that you were all that interested in the lifestyles of the rich and famous...’
She spun round, heart beating fast, and in that split second, realised that the hostility and resentment she had had for him had turned into something else somewhere along the line. She wasn’t sure what, but the sudden flare of excitement brought a tinge of high colour to her cheeks. When had she started looking forward to these hospital visits? What had been the thin dividing line between not caring what she wore because why did it matter anyway, and taking time out to choose something with him in mind? She had always felt the sparrow next to her sister’s radiant plumage. She couldn’t compete and so she had never tried. She had chosen baggy over tight and buttoned up over revealing because to be caught up in trying to dress to impress was superficial and counter-productive. So when had that changed?
Everything they said in that room and every fleeting show of affection was purely engineered for the sake of his mother and yet she found that she could recall each time he had touched her. She no longer started when his hand slid to the back of her neck. A couple of days ago he had casually tucked some of her hair behind her ear and she had caught herself staring at him, mouth half open, transfixed by a rush of violent confusing awareness, as if they had suddenly been locked inside a bubble while the rest of the world faded away. His mother had snapped her out of the momentary spell but it was dawning on her that lines were being crossed. She just didn’t know what to do about it. She would have to find out just how long the charade was destined to continue. Yes, she had made a deal but that didn’t mean that she could be kept in ignorance of when the deal would come to an end. Her life was on hold while she pretended to be his girlfriend. She needed to find out when she would be able to step back to reality.
‘Aren’t we all?’ she snapped, taking a step back and bumping into someone behind her. Flustered, she muttered apologies and then looked straight into Damien’s amused blue eyes. Usually he came straight to the hospital from work. Today was an exception. He wasn’t in his suit but in a pair of black jeans and a thick cream jumper. She couldn’t peel her eyes away from him.
‘My apologies. Shall I buy the magazine for you?’
Violet discovered that she was still clutching the magazine and she wondered why because she had had no intention of getting it. ‘Thank you, but there’s no need. I was just about to buy it myself.’
‘Please. Allow me.’ He made an elaborate show of studying the cover of the magazine. ‘I dated her,’ he mused, but his interest stopped short of flicking through the magazine to look further.
If that passing remark was intended to bring her back down to earth, it certainly succeeded and Violet was infuriated with herself for the time she had taken choosing which pair of jeans to wear and which jumper. Ever since he had made that revealing remark about her body, and even if it had been meant for the benefit of his mother, she had chosen her snuggest jumpers to wear, the ones that did the most for a figure like hers. Now she was reminded of just the sort of body he looked at and it wasn’t one like hers.
‘What’s her name?’ Violet wondered if it was the mysterious Annalise his mother had dropped into the conversation on that first evening.
‘Jessica. At the time, she was on the brink of making it to the catwalk. Seems she got there.’ He paid for the magazine and handed it over to her.
‘I’m not surprised. She’s very beautiful.’
And once upon a time, Damien thought, she would have encompassed pretty much everything he sought in a woman. Compliant, ornamental and inevitably disposable.
He looked down at the argumentative blonde staring up at him with flushed cheeks and a defiantly cool expression and felt that familiar kick in his loins. The complication which he had been determined to sideline was proving difficult to master. He wondered whether it was because denial was not something he had ever had the need to practice when it came to the opposite sex. When he had concocted this plan, he had had no idea that he might find himself at the mercy of a wayward libido. He had looked at the earnest, pleading woman slumped despairingly in the chair in his office and had seen her as a possible solution to the problem that had been nagging away at him. Nothing about her could possibly have been construed as challenging. There had not been a single iota of doubt in his mind that she might prove to be less amenable than her exterior had suggested.
While it was hardly his fault that his initial judgement had a few holes, he still knew that the boundaries to what they were doing had to be kept in place, although it was proving more challenging than expected. Every time he touched her, with one of those passing gestures designed to mimic love and affection, he could feel a sizzle race up his arm like an electric current. Those brief lapses of self-control were unsettling. Now, as they began moving out of the hospital shop, he stopped her before they could head for the lift.
‘We need to have a chat before we go up.’
‘Okay.’ This would be an update on how long their little game would continue. Perhaps he had had word back from the consultant on the line of treatment they intended to pursue. When she thought of this routine coming to an end, her mind went blank and she had to remind herself that it couldn’t stop soon enough.
‘We could go the cafeteria but I suggest somewhere away from the hospital compound. Walking distance. There’s a café on the next street. I’ve told my mother that we might be a bit later than usual today.’
‘There haven’t been any setbacks, have there?’ Violet asked worriedly, falling into step beside him. ‘A couple of days ago your mother said that they were all pleased with how things were coming along, that it seems as though the cancer was caught in time, despite concerns that she might have left it too late...’
‘No setbacks, although my mother would be thrilled if she knew that you were concerned...are you really? Because there’s just the two of us here. No need for you to say anything you don’t want to. No false impressions to make.’
‘Of course I’m concerned!’ She stopped him in his tracks with a hand on his arm. ‘I may have agreed to go through this charade because my sister’s future was at stake, but your mother’s a wonderful woman and of course I would never fake concern!’
Damien recognised the shine of one hundred per cent pure sincerity in her eyes. For a second, something very much like guilt flared through him. He had ripped her out of her comfort zone and compelled her to do something that went against the very fabric of her moral values because it had suited him. He had thrown back the curtain and revealed a world where people used other people to get what they wanted. It wasn’t a world she inhabited. He knew that because she had told him all about her friends in and out of school. Listening to her had been like lifting a chapter from an Enid Blyton book, one where good mates sat around drinking cheap boxed wine and discussing nothing more innocuous than the fate of the world and how best it could be changed.
Still, everything in life was a learning curve and being introduced to an alternate view would stand her in good stead.
‘How is your sister faring in Ibiza?’ he asked, an opportune reminder of why they were both here.
Violet smiled. ‘Good,’ she confided. ‘Remember I told you about that job she wanted? The one at the tapas restaurant on the beach?’ Despite the artificiality of their situation, she had found herself chatting to Damien a lot more than she had thought she might. Taking the lift down after visiting his mother, wandering out of the hospital together, he in search of a black cab, she in the direction of the underground...conversation was always so much less awkward than silence. And he was a good listener. He never interrupted and, when he did, his remarks were always intelligent and informative. He had listened to her ramble on about her colleagues at work without sneering at them or the lives they led. He had come up with some really useful advice about one of them who was having difficulties with a disorderly class. And he had cautioned her about worrying too much about Phillipa, had told her that she needed to break out of the rut she had spent years constructing and the only way to do that would be to walk away from over-involvement in what her sister was getting up to. If Phillipa felt she had no cushion on which to fall back, then she would quickly learn how to remain upright.
Had she mentioned Phillipa and the job at the bar? Damien thought. Yes. Yes, she had. Well, they saw each other every day. The periods of time spent in each other’s company might have been concentrated, but they conversed. It would have been impossible to maintain steady silence when they happened to be on their own. Admittedly, she did most of the conversing. He now knew more about the day-to-day details of her life than he had ever expected to know.
‘I remember.’ No references needed for a bar job. Good choice.
‘Well, she got it. She’s only been there two days but she says the tips are amazing.’
‘Let’s hope she’s not tempted to put her hand in the till,’ Damien remarked drily but there was no rancour in his eyes as they met hers for a couple of seconds longer than strictly necessary.
‘I’ve already given her a lecture about that,’ Violet said huffily.
‘And what about the partner in crime?’
‘He wasn’t a partner in crime.’
‘Aside from the forging of references technicality.’
‘He’s working on restoring a boat with his friend.’
‘He knows much about boat restoration?’
‘Er...’
‘Say no more, Violet. They’re obviously a match made in Heaven.’
‘You’re so cynical!’
‘Not according to my mother. She complimented me on my terrific taste in women and waxed lyrical about the joys of knowing that I’m no longer dating women with IQs smaller than their waist measurements.’
They had reached the café and he pushed open the door and stood aside as she walked past him. The brush of his body against hers made her skin burn. So his mother was pleased with her as a so-called girlfriend. She thought back to the eye-catching brunette on the magazine cover. He must find it trying to have pulled the short straw for this little arrangement. He could have been walking into a café, or into an expensive restaurant because hadn’t he already told her that the women he dated wouldn’t have been caught dead anywhere where they couldn’t be admired, with a leggy brunette dangling on his arm. Instead of her.
He ordered them both coffee and then sat back in his chair to idly run his finger along the handle of the cup.
‘Well?’ Violet prompted, suddenly uncomfortable with the silence. ‘I don’t suppose we’re here because you wanted to pass the time of day with me. It’s been nearly two weeks. The new term is due to start in another ten days. Your mother seems to be doing really well. Have you brought me here to tell me that this arrangement is over?’ She felt a hollow spasm in the pit of her stomach at the prospect of never seeing him again and then marvelled at how fast a habit, even a bad one, could be turned into something that left a gaping hole when there was the prospect of it being removed.
‘When I told you that our little deal would be over and done with in a matter of days, I hadn’t foreseen certain eventualities.’
‘What eventualities?’
‘The consultants agree that treatment can be continued in Devon.’
‘And that’s good, isn’t it? I know your mother is very anxious about Dominic. She speaks to him every day on the telephone and has plenty of contact with his carers, but he’s not accustomed to having her away for such a long period of time.’
‘When did she tell you this?’
‘She’s phoned me at home a couple of times.’
‘You never mentioned that to me.’
‘I didn’t realise that I was supposed to report back to you on a daily basis...’
‘You’re supposed to understand the limitations of what we have here. You’re supposed to recognise that there are boundaries. Encouraging my mother to telephone you is stepping outside them.’
‘I didn’t encourage your mother to call me!’
‘You gave her your mobile number.’
‘She asked for it. What was I supposed to do? Refuse to give it to her?’
‘My mother plans on returning to Devon tomorrow. She’ll be able to attend the local hospital and I will personally make sure that she has the best in house medical team to hand that money can buy.
‘That’s good.’ She would miss Eleanor Carver. She would miss the company of someone who was kind and witty and the first and only parent substitute she had known since her own mother had died. There had been no breathtaking revelations to the older woman or dark, secret confessions, but it had been an unexpected luxury to feel as though no one expected her to answer questions or be in charge. ‘I guess you’ll be going with her.’
‘I will.’
‘How is that going to work out for you and your work? I know you said that it’s easy to work out of the office but is that really how it’s going to be in practice?’
‘It’ll work.’ He paused and looked at her carefully. ‘The best laid plans, however...’
‘I hate to sound pushy but would you be willing to sign something so that I know you won’t go back on what you promised?’
‘Don’t you trust me?’ he asked, amused.
‘Well, you did put me in this position through some pretty underhand tactics...’
‘Remind me how much your sister is enjoying life in sunny Ibiza...’ Damien waved aside that pointed reminder of his generosity. ‘Naturally, I will be more than happy to sign a piece of paper confirming that your sister won’t be seeing the inside of a prison once our deal is over.’
‘But I thought it was...’ Violet looked at him in confusion.
‘There’s been an unfortunate extension.’ He delivered that in the tone of voice which promised that, whatever he had to say, there would be no room for rebuttal. ‘It seems that your avid attention and cosy chats with my mother on the phone have encouraged her to think that you should accompany me down to Devon.’
‘What?’ Violet stammered.
‘I could repeat it if you like, but I can see from the expression on your face that you’ve heard me loud and clear. Believe me, it’s not something I want either but, given the circumstances, there’s very little room for manoeuvre.’ Could he be treated to anyone looking more appalled than she currently was?
‘Of course there’s room for manoeuvre!’ Violet protested shakily.
‘Shall I tell her that the prospect of going to Devon horrifies you?’
‘You know that’s not the sort of thing I’m talking about. I...I...have loads to do before school starts...classes to prepare for...’
Damien waited patiently as she expounded on the million and one things that apparently required her urgent attention in London before raising his hand to stop her in mid-flow.
‘My mother seems to think that having you around for a few days while her treatment commences would give her strength. She’s aware that you start back at school in a week and a half.’ She had no choice but to do exactly what he said; Damien knew that. When it came to this arrangement, she didn’t have a vote. Still, he would have liked to have her on board without her kicking and screaming every inch of the way. And really, was it so horrific a prospect? Where his mother lived was beautiful. ‘She’s not asking you to ditch your job and sit by her bedside indefinitely.’
‘I know that!’
‘If I can manage my workload out of the office, then I fail to see why you can’t do the same.’
‘It just feels like this is...getting out of control...’
‘Not following you.’
‘You know what I mean, Damien,’ Violet snapped irritably. ‘I thought when I accepted this...this...assignment...that it was only going to be for a few days and it’s already been almost two weeks...’
‘This situation isn’t open to discussion,’ Damien said in a hard voice. ‘You traded your freedom for your sister’s. It’s as simple as that.’
‘And what about when I leave Devon? When do I get my freedom back?’ Violet hated the way she sounded. As though she couldn’t care less about his mother or her recovery. As though the last thing in the world she wanted was to help her in a time of need. And yet this wasn’t what she had signed up for and the prospect of getting in ever deeper with Damien and his family felt horribly dangerous. How could she explain that? ‘I’m sorry, but I have to know when I can expect my life to return to normal.’
‘Your life will return to normal—’ he leaned forward, his expression grim and as cold as the sea in winter ‘—just about the same time as mine does. I did not envisage this happening but it’s happened and here’s how we’re going to deal with it. You’re going to put in an appearance in Devon. You’re going to enjoy long country walks and you’re going to keep my mother’s spirit fighting fit and upbeat as you chat to her about plants and flowers and all things horticultural. At the end of the week, you’re going to return to London and, at that point, your presence will no longer be required. Until such time as I inform you that your participation is redundant, you remain on call.’
Violet blanched. What leg did she have to stand on? He was right. She had effectively traded her freedom for Phillipa’s. While her sister was living a carefree existence in Ibiza, she was sinking ever deeper into a morass that felt like treacle around her. She couldn’t move and all decision-making had been taken out of her hands.
‘The more involved I get, the harder it’s going to be to tell your mother...that...’
‘Leave that to me.’ Damien continued to look at her steadily. ‘There’s another reason she wants you there in Devon,’ he said heavily. ‘And, believe me, I’m not with her on this. But she wants you to meet my brother.’ His mother had never known the reasons for his break-up with Annalise, nor had she ever remarked on the fact that, after Annalise, he had never again brought another woman down to the country estate in Devon. The very last thing he wanted was a break in this tradition, least of all when it involved a woman who was destined to disappear within days.
‘That’s very sweet of her, Damien, but I don’t want to get any more involved with your family than I already am.’
‘And do you think that I do?’ he countered harshly. ‘We both have lives waiting out there for us.’ The fact that control over the situation had somehow been taken out of his hands lent an edge to his anger. When his mother had suggested bringing Violet to Devon, he had told her, gently but firmly, that that would be impossible. He cited work considerations, made a big deal of explaining how long it took to prepare for a new term—something of which he knew absolutely nothing but about which he had been more than happy to expound at length. He had been confident that no such thing would happen. His fake girlfriend would not be setting one foot beyond the hospital room.
His mother had never been known to enter into an argument with him or to advance contrary opinions when she knew how he felt about something. He had been woefully unprepared for her to dig her heels in and make a stance, ending her diatribe, which had taken him completely by surprise by asking tartly, ‘Why don’t you want her to come to Devon, Damien? Is there something going on that I should know about?’
Deprived of any answering argument, he had recovered quickly and warmly assured his mother that there was nothing Violet would love more than to see the estate and get to know Dominic.
‘You will need a more extensive wardrobe than the one you have,’ he informed her because, as far as he was concerned, there was nothing further to be said on the matter. ‘You need wellies. Fleeces. Some sort of waterproof coat. I’m taking it that you don’t have any of those? Thought not. In that case, you’re going to go to Harrods and use the account I’ve already talked to you about.’
‘Do you know something? I can’t wait for all of this to be over! I can’t wait for when I no longer have to listen to you bossing me about and reminding me that I’m in no position to argue!’ Over the past few days she had been lulled into a false sense of security, of thinking that he wasn’t quite as bad as she had originally thought. She had watched him interacting with his mother, had listened as he had soothed the same concerns on a daily basis without ever showing a hint of impatience. She had foolishly started feeling a weird connection with him.
‘Is that how you treat everyone?’ she blurted, angry with herself for harbouring idiotic illusions. ‘Is that how you’ve treated all the women you’ve been out with? Is that how you treated Annalise?’ It was out before she had a chance to rein it in and his eyes narrowed into chips of glacial ice.
‘Was that another topic under discussion with my mother?’
‘No, of course not! And it’s none of my business. I just feel...frustrated that my whole world has been turned upside down...’
‘Excuse me if I don’t feel unduly sympathetic to your cause,’ Damien inserted flatly. ‘We both know what was at stake here. As for Annalise, that’s a subject best left unexplored.’ Without taking his eyes from her face, he signalled for the bill.
‘You can’t expect me to spend a week in your mother’s company and not have an inkling of anything to do with your past.’ She inhaled deeply and ploughed on. ‘What do you expect me to say when she talks about you? It’s going to be different in Devon. We’ll have a great deal more time together. Your mother’s already mentioned her once. She’s sure to mention her again. What am I supposed to say? That we don’t discuss personal details like that? What sort of relationship are we supposed to have if we never talk about anything personal?’
She stared at him with mounting frustration and the longer the silence stretched, the angrier she became. He might be the puppet-master but there were limits as to how tightly he could jerk the strings! She foresaw long, cosy conversations with his mother when her only response to any questions asked, aside from the most basic, would be a rictus smile while she frantically tried to think of a way out. She would be condemned to yet more lying just because he was too arrogant to throw her a few titbits about his past.
‘I don’t care what happened between the two of you. I just want to be able to look as though I know what your mother’s on about if she brings the name up in conversation. Why are you so...so...secretive?’
Damien was outraged that she had the nerve to launch an attack on him. Naturally there was a part of him that fully understood the logic of what she was saying. Undiluted time spent with his mother in front of an open fire in the snug would be quite different from more or less supervised snatches of time spent next to a hospital bed during permitted visiting hours. Women talked and it was unlikely that he could be a stifling physical presence every waking minute of the day. That said, the implicit criticism ringing in her voice touched a nerve.
Bill paid, he stood up and waited until she had scrambled to her feet.
‘Are you going to say anything?’ She reached out and stayed him with her hand. ‘Okay, so you’ve had loads of girlfriends. That’s fine.’
‘I was going to marry her,’ Damien gritted.
Violet’s hand dropped and she looked at him in stupefied silence. She couldn’t imagine him ever getting close enough to any woman to ask for her hand in marriage. He just seemed too much of a loner. No...it was more than that. There was something watchful and remote about him that didn’t sit with the notion of him being in love. And yet he had been. In love. Violet didn’t know why she was so shocked and yet she was.
‘What happened?’ They were outside now, heading back towards the hospital. Her concerns about going to Devon had been temporarily displaced by Damien’s startling revelation.
‘What happened,’ he drawled, stopping to look down at her, ‘was that it didn’t work out. I didn’t share the details with my mother. I don’t intend to share them with you. Any other vital pieces of information you feel you need to equip yourself with before you’re thrown headlong into my mother’s company?’
‘What was she like?’ Violet couldn’t resist asking. In her head, she imagined yet another supermodel, although it was unlikely that she could be as stunning as the one on the cover of the magazine.
‘A brilliant lawyer who has since become a circuit judge.’
Well, that said it all, Violet thought. It also explained a whole host of things. Such as why a highly intelligent male should choose to go out with women who weren’t intellectually challenging. Why his interest in the opposite sex began and ended in bed. Why he had never allowed himself to have a committed relationship again. He had been dumped and he still carried the scars. She felt a twinge of envy for the woman who had had such power over him. Was he still in touch with her? Did he still love her?
‘And do you bump into her? London’s small.’
‘Question time over, Violet. You now have enough information on the subject to run with it.’ Damien’s lips thinned as he thought of Annalise. Still hovering in the wings, still imagining that she was the love of his life. Did he care? Hardly. Did he bump into her? Over the years, with tedious and suspicious regularity. There she would be, at some social function for the great and the good, always making sure to seek him out so that she could check out his latest date and update him on her career. He never avoided her because it paid to be reminded of his mistake. She was a learning curve that would never be forgotten.
Violet saw the grim set of his features and drew her own, inevitable conclusions. He had been in love with a highly intelligent woman, someone well matched for him, and his marriage proposal had been rejected. For someone like Damien, it would be a rejection never forgotten. He had found his perfect woman and, when that hadn’t worked out, he had stopped trying to find another.
What they had might be a business arrangement, but everything he had ever had with every woman after Annalise had been an arrangement. Arrangements were all he could do.
‘I’ll get some appropriate clothes,’ Violet conceded. ‘And you can text me with the travel info. But, at the end of the week, it’s over for me. I can’t keep deceiving your mother.’
‘By the end of the week, I think you will have played your part and I will officially guarantee that your sister is off the hook.’
‘I can’t wait,’ Violet breathed with heartfelt sincerity.
