Читать книгу The Theotokis Inheritance - Susanne James - Страница 6

JUST before three o’clock on a chilly April afternoon, Helena drew into the crowded car park of Dorchester solicitors Messrs Mayhew & Morrison, and glanced at her watch. She was five minutes early for her appointment—so she’d made good time on her journey from London.

As she’d left the motorway and joined the quieter country roads, the usual wave of nostalgia had run through Helena. Dorset was home territory—and she’d stayed away too long this time. In fact, she realized, she hadn’t returned since her father’s funeral four years ago.

Opening her bag, she took out the solicitor’s letter and looked at it again. It merely confirmed the date of today’s meeting when the will of the late Mrs Isobel Theotokis would be discussed. As she slipped the letter back into its envelope, Helena’s eyes moistened briefly. Mrs Theotokis, who’d been her father’s long-time employer, had obviously not forgotten Helena, nor her promise all those years ago that the precious porcelain figurines which had so fascinated the child would one day be hers.

Helena checked her appearance briefly in the car’s interior mirror. Her generously fringed, widely spaced blue eyes seemed to glitter in certain lights, and someone had once said that they belonged in a stained glass window. She had regular features and a small nose, and her milky skin, though typically English rose, reacted well to the sun’s rays so that most summers she looked prettily tanned. And today she had chosen to wind her thick blonde hair up on top into a coiled knot.

She got out of the car and presented herself at the solicitor’s office. The girl at the reception desk looked up and smiled.

‘Ah, yes—Miss Kingston? Good afternoon.’ She stood up and immediately led Helena towards an inner door. ‘Mr Mayhew is waiting for you.’

As Helena was ushered inside, John Mayhew, the senior partner, stood up at once and came forward to greet her. He was a short, affable man with white bushy eyebrows and a moustache to match and he shook Helena’s hand warmly.

‘Thank you for making the trip, Helena,’ he said kindly, and the girl’s throat tightened briefly. She was known to John Mayhew because her father’s modest affairs had also been handled by this firm, and the last time she’d been here was to finally settle everything up—and it hadn’t taken long.

‘Do take a seat,’ the man said, adding, ‘The other… interested party… has been delayed slightly. But he should be here any minute.’

Even as he spoke, the door opened and Helena turned her head, colour rising rapidly in her cheeks, leaving her breathless as the layers of her memory peeled away. She was suddenly weightless, floating backwards in space… she was in free fall!

Oscar! Helena formed the name silently under her breath. Oscar…

This was Isobel’s great-nephew whom Helena, three years his junior, had once worshipped… Oscar, who had initiated her into the first heady delights of romantic love. But that had been more than ten years ago… a lifetime away.

She forced herself to try and breathe normally as she looked up at him.

It was no surprise that he was still the most mind-numbingly handsome man she had ever seen—or would ever see—wearing his overt sensuality like a permanent badge of office. Helena gripped her hands together tightly. Why hadn’t she thought that they might possibly meet again—and under these particular circumstances? But it had not crossed her mind, and she’d not been ready for it. But she met his gaze levelly as he looked down at her.

His glossy black hair was styled more formally than she remembered, but the chiselled, dark-skinned features, the expansive brow, the firm uncompromising mouth—that had closed over hers so many times—were still as enchanting as they had always been.

He was wearing a formal suit perfectly designed to do justice to his lean, powerful physique, but he had no tie on, his crisp white shirt partially open at the front, revealing the merest glimpse of dark bodily hair at the throat. Helena swallowed over a dry tongue as he looked down at her.

John Mayhew broke the few moments’ silence. ‘I am sure you two must have met in the past,’ he said, ‘but let me introduce you again…’

Before he could go on, Oscar cut in, the familiar voice rich and evocative, with only a trace of his cruelly seductive native tongue. ‘No need for that, John,’ he said slowly. ‘Helena and I know each other from when I used to visit my great-aunt at holiday times.’ He paused, moving forward slightly, extending a strong brown hand in greeting. Then, ‘How are you, Heleena?’ And Helena’s heart quickened. Because that had been Oscar’s occasional, special pronunciation of her name. And hearing it again made her inner thighs tingle.

‘I am well, thank you,’ Helena responded coolly, half-standing to meet his outstretched hand. His long, sensitive fingers curled against her own, making her colour rise again. ‘And you… Oscar?’

‘Good, thank you,’ he said briefly. He sat down on one of the big leather armchairs opposite John Mayhew’s desk, and glanced briefly at Helena again. Pale, sometimes wistful, Helena had become a stunning, sophisticated female, exhibiting all of nature’s attributes, he thought. She was wearing a dark blue, fine woollen suit and cream shirt and very high heeled shoes, her slender legs clad in sheer dark tights. As she looked across at him, her lips were slightly parted as if she was about to say something, but it was her eyes, those blue, blue eyes which had once known the touch of his lips, their charisma remained, unique, unforgettable. Oscar straightened up and turned his attention to the solicitor.

After all the usual polite greetings had been exchanged, John Mayhew opened a large file in front of him and began to read.

‘“This is the last will and testament of Isabel Marina Theotokis of Mulberry Court in the county of Dorset…”’ he read out, before proceeding to chant the detailed formalities. Watching him with her hands clasped in her lap, Helena was relieved that her heart rate was returning to something approaching normality. She wondered how many times in his life John Mayhew would have performed this task. Probably too many to count, she thought, hoping that the interview wouldn’t last long and she could escape. The room was beginning to feel warm as afternoon sunlight filtered in through the high windows, and she automatically leaned forward, forcing herself to concentrate, and trying to ignore the faint musky drift of Oscar’s aftershave.

Clearing his throat, the solicitor continued.

‘“To my beloved great-nephew Oscar Ioannis Theotokis I leave one half of the property known as Mulberry Court in the county of Dorset together with all its contents, goods and chattels.”’ Adjusting his spectacles, he went on, “And I also bequeath one half of the said property known as Mulberry Court with all its contents goods and chattels to my dear longtime friend Helena Kingston. All and everything to be shared equally between the two aforesaid parties.”’

What had he just said? Immediately shocked beyond belief, Helena gasped and almost stood up. This isn’t right, she thought wildly. It was Isobel’s coveted figurines in the library which she had promised would one day be Helena’s… not the house! Not Mulberry Court! There had to be some mistake!

If she’d been struck by something hurtling from outer space Helena couldn’t have felt more stunned… And she was not going to look across at Oscar because—if this was true, and she quickly realized that it obviously had to be—she had virtually been given half his birthright! How on earth was he going to accept that? That the daughter of his great-aunt’s gardener was to receive such wealth! It was preposterous!

She forced herself to listen as the names of all the other beneficiaries were read out. There was a very long list, including a substantial sum of money for Louise, her housekeeper, and countless charities and local organizations were included, but it was clear that the two main beneficiaries were Helena and Oscar.

‘As in many cases, there are one or two details which have been added at the end,’ the solicitor said. ‘For your information, Mrs Theotokis has given some instructions.’ There was a long pause before he went on. ‘She asks that Mulberry Court is not put up for sale until one year from the date of her death, and she asks that, if possible, prior consideration be given to a couple with a family.’ He looked up. ‘I happen to know that it was a matter of great regret to Isobel that she and Mr Theotokis never had children of their own.’ He smiled. ‘Maybe she is hoping that, one day, childish noise and chatter may echo through the rooms and grounds of Mulberry Court,’ he said, ‘and if it ever does,’ he added kindly, ‘I am quite sure that she will hear it all from her well-deserved place in heaven.’

Hearing those words made a painful lump form in Helena’s throat. Isobel Theotokis had been a gracious, kind and loving woman to everyone who’d crossed her path, and her final act of generosity to Helena was to actually give her part of the home she’d loved so much. What an incredible gift, an incredible honour! It was totally unbelievable, but in the short term how was it going to affect her? And just as important—what was it going to mean to Oscar? He wouldn’t want to waste any time here—or anywhere else—that might distract him, even temporarily, from the famous Theotokis family business empire.

There was complete silence for a few moments, then Helena pulled herself together and looked across at Oscar’s stern profile, trying to stem the hot tide of feeling that was rippling through every nerve and fibre of her body.

‘Although I feel almost totally overwhelmed,’ she began, trying to sound normal, ‘it would be wrong of me not to say how very… grateful… I feel to have been remembered in such a way by Mrs Theotokis.’ She hesitated, hoping she was saying all the right things. ‘I shall, of course, do whatever is considered necessary to… well… to assist in any way I can,’ she added, wondering what on earth anyone did when suddenly coming into a fortune that included a massive property full of treasures.

For the following few minutes Helena could barely concentrate on what the other two were saying, but presently, after some further formalities had been dealt with, the solicitor handed over two large bunches of keys, and Helena stared down at the set in her hand—her very own keys to Mulberry Court! And the way she was feeling at the moment, they might have been a ticking time bomb!

They all got to their feet, and as Helena looked up into Oscar’s eyes—which were glittering like ice-cold granite—she couldn’t begin to imagine what was going through his mind. The revelation that they were now joint owners of his great-aunt’s home must have been as great a shock to him as to her, she thought—that she, Helena, was going to be playing an important part in his life, at least for the next year. Then, lifting her head, she thought—well, it wasn’t her fault, and they were both going to have to make the best of whatever lay ahead.

After they’d been assured of Mayhew & Morrison’s wish to be of further service when necessary, the two left the building together, and in the late afternoon sunshine stood outside briefly.

‘Well—’ Oscar shrugged and looked down at her with half-narrowed gaze. ‘That was something of a surprise,’ he said. And that remark was something of an understatement, Helena thought. For both of them. ‘Still,’ he went on, ‘I’m sure we can come to some arrangement that suits us both.’ The comment was casually made—as if he was merely referring to one of life’s irritating necessities—and, before Helena could reply, he went on, ‘I’ll get someone to value the place in the first instance, give us some idea of value until we sell next year.’ He shook his head briefly. ‘Isobel requesting a delay is obviously going to hold us up. It would have been more convenient to have got things done and out of the way as soon as possible.’

Helena looked up at him, still feeling shattered, still finding it hard to take all this in. Was she really here again with Oscar—about to embark on a serious business venture? Oscar, who’d been the true love of her life when she’d been on the cusp of womanhood. Oscar, who had shown her what desire, and being desired, meant? Their romantic meetings, many of them under the graceful branches of the willow tree beyond the orchard—their special willow tree—were indelibly imprinted in her memory, as was the way it had all ended so abruptly… as he had ended it so abruptly, with little explanation. After one of his visits, Oscar had simply walked away—and taken her heart with him. She bit her lip thoughtfully. Had their relationship ever crossed his mind since? she wondered. Had he ever felt anything at all—regret or remorse, or even sadness at losing something which had once been precious? Probably not, she thought realistically. She would only be one in a very long list of women who’d experienced his particular craft in the romantic stakes.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to stop thinking along these lines. There was no point in digging up the past, even mentally, and she had quite enough on her mind—not counting today’s revelation—to focus on. To sort out.

Looking up at Oscar, she realized that he hadn’t expressed one word of appreciation that his great-aunt had remembered him in this way, but then, why would he? He was a bona fide member of the fabulously rich Theotokis dynasty, with vast worldwide business concerns. Mulberry Court and ‘all its goods and chattels’ would be no more than a blot of ink on Oscar’s personal portfolio, and he was no doubt thinking that he could well do without this annoying interruption in his life, especially as it was going to include someone else—her! She lifted her chin.

‘First of all, I think we need to discuss one or two things,’ she said calmly. She paused. ‘I happen to know that Isobel’s personal belongings were tremendously important to her, and we should consider that point very carefully.’ Mulberry Court was full of treasures—as well as those priceless figurines—which Isobel Theotokis had brought home from all the travelling she’d done in her life.

‘Oh, valuers—experts in the trade—will deal with all the paintings and antiques. They’ll ensure that everything’s sold appropriately,’ Oscar began. ‘At least we can start to sort that out straight away.’

Helena frowned briefly. How typically masculine! He had no problem with Isobel’s cherished belongings being handed over to complete strangers to ‘deal’ with, without a thought as to what everything had meant to the old lady. Well, Helena wasn’t having that. She had spent so many happy hours at Mulberry Court when she’d been growing up—had almost been like the child Isobel had never had.

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ she said. ‘I think that that part of the equation should be our responsibility alone, without the input of strangers.’

Oscar raised his eyebrows—more in surprise that Helena had voiced her opinion than what she’d actually said. He shrugged.

‘Well, yes, perhaps,’ he said reluctantly, accepting for the first time that they both had to agree on everything before any action could be taken. ‘But I’m afraid my time here is very limited. I’m due back in Greece by the end of the month, though I expect to be in the London office until then.’ He paused. ‘What about your own commitments?’ he asked. ‘I remember Isobel mentioning that you live and work in London.’

Helena nodded. ‘I head the team at the Harcourt Employment Agency at the moment,’ she said, ‘but I have started looking for something else.’ She bit her lip. So far, she’d found nothing which offered anything comparable with her present salary, nor the lovely mews cottage she was renting as part of the deal.

‘You’re not happy there?’ Oscar asked briefly.

Helena paused before answering. ‘It’s just… just that I think it’s time for a change,’ she replied guardedly.

There was silence for a moment, then, ‘I could come back this weekend—if you’re free as well,’ Oscar said. ‘A couple of days should be enough to give us a clear picture of what has to be done.’

‘As it happens I am free, and it would be a start,’ Helena said, ‘but it’s bound to take some time, and we shouldn’t rush things.’ She paused. ‘I intend to take the matter very seriously—and do my utmost for Isobel… in her memory,’ she added.

She began walking across to where she’d parked her car, with Oscar following, and she opened her bag. ‘In the meantime,’ she said, ‘if you think you need to contact me, here’s my card.’

He glanced at it briefly, then withdrew his own from his wallet and handed it to her, and without even looking at it Helena slipped it into her bag.

‘I must get back,’ she said, glancing at her watch. ‘The roads are going to be a lot busier than they were this morning.’

He held open her door for her, and as she got in she looked up at him through the open window, wondering if she should apologize for the situation they’d found themselves in—the situation that he’d been landed in. But before a single word had formed on her lips, Helena checked herself. She had nothing to say sorry for. Isobel Theotokis had every right to dispose of her property in whichever way she wanted.

‘So—I’ll come back down on Friday night,’ she said, ‘and that’ll give us Saturday and Sunday to have a proper discussion and look over the house.’ She switched on the engine. ‘I’ll book myself a room locally,’ she added.

‘I’ll have to stay somewhere myself,’ he said casually, ‘so I’ll see to it. I’ll leave you a message to let you know the arrangements.’

‘Oh… OK. Fine. Thanks,’ Helena said, and with a brief wave of her hand she began driving slowly out of the car park, glancing in her rear-view mirror to see Oscar standing there, watching her go. She’d love to have been able to read his mind! So far he’d been cool, almost impassive, at their news, and once or twice she’d caught him staring at her with an inscrutable expression on his face. But it was good that there’d been no obvious sense of awkwardness between them, she thought, though there wasn’t much doubt that he was wishing he was now the sole owner of Mulberry Court.

As she began her journey back to London, Helena felt mightily relieved to be alone with her thoughts. She, Helena Kingston, had just been left a fortune, and it was like winning a lottery she’d never entered. But was she prepared for such wealth? Her beloved father, a widower for many years, having lost his wife when Helena had been just ten, had left a very modest inheritance for his only child. Money which she had put aside for the day when she might need it for something special. And so far she never had, thanks to her successful career.

But quite apart from everything else—apart from even the amazing legacy she had just received—there was another problem she had to face: she and Oscar were going to have to spend time together again under totally bizarre circumstances. This wasn’t ten years ago when they’d both been young and carefree and so in love, something which had been so important then, but which would be utterly embarrassing to even mention now. Did he remember any of it? she wondered. Did he remember all the time they’d spent walking, talking, kissing and enjoying spending time with each other? How could either of them pretend it had never happened? Helena made a face to herself. If he did remember any of it, he’d also have to remember how he’d dumped her—but then, he’d probably dumped so many other women since, she was just another note on whatever mental record he kept of his love life.

As Oscar got into his own car, his feelings were in turmoil. Because it had given his emotions a huge and undeniable jolt to see Helena today.

His handsome brow creased into a frown and his hands, tense on the steering wheel, became pale under his grip as he sat there for a few moments, deep in thought.

What had he done to her? What had he done to himself, to them both? Why had he allowed fate to rule their lives? Because when he had looked down into her wide, misty eyes, he was aware of his heart exploding into a million painful fragments of regret. The heart which had taken so long to heal had shattered again, renewing his sense of loss.

Over time, Oscar had managed to convince himself that he would probably never see Helena again. But he’d thought about her often enough, wondered who she’d married, how many beautiful children she might have. And while trying to concentrate on what was going on around them today, he’d automatically noted that there was no gold band on her ring finger and every male instinct he possessed had urged him to pull her up towards him, to enfold her, to taste her mouth again.

But he knew that would not have gone down very well. Why would she ever want him near her again? A nerve clenched in his strong jaw as his thoughts ran on.

Of course, it was not unexpected that he should be named as a beneficiary in his great-aunt’s will because he was now the only member of his generation left—he’d never had siblings and his two cousins had been killed in a multiple car crash. But although he’d always known that Isobel had been very fond of Helena, the will had taken him by surprise, he admitted. Not that he cared a jot about having to share the value involved; that was irrelevant. Great wealth had never interested him in a personal sense. It was only the continuing success of the family firm that was important—ever since he’d realized that it was his destiny.

Destiny. Oscar’s lip curled briefly. There was still one, more vital, personal expectation of him which he had so far not fulfilled. To find himself a suitable wife. And if his father—Georgios—had his wish, a wife from the rich Papadopoulos family, who had important financial ties with the Theotokis clan.

‘It is about time you married and settled down, Oscar,’ Giorgios frequently said. ‘A good Greek wife would be a wonderful support, a wonderful investment! Would bless you with many children! There are those two beautiful daughters just waiting for you to make up your mind! Either of them would make you a happy man! What is your problem?’

The ‘problem’ was, Oscar knew he did not love either Allegra or Callidora Papadopoulos, desirable though they were. And no other woman, yet, had made him want to commit to lifelong love and loyalty. Because when he did find such a woman—if she existed—that was how it must be. For ever. And Oscar knew he would never view any wife as an ‘investment’—as his father clearly did. Profit and loss were not part of the equation. Unconditional love was the only thing that mattered.

Now, straightening his shoulders, Oscar switched on the engine and prepared to drive away. For the foreseeable future he had a more immediate matter to resolve—the disposal of Mulberry Court and its contents. And it would be unavoidable that he and Helena would be spending a great deal of time together and that she was going to have to be consulted every step of the way.

* * *

Oscar had already decided which accommodation they’d be using and now, leaving Dorchester, he drove rapidly towards the Horseshoe Inn, an out-of-town up-market establishment a few miles away. It was small but well-appointed, and discreet—somewhere they could talk and get this business sorted without too many distractions. Vast hotels had never had any appeal for Oscar and he never used them if he could help it. And when in London he always used his private apartment, where he looked after himself and where this car—a favourite among the several others he owned—could be safely garaged.

Now, as the sleek grey Italian sports car took him swiftly to his destination, he remembered how confidently Helena had manoeuvred her own vehicle out of the overcrowded car park and he tilted one eyebrow thoughtfully. Her car was obviously not new, but in reasonable condition—and probably perfectly adequate for London use, he thought.

Although in recent years his aunt had often spoken of Helena—and always in glowing terms—he didn’t really know anything about her career. His eyes narrowed slightly as a thought struck him. Perhaps he could pay her off, give her far and away more than the combined value of the house and all its assets and leave the business of disposing of everything to him? Surely it would be tidier all round if just one of them was involved. Wouldn’t she find that far less hassle than having to spend time down here? Then he made a face to himself, discounting the thought almost at once. Helena—obviously very confident and self-assured—had given every indication that she intended being full-on in the whole assignment. He groaned inwardly. Aunt Isobel, he thought, I always loved you, but why have you done this to me?