by Mary Birk
She reached over to the floor to pick up her panties. “I should be finished here soon—or at least within a week or two. I’m not sure how long I can be spared from our Paris office, but I have some time off coming. In case you’d like company on your cruise.” She made sure her voice showed that she didn’t care one way or the other.
“That’s a lovely offer, Darby girl, but I have company lined up already.”
Darby felt like she’d been kicked in the gut with a steel-toed boot. Even though she’d told him this was to be a one-off, she’d done so just to get past his reluctance to do anything that would jeopardize his friendship with Terrence. She’d told him that she just was in the mood for sex, sex with no strings. She knew that he wouldn’t have slept with his best friend’s sister if he’d thought there would be complications.
Keeping up the pretense, but needing to know, she asked, “Oh, one of your young lovelies?”
“A woman from London. A barrister.” He shook his head, smiling at her with what seemed to be admiration. “You’re uncanny easy to be with. Having sex with a woman who thinks about it like most men do is refreshing. No strings, no games, no need for any kind of romance.”
He clearly meant what he was saying to be a compliment, but Darby knew that it also meant that he had no thought that this had been anything more than a night of casual shagging—with no need to even buy her drinks or dinner. She wondered about the woman he was taking on the cruise to the Grecian Isles. Undoubtedly, that woman was more demanding, and she’d been invited on a cruise. Maybe Darby had made things too easy for him.
But it was too late now to tell him that she was like other women, that she wanted romance, and in particular, that she wanted him. So she smiled back. “I’ve known you all my life. I’ve no illusions about you. But I did think that you might be good in bed. I just wanted to see if you were.”
“Did I meet your expectations?”
“You were tolerable.” She gave an exaggerated yawn.
John’s eyes twinkled. He knew he was good. “You’re nothing like your brother, that’s for certain. He doesn’t know the meaning of casual sex. I tell him he doesn’t know what he’s missing.”
“And look where it’s gotten Mr. Perfect.” Darby was barely able to keep the bitter edge out of her voice. “A wreck of a marriage and likely of a career, as well. He’s got a blind spot as big as the bloody moon when it comes to her.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You really think so? I’m not sure I believe those news stories. And Terrence’s bosses must understand that a man can’t tell his wife what to do.”
“She’s a whore.”
“Darby, don’t talk like that. There’s no way you can know what’s going on between them.”
“She was in that hotel with her old lover, wasn’t she? How else do you explain it? I don’t see much difference between her and a whore, except that she limits her services to wealthy men. Terrence, then the artist. No coincidence that they’re both rich. It’s just a matter of time until it’s someone else.”
“You’d better never say these kinds of things to your brother about her.”
Darby jerked her head in a defiant gesture. “He knows how I feel.”
John crouched down beside the bed and took her face in his hands. “Darby girl, you’ll be making a terrible mistake if you say that kind of thing to him. I’ve told you. He’s not like you and me. This kind of thing,” he motioned to the bed and her nakedness, “means something to him. It’s not just fun and games for him. He’s deadly serious about it—and about Anne. No matter what he says, or how often they split up, she’s all there is for him.”
Darby couldn’t think of any way she could ever change the direction of what had happened between her and John Stirling. She wouldn’t ever be able to tell him that she wanted him to think about her like Terrence thought about Anne. It was too late now.
She forced herself to smile. “You’re right.” Darby took his hands from her face. “Unless you have time to do it again, I guess I’ll get dressed and get to work.”
He gave a playful smile and tapped his watch. “It would have to be quick.”
“Quick’s good. I have things to do, as well.” She pulled the sheet off of her body and started to rise. He pulled her to him, turned her around, opened his trousers, slipped on protection, and bent her over the bed.
Afterwards, on his way out the door, he turned and looked back at her. “I may be back next month, if you’re not doing anything.”
Darby shrugged. “We’ll see.”
“It’s been fun. You’re all grown up, Darby girl.”
“Yes.” The door shut behind him, and a cavern of emptiness engulfed her.
Chapter 71
AFTER SWALLOWING HER SURPRISE, Anne took a deep breath, trying to control the hammering of her heart. Her first fear, that the girl had been sent to spy on her, was at least partially relieved when Moira announced that she and Frederick had been sent in place of Walter’s driver to pick her up as they’d been going into town anyway. How long had they been watching her? Anne tried to appear pleased, while frantically reviewing what they might have seen. She’d had lunch alone, then tried to make a phone call. Nothing to worry about.
She decided not to mention, let alone try to explain, the aborted phone call. After all, she wasn’t a prisoner. “I just finished lunch, and was going to visit the shops. I need to buy some clothes that are more suitable for dinners and things like that. I don’t want to keeping borrowing dresses.”
“Great,” Moira said. “I’ll come along. I love shopping, although I’m fairly certain this isn’t a good town to do it in.”
While they shopped, Anne kept her eye out for anyone who might have been trying to get into contact with her, but saw no one. Unfortunately, Moira turned out to be right about the town’s shopping potential. There was only one actual dress shop in town. Moira wrinkled her nose when they went in, and after looking around, Anne was forced to agree with her.
The shop had nothing appropriate for dinner parties, not even something that rose to the level of the ugly business dinner dress that Terrence had specified. In fact, she’d never seen such a collection of drab dresses in her life. Surely Terrence wouldn’t want her to wear something like this, even if the alternative was one of the gowns the Von Zandts were loaning her.
Moira fingered one of the shop’s offerings and wrinkled her nose. In a voice that was trying too hard to be casual, the girl said, “Walter’s divorcing Elisa. I heard him talking to his lawyer on the telephone.” She beamed at Anne, with a shy hopefulness that broke Anne’s heart. “I think that’s a good sign for me. Maybe the gardens will be mine after all.”
Anne managed a small smile that wanted to be a grimace. “Good news, then.” Apparently Walter hadn’t broken the news yet to Moira about ending their relationship—if he’d even been serious about that. It may have just been a ploy to get Anne to take his advances seriously. She was beginning to feel like she’d fallen headfirst into a soap opera or maybe some weird reality show.
Moira giggled. “Yes. At least I hope so. Why else would he do it now?”
“Good question.” Hoping to end that subject, Anne held up another dress for Moira’s inspection. “What about this one?”
Moira shuddered, and Anne nodded. “You’re right. Hopeless.”
Frederick Von Zandt, who was apparently otherwise perpetually unoccupied, drove them back to Lynstrade Manor when they’d given up on the shops. How strange it must be for him to have to interact with his father’s mistress, a girl that was younger than he was. Did he think of her as a sister, Anne wondered briefly, or as a potential stepmother?
Moira yawned, leaning back against the headrest of the front seat. “I’m ready for a bit of a toes-up. At least we have a pass on dinner tonight.” She turned around to look at Anne. “Walter and Henry have gone to meet with some people in Inverness. They won’t be back until tomorrow.” She made a face. “Tomorrow night is a dinner with some of W
alter’s business associates at the house. Very formal.” Moira sighed. “And they’re all foreign. Bleeding Arabs and Africans.”
Frederick gave her a slightly reproachful look.
She slid her eyes sideways in a look of exasperation, but smiled. “You don’t like them either, so don’t look at me like that, pet.” Moira patted him on the shoulder casually. He slid his eyes from the road to smile back at Moira, and Anne saw it: that man-in-love look.
“They’re Father’s clients, Moira.” But his voice, full of affection, held no censure.
“Yes, I know. I’ll be nice to them, Frederick. I always am.” Moira kept her hand on his shoulder in the manner of two people who are comfortable with each other.
“I don’t want to intrude on Walter’s business dinner. I can just eat in my room.” Anne would be relieved to be able to have two dinners in a row without the man, especially with Jonas still away.
Moira shook her head. “Oh, no. Walter definitely wants you to come.”
“I’m sure not. I’ll just have a sandwich and work on the design plans.”
Frederick turned around in his seat and spoke to her directly for the first time. “Lady Anne, you have to come. He particularly wants you to be there.”
Anne chewed on that for a moment. Maybe she should go. Maybe Terrence would want to know the names of the people Walter Von Zandt considered business associates. Arabs and Africans, Moira had said. They could be the connection to the terrorists Terrence was looking for. Of course, she needed to go. She hoped her wire was actually working. If not, she’d just have to remember anything important. “If I’m invited, then, I’ll go.”
“You are. My Aunt Glynnis will be there, too. With Henry. You absolutely have to come. This is the first time Walter’s let me help plan the dinner. To be like a hostess, you know.”
Anne was confused. “I thought Henry was married.”
Frederick snorted, and Moira hit him on the shoulder.
“Be still, Freddie. He is, but Glynnis is his secretary and, well, you know. She’s younger than my mum—thirty-three, I think.”
“Thirty-four,” Frederick corrected.
“Thirty-three, thirty-four, what’s the difference? I’ve got the party favors for everyone.” Moira gestured to a large shopping bag emblazoned with the name of a chocolate shop. “I found the most gorgeous chocolates in tiny boxes tied with ribbon.” Moira’s eagerness was touching. “Frederick tried them—he thought they were good. Didn’t you?” She turned to the young man, who nodded and smiled at her as if she were made of chocolate.
Anne said, “Sounds wonderful. I can’t wait to try them.”
During the remainder of the drive, Anne listened and joined in when necessary to the back and forth of the conversation but her mind was busily making plans.
Tonight she’d be able to have the tray in her room she’d been hoping for yesterday, and she could go to bed early. But first, she’d get into Walter’s office and see what she could find.
Chapter 72
ANNE FROWNED at the extravagant arrangement of tulips she found waiting for her in her room, and at the note from Walter begging her forgiveness for having to leave on business, and promising to return soon. This wasn’t normal behavior from a garden owner to someone who was working on his garden design, and she was pretty sure Jonas wouldn’t have received flowers. Walter was a hard man to discourage.
She changed into jeans, a sweater, and warm socks, and laid down for a nap. There’d been some cramping again when she’d gotten back from shopping, so maybe she’d overdone things a little. Anne had turned down Moira’s offer to watch a movie with her and Frederick in the media room and have pizza, but was glad to know of their plans. That would tie the two of them up for a time.
Anne took a mental inventory of who else would still be in the house. The housekeeper, she supposed, whose name she’d finally confirmed was Hedda. Two maids and a butler-type also lived in, but the other maids seemed to be dailies, coming in from town every morning and leaving after dinner was cleared away. According to Moira, Henry Von Zandt had gone with his father, along with the chauffeur. The two bodyguard types that seemed to always be around Walter had left with them, as well. She was pretty sure that the guards that manned the gates and patrolled the grounds stayed in the gatehouse.
After her dinner tray was brought up might be the best time. Or maybe it would be better to wait until her tray was cleared away so the maid wouldn’t have a reason to come into her room and find her gone. Better yet, Anne thought, she could volunteer to bring her own tray back downstairs to the kitchen. That would give her an excuse to be moving around the house. Anne didn’t know if the staff would allow her to take this task on herself, but she was hoping that, with Walter gone, they might be happy to have one less chore to do.
The housekeeper looked surprised at Anne’s offer, and dutifully protested, but Anne convinced her that it would be no trouble. She apologized for all the extra work caused by her staying in the house, and complimented Hedda on how wonderfully she ran everything.
Later, following the housekeeper’s directions, Anne found the kitchen. It was a large, sterile-looking room: all stainless steel. The room looked like what Anne imagined a hospital kitchen might look. Surgery as well as cooking could be performed in this cold room. No one was there and the lights had been dimmed. Apparently the staff had taken advantage of a night without the boss, and retired to their own quarters early. As instructed, she left her tray on the counter next to the sink.
Anne wondered where the servants’ quarters were. Surely they would not be too close to the main rooms. She decided not to worry too much about it. She could explain away being found in most of the main rooms—looking for a book, looking for a brandy, or looking for the media room to join Moira and Frederick. She would not, however, so easily be able to explain it if she were found in Walter’s office. Well then, she just couldn’t get caught in there.
She started toward where she remembered the library was, going through the dimly lit house as quietly as possible. She opened doors as she went along, praying she didn’t open a door to a room and find one of the servants or, even worse, a security guard Walter had left behind.
As it turned out, finding the library was easy because the library door was standing open, although no lights were on inside the room. She entered the room and closed the door behind her. For a moment she just stood there in the dark. Outside the tall mullioned windows, spotlights illuminated the exterior of the house. There would be guards out there, Anne thought. Realizing that being in the room in the dark would look suspicious if she was discovered, she turned on a small lamp on a side table close to the statue where she’d seen Walter hide the key. Besides, she needed to be able to see what she was doing. She could make up a reason for being in the library at least, so she told herself she should feel relatively calm.
But no matter what she told herself, her nerves were on edge as she patted her hand around the statue’s feet. Surprised when she felt nothing, she tried again. Nothing. She frowned. Surely it had to be here. Using both hands, she tried again. Again nothing.
With one hand, she tilted the lamp toward the statue, focusing the light on the figure’s convoluted angles, while with the other hand she traced the base of the statue. She blew out a breath of relief when she felt something move against her prying fingers. The key lay against the side of the inside of the twisted foot’s instep. Anne quickly palmed it.
She held herself still, listening for any signs that anyone might be coming to the library, but she couldn’t hear anything. Outside, the spotlights continued their interlacing circles. Anne wondered if the guards were looking only for intruders or also were supposed to make sure that the people inside the house stayed there. Was she a de facto prisoner? What would happen if she decided to just leave? Just walk away? With Walter gone, would anyone try to stop her?
Leaving the remote estate in the middle of the night was probably more scary an idea than staying there w
as. No one had been anything less than kind to her at Lynstrade Manor. She hadn’t been threatened or harmed in any way. She’d been treated like a queen. If she got in trouble here, it would be because she was acting like the worst sort of houseguest. A snoop, a liar, and ungrateful to boot.
Why not just go back upstairs and forget this stupid idea? What was she doing? She had no business doing this kind of thing. Why had Terrence decided to use her to help him? It was so unlike him to want to involve her in his work. Was he really that desperate?
She went over to the office door. If she got caught in there, would she really be in any danger? She shook her head. Of course she wasn’t in danger. Terrence wouldn’t have involved her if there was the slightest chance of something happening to her. If she were caught in Walter’s office, she’d just make up a story about being lost, and have whoever found her point the way back to her room.
Somehow she wasn’t convinced. She knew that if she got caught in Walter’s office, there would be no going back, no way to put an innocent spin on what she was doing.
Anne closed her eyes and swallowed hard, curling her hand against her stomach. Love you. Then she made herself focus on what she was doing, and put the key in the door. She was carefully turning it to release the lock when she heard voices just outside the library. Swiftly, she extracted the key from the door and scurried over to one of the bookcases. Pulling out a book without even looking at the title, she slipped the key into her jeans pocket.
The door to the library opened and Moira and Frederick entered.
Frederick fixed his watery eyes on Anne with suspicion, but Moira just looked startled.
“Anne, what are you doing in here?”
Anne smiled and held up the book in her hand. “Looking for something to read. I got bored in my room. I looked for the media room, but I couldn’t find it, so I thought I would just get a book. Luckily, I remembered where the library was.”