Читать книгу Deceived - Сара Крейвен, Sara Craven - Страница 9

CHAPTER THREE

LYDIE didn’t wait to see if Marius was following. She headed straight for the drawing room, hesitating momentarily at the door while she dragged together the rags of her composure.

Did he really think that he could walk back into this house—back into her life—as if the past five silent years meant nothing? As if he’d never been away?

She’d been young then, and vulnerable. But now she had her future planned, her emotions under control. And Marius had no part in her life. That was the only certainty in a reeling world.

The sooner I’m out of this house, she thought grimly, the better.

She pushed open the door and went into the room.

Jon was there alone, decanter in hand.

‘His, doll.’ His smile was forced. ‘Welcome to the family reunion, and you’re more than welcome, believe me.’ He squinted at the measure of whisky he’d just poured into his glass. ‘I wonder what other grisly surprises are in store for us?’

Lydie. said with constraint, ‘I thought you liked Marius.’

‘Like the rest of us, I suspect I never knew him.’ He sounded reflective as he poured her usual dry sherry. ‘Although that’s an omission we’ll all have ample opportunity to repair from now on.’ He handed her her glass then drank some whisky. ‘Our mama is fit to be tied, of course.’

Lydie nodded. ‘I’ve seen her.’ She paused. ‘I think she’s overreacting.’

‘Or just overacting.’ Jon reached for the decanter again. ‘But you can’t blame her for being shocked. For once she looked at her hand and failed to find Austin twined round her little finger. That makes him unpredictable, and therefore dangerous.’

Lydie twisted the stern of the crystal glass in her fingers. She said, ‘She’s always blamed Marius—the quarrel—for Austin’s heart attack.’

Jon laughed derisively. ‘That’s only part of it. She and Marius were at odds from the start, ever since she started treating her marriage like a pools win.’ He waved his glass around. ‘This house, for starters. She had it completely done over—got rid of all the family stuff that had been here for generations. Marius, apparently, found this clean sweep slightly insensitive.’

‘I didn’t realise that,’ Lydie said slowly. ‘I knew there’d been changes, of course.’

‘You were too young to see what was going on. Apparently the business was having problems at the time but Mama was oblivious. And she resented the fact that Marius couldn’t also be brought to heel with a flutter of her eyelashes. Plus he was tactless enough to let her see he thought she’d exceeded her sell-by date.’

Lydie bit her lip. ‘Yes, I understood that at least.’

‘So, when Austin finally cancelled the blank cheque and made her an allowance instead, she blamed Marius.’ Jon held his glass up to the light, admiring the rich amber of the whisky. ‘Although I’d guess it was pressure from the accountants and the bank. However besotted Austin was, he wasn’t going to let her bankrupt him.’

He shook his head. ‘But with Marius banished to outer darkness Mama must have thought the gravy train would eventually be running on the old track again. Hence her distress at his return.’

‘But you’re not happy about it either.’

‘Are you?’ He gave her a searching look. ‘I recall you had it pretty bad for him at one time.’

Lydie moved an evasive shoulder. ‘An adolescent crush.’ She didn’t look at him. ‘Maybe I’ve come back for you.’ The words seemed to hammer in her brain, threatening her. ‘Water under the bridge,’ she threw defiantly at the sudden shiver whispering down her spine.

‘I hope for your sake that’s true. I can’t imagine that his wilderness years will have softened his attitude towards our side of the family.’

‘What about you?’

Jon’s lips tightened. ‘I’ve put in five years’ hard graft at that bloody mill. I don’t want someone else to have my place in the sun while I’m relegated to the sidelines—or worse,’ he added grimly.

Lydie put down her untouched glass. ‘You don’t think this would be a good time to make a complete break?’

He shot her an angry look. ‘You’ve been letting Nell brainwash you, darling. I’m staying where I am and fighting my corner. And you should do the same. Because if anything happens to Austin Marius will have us out of here before the coffin lid’s screwed down.’

Lydie found herself wincing at his crudeness. She said, half to herself, ‘I wonder where he’s been—all this time?’

‘Not letting the grass grow under his feet, that’s for sure. You should see the car he’s driving these days.’ He paused. ‘As a matter of interest, you didn’t persuade Nell to change her mind and come tonight?’

His tone was elaborately casual, and Lydie softened in spite of herself. ‘No, but I did try.’

‘Never mind,’ he said, with a shrug. ‘I’ll have to rely on Chivas Regal for company instead.’

The door opened and Debra Benedict came in. She was wearing a silver dress and there were amethysts around her throat and in her ears. She checked, looking round her.

‘Where are they?’ she asked sharply.

‘Presumably in the study, having another round of peace talks.’ Jon waved the decanter at her. ‘Drinkies?’

‘No, thank you, and you’ve had quite enough as well.’ Debra gave him a warning frown. ‘Don’t play into that man’s hands by getting drunk tonight, for heaven’s sake.’ She paused. ‘I’ll get Mrs Arnthwaite to announce dinner now.’

‘Thus killing numerous birds with one stone.’ Jon put the decanter down. ‘OK, Mama, I surrender.’

But I don’t, Lydie thought, lifting her chin. I can’t. I’m going to fight—and go on fighting. Because, whatever happens, I can’t let him anywhere near me again. I dare not.

Austin Benedict looked relaxed as he took his seat at the head of the table. Marius, seating himself opposite Lydie, appeared merely inscrutable.

‘Well, this is pleasant,’ Austin remarked, unfolding his napkin. ‘The calm before the storm. How many people are coming to this shindig afterwards, Deb?’

Mrs Benedict cleared her throat. ‘Over two hundred—if they all turn up.’

‘Oh, they’ll come.’ He nodded. ‘Even the ones who never intended to. Word soon gets round this valley, and they’ll all be here to see for themselves.’ He transferred his attention to Lydie. ‘That’s a sombre colour for a party, lass. This is a celebration, not a wake, and don’t you forget it.’

The warning note was unmistakable. So was the bottle of Krug, cooling on ice on the sideboard. Lydie felt Marius’s ironic gaze seek hers across the table and faint colour rose in her face.

Austin addressed himself to the company at large. ‘We present a united front tonight,’ he said abruptly. ‘What happened five years ago is no one’s business but our own. I want that clear.’ He swept the table with a fierce gaze. ‘No recriminations or prying into what’s over. We can’t call time back to alter things, so we look to the future. Right?’

‘As the future’s been mentioned,’ Jon said softly, ‘may I ask what office I’ll be occupying on Monday? When I left today I was sales director, but things seem to be changing so fast suddenly...’

Lydie swore under her breath. That’s not the way to handle it, you fool, she castigated him silently.

It was Marius who answered, his tone even. ‘You’ll have the same job. But I’d like a departmental report for the last six months on my desk by mid-week.’

‘Certainly.’ Jon sketched a parody of a salute. ‘And what desk precisely is that?’

‘The managing director’s,’ said Austin. ‘I’m continuing as chairman only from now on. The board’s been informed.’

Lydie stole a look at her mother. All the natural colour had faded from her face, leaving two harsh streaks of blusher high on her cheekbones. For a moment Lydie tensed, thinking that Debra was going to explode, then, with a palpable effort, her mother reached out and rang the small handbell for Mrs Arnthwaite to bring in the soup.

It was, Lydie thought, the worst dinner she’d ever sat through. Even the glory of the champagne couldn’t lift her spirits. As she pushed the food round her plate, she felt as if she was drowning in undercurrents, suffocated by the silence of her mother and brother.

Marius chatted equably to his uncle on safely neutral topics—Yorkshire’s performance in the county cricket championship, enquiries about former friends and acquaintances—but Lydie wasn’t fooled.

Across the expanse of crystal, silverware and flowers-Austin’s favourite white roses arranged in a bowl—she could feel his awareness of her, like the touch of his hand on her naked skin. She was conscious of his gaze resting on her, as if willing her to lift her eyes and return his scrutiny.

Don’t look at him, she adjured herself frantically. Pretend the chair is still empty.

Her heart was hammering violently. She wanted to get to her feet, sweep away the flowers and every other artificial barrier and scream at him, Who was she? Where is she now? If you had her, why did you take me? Was she better in bed than I was? All the teeming questions that had plagued her like a recurring fever, and which she could never ask, of course.

Water under the bridge, she’d told Jon, and it had to be true. They weren’t the same people any more. She was no longer a trusting child, driven beyond reason by her first love. She’d grown up fast in a school of anguished and bitter betrayal. She was old enough and wise enough now to recognise danger when she saw it, and take avoiding action.

And, whatever Marius had been before, their previous confrontation warned her that he was a hazard now, not merely to herself but to all of them.

She risked a covert glance at him from under her lashes and found him watching her quite openly, the firm lips twisting in a mixture of mockery and triumph as their eyes met—clashed.

You see? he seemed to be telling her. I won in the end. All I had to do was wait.

And that, Lydie thought furiously, waving away the Peaches Cardinal that Mrs Arnthwaite was offering, was my first mistake tonight. My first—and my last.

Guests began arriving for the party an hour later. An enormous marquee had been erected on the rear lawn, with a floor laid for dancing, and the small band was already tuning up. The buffet had been set out in the conservatory, which also housed one of the bars.

It was the usual gargantuan spread—like an orgy scene from an old Hollywood epic, Lydie thought wryly, viewing the rich dark ribs of beef and the golden-brown turkeys jostling for position next to honey-roast hams and poached salmon glazed in aspic and cucumber. And that was quite apart from the mousses, pates, vol-au-vents and vast array of salads.

No one had ever actually fallen in the swimming pool and drowned from overeating but there could always be a first time.

Her mouth ached from smiling, and she dodged and evaded so many questions about Marius’s sudden reappearance that she felt like a heavyweight champion’s sparring partner.

Hugh Wingate was among the first to arrive. Guilt sent her hurtling into his arms as she realised she hadn’t given him a single thought up to that moment.

‘I’d have been here even sooner if I’d known that was going to be my reception,’ he told her throatily. He paused. ‘I hear Austin’s had a surprise present.’

Lydie forced a smile. ‘It’s tonight’s sole topic of conversation—quite naturally, I suppose.’

‘Maybe we can give them something else to chatter about.’

He was going to propose to her. For a moment her mind went blank with relief. It was the lifeline she needed. It was safety—sanity in a reeling world.

But was it what she really wanted? asked a small, tormenting voice in her head.

I’ll worry about that later, she thought, and turned to greet some more arrivals.

Austin’s birthday parties traditionally began with a waltz, preceded by a few words of welcome. This year, thought Lydie, you could have heard a pin drop. She glanced at Jon, her brows snapping together. In spite of their mother’s admonitions, he was clearly halfway to being plastered already.

She kicked him discreetly. ‘Give it a rest, can’t you?’

He shrugged, some of the contents of his glass slopping onto his dinner jacket. ‘Why worry? The contest’s over, and I came a poor second.’

Lydie bit her lip. ‘Well, make sure you don’t get stripped of the silver medal too.’

Austin cleared his throat. ‘It’s wonderful to see so many friends here tonight. I’m past the age when birthdays are something to celebrate, so tonight’s party is to welcome my nephew back amongst us all. Apart from my personal pleasure at having him home where he belongs, from next week our customers will have a new managing director to deal with.’ He let the rustle of interest and speculation subside, then added, ‘Now let’s enjoy ourselves.’

Like drawing a line at the bottom of a balance sheet; Lydie thought. And it would be a brave soul who’d dare question the accounts after that.

She watched him step down onto the floor, holding out a hand to his wife. Amid a ripple of applause they opened the dancing. Other couples followed, and Lydie turned to look for Hugh, only to find her way blocked by Marius.

Her throat closed up in sudden panic.

His voice was politely formal. ‘May I have the honour?’

Without waiting for her answer he drew her into his arms and onto the floor.

‘Austin’s orders.’ His lips grazed her ear, sending an unwelcome tremor of response quivering through her. ‘In the interest of family unity.’

She said frostily, ‘Of course.’

‘And my own inclination,’ he added, a thread of amusement in his voice. He swung her effortlessly round.

‘I suppose I could say—just like old times.’

‘No,’ she said deliberately and distinctly. ‘You could not.’

‘And they say absence makes the heart grow fonder,’ he mocked.

‘Then they, whoever they are, should think again,’ Lydie said shortly.

Absence tears you apart and leaves you to bleed, she thought. Absence makes you cry into your pillow at night and stumble round like a zombie during the day. Absence destroys.

‘I get the impression that, left to you, the red carpet would have remained unrolled,’ the softly taunting voice went on.

She hunched a shoulder. ‘What do you expect?’

‘Very little.’ He paused. ‘This reconciliation was not actually my idea.’

That jolted her, and she let it show, her eyes lifting to his in sudden startled query.

‘No? Then how did Austin manage to find you?’

‘I haven’t asked him,’ Marius drawled. ‘I imagine he’s been keeping tabs on me all along, though I doubt whether he’d admit it.’

‘And you wouldn’t have returned otherwise?’

‘I’d been ordered never to darken his door again. It was up to him to make the first move. I wasn’t going to beg.’

No, she thought. That had the authentic Benedict ring about it. And he’d come back for Austin, not for her. The thought stirred in her mind, causing a stab of pain, and was instantly stifled.

‘I’m surprised you agreed at all.’

‘On balance I had too much to lose.’ He added almost casually, ‘And some scores to settle.’

Lydie missed a step. ‘I—see.’

‘Not yet, perhaps,’ Marius said easily, steadying her. ‘But it’s early days.’

Her heart lurched in fright. That, again, was almost a threat, she thought, swallowing. But why? She’d done nothing—except fall in love—with the wrong man—at the wrong time. He was the one who’d broken the rules—and her heart ...

She was too close to him suddenly, his arm like a band of steel around her, the heat of his hard body warming the chill of her flesh, as if the layers of clothes between them had ceased to exist.

She said unevenly, ‘People are changing partners now. You should dance with Mrs Mottram, our MP’s wife. She’s over there in the red dress.’

‘How singularly inappropriate.’ He made no attempt to release her. ‘Let Jon do the honours—if he can tear himself away from the whisky for long enough.’

Damn him for noticing, she thought raggedly. And damn my idiot of a brother for providing him with an easy target.

She tried for nonchalance. ‘He’s had a trying day.’

‘The first of many, I suspect,’ he came back with equal smoothness.

Lydie bit her lip. ‘Leave Jon alone,’ she said. ‘He’s not up to your weight.’

‘How charmingly protective,’ Marius said softly. ‘But that’s what divides the human family from the animal kingdom. In the wild the weakest member of the pack is left for the predators.’

‘With you, no doubt, as king of the jungle.’

The grey eyes glittered down at her. ‘I’ll settle for nothing less—Madonna Lily.’

All the breath seemed to catch in her throat. ‘I told you—don’t call me that.’

‘No?’ His voice was like silk. ‘But it brings back so many delightful memories.’

‘Not,’ she said stonily, ‘to me.’

‘Then I’ll have to jog your memory.’

For a searing second Lydie was pinned against him, her breasts crushed against the firm wall of his chest, his leg thrusting between hers in blatant eroticism as the last chords of the waltz died away. His breath fanned her cheek. His mouth grazed her ear. The unforgotten scent of his skin seemed to fill her senses.

Blood rushed into her face. ‘Let go of me.’ Her voice shook. ‘How dare you ... ?’

He let her pull away, but retained hold of her hand as he escorted her from the floor, pausing to lift it to his lips in a mocking parody of a graceful courtesy, turning her fingers in his at the last moment so that his mouth stung her soft palm instead, swiftly and sensuously. Lethally.

He said quite gently, ‘So you do remember after all.’ And walked away.

She’d expected to find herself the embarrassed cynosure of dozens of pairs of avid eyes, but the only person who seemed to have registered what was going on was her mother.

Debra was staring at her, her brows drawn together, her teeth gnawing at her bottom lip. Then the music started again and she moved off with Hugh, laughing, chatting with apparent animation, hostess mask back in place.

Jon appeared at Lydie’s side. ‘What an enjoyable evening.’ His speech was slightly slurred. ‘All quiet on the united front.’

‘Oh, shut up.’ Lydie smiled through gritted teeth.

‘Come and dance with me while you can still stand.’

‘Is this permitted in the Th-Thornshaugh book of etiquette?’ he asked plaintively. ‘Brother and sister cavorting?’

‘You’d better start reading survival manuals instead,’ Lydie muttered. ‘We all had.’

‘Depends how badly you want to survive.’ Jon peered round the marquee. ‘I saw yet another old friend earlier putting on a brave face. Remember Nadine Winton?’

‘Vividly,’ Lydie said with a snap. ‘I thought she was married and living in Surrey now.’

‘Divorced, apparently, and back with the spoils of war, if the emeralds she’s wearing are anything to go by.’ He paused. ‘Wasn’t she walking out with Marius once upon a time?’

‘Very much so,’ Lydie agreed levelly.

‘Maybe he can be persuaded to have another crack at her. Take his mind off his work. Give me time to sort out a few things.’

‘Oh, God.’ Lydie’s heart sank. ‘What sort of things?’

Jon shrugged. ‘A few minor cock-ups. Nothing serious.’

‘I hope not.’ She touched the tip of her tongue to her lips. ‘Jon, he’s gunning for you already—’

‘May I cut in?’ enquired the jovial voice of the rural dean, and Lydie forced a smiling acquiescence.

And after that the party developed into a medley of faces and a blur of voices and laughter to which she made herself respond.

At one point, through the throng, she saw Marius dancing with the former Nadine Winton, a lusciously curved brunette.

Dear God, she thought, I used to be so jealous of her.

She watched Nadine smile up at him, sliding her hands up to his shoulders, the matching bracelets on her tanned wrists winking green fire, and realised, as pain stabbed through her, that nothing had changed. That seeing Marius with another woman still had the power to rip her apart.

Oh, dear God, no, it can’t be true, she thought desperately. Then, more forcefully, I won’t allow it to be true.

Hugh found her during the supper interval. ‘I haven’t been able to get near you all night,’ he grumbled good-naturedly.

‘Proves it’s a good party.’ She slid her arm through his, drawing it against her breast. My lifeline, she thought, her emotions churning. My saviour.

‘Can I have your attention, everyone?’ Debra was up on the bandstand, projecting charm. They say all good things come in threes. So far tonight we’ve had my husband’s birthday—and Marius’s homecoming. Now I understand there’s going to be an announcement which will bring me—’ her face was misty ‘—the greatest personal happiness.’ She turned, reaching out both hands, all radiant spontaneity. ‘Hugh, my dear, and Lydie, darling child, would you come up here?’

Lydie seemed to be staring at her mother’s silver-clad figure down the wrong end of a telescope. She blinked, trying to get her into focus, to control her whirling thoughts.

‘You don’t mind, do you, sweetheart?’ Hugh was whispering urgently. ‘This was her idea, actually. I’d planned something a bit more private.’

Lydie found herself being propelled forward towards the bandstand.

Hugh was going to propose to her, she thought, dry-mouthed, in front of all these people. There’d be no going back after this. But why should she want to go back anyway? She’d be safe with Hugh.... And safety—a refuge—was what she wanted—needed above all else.

She saw Jon smiling at her, lifting a wavering glass, his face conveying a blurred irony. And Austin, beside him, clutching a forbidden cigar, his face oddly set.

. Saw Marius, standing as if he’d been chipped out of stone from the nearby moors, his eyes grey ice. Saw, as everyone else seemed to recede into some hazy distance, his lips move. Heard the silent words above the laughter and approving applause.

‘Madonna Lily.’

She tore her hand free from Hugh’s. Her voice was hoarse. ‘I—I can’t, you see.’ She stared up at him wildly, willing him to understand. ‘I thought I could—I wanted to Please—please believe that...’

Her voice cracked, and she turned and ran, the stunned onlookers parting like the Red Sea, back to the uncertain peace of the house.