Читать книгу The Wedding Deception - Kay Thorpe - Страница 7

THE opening of the front passenger door and emergence of a younger man brought mingled emotions, with relief playing only a minor part. Judging from the resemblance between the two, this almost certainly was Scott.

The two men moved around opposite sides of the Panda to head for the door. Ross was the taller by a couple of inches, and the more substantial in build, his chest broad and solid beneath the thin white sweater. Clad in similar casual style, Scott looked distinctly boyish by comparison.

Claire stirred herself reluctantly to go out into the hall as the two of them passed the window. Whatever was to come had to be faced. The sound of the doorbell brought Jill out from the sitting-room.

‘He’s here!’ she exclaimed unnecessarily. ‘I’ll let him in.’

‘He’s not alone,’ Claire warned, and saw the light in her eyes fade a little. ‘He has his brother with him.’

Jill rallied with surprising speed. ‘Then we’ll just have to set another place.’

There was food enough for four, Claire supposed, although she didn’t see Ross Laxton sitting down quietly to dinner. There could only be one reason why he had elected to accompany his brother tonight instead of waiting until morning, and that was to see that he made no rash promises.

She stayed where she was in the hall as Jill went to open the door, preparing herself for the coming encounter. Marriage might or might not be the best solution, but if it really did turn out to be what both of them wanted then she would fight tooth and nail for their right to make that decision.

Jill’s invitation to enter sounded astonishingly composed. With features less forceful all round than his brother’s, though certainly no less eye-catching, Scott looked apologetic.

‘Not my idea,’ he disclaimed, with obvious meaning. ‘Any more than this afternoon was my idea.’

‘Mine entirely on both counts,’ Ross confirmed. ‘I saw no point in waiting till tomorrow.’

Claire ignored him, her attention focused on the younger man.

‘I can’t pretend to be happy about all this,’ she said, ‘but there’s no point in railing at you about it either. We can talk over dinner. It’s just about ready.’ She added, with the intention of changing the conversation, ‘Perhaps you’d prefer a sherry or something first?’

‘We didn’t anticipate anything,’ said Ross, before Scott could answer. ‘Certainly not a meal.’

‘We usually eat around this time,’ Claire responded shortly. ‘I saw no reason to alter our routine.’ She started to turn, adding over a shoulder, ‘I’ll need to lay another place at table. Take them through to the sitting-room, Jill.’

Safe in the dining-room, she took a moment to compose herself before going to the sideboard to get extra cutlery from the drawer. This wasn’t going to be an easy encounter.

The mats were in a cupboard beneath the old oak trolley which her mother had picked up for a song at one of the house sales she had used to frequent. None of the furniture in the house was worth a great deal in terms of antiquity, but each and every piece had been collected with discernment. With one or two exceptions, the delft plates on the shelf had mostly come from local markets, their faded colours taking on new life in the soft evening light.

Her mother had loved this house from the moment she had seen it, she had always said. Both she and her father had been loving people altogether. They would have known how best to deal with all this.

That way lay depression, Claire warned herself, shutting off the images. It was up to her to handle the situation—with Jill’s happiness the prime consideration. Let Ross Laxton beware!

The three of them were seated on opposite sides of the stone fireplace: Jill and Scott together on one two-seater sofa, holding hands with an air of defiance and Ross on the other, looking like a fish out of water. There were no drinks in evidence, and Claire wasn’t about to ask again. In any case, she didn’t want anything to spoil.

‘If you’d like to come through, we may as well get started,’ she said.

Ross was first on his feet, filling the room with his presence. ‘Lead on,’ he invited with a derisive glint in his eyes. ‘Something smells very good, I must say!’

He was mocking her efforts to act normally, Claire reflected. Well, two could play that game. She gave him a bland little smile.

‘I hope it tastes as good as it smells.’

‘I’m sure of it,’ he said. ‘It wouldn’t dare do otherwise.’

Jill and Scott were on their feet now, both of them obviously aware of the cross-current running between their respective siblings.

‘This is really good of you, Claire,’ said Scott. ‘Especially considering the shock it must have been to have it sprung on you that way,’ he added, with a glowering glance at his brother.

‘I apologise,’ proffered Ross smoothly. ‘I was labouring under some degree of shock myself.’

Claire returned his gaze with determined containment. If he thought that such tactics would disarm her, he was mistaken. His intimation earlier that Scott might not be Jill’s only sexual experience had cut too deep to be so easily dismissed.

‘I’m sure you were,’ she said. ‘Shall we leave it at that for the moment, and go and eat?’

She led the way, sensing Ross at her back—a little too close for comfort. She placed him at the foot of the oblong table, opposite her own seat, with Jill and Scott on either side, where they could gaze into each other’s eyes to their hearts’ content. One only had to look at the pair of them to see that they both felt the same way. Scott came across so differently from what she had anticipated after meeting his brother. There was a resemblance in looks, perhaps, but no resemblance whatsoever in personality.

She made no apologies for the lack of a starter, but gave both men two trout apiece, leaving them to help themselves to potatoes and salad. The succulent pinktinged flesh gave off a delicate aroma as Ross slid the skin aside and eased out the whole skeletal framework with an expertise that Claire could only envy. No matter how carefully she dissected trout, she almost always at some point managed to get bones in her mouth, and disposing of them politely in public posed quite a problem.

Conversation was desultory while they ate, most of it prompted by Ross himself. Claire regarded his overtures with suspicion, sensing an attempt to lull the lot of them into believing him reconciled to the situation. There was no way a man of his kind would have changed his views so radically in the space of a couple of hours. Which meant that the crunch was still to come.

Whatever his motives, he finished every last morsel of the trout, laying down his knife and fork with a sigh of what appeared to be genuine satisfaction.

‘Congratulations,’ he commented. ‘Those were beautifully cooked!’

‘All down to the microwave,’ disclaimed Claire, unwilling to accept the compliment under false pretences. ‘Modern technology has its uses.’

‘Especially when unexpected guests turn up,’ came the dry rejoinder. ‘Congratulations anyway. Not everyone can time a microwave correctly.’

It had done that itself too, but she let it pass, seizing the initiative before he could take it from her. ‘We’re not here to talk about food, are we?’

‘No, we’re not.’ Scott sounded abrupt. ‘Stop playing around, Ross.’

Still fixed on Claire, the grey eyes gave little away. ‘All right, so let’s talk. Marriage aside, we can surely come to some other mutually agreeable arrangement.’

‘If you mean money, you can keep it!’ Jill burst out, face flaming. ‘And if you’re thinking I might agree to have an abortion, you can think again! Do you hear?’

‘I imagine half the neighbourhood heard,’ he replied with irony. ‘Let’s try and stay rational about it, shall we?’

‘I already told you what we’re going to do about it,’ said Scott forcefully. ‘I don’t need your approval!’

His brother regarded him for a moment with brows drawn together. ‘Have you thought about what it’s going to do to Dad?’

‘That’s emotional blackmail, and you know it!’ The younger man’s eyes were bright with resentment. ‘We don’t have to tell him about the baby right away, if it comes to that—just that I’m going to be married.’

‘And where exactly were you planning on getting married?’

Scott exchanged glances with Jill, as if seeking confirmation of a previous agreement. ‘Registry Office, probably.’

Ross lifted a sardonic eyebrow. ‘At the risk of sounding pedantic, it’s Register not Registry. That aside, you think he isn’t going to guess why? The stroke affected his motor responses, not his reasoning power. He can still add two and two.’

‘Is another stroke imminent?’ asked Claire. ‘I mean, have the doctors actually said he mustn’t be put under any kind of stress?’

‘Where there’s been one, there’s always danger of another. Any fool knows that.’

She bit her lip, bound to acknowledge a degree of justification in the rebuttal. She had spoken without thinking, intent only on calming the situation. All the same, she had no intention of taking it lying down.

‘You must win a lot of friends with that line,’ she said, without attempting to mute the tartness.

Surprisingly, his lips twitched. ‘A figure of speech. Nothing personal.’

Like hell! she thought.

Scott made a sudden impatient movement. ‘Look, we’re not getting anywhere like this.’ He eyed Claire with determination in the line of his mouth. ‘Are you on our side?’

She wasn’t wholly, but neither was she prepared to join forces with his brother. ‘Yes,’ she said firmly.

His smile was brilliant, his whole face relaxing. ‘Thanks.’

‘Seems I’m outnumbered.’ Ross sounded resigned.

Claire regarded him sceptically. He had given in far too easily for someone so much against this marriage. Committed to it now herself, regardless of the doubts still there, she wasn’t going to let him put a spanner in the works whatever he might have in mind.

She got up to clear the plates, avoiding contact with Ross’s long, lean fingers as he passed his across to her. His hands were well-kept; skin tanned a smooth golden brown, nails neatly trimmed. Capable of what, she didn’t stop to consider.

‘I’ll bring the other dishes,’ he offered unexpectedly. ‘Save wheeling the trolley through.’

Claire would have preferred the trolley, but she wasn’t being given the choice. Ross was already on his feet, gathering up both salad and potato bowls. He slanted a quizzical glance as she hesitated.

‘Any problem with that?’

She shook her head, unable to frame a refusal. If he had any idea of talking her round to his point of view once they were alone, he could forget it. She had given her word. She couldn’t and wouldn’t go back on it now. What good would it do anyway? As Jill herself had said, they were both of them of an age to please themselves, and equally determined to do so.

Small as the kitchen was, Ross made it smaller still. He deposited the bowls on the work-surface where she indicated, but made no immediate attempt to return to the dining-room, leaning a hip against the cupboard to watch her transfer the apple pie from the pan in which it had been baked the previous evening on to a plate.

‘You made that yourself,’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ she said shortly. ‘In the proper oven this time. Pastry doesn’t come out too well in the microwave.’

‘You must have found life very difficult being left with so much responsibility so young,’ he observed. ‘You said you had no other relatives?’

‘There’s a cousin on my mother’s side in New Zealand, but he has a family of his own to take care of.’ Claire kept her tone neutral. ‘We’ve managed.’

‘To keep your heads above water, maybe. I doubt if that business of yours brings in more than a bare living.’

‘That depends on your idea of a bare living. Our needs are fairly simple.’

‘How about desires?’

Claire swung to face him, the pie-slice clutched in her fist like a weapon. ‘Are you by any chance suggesting that Jill might have deliberately set out to entrap a wealthy husband?’

She had taken off the jacket of her pale grey suit on coming home, but there had been no time to change. He took his time replying, his gaze moving down to the vulnerable hollow of her throat revealed by the open collar of her thin lemon-coloured blouse, and from there to linger for a moment on the swell of her small firm breasts, before lifting again to view her stormy face with an expression that made her feel inadequate in every sense.

‘She wouldn’t be the first,’ he said hardily.

Claire calmed herself with an effort. Losing her temper was an indulgence which she couldn’t afford right now. Not with this man.

‘I see I was right in believing the capitulation a little too quick and easy,’ she retorted. ‘You’re determined not to let it happen, aren’t you?’

The grey eyes betrayed no discomfiture. ‘I’m determined to safeguard Scott’s future so far as I’m able, yes.’

‘You only have to look at the two of them to see how much in love they are!’ she declared.

His mouth twisted. ‘You think that’s all that’s necessary for a marriage to work?’

‘I think it’s a good basis.’

‘You’re a romantic.’ He made the words sound derogatory. ‘What about when the passion wears off?’

Claire gave him back look for look. ‘You’re confusing love with lust.’

‘I’m being realistic. Your sister is a very lovely girl. I can well understand how Scott could be carried away by her. Love of a kind, I’ll grant you, but what do they really have in common?’

‘What else is needed?’ she asked, trying to convince herself. ‘Jill might not have the same background, but she’s hardly out of the gutter.’

‘I wasn’t suggesting either of you were that.’ Ross was beginning to sound more than a little impatient. ‘It isn’t background I’m talking about.’

‘Oh, I think it is. You just don’t see Jill fitting in.’

There was a pause. He viewed her reflectively, hands thrust into trouser pockets in a manner far from relaxed. She was vibrantly conscious of his lean, fit length, of the latent strength in the broad shoulders and muscular forearms revealed by the pushed-up sleeves of his sweater. A man to be reckoned with in more ways than one; certainly not a man to make an enemy of. All the same, she had no intention of allowing him to walk roughshod over Jill’s dreams.

‘For someone who only learned of the situation a few hours ago, you’ve made a remarkably fast adjustment,’ he observed. ‘Maybe you see advantages for yourself too.’

Her eyes sparked, the pie-slice’s handle digging into her palm as her fingers closed fiercely about it. She had a sudden urge to stick it between his ribs. When she did speak, her voice was low and husky.

‘I neither want nor need anything from your family! All I care about is seeing Jill to rights. I’d have preferred a different start for her, obviously, but if your brother cares as much for her as she does for him—and I believe he does—then I’m ready to back them to the hilt.’

‘Regardless of what it might do to my father?’

Claire had forgotten about that. It brought her up short for a moment.

‘I realise it will be something of a shock for him,’ she said at length, choosing her words with care, ‘and I’m sorry it happened this way, believe me, but—’

‘Not one half as sorry as I am,’ came the grim interruption. ‘I came here tonight hoping for some cooperation from you, but obviously I’m not going to get it.’

‘Not the kind you’re looking for, for certain,’ she agreed. ‘I think your brother is well able to make his own decisions.’

Ross straightened abruptly. ‘You met him less than an hour ago. You’ve no idea what he’s capable of. Jill isn’t his first love.’

Claire stared at him, the wind knocked out of her. ‘You’re telling me he’s been in this same situation before?’

‘With regard to the pregnancy, no, but little more than a year ago he wanted to marry a girl he knew at Cambridge.’

She said tartly, ‘Did he change his own mind, or did you manage to talk him out of it that time?’

‘He realised what a fool he was being.’

‘He’s graduated now, and working for his living,’ she pointed out. ‘That surely makes a difference.’

‘Older, but surely no wiser.’ Ross was giving no quarter. ‘He isn’t even sure what he wants to do with his life as yet.’

‘Yes, he is.’ Claire was determined not to let the doubts take over. ‘He wants to marry my sister.’

‘And then what?’

‘That’s up to him to decide, isn’t it? After all, he can hardly be destitute.’

‘But you’d naturally have been just as ready to go along with this if he didn’t have two pennies to rub together.’

The cynicism came across loud and clear. Not without some basis, Claire was bound to admit. She made a concentrated attempt to be totally honest about it.

‘With a baby on the way, the financial aspect has to be important, of course. I’d hate to see Jill living hand to mouth. So, in that sense, the answer has to be no, I wouldn’t have been as ready to go along.’ She gave him no time to comment, her gaze unflinching. ‘Not that I could have stopped her going ahead with the marriage regardless. At her age she’s free to do whatever she thinks fit. The same way Scott is.’

Ross’s lip curled a little. ‘He’s past the age of consent, certainly.’

‘Then I’d suggest that you leave him to sort out his own affairs,’ she said crisply. ‘You can take the big brother theme too far.’

She turned away to pick up the plate containing the pie in one hand and the jug of cream in the other, feeling the shakiness in her lower limbs without surprise. There was something about Ross Laxton that would have rubbed her up the wrong way whatever the circumstances, she acknowledged. The fact that if Jill did marry Scott there would be other encounters was something she didn’t want to think about.

He followed her back to the dining-room, taking his seat again without a word. Claire served the pie, trying hard not to let matters swamp her completely. This morning she had been worried that the weather would keep customers away again. It seemed such a ludicrously small concern now.

Scott was the first to break the silence. ‘Whatever you tried on back there, you’re not going to change anything,’ he told his brother flatly. ‘Jill and I are going to be married—and soon.’

‘So you already said.’ Ross’s tone was level, his face expressionless. ‘When do you plan on breaking the news?’

Scott hesitated, obviously a little thrown by the capitulation. ‘When do you think might be the best time?’

‘You’re the one making the decisions.’

‘In the morning, then.’

‘Do you want me with you?’ asked Jill.

The two brothers clashed glances, with the younger man’s the first to fall.

‘I think it might be best if I told them on my own,’ he said.

‘Of course.’ She was obviously relieved. She added tentatively, ‘I hope everything will be all right.’

‘So,’ said Ross meaningfully, ‘do I.’ He looked down at the untouched portion of pie on his plate, his mouth set ‘I’m afraid my appetite has deserted me.’

Claire was too het up to eat any more herself. She pushed away her own plate and got to her feet again. ‘We’ll have coffee in the sitting-room,’ she said.

This time Ross made no offer of help. She had a feeling that if he hadn’t driven Scott here to start with, he would have forgone coffee altogether. So far he had failed in his aim to call a halt to his brother’s plans, but that didn’t mean he would stop trying.

Whatever he might have in mind, he made no further reference. Scott offered no spoken demur when it was intimated that they would leave soon after the coffee had been drunk, although he was obviously reluctant to do so.

‘I’ll phone you as soon as I’ve got it over with,’ he told Jill. ‘They’ll want to meet you. You too, of course,’ he added to Claire. ‘There’ll be arrangements to make.’

‘Let’s take one step at a time,’ suggested his brother. ‘It’s hardly as if the baby is due next week!’ He gave Claire a brief nod. ‘Thanks again for the hospitality.’

She inclined her head in return. ‘You’re welcome.’

Politeness so often involved telling lies, she reflected when the two of them had departed. They had been anything but welcome. The strain of the last few hours was beginning to tell on her. It was all she could do to keep a sense of proportion. There were worse things which could happen.

‘So, what do you think of him?’ asked Jill anxiously.

Does it matter what I think? Claire felt like asking, but managed a faint smile instead.

‘He seems nice enough.’

‘Nice?’ Jill made it sound as if the word was an insult. ‘He’s just…wonderful!’

‘You’re the one in love with him, not me,’ Claire pointed out. She hesitated before adding softly, ‘I’d have thought the pair of you were sensible enough to at least take precautions.’

Her sister’s colour rose, the expression in her eyes closer to guilt than defiance. ‘You’d have thrown three fits if I’d gone on the pill!’

‘I don’t suppose I’d have known about it. In any case, it was as much Scott’s place to take responsibility. More so, in fact, considering other risks.’

Jill gazed at her with knitted brows for a moment before the penny dropped. ‘If you’re talking about what I think you are, Scott’s hardly in that category!’ she declared indignantly.

‘He doesn’t have to be. You’ve seen all the warnings on TV.’

‘They only apply to those who sleep around a lot. Scott isn’t like that either!’

Claire wished she could be as certain. He didn’t come across as the promiscuous type, but who could really tell these days? Jill almost certainly wasn’t his first sexual experience; according to Ross, she wasn’t even his first love. Not that she had any intention of passing on that piece of information.

She made a small wry gesture. ‘I’m sure he isn’t But neither is he blameless. From what Ross said, you were still in school when this whole thing started. Surely—’

‘It wasn’t Scott who made the running initially, it was me.’ Jill’s chin was jutting, her mouth mutinous. ‘I made sure he noticed me that very first night.’

‘In what way?’

‘I asked him to dance.’

Claire felt her lips twitch involuntarily. ‘That must have taken a lot of courage,’ she commented. ‘What did he say?’

‘That he’d be delighted.’ Jill’s tone had softened into reminiscence. ‘He’s so different from Rob, and Mark, and the others. They’d make some stupid joke if a girl asked any of them to dance.’

Claire could imagine. None of Jill’s former boyfriends was any older than she was herself, and certainly no more mature. Scott’s good looks were only a part of the attraction. He had about him that same air of confidence in himself that his brother possessed—although he lacked the other’s cutting edge.

‘Do all your friends know you’ve been seeing Scott?’ she asked.

Jill shook her head. ‘Just Lucy. I had to tell someone.’

Lucy was, and had been right since junior school, her closest friend. The two of them told each other everything. Claire wondered just how capable the other girl was of keeping mum when it came to news of this magnitude. Everyone who could count would know the truth soon enough once Jill began to show, of course, but by that time she would be married, and not open to quite the same degree of censure from those with nothing better to think about.

Local opinion was hardly the main concern anyway. What mattered most was that Jill should be certain of what she was doing. Claire doubted if she had looked any further ahead than the immediate future.

‘Do you think you’d have thought about marrying Scott if you hadn’t got pregnant?’ she said slowly, feeling for the words. ‘I mean, really thought about it.’

The answer came swift and sure. ‘Of course. He’s everything I ever dreamed about!’

‘I shouldn’t have imagined you dreamt about marriage at all at your age,’ Claire remarked mildly. ‘I know I didn’t.’

‘I’m not you,’ returned her sister with indisputable logic. ‘I never wanted a career in the first place. You were always the ambitious one.’

And ambition was something which she had been forced to put aside to a great extent, Claire acknowledged ruefully. Sales was a long way from design, even if she did have her own business. She still kept her drawingboard set up in her bedroom, and occasionally worked on an idea, but time was too limited to consider it anything but a hobby.

‘I wish you’d told me all this before,’ she said, returning that particular dream to its niche. ‘I honestly never realised how you felt about things.’

‘It doesn’t matter now, does it?’ Jill obviously felt she could afford to be magnanimous. ‘I’ve got what I want— or I shall have soon—and you’ll be able to do whatever you want without worrying about me any more.’

That aspect hadn’t occurred to her, Claire had to admit. Nor did she find it any consolation. She got up and went to draw the curtains, standing for a moment gazing out into the dusk. There was so much to be considered, so many details that Jill didn’t appear to have got round to thinking about as yet.

‘Have you discussed where you’re going to live?’ she queried, without turning.

‘Not yet.’ Jill sounded anything but concerned. ‘We’ll probably buy a house.’

Money might not be the main attraction in this relationship but it certainly had some bearing, Claire thought drily.

‘Does Ross still live at the family home too?’ she heard herself asking.

‘No, he has a flat in town.’

Claire finished drawing the curtains and briefly contemplated regaining her seat, but she was too churned up inside to spend any more time going over and over the same ground.

‘I think I’ll make some cocoa,’ she said. ‘Do you want some?’

‘No, thanks.’ Jill was lying back in her chair, eyes closed, a far-away look on her face. ‘I just want to think about Scott.’

Hair tousled, body still immature in the tight-fitting jeans and T-shirt, she looked nowhere near old enough to be having a baby. At that precise moment, Claire felt anything but benevolent towards the young man responsible.