The Mistress Deception

by Susan Napier

Not only was Bethany highly intelligent, but thanks to her frank upbringing she also had a lively understanding of the world around her. Although Rachel sometimes found her sophistication unnerving, in her heart she thanked God that Bethany wasn’t as naive and wretchedly vulnerable as Rachel had been at her age.

  ‘So, are you going to tell me all about your pin-up boy?’ asked Bethany, finally handing the photograph back and clattering from cupboard to fridge to fix herself a large bowl of cereal and milk.

  ‘He’s no pin-up, believe me,’ Rachel said darkly, ramming the resealed bubble-pack deep into her capacious shoulder-bag, hoping the contents would be creased into oblivion. ‘He’s a slimy, spiteful, scum-sucking, foul-minded, flatulent, male chauvinistic swine with a brain the size of a quark and an ego the size of Mount Everest.’

  Bethany’s mouth fell open and Rachel flushed as she realised that she had let herself get carried away by her inner rage. But how good it had felt to snarl it out loud! She hastily summoned a weak grin to show that she had only been joking.

  ‘Of course—that’s on his good days.’

  ‘Uh, sure…’ In spite of her evident curiosity Bethany wisely decided not to tease for an answer as to what the mystery man was like on his bad days. She crunched on her cereal, sending sidelong looks at Rachel as she got up and absently washed out her coffee cup, her mind still shell-shocked by Matthew Riordan’s underhanded attack.

  ‘Um, Rachel…I—we get on really well together, you and I…don’t we?’

  ‘Mmm?’ She couldn’t just ignore his vicious threat and expect it to go away. He had the potential to make her life a misery. ‘Oh—yes, of course we do,’ she said warmly.

  ‘And you know how you always say how much you like having me around—you know, when Mum and Dad go away on holiday and I come and stay here with you…?’

  Rachel shook out a teatowel. She knew what it was like to be a helpless victim and she had no intention of ever letting it happen again. ‘What?’ She struggled to make sense of what Bethany was saying. ‘Oh, yes, I do—you’re great company.’

  ‘Well…how would you feel if I was—you know—around a lot more. Like…maybe…all the time…’

  Rachel’s attention snapped fully back to the young girl at the table.

  ‘All the time?’ Her voice sharpened as she realised what her niece was asking. ‘You mean, you living here…with me? Permanently?’ Her heart expanded tightly in her chest so that she could hardly breathe as Bethany nodded. ‘But, Beth,’ she protested weakly, ‘you’re going to be living in Bangkok—’

  Bethany abandoned the table, eager to argue her case.

  ‘Just because Dad has to work there doesn’t mean I have to be dragged away from all my friends—I mean, what if I don’t like the school?’ she said in a rush. ‘I won’t know anyone, I don’t know the language—’

  ‘Beth, it’s an English-speaking school,’ Rachel pointed out gently. ‘There’ll be teenagers like you there from all around the world. They’re all in the same boat, and you’ll soon make new friends—’

  ‘But I like my old ones! I love the school I go to now…and what about my yachting? I bet I won’t be able to bike down to the harbour and go sailing on my own in Thailand!’

  ‘Oh, Beth, if you feel like this you should talk to your parents—’

  ‘I have,’ she gulped. ‘But they don’t listen. They keep telling me I’ll adjust. But what if I can’t? What if I really, really, really hate it over there? Mum and Dad wouldn’t let me come back on my own, but if I was coming to live with you, then they couldn’t say no, could they?’ She bit her lip and her voice wavered. ‘Unless you don’t want me to…you think I’d be in the way…’

  A lump rose in Rachel’s throat and she had to swallow hard to stop herself bursting into tears. She longed to let her emotions rule, to sweep Bethany fiercely to her breast and assure her that of course she wouldn’t be in the way, that she would always be welcome into Rachel’s home and heart.

  But she knew she couldn’t. There were bigger issues at stake. She took a deep breath.

  ‘Oh, darling, I know how you’re feeling.’ She cupped Bethany’s long face with her strong fingers and smiled brightly into her woeful eyes, hoping to phrase her rejection in a way that wouldn’t irreparably damage their very precious relationship. ‘I know you’re scared about stepping out into the unknown, but you’re not alone. Don’t you think that your parents are finding this move a bit scary, too?’

  Bethany blinked at the sudden shift in her perspective. ‘Mum and Dad?’

  ‘Of course—they’re leaving behind all their friends, too. It’s going to be especially tough for your dad—he has to step into a new job in a new country with colleagues he doesn’t know, while displaying the confidence and authority that people expect of his new position. And your mum—she has to give up a job she really loves and revert to being a full-time housewife in a community where she doesn’t know a soul. But together you’ll get through it. The three of you are a team…’

  Bethany was quick to pick up the underlying message. ‘So you won’t let me come and live with you, even if I’m horribly homesick?’ she said in a thin, high voice.

  Rachel braced herself against the mixture of hurt and resentment glowing in the reproachful green eyes. ‘If you go over there expecting to be able to do that, you’re just setting yourself up for failure, and you’re too intelligent for that. When you want to succeed at something you know you have to put your whole heart into it. Your mum and dad need you to be there for them, Beth. Don’t disappoint them.’

  ‘I don’t have much choice, do I?’ said Bethany stiltedly. ‘If you don’t want me…’

  Rachel forced her voice to remain steady, although she felt clawings of panic shredding at her control. ‘You have a choice about the way you behave—whether you accept with grace or try and make everyone around you feel guilty because life isn’t perfect. You take your mum and dad’s unconditional love and support for granted, but a lot of kids grow up without that kind of emotional security to back them up when things get rough.’ Her eyes were clear as she picked her words carefully. ‘I only wish your grandparents had been as protective of Robyn and I as Robyn and Simon are of you. It’s difficult to have any confidence in yourself when you hear nothing but criticism and condemnation from the people you love…’

  Bethany looked away, scuffing her thick-soled school shoes on the tiled floor, the freckles standing out on her pale skin. ‘I guess…’ She lifted her chin and said with a totally false brightness, still avoiding Rachel’s eyes, ‘I suppose I’d better get my bag, or I’m going to miss my bus.’

  Ignoring her half-eaten cereal on the table, she grabbed her lunchbox off the bench and rushed out of the kitchen. Rachel closed her eyes, letting out a ragged sigh as she sagged against the sink.

  ‘Thanks.’

  She opened her eyes to see her sister hovering in the doorway, her sweet face grave.

  Rachel smiled wanly. ‘For what?’

  Robyn came into the kitchen, her eyes shadowed with relief and redolent with sympathy. ‘For simply being an aunt.’

  ‘You’re my sister,’ said Rachel. ‘What else would I be?’ They looked at each other, a world unspoken in the glance.

  ‘She didn’t really want to stay with me, anyway,’ Rachel dismissed. ‘It isn’t a rejection of you and Simon. She’s just temporarily got cold feet.’

  ‘I know. But, still, if you’d given her the choice she was asking for it could have made things very difficult for us over the next few years.’

  ‘Well,’ said Rachel, ‘I do have a pretty crammed life already. God knows I don’t need the added complication of trying to cope alone with daily doses of teenage angst!’

  Robyn wasn’t fooled by her flippancy. ‘Oh, Rachel, you would have got on famously, and you know it. If you were only thinking of yourself you would have said yes to her in a New York minute! I know you hated to hurt her, but she’ll get over it. From what I heard she was trying t
o manipulate you with a sneaky form of emotional blackmail.’

  So…she was the victim of two separate blackmail attempts in one day, Rachel thought with an unexpected sting of humour—and it was still only breakfast!

  ‘Do you think she’ll ever forgive me for letting her down?’ she couldn’t help asking.

  Robyn crossed to give her the hug she so badly needed. ‘You haven’t let her down. You love her and want the best for her. You always have. She knows that.’

  ‘I’m going to miss you all horribly,’ she admitted gruffly. Up until now she had been careful not to let them see how shattered she had been by their decision to move abroad.

  ‘I know.’ Robyn responded to the rib-crushing fierceness of her hug with a little gasp. ‘But we’re only going to be an e-mail away, and at least I’ll have plenty of spare time to keep you up to date with our doings. We can even send each other photos over the Internet!’

  A short while later, when Robyn and Bethany had departed for school and work, Rachel dragged the abused package out of her handbag, grappling with the awful spectre that her sister’s innocent words had raised.

  There were worse things than having yourself splashed all over the tabloids. What if Matthew Riordan decided to go global and posted those frightful pictures on the Internet!

  She smoothed out his loathsome note and forced herself to go over it again, word by horrible word.

  In places the slashing green down-strokes almost seemed to dig through the page, as if they’d been written in a rage. Having seen the reputedly buttoned-down Riordan heir in the raw, both literally and figuratively, Rachel could well believe he was not as cold-blooded as his reputation made out, but this outpouring of contempt made him sound dangerously reckless.

  What did he really mean by his threats? They were actually rather vague. Should she wait for him to deliver more specific demands…or was he assuming that she knew what they were?

  Perhaps he intended to broadcast the photographs regardless of her response—or lack of it? How could she defend herself if he started sending copies to the press, to Westons’ clients? Her family and close friends might believe her explanations, but to everyone else she would be reduced to an obscene joke. As Frank was constantly drilling into her, reputation was everything. He was so proud of the Westons name. If he found out that there was the slightest possibility of Rachel being involved in a scandal he would be furious. In order to protect the business she might well have to resign.

  Rachel bit her lip, battening down her fear. She mustn’t let herself be panicked into doing anything stupid. She should be thinking damage control, not capitulation.

  She had heard Kevin Riordan boast that his son intended to run for City Council in this year’s local body elections, with an eye to contesting the Mayoralty some time in the future. Logically, that meant Matthew Riordan had almost as much of a vested interest in keeping compromising photographs out of the public eye as Rachel did.

  It was that ‘almost’ which gave him his ruthless edge. He was prepared to subject himself to public humiliation and rely on his PR clout for damage control afterwards…but surely only as a last resort. At the moment the primary value of the photographs to him must be as a weapon to hang over her head.

  All Rachel had to do was keep cool and try to exercise some damage control of her own.

  If only she had known what she was getting into she would never have taken on the job of watching over Merrilyn Freeman’s wretched dinner party!

  CHAPTER THREE

  ‘YOU’VE got to do something!’

  Rachel jumped as Merrilyn glided up behind her and hissed urgently in her ear.

  ‘About what?’ Relaxed yet alert, Rachel thought everything was going swimmingly. A string quartet played exquisitely civilised Baroque on the terrace, the champagne was flowing, the caviare circulating, the conversation buzzing, and there had not been a hint of a problem with gatecrashers, light-fingered guests or suspiciously wandering staff.

  Merrilyn’s fingernails bit into her bare arm as she tugged her out of the way of a passing white-jacketed waiter. A slim redhead in an arresting green taffeta dress, she vibrated with nervous anxiety. ‘He’s going to ruin everything, I just know it!’ she whispered frantically. ‘I’ve spent months planning this! My first big formal dinner party and it’s going to end up a total disaster!’

  Rachel had been Merrilyn’s fitness trainer for a year, and she was well acquainted with the young woman’s propensity for worrying over trifles. The exclamation mark might have been invented with Merrilyn in mind.

  ‘What on earth are you talking about?’ she murmured soothingly, transferring her dangerously tilted champagne glass to her free hand. ‘Everyone’s having a great time.’

  ‘I’m talking about him!’

  Rachel followed her agonised gaze to the archway between the huge lounge and the sunken dining room, expecting to see some ill-bred, loutish interloper dipping his fingers into the caviare bowl.

  ‘Matthew Riordan?’ she said incredulously.

  ‘Oh, God, just look at him…’ Merrilyn moaned.

  Rachel looked, ignoring the shivery frisson that lifted the fine hair on the back of her bare neck. She always instinctively bristled when she saw Matthew Riordan, and had learned not to take any notice of the uncomfortable sensation, which was normally a harbinger of trouble.

  Viewed from the side, in formal black he looked leaner than usual, but otherwise impeccable, his knife-sharp profile tilted down as he poured champagne into the glass of a young society matron from a bottle which he had produced from under his arm. Whatever he was saying made her blush, and her middle-aged husband stiffen at her side.

  ‘You see!’ hissed Merrilyn, her nails stabbing at the nerve in Rachel’s elbow. ‘He’s at it again.’

  ‘At what?’ asked Rachel reluctantly, easing her arm out of her clutches. She had done a sterling job of avoiding Matthew Riordan so far tonight, and would prefer to keep it that way.

  ‘Saying wickedly provocative things to people.’ She sounded on the verge of tears.

  ‘Matthew Riordan?’ Rachel said again, just to check that they were indeed discussing the same person. The man who was renowned for his cool reserve and deadly civility?

  ‘Yes, Matthew Riordan,’ moaned Merrilyn, her hand fluttering up to pluck at her diamond choker. ‘Oh, God, John will never forgive me if he starts a fight—’

  ‘Matthew Riordan?’ gaped Rachel, beginning to feel like a maniacal parrot. ‘For goodness’ sake, Merrilyn, take a deep breath and calm down,’ she said astringently. ‘He’s a merchant banker, not a lager lout. I’ve met the guy—he’s intelligent and articulate, but abnormally controlled; I bet he knows exactly how far he can go.

  ‘He would no more get into a stupid fight than he would pick up the wrong fork at dinner. He’s certainly not going to insult his hostess or make a fool of himself by creating a scene. And none of your other guests are going to risk offending someone so influential—certainly not to his face.’

  ‘You haven’t heard the shocking things he’s been saying!’ Merrilyn despaired.

  ‘Come on, Merrilyn. Give the guy a break.’ Rachel couldn’t believe that she was actually defending the man who was directly responsible for Weston Security Services losing two lucrative corporate contracts within the past month, but the important thing right now was to curb her client’s hysteria. ‘Everyone lets their hair down a bit at parties. Don’t you want him to enjoy himself?’

  ‘But he’s not enjoying himself; that’s the whole point!’ Merrilyn’s exquisitely made-up face was a mask of tragedy. ‘He’s drunk!’

  Rachel almost laughed at the ludicrousness of the idea. ‘I doubt it. He hasn’t been here long enough to have had more than a couple of glasses of champagne—’

  ‘No. You don’t understand!’ Merrilyn moaned. ‘He was drunk when he arrived. And to think I was panicking because he hadn’t turned up. Now I almost wish he hadn’t…!’

  The disgusted admi
ssion was tantamount to heresy from a dedicated social climber like Merrilyn, and Rachel registered a surge of alarm.

  She reappraised him. ‘He looks quite steady on his feet to me.’

  ‘Trust me, he disguises it well, but he’s on the brink of being bombed out of his skull,’ said Merrilyn grimly. Once, on the massage table after one of their sessions in the gym, she had confided to Rachel that her brother was an alcoholic. ‘And another thing—he’s turned up solo! He was supposed be coming with Cheryl-Ann Harding. I’ve spent a fortune on the table settings—if his girlfriend’s not here it’s going to wreck the symmetry!’

  ‘His girlfriend?’ Rachel was startled. ‘I thought he was married?’ She had noticed the plain gold band he wore on his left hand.

  ‘He was…Oh, hell, what’s he going to do now?’ Merrilyn was distracted by the sight of the ruffled young matron being hustled away by her stiff-jawed escort. ‘If Cheryl-Ann isn’t here he’s going to be roaming around like a loose cannon all night,’ she muttered. ‘They’ve been going out for yonks—it’s common knowledge that Matthew’s father is putting on the pressure for him to get married again, and everyone agrees they’d make a perfect couple. If they’ve had an argument, why on earth couldn’t they have saved it until after my party?’

  She planted a hand in the small of Rachel’s back, propelling her forward. ‘Quick! Let’s get over there while he’s still by himself and see if you can keep him diverted long enough to sober him up for dinner.’

  Rachel almost stumbled over her white slingbacks. ‘Me?’

  ‘Well, that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To mix and mingle and stop minor problems escalating into major embarrassments?’ declared Merrilyn. ‘I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you being here, Rachel. I’m so glad you persuaded me to go with Westons rather than some other firm. You’re right, it’s so much better having someone I know handling potentially sensitive matters like these. I’ll be sure and tell all my friends what a classy personal protection service you run!’

  Sensing she was overdoing the gushing flattery, she altered her tone to a panicky plea. ‘Look, just stick to him like glue and do what you can to cover for him, OK? And be discreet! The fewer people who realise what’s going on, the better.’