Jack was watching her carefully, worried about her as usual, and he saw her flinch, but otherwise there was no visible reaction. Then a deep sigh escaped her, and she gave him her full attention.
Leaning back against the cushions, Paula said, “I know you must be certain of the truth of this, but naturally I’m curious. How did you find out?”
“Through your old friend, and mine, Zhèng Wen Li. He contacted me, said he had something important to tell me, something vital, but that it must be face-to-face. That’s why I went to Hong Kong last week.”
“I see. And how does Wen Li know about Ainsley coming back to life, so to speak?”
Jack told her everything, and finally explained Wen Li’s idea of putting his grandson inside Belvedere, Ainsley’s holding company in Hong Kong. “The bait is the vast amount of money he’s going to invest with Ainsley,” Jack finished. “A hundred million dollars.”
“I understand everything, Jack, and if Wen Li’s plan works, we’ll have somebody on the inside, a spy in the house of Ainsley. Then at least we’ll have an idea of what’s going on.”
“Correct, Paula, although Ainsley might not be in Hong Kong at every moment. Nevertheless, Richie Zhèng will have access to a great deal, and I just pray that Ainsley does take the bait.”
“So do I. It’s good of Wen Li to do this for us.”
“And also for himself, Paula. You know he hates Ainsley as much as we do, and he does stand to make a lot of money on his hundred million. But yes, he has proved to be very loyal, a good friend.”
“When is all of this going to happen?”
“Imminently, I think. In the meantime, there’s not much we can do. Obviously, I’ve got to put a lot of security around you and Shane, M and Larry and Linnet, and Tessa and her brood in France. He’s a dangerous man. Also elusive.” Jack frowned. “I’ve absolutely no idea where his base is.”
“So it’s not Hong Kong?” Paula raised a brow.
“No. He still has an apartment there, and a business office, but that’s the same as before. It’s just a new name, that’s all.”
“He could be living in Switzerland, you know, especially since you said he was treated at a clinic in Zurich.”
“That’s true, he was, but somehow I doubt that he lives in Zurich. Geneva maybe.”
“You mentioned security guards for my girls, Jack, but what about my sons? Shouldn’t Lorne and Desmond be protected?”
“Absolutely, and I will talk to them both. Lorne has fought it in the past, but this time he’ll have to listen. How’s Desmond going to take it?”
“Not too well, I’m afraid, but I’m sure you can persuade him . . .” She gave him a small smile. “You’re very persuasive, you know.” Leaning forward, she now asked, “Once Richie Zhèng is inside Belvedere and gets information about Ainsley for his grandfather and you, what then?”
“I am hoping we will be able to pinpoint Ainsley’s permanent location and keep track of him at all times. However, even as we speak, I have many of my European operatives trying to track him down. I’m leaving nothing to chance. I want to find him quickly and deal with him.”
“But how will you deal with him? You can’t just go out and shoot him.”
“If I could I would, and I would have done it years ago, you know that. What will I do?” Leaning forward, drawing closer, taking her hand in his, he said, “Wen Li and I must render him harmless to us, Paula. And we will. I promise you that. But I can’t tell you what we’re going to do because we haven’t finalized everything. Anyway, the less you know the better.”
“I trust you, Jack.”
He half smiled, then went on. “I’m going to insist some other members of the family, some of your cousins, have security, and I think that should do it for the moment. You see, he’s mostly out to get you and your daughters—”
“But why is he still persisting after all these years?” she exclaimed, her voice rising an octave.
“When a terrible illness is not treated, it does not get better, nor does it simply go away. Actually, it gets much worse. Jonathan Ainsley is a very sick man . . . he’s mentally ill. I believe he is a psychopath. Even his own father said that just before he died. Ainsley must be stopped.”
“As soon as you can, Jack, please.” Her voice sounded suddenly tense.
“It will be done as fast as possible, I can guarantee that, and I will keep my promise to you,” Jack responded in a reassuring tone.
“Thank you. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
“About Tessa, Paula? Do you think her husband will object to having security guards?” Jack now asked, his concern echoing.
“I doubt it. Jean-Claude is rather brilliant, as you well know. Furthermore, he’s considered one of the foremost experts on terrorism. So he understands about bodyguards. Anyway, you can ask Tessa about it herself in a very short while. She’s here in London, just for the day, with Jean-Claude. She’s coming to have tea.”
A huge smile crossed Jack’s face, and he exclaimed, “I can’t wait to see her, it’s been ages.”
Paula cleared her throat and threw Jack a knowing look. “You’re usually a few steps ahead of us all, so I’m assuming you’ve already thought about what I’m now going to say . . . that Ainsley might have had something to do with the bombing of Harte’s?”
“I was just about to bring that up, Paula, and yes, I had thought of it. I feel certain he arranged for it to be done. I also consider Larry’s poisoning on location very suspect. And then there’s the collapsing runway at the hotel in Paris. I can’t help thinking that this was another one of Ainsley’s attempts to kill or maim a Harte. This time, M.”
At this moment the door opened, and Vesta, the housekeeper, came in, wheeling the tea trolley. “Here I am, Mrs. O’Neill, and Miss Tessa just arrived a few minutes ago. She went up to her old room to freshen up. And she said she’ll be down very shortly.”
To Jack, Tessa Fairley Deléon was beautiful in a classical sense. She was tall, slender, willowy, with long silver-gilt hair, silvery eyes, and a perfect skin without blemish. Her chiseled features in an oval-shaped face were perfect, and she had an aura about her, perhaps because of her extraordinary taste and elegance, the way she held herself and moved with such grace.
Now, as she walked into the sitting room of her mother’s Belgravia house, he caught his breath in surprise. If anything, she was more beautiful than ever, ethereal, and it struck him suddenly that she didn’t walk, she floated. Or so it seemed to him.
She was wearing an outfit in different shades of gray and pale blue, and it drifted around her gorgeous legs like some sort of hazy mist. She wasn’t movie-star beautiful, that would be a ridiculous analogy because she was beyond that. Tessa was like a being from another world. And to think he had once detested her.
Jack had not been the only one to dislike Tessa. Her entire family, even though they loved her, had found her impossible at times. Because she was a Fairley, through Jim Fairley, her mother’s first husband, she was a monumental snob. The Fairleys had been the great aristocratic Yorkshire family in their heyday at the turn of the nineteenth century, and Tessa couldn’t stop boasting about that, them, and her remarkable heritage.
What annoyed everyone was the way she looked down on the Hartes and was forever flinging the Fairley name in their faces. She constantly annoyed her mother and Linnet because she called herself the Dauphine, alluding to the fact that she was the eldest child, and therefore Paula’s heir to the Harte stores.
Tessa was the firstborn of Paula’s children, that was true, since she was delivered a few minutes before her twin brother, Lorne. Fortunately, they got on well together, and he never stood in her way, because he had no interest in the family business. His aim was to become a great actor, and he had done that.
Jack suppressed a smile now as he thought of the way Linnet and M had mocked Tessa behind her back, calling her by that awful nickname, the Dorf, short for Dauphine.
But they had also becom
e her defenders and allies once they discovered that she was an abused wife. Tessa’s first husband, Mark Longden, had beaten her up on a regular basis and treated her so badly she had finally left him. None of them had known the true situation, because Tessa had put on such a good face for years.
Jack realized what a bastard Mark was when Tessa’s daughter by Mark disappeared several years ago. Little Adele went missing from Pennistone Royal and was nowhere to be found until Jack tracked down her father and discovered that Mark was the kidnapper of his own child.
Throughout this horrendous abduction, he had come to know Tessa well and had become her friend and admirer. She had displayed true grit, been tremendously brave, and had confided at one moment that she was glad she was a Harte woman, with her great-grandmother’s indomitable spirit.
She had inevitably changed, and had become the lovely woman she was today after meeting and falling in love with Jean-Claude Deléon. The renowned French writer and philosopher was twenty years older than she was, but they had quickly married and had had three children. Tessa now lived in France, where she had flourished, grown into her own skin.
After greeting her mother and then Jack, Tessa exclaimed, “Shall I play Mum and pour the tea?” And Paula laughed and said, “Please do, darling.”
Once Tessa had served her mother and Jack, and handed around the small tea sandwiches, she took a cup of tea for herself and settled next to Jack on the sofa.
“Why is it we never see you in Paris, old friend? I do wish you’d come and visit us.”
“I will, I promise,” Jack answered and looked across at Paula, who nodded, smiled at him.
Jack continued. “As a matter of fact, I was thinking of popping over to see you tomorrow. But now that you’re here, there’s no reason . . . at least not at the moment.”
“Why were you coming to see me?” Tessa asked, looking suddenly intrigued.
“I wanted to talk to you about a rather important matter, Tessa. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but at this moment, you, Jean-Claude, and your children are at great risk.”
Tessa drew back, staring at him uncomprehendingly for a moment, and then exclaimed, “What on earth do you mean?”
Jack told her, giving her all of the details he had just enumerated to Paula, and she listened attentively.
Once he had finished, Tessa said, “Just tell me what you want us to do, and we’ll do it, Jack. I’ll do anything on this earth to protect my husband and my children.”
At this moment, the door swung open, and as Paula turned around, her face lit up. She rose and exclaimed, “M! How wonderful to see you.” She hurried across the room, embraced her youngest daughter.
“Oh, Mummy, you look absolutely fabulous,” M said, and then when she spotted Tessa near the fireplace, she cried, “Beautiful One, what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in Paris.”
Laughing, tossing back her long hair, Tessa hurried to M, and the two of them hugged.
“Have you grown taller, or am I shrinking?” Tessa asked, frowning, and then grinned. “So you’re twenty inches taller because you’re wearing your Jimmy Choo shoes. That’s it!”
“No, it isn’t. See, I’m in flats.” M showed her foot clad in a classical Chanel ballet slipper–style shoe. “And I’m only an inch taller than you.”
The two of them laughed, and M went on, “I just want you to know that I’ve talked Lorne into coming to stay with you. He’s a bit down in the dumps.”
“Why is that?”
“I think he’s lonely, if you really want to know. No woman around.” She moved across to the sofa and gave Jack a big hug, whispered against his ear, “How did Mum take it—the news I mean.”
“With resignation,” Jack answered. “In her usual elegant manner.”
Paula joined them near the fireplace and asked M, “Do you want a cup of tea, darling? It’s still hot.”
“I’d love it, and I’m so glad I came over . . . to see you, Mummy, but how nice that Tessa’s here and Jack. You’ve heard the bad news from Jack.”
“Yes, indeed we have,” Paula answered.
“I’m all for having him demolished by a hit man,” M announced. “And I’d be willing to foot the bill. Ainsley’s a menace.”
Paula and Tessa both stared at her in astonishment, and then Paula laughed. “Really, darling, we can’t go around killing people, or having them killed.”
“Why not?”
“Don’t be silly, M.” Paula shook her head. “We’re not murderers, criminals—”
“Ainsley is,” M cut in and said to Tessa, “You’d better agree to have bodyguards.”
“I’ve agreed,” Tessa answered. “I’ve always listened to Jack, you know.”
“How long are you staying?” M asked and stared at her elder sister.
“I came with Jean-Claude just for the day, darling. He was flying in on a private plane, so I just hitched a ride to see Mummy.”
“I’m glad you thought about that, Tessa,” Paula said and looked at M. “What were you saying about Lorne?” She sounded anxious.
Forty-one
Linnet left the store in Knightsbridge earlier than usual, feeling impatient, nervous, even agitated. As usual, she walked to her small but charming house a few streets behind Harte’s, where she had lived since her husband’s death.
Once she had let herself in and dumped her carryall in the entrance hall, she hurried into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, looked inside. She had been right, there was lots of food, including smoked salmon, country pâté, and the makings for a tasty salad. She noticed a cottage pie which Carla, the housekeeper, had apparently made that morning. Enough for dinner . . . to satisfy a hungry man.
Whirling around, Linnet crossed the hall, went into the living room to check that everything was in place, and then strode into the bedroom. She quickly changed out of her black, tailored trouser suit, her uniform for work, put on a pair of beige slacks and a matching light cashmere sweater, and hung up her suit.
As she turned, her eyes caught the bedside table. The telephone sat there along with a message pad in a leather holder, and that was all. Until recently, a photograph of her late husband in a silver frame had stood there—a photograph she had owned for many years.
Several months ago, Tessa had said to her, “I think this has to find another home, Linny darling. Such as the living room or your den.”
She had frowned at her sister, had started to protest, but Tessa had held up her hand, shaking her head vehemently. “Listen to me, darling, Julian has been dead for two years, and you’ve got to move on. Put that photograph somewhere else. Don’t have it in your bedroom, for heaven’s sake. One day, sooner than later, hopefully, there’ll be another man in this bed, and believe me, there’s nothing more off-putting than a photograph of a woman’s late husband staring at both of you when you’re making love.”
Linnet remembered now how she had given Tessa a reproachful look and muttered something about there being a shortage of eligible men, and Tessa had picked up the photograph, put it on her hands, and led her out of the room.
“You’re wrong, there are plenty of men around, but how would you know? You’re always at work. So tell me how you’re going to meet any. I’ll have to start procuring for you. How about that?”
Tessa had suddenly started to laugh, and so had she, and taking her sister’s advice Linnet had put Julian’s photograph in her den that day. And as she had done so, she had thought about Simon Baron and the crush she had on him, and had sighed to herself, believing him to be far beyond her reach.
How wrong she had been. Suddenly she thought about the cab ride through the park at lunchtime today, and blessed that cabbie for taking such a big swerve and throwing her into Simon’s arms. She also marveled at herself for having had the nerve to kiss him. She smiled. She had known he wanted to kiss her the moment she stared up into his eyes, seen the desire in them, the yearning.
Leaving the bedroom, she went down to the garden floor
and the cozy dining room, which opened onto the garden. She had phoned Carla earlier to ask her to set the small circular table for supper for two, and the housekeeper had done so before going home.
Linnet nodded as she glanced around, pleased with the blue-and-white color scheme, and her favorite antique pieces, which fit so well in here. Buying the house and decorating it had kept her busy after Julian’s sudden death, and had helped her to cope.
And the house had been a new beginning. As tonight was going to be a new beginning. . . .
Linnet looked at the carriage clock on the living room mantelpiece. It said five-forty. Twenty minutes before Simon arrived. She had come home from the store far too early, and now she didn’t know where to put herself.
She rose, walked across the room, straightened a silk cushion on the dark rose-colored sofa, wandered out into the foyer, saw her carryall, took it up to her den on the next floor.
Seating herself at the desk, she looked at yesterday’s mail, dismissed it as not important, stood again, and walked over to the window. After looking down into the street, she went back downstairs, feeling expectant and just a little afraid.
Her mind entirely focused on Simon, she suddenly wondered what he would prefer to drink and flew into the kitchen, looked in the refrigerator. There was a bottle of white wine chilling as usual, and now she added pink champagne, some bottles of water, and noticed to her surprise that her hands were shaking.
God, what’s wrong with me? she wondered, realizing that her heart had started to pound. And all because of Simon Baron. Whom she had known for donkey’s years and saw every day at work. But it was different now. Because she had kissed him in the cab and he had kissed her back, and they had confessed they were keen on each other, more than keen. And on the way back to the store, after lunch with Jack, he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her. Nor had she. She wanted to touch him, kiss him, hold him . . . possess him . . . and be possessed by him.
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