Читать книгу British Bachelors: Tempting & New: Seduction Never Lies / Holiday with a Stranger / Anything but Vanilla... - Сара Крейвен, Liz Fielding - Страница 13

CHAPTER EIGHT

IT WAS A subdued afternoon. Lloyd Denison listened gravely to everything Tavy had to say, although she kept back her encounter with Jago and its shameful aftermath, then retired to his study with the comment, ‘She does not deserve you, my dear, and never did.’

He was distressed for her, thought Tavy, but not particularly surprised.

She did her best to be upbeat, checking online that she had the requisite qualifications to train for a B.Ed, although she found with dismay that she’d have to wait until September to apply for the following year.

Which meant she had to find some way to support herself in the interim period.

And, to her bewilderment, there was still no word from Patrick, making it difficult to altogether dismiss Jago’s unpleasant comments.

I’ll just have to tackle him myself, she thought.

Accordingly, after breakfast the following morning, she asked if she might absent herself from Morning Prayer and borrow the Peugeot. ‘There’s something I need to do.’

‘Yes, of course you may.’ Mr Denison studied her for a moment. ‘Want to tell me about it?’

She forced a smile. ‘Not right now.’

Market Tranton’s streets were quiet as Tavy made her way across town to the modern block where Patrick had his flat. She was just about to turn into the parking lot when a car pulled out in front of her, forcing her to brake sharply.

It was a convertible with the hood up, but she recognised it instantly, as it sped off. It was Fiona Culham’s car, and she was driving it, wearing sunglasses and with a scarf tied over her blonde hair.

Tavy sat very still for a moment, aware that her pulses were drumming oddly, as she told herself that there was probably a perfectly logical explanation, and that driving straight back to Hazelton Magna was the coward’s way out.

Then, taking a deep breath, she turned into the car park and found another car hurriedly departing, leaving an empty bay. An elderly woman was just emerging from the main entrance as she arrived, and she held the door open with a friendly smile. Tavy took the stairs to the first floor, and rang Number Eleven’s bell.

Patrick answered the door almost immediately. He was bare-legged, wearing a towelling robe and an indulgent smile.

‘So, what have you forgotten...?’ he began, then paused gaping as he registered his visitor’s identity. ‘Tavy—what the hell are you doing here?’

‘I think it’s called “wising up”.’ She couldn’t believe how calm she sounded when, by rights, she should be falling apart. ‘May I come in?’

There was another pause, then he reluctantly stood aside. She walked into the living room and looked around. The table in the window still held the remnants of breakfast for two, while the bedroom door was open affording a clear view of the tumbled bed.

‘So,’ she said. ‘You and Fiona.’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘As it happens. I didn’t know you’d been spying on us.’

‘Spying?’ she echoed incredulously. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I had no idea until I saw her driving away.’ She paused. ‘When did it start?’

‘Does it matter?’ His tone was defensive. He looked uncomfortable. Even shifty.

‘I think I’m entitled to ask.’

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ he said impatiently. ‘You’re a nice kid, Tavy, but it was never really serious between us. Surely you realised that.’

She said quietly, ‘I’m beginning to. But what I can’t quite figure is why “we” happened at all.’

He shrugged. ‘When I came down here, I needed a local girlfriend, and you...filled the bill.’

‘And was that why we only met outside the village—so that you could dump me for Fiona without looking quite so much of a bastard?’

‘Oh, do we really have to pick it all over?’ he asked irritably. ‘Let’s just say we had some nice times together and leave it there. Things change.’

Yes, thought Tavy. I’ve lost my job. I may lose my home and now I’ve lost you—except it seems that I never had you in the first place.

She lifted her chin. Smiled. ‘In that case,’ she said. ‘Let me wish you both every happiness.’ She paused. ‘I presume you will be getting married.’

‘Yes, when her divorce is finally settled, among other things.’ He didn’t smile back. ‘Until then, perhaps you’d be good enough to keep your mouth shut about us.’

‘Who,’ she asked, ‘could I possibly want to tell?’

And walked out, closing the door behind her.

She drove steadily back to Hazelton Magna. About a mile from the village she pulled over on to the verge, switched off the engine and sat for a while trying to gather her thoughts and gauge her own reactions. Waiting, too, for the pain to strike as if she’d just deliberately bitten down on an aching tooth.

After all, Patrick was the man she’d believed she was in love with—wasn’t he?

Only, there was nothing. Not even a sense of shock. Just a voice in her head saying, ‘So that’s it.’ Rather like being handed the solution to a puzzle—interesting, but not particularly important.

Looking back with new and sudden clarity, she could see she’d been flattered by Patrick’s attentions because of the memory of that long-ago crush.

She’d let herself think a new chapter had opened in her life. Yet how in the world could she have mistaken lukewarm for passionate? Except, of course, she had no benchmark for comparison. Or, at least, not then...

No, don’t go there.

Switching her mind determinedly back to Patrick, she could see now why there had been no pressure from him to consummate their relationship. Not consideration as she’d thought but indifference.

My God, she thought wryly. Even Dad saw that I was fooling myself.

And so did Jago...

Jago...

Even the whisper of his name made her tremble.

Now, there she could find pain, she thought. Pain that was immeasurably deep and frighteningly intense. Even life-changing. The certainty of it tightened her throat and set her pulses thudding crazily.

Patrick’s kisses had been enjoyable but had always left her aware she should have wanted more but wondering about her uncertainty. Yet the mere brush of Jago’s mouth on hers had opened a door into her senses that she’d never dreamed could exist. Offered a lure as arousing as it was dangerous.

And he hadn’t even been trying. In fact, he’d probably been amusing himself by gauging the precise depth of her innocence.

Maybe because he too thought she was ‘a nice kid’, she told herself, and flinched.

Hang on to that thought, she adjured herself almost feverishly. That’s the way to armour yourself against him, because you must do that. No out of the frying pan into the fire for you, my girl.

Tomorrow you go back to Market Tranton and you find a job stacking shelves or anything else that offers pay.

And you forget the past, disregard the present and concentrate on the future.

* * *

‘Was Mrs Wilding at church?’ she asked her father later as she dished up their lunch of lamb steaks with new potatoes and broccoli.

‘Fortunately, no,’ Mr Denison said, helping himself to mint sauce. ‘I imagine she’ll be transferring her allegiance to Saint Peter’s in Gunslade for the duration.’

Tavy stared at him. ‘But, Dad, she’s on the parochial church council.’

‘Yes, my dear, but that always had more to do with establishing her position in the village than anything else.’ He paused. ‘Did I mention that Julie Whitman and her fiancé were coming this afternoon at two-thirty to discuss their wedding? It could well be Holy Trinity’s last marriage service, so we’ll have to find some way to make it special.’

‘Oh, don’t say that.’ Tavy shook her head. ‘Maybe if we got up a petition...’

‘I don’t think so, darling. I’m afraid we have to bow to the inevitable, however unwelcome.’

Once the apple crumble which followed the lamb had been disposed of, Tavy cleared away, loaded the elderly dishwasher, and took her coffee into the garden. As she stepped on to the lawn, she heard the front doorbell sound in the distance. Julie and Graham had arrived early, she thought with a faint smile.

It was a warm day with only a light breeze and she wandered round, looking at the garden as if seeing it for the first time, kicking off her shoes to feel the fresh, sweet grass under her bare feet. Wondering if the lilac and laburnum had ever been so lovely and breathing in the scent of the early roses. Trying to capture a lifetime of memories in a moment.

She was under no illusions as to what would happen to the garden. The whole site would be bought up by a developer who would demolish the rambling inconvenient house, and use all the land to build a collection of bijou village residences. And she hoped she would be miles away when that happened, she thought fiercely.

She sat down under the magnolia on the ancient wooden bench she’d been planning to repaint and sipped her cooling coffee.

A wave of weariness swept over her. The day’s revelations had taken their toll after all. Nor had she slept well the night before. Snatches of her disturbing dreams kept coming back to her, and she was glad she could not remember the rest of them.

Above her the magnolia blossoms shivered, and, through half-closed lids, she saw a shadow fall across the grass in front of her.

Her eyes snapped open and she sat up with a jerk, nearly spilling the remains of her coffee when she realised who was standing there.

She said breathlessly, ‘How did you get in here?’

Jago shrugged. ‘I rang the doorbell in the conventional way, was greeted by your father and chatted to him until the would-be-weds arrived when he sent me out here to find you. Is there a problem?’

She glared at him. ‘It didn’t occur to you that you’re the last person I want to see?’ And especially when I’m wearing the old denim skirt and washed out T-shirt I’d have once opted for.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘But I didn’t let it trouble me for long.’

She said coldly, ‘I suppose you’ve come to apologise.’

‘Why? For suggesting you wake up and smell the coffee, or for kissing you? If so, you’ll be disappointed. I have no regrets on either count.’ Uninvited, he sat down on the grass, stretching long legs in front of him.

More chinos today, she noticed unwillingly, and a shirt the colour of a summer sky.

‘Has the man at the top of your welcome list put in an appearance?’

‘No,’ said Tavy, fighting an urge to grind her teeth. ‘Nor is he likely to.’

‘Ah,’ he said, and gave her a thoughtful glance. ‘So you know.’

‘Yes,’ she admitted curtly.

‘How did you find out?’

‘I went over to his flat this morning—to talk.’ She lifted her chin. ‘She was—just leaving. It was clear she’d been there all night.’

He said quietly, ‘And you’re upset.’

‘I’m devastated,’ she said defiantly. ‘Naturally.’

Jago’s dark brows lifted. ‘Then I can only say—I’m sorry.’

There was a silence, then Tavy said, ‘Tell me something. How did you find out?’

‘I became suspicious that night in the pub. She was so insistent we go there, and then the landlord told me they’d been quarrelling at the bar, and she’d been winding him up, apparently about being with me.

‘I also have the hidden advantage of knowing Fiona’s soon-to-be ex-husband,’ he added calmly. ‘We’ve had dinner a couple of times in London. I learned a lot about his brief marriage including his conviction that she’d been seeing someone else almost from the start. A boyfriend from the old days.’

Tavy moved uncomfortably. ‘But as they’re getting divorced, anyway...’

‘It’s not that simple.’ Jago shook his head. ‘Apparently the Latimer family had their lawyers draw up a form of pre-nuptial agreement. Under it, Fiona gets a more than generous divorce settlement if the marriage breaks down, unless infidelity can be proved, when she only gets a fraction more than zilch.’

He shrugged. ‘I believe that’s why she got Patrick to leave London, in case they were being watched.’

Tavy said numbly, ‘And why he needed a local girlfriend—as a smokescreen.’

‘Try and look on that as a blessing,’ Jago said smoothly. ‘It could have been worse.’

She bit her lip. ‘Is that why you’re here? To tell me all this?’

‘Not at all.’

‘Then what do you want?’ she demanded.

‘I came to offer you a job.’

There was a silence, then Tavy said unevenly, ‘If this is some kind of unpleasant joke, I don’t find it funny.’

‘On the contrary, it’s a bona fide offer of employment with proper hours and real wages. Work starts on the house next week, and I cannot always be around to oversee it, so I need a project manager onsite to sort out any problems as soon as they happen and make sure it all goes smoothly and on time.’ He paused. ‘Obviously, I thought of you.’

‘I see nothing obvious about it. You must be mad.’

‘I’m being practical,’ he returned. ‘You live locally, so there’s no travelling involved. You’re currently unemployed. You’re totally trustworthy, computer literate, and you’ve worked capably in administration, according to your former boss’s grudging reference.’

‘How did you know that?’ she demanded furiously.

‘Your father told me. And, like me, he thinks you could do the job easily. For one thing, the firms I’ve hired are all local, and you’ll probably know them. That’s a big plus.’

He added softly, ‘I’m naturally aware that you’re just waiting to tell me that you’d rather be boiled in oil than accept any help from a totally unreconstructed lowlife like me, but, in fact, I’m the one who needs your help. And all I’m asking is that you think about it.’

‘I have thought,’ she said. ‘And the answer’s “no”.’

‘May I ask why?’

She bit her lip. ‘Because while you may have persuaded my father to trust you, I don’t. So, I prefer to keep my distance.’

‘And so you can,’ Jago said evenly. ‘Didn’t you hear me say that I have to be away a great deal over the coming weeks? Which is exactly why I need a project manager at the house.’

He paused. ‘Besides, you’ll be company for Barbie.’

She said tautly, ‘Who exactly is Barbie?’

‘She’s going to keep house for me.’ He smiled reflectively. ‘I hadn’t banked on her wanting to move in so soon, but it seems she can’t wait for it all to be finished.’

‘How sweet,’ Tavy said icily, aware that her heart had given a strange lurch. ‘In which case, why not let her be project manager? She sounds ideal.’

‘Oh, she is,’ he said gently. ‘In so many ways. Except she doesn’t know one end of a computer from another. Nor does she have your all-important rapport with the locals.’

He got lithely to his feet, and smiled down at her.

‘But with her around, you’d certainly be safe from any unwanted molestation, wouldn’t you. If that’s what you’re afraid of.’

‘I’m not even remotely scared,’ she fired back.

‘Excellent,’ he said smoothly. ‘That’s one weight off my mind.’ He paused. ‘Now, I hope you’ll give some reasonable thought to my proposition, and not allow yourself to be ruled by your very natural prejudice against me. You can contact me at Barkland Grange when you’ve made your final decision.

‘As I’ve said—it’s a job, nothing more and purely temporary.’ He added softly, ‘Besides, half the time you won’t even know I’m there.’

Tavy watched him wander across the lawn and round the side of the house. A minute later, she heard the sound of the departing Jeep.

She leaned limply against the back of the bench, trying to calm her flurried breathing.

If it was anyone else in the world, she thought passionately, she’d seize the opportunity and be grateful. But not Jago Marsh. Not in a million years.

Manipulative swine—talking to her father first, and getting him on side before approaching her.

And how could she now explain to Dad that the situation was impossible without involving the additional explanations she was so anxious to avoid?

Sighing, she glanced at her watch, realising the wedding chat would be drawing to its close and it was probably time she took a tray of tea and biscuits to the study.

And by the time Julie and Graham left, she would probably have amassed a list of perfectly acceptable reasons, excluding all personal stuff, why working at Ladysmere would be a bad idea. Or enough to convince her father that she was making a considered, rational decision.

And now all I have to do to convince myself, she thought as she returned to the house.

As it turned out, she’d forgotten that this was the Sunday that her father went to take Communion to the local Care Home, so she had no chance to speak to him until after Evensong, over their supper of cheese salad.

She said abruptly, ‘Dad, I can’t accept this job offer at Ladysmere.’

Her father helped himself to mayonnaise. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, darling. Any particular reason?’

All the carefully formulated excuses vanished like morning mist. Astonished, she heard herself say, ‘Jago Marsh made a pass at me.’

‘This afternoon?’

‘Well—no. The other day.’ She ate a piece of tomato. ‘You don’t seem too surprised.’

‘Why should I be?’ His smile was gentle. ‘You’re a very lovely girl, Octavia.’

She flushed. ‘Then surely you must see why I want to avoid him.’

He said quietly, ‘I think, my dear, that if you plan to steer clear of every man who finds you attractive, you’re doomed to spend the next years of your life in permanent hiding.’

She stared at him. ‘Hardly, Dad. You seem to forget I’ve been—seeing someone.’

‘Believe me, I’ve forgotten nothing,’ her father said with a touch of grimness. ‘But we’ve seen so little of Patrick Wilding lately that I’d begun to wonder.’

Tavy bent her head. ‘Well, you don’t have to. I won’t be seeing him any more.’

‘I see,’ her father said and sighed. ‘It’s a great pity I let you leave university. I love this village but I’ve always known it was something of an ivory tower, and you needed to expand your horizons. You’d have soon developed a strategy for dealing with any unwanted admirers.’ He paused. ‘And, more importantly, to differentiate between them and the real thing.’

She bit her lip. ‘Well, Jago Marsh will always be the wrong thing.’ She hesitated. ‘Did he tell you that he has some woman moving into the Manor?’

‘He mentioned it.’ Mr Denison pushed away his empty plate and reached for the cafetière. ‘I’d have thought that would dispel your anxieties.’

She swallowed. ‘Then—in spite of everything—you really think I should take this job?’

He shrugged. ‘At least it would be a well-paid stopgap for you until we find out what the future holds.’

He paused, reflectively. ‘And he’s certainly a multitalented young man. Did you know that he’s been doing some sketches of Holy Trinity’s interior?’

‘He mentioned it, yes.’

‘He showed them to me. And he gave me this, too.’ He reached into the folder holding his sermon notes and extracted a sheet torn from a drawing block.

Tavy, expecting to see the extravagantly carved pulpit or the font, felt her jaw drop. Because the sketch was of a girl, sitting in the shadow of a pillar, her expression wistful, almost lost.

It’s me, she thought. Me to the life.

She said shakily, ‘He is good. It’s like looking in a mirror.’

Her father said gently, ‘But I could wish there was a happier face looking back at you.’

She bit her lip. ‘There will be, I promise.’

When she’d cleared the supper things, Tavy telephoned Barkland Grange, and asked to be connected to Jago Marsh’s suite.

‘Your name, please?’

‘Octavia Denison,’ she returned reluctantly.

‘Oh, yes, Miss Denison, Mr Marsh is expecting your call.’

Tavy, horrified, was strongly tempted to slam the phone down, but Jago was already answering.

‘It’s good to hear from you,’ he said. ‘Is it a hopeful sign?’

She said stiffly, ‘I’ve decided to take the job after all if that’s what you mean.’

‘Excellent,’ he said calmly. ‘I’d be glad if you could be at the house tomorrow morning at eight-thirty.’

She gasped. ‘So soon?’

‘Of course. Ted Jackson will already be there, and he’ll give you a key for your own use. I’ve been using the former library as an office, and the computer has a broadband connection. You’ll find a preliminary list of the items that need your attention and the names of the firms I’ve hired so far.

‘The heating engineers will be arriving tomorrow to install a new boiler, and I’m expecting someone from the plumbing company to prepare an estimate for turning part of the master suite into a bathroom. Can you handle that?’

‘Yes,’ she managed. ‘I think so.’

‘The kitchen’s perfectly usable at the moment,’ he went on. ‘No doubt regular supplies of tea and coffee will be needed when work starts, so you’d better stock up, making a note of everything you spend.’

He paused again. ‘Now I’ll say goodnight, but please believe, Octavia, that I’m sincerely grateful to you.’

There was a click and he was gone, leaving Tavy feeling limp, as if she’d had a close encounter with a tornado. Brisk and businesslike to the nth degree with not even a hint of the personal touch, she thought, gasping. But surely that was what she wanted? Wasn’t it?

Wasn’t it...?

And couldn’t find an answer that made any kind of sense.