The Cattle King's Bride

by Margaret Way

  Well, now they knew who her biological father was. One Karl Kellerman. Kellermans were listed in the Silverton Shire’s phone book. Dev had already checked it out. A list of six, including a K & R Kellerman.

  Mel accepted her drink and took a long sip. “So my maternal grandparents didn’t get killed in a car crash after all,” she said in an emotionless voice. “And my mother’s maiden name is really Antonelli, not Cavallaro. Where did she get Cavallaro from?”

  “God knows!” Dev sighed, then sat down beside her. “You have living family on both sides, Mel.”

  “Who won’t want anything to do with me.”

  “You don’t know that. Their side of the story is probably completely different from Sarina’s.”

  “Maybe.” Mel had already considered that, given her mother’s entrenched deceits. “But this Karl Kellerman—German name—didn’t have much going for him in the way of honour, even common decency. No wonder my mother was all messed up. He betrayed her.”

  “That’s for us to find out.”

  “At least I wasn’t aborted,” Mel said wretchedly.

  “Don’t say such a thing!” Dev reacted strongly. “Drink up, Mel.”

  “Drown my sorrows, you mean. I’m illegitimate,” she announced as she placed the crystal glass carefully on the coffee table.

  “Honestly, Mel, who cares?”

  Mel turned her angry, mortified face to him. “I do!” she said fiercely.

  Dev stood up. “Okay, you’re illegitimate,” he said. “Do they actually use that term these days? You were a love child. I was a love child. So was Ava and most kids.”

  “You’re both Langdons, Dev,” Mel said, straining to rein in her emotions.

  Dev shook his handsome blond head. “Is this going to turn into another big angstfest, Mel?” he asked.

  Don’t let it be, the voice inside her head screamed in warning.

  “I’m trying to deal with it, Dev, as best I can,” she said in a quieter voice.

  Dev grabbed hold of his jacket, shouldering into it. He was moving like a man abandoning her to her fate. “I’ll leave you to the process of sorting yourself out, Mel. I don’t want to say anything that might make things worse. I’m going out for a while.”

  “Where?” asked Mel, her back to him.

  “Out,” he said.

  * * *

  Dev didn’t come back for hours. But he did come back. She didn’t ask him where he had been. He didn’t say for a good ten minutes. Then he spoke as if he had reached some juncture in his mind. “I ran into Scott Davenport.”

  “Oh?” Scott Davenport was one of Dev’s oldest university friends. “How is he?” Mel asked. “And Frances?”

  “They’re both well,” Dev said. “They’re having a dinner party tonight. As we’re in town, Scott insisted we join them. I made him ring Frances first. She said she was delighted.”

  Mel thought carefully. She could decline. Or she could accept the invitation. She knew this was a testing time. Maybe a make or break time for her. She was aware of the enormity of the risk she was taking with Dev. She couldn’t live her life forever on the defensive. She had to make a leap of faith.

  “That would be lovely,” she said, trying to inject warmth into her voice. She knew that arriving on Dev’s arm would be quite a talking point later for the other guests. She wondered briefly who they might be. The chic crowd, the high-flyers. Come to that, she was one herself, wasn’t she? “What sort of thing should I wear?”

  “Dress up,” Dev said. “Not black tie, but Frances likes her dinner parties on the formal side. I have a hunch the two of them have an important announcement to make. They’ve been married…what?” he asked.

  “Two years.” Mel rose with feigned composure to her feet. A marriage wasn’t fulfilled until there were children. Now, more than ever, she heard her own biological clock ticking.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Frances Davenport, a real charmer, greeted them at the door, kissing them both in turn. Her golden-brown eyes shone with pleasure.

  “This is a lovely surprise,” she cried. “Come in. Come in. Everyone’s here,” she told them cheerfully. “You look gorgeous, Mel,” she said sincerely, thinking she had never seen any other woman project such beauty and sensuality as Amelia Norton. “I was hoping to see you again. Someone here you both know—Siobhan O’Hare.”

  Dev didn’t turn a hair. “Scott didn’t say,” he responded smoothly, not missing a beat.

  Had Siobhan heard about Dev’s trip? Mel wondered. So what could she be shopping for—a trousseau? In the world of money, power and influence, dynastic families cemented their fortunes with suitable marriages. These weren’t high Victorian times and a rigid class system, but family background and money would always count.

  “Siobhan? A snap decision, I gather,” Frances was saying. “She has a shopping excursion in mind. I’ve promised to go along with her. I think you’ve met all the others. Annabel Corbett. Remember her, Dev?” She gave him a teasing sidelong glance.

  “I do, indeed,” said Dev rather dryly.

  “It’s okay.” Frances started to laugh. “She’s about to get engaged. Now, come along.” She linked arms with them. “Oh, this is going to be such a lovely evening. I know it.”

  * * *

  The entry of Dev Langdon and Amelia Norton struck two people in the Davenports’ luxurious living room with considerable force. One was Siobhan O’Hare, in her lovely hyacinth-blue chiffon dress that she had chosen with such care. The other was Annabel Corbett, who had been feeling at home and relaxed up until that very moment. Annabel was twenty-nine now, in a bit of a rush to get married. She wasn’t madly in love with her soon-to-be fiancé, Bart Cameron, but Bart and his family, like hers, were old friends, well established in society. Bart would do. That was until she laid eyes on Dev Langdon again.

  Annabel didn’t know it, but her mouth fell open. She felt she was about to cry. Dev looked absolutely stunning—the physical attributes, that smooth, confident aura, even the walk. He was so sexy, so masculine, so golden…so…so…darn everything. She wanted to jump up and grab him. She knew who he was with, of course. Amelia Norton, a go-getter with Greshams, so she’d heard. It had to be said she looked drop-dead terrific in a sleekly draped cocktail dress in a rich ruby-red. Had Amelia better connections, she could have been the toast of the town. She had heard a murmur about Cattle King Gregory Langdon’s will. Everyone knew Amelia Norton’s mother was the Langdon housekeeper. She had near overheard something to do with the mother. It had been at the intermission of the opera Carmen. Two old ladies had been whispering behind their hands. One was Cassie Stewart. The other Valerie Devereaux. Obviously what they were discussing was hush-hush. But secrets couldn’t be protected for long.

  * * *

  On seeing them together, Siobhan felt her every last hope had been wrecked like a yacht dashed up against perilous rocks. Although Amelia wasn’t projecting a woman-in-possession aura, Dev, on the other hand, was projecting a clear message. The exquisitely sophisticated woman on his arm was his woman. As far as Siobhan was concerned, there was no mistaking the signal. His grandfather dead, Dev was getting his life into swift order. Amelia had always been in his life. Now Dev was showing for the first time his adult passion for his childhood friend. Siobhan felt not jealous but hopelessly outclassed. Amelia was the classic Italian beauty. She couldn’t compete with Amelia, no matter what she did. Neither could any other woman in the room, for that matter. She realized now that she and her mother hadn’t been particularly realistic. People fell in love or they didn’t. Some love affairs ended badly, others flourished. Siobhan suddenly saw things the way they really were. Life could be a messy affair.

  Time now for her to move on.

  * * *

  Scott had chosen fine wines to go with the various delicious courses. Succulent Sydney rock oysters for starters, pâté de foie gras made in the French tradition, a choice of superb steak with either peppercorn or mushroom sauce or a classic chicke
n dish. A sweets trolley was to follow.

  Mel sat beside Alistair Milbank, the stockbroker, feeling an easy sense of friendship and familiarity. She had come to know Alistair well. He was a close friend of her boss at Greshams, a kind, courtly man in his early sixties. He was considered absolutely loyal to his friends and very trustworthy, as he had to be in his line of work. Because he admired Mel’s brain among other things, Alistair wanted to talk a little business until their host called him to order.

  “Now, now, Alistair!” he warned.

  “A wonderful shiraz, Scott,” said Alistair, breaking off to lift his glass. Still, Alistair couldn’t help asking Mel in an undertone, “Is it right what I hear?”

  “What do you hear?” Mel whispered back, holding on to her composure.

  “Your mother was left a positive fortune by Langdon?”

  Mel lifted a hand of caution. “Not here, Alistair.”

  “I can take that as a yes, then?” Alistair asked, bushy brows raised.

  “Could I ask you to keep quiet about it, Alistair?” Mel fixed him with her great dark, lustrous eyes.

  A man could drown in them, Alistair thought. “Of course, love,” he said, gently patting her hand. “It’s really nobody’s business, anyway, is it? Have I told you how absolutely breathtaking you look?”

  Mel managed a smile. “Several times, Alistair. Do you mind if I ask how you came by your information?”

  “If you must know, dear girl, my old Aunt Cassie. Cassie trusts me. She tells me everything. I look after her affairs now that Ed has gone. I’m just wondering how you would feel, if it got out into the wider domain?” Alistair looked questioningly at her.

  Mel was surprised to hear herself answer with confidence. She couldn’t dissociate herself from her past; it had blocked her emotional development in its way, but she could begin the process of unifying herself. She had an identity now. It wasn’t the one she would have wished for, but she had a far better sense of who she was. “I can deal with it, Alistair,” she said calmly.

  Alistair gave a quiet chortle. “I’ve no doubt you can. Always thought you’d go a long way, my dear. Besides, as I say, it’s nobody’s business, really.”

  Mel nodded her agreement.

  “Now, what shall we have?” Alistair was already eyeing the sumptuous sweets trolley. He took the decision making very seriously. “I do have a sweet tooth.”

  “Like most men.” Mel smiled. She was unaware that the tall, good-looking blonde across the table, Annabel Corbett, had never taken her eyes off them during their murmured conversation.

  Had Annabel been a good lip-reader, she would have been able to make out what Alistair was saying. As it was, she had been able to catch some of Amelia Norton’s murmured responses.

  Keep quiet about it?

  Quiet about what? There was a story there. Annabel knew she would never get it out of Alistair, but maybe Siobhan O’Hare? Siobhan was yet another one who’d had her sights set on Dev Langdon. The O’Hare cattle-and-sheep station bordered Langdon’s Kooraki. If there were any juicy secrets to be told, Siobhan might know them. She had seen her stricken face when Dev and the Norton woman had walked in. Siobhan might well be in the mood to talk. She hadn’t been feeling so bad of late, but tonight she couldn’t take the idea of Amelia Norton landing the biggest catch in the country. When the moment presented itself she would take wee Siobhan aside.

  * * *

  Scott and Frances made their all-important announcement as the long, leisurely dinner drew to a close. The very slim Frances, who was not showing, was expecting their first child in six months’ time. All the women gathered around to kiss and congratulate her. Dev undercut some of the overflow of sentiment with a funny joke about his friend, Scott, but everyone could see Scott was as thrilled and happy as his wife.

  Annabel availed herself of the opportunity to whisk Siobhan away. “Siobhan, poppet, love your dress!” she exclaimed, barely registering it.

  “Thank you.” Siobhan managed a smile but she was wary of Annabel Corbett, who had been some years ahead of her at school.

  “Listen, don’t hold back on me,” Annabel said, “but there seems to be a lot of gossip circulating about Dev Langdon and the family.”

  “Like what?” Siobhan’s stomach flipped but her face stayed composed.

  “You tell me,” Annabel whispered urgently. “What’s with Amelia Norton, for a start? What’s she doing here with Dev? She’s not his sort.”

  “Maybe you need glasses,” Siobhan suggested, thinking she could have done with a pair herself. “Amelia is very much Dev’s kind of woman. Joe the goose could see that.”

  “Joe the goose! Who’s Joe the goose?” Annabel asked in amazement.

  “Just a saying.” Siobhan shrugged Annabel’s hand off her arm.

  “Oh! I don’t know much bush jargon. Have I made a big mistake, but has it got something to do with Norton’s mother, the housekeeper?”

  “Why are you asking me, Annabel?” Siobhan looked directly into the other woman’s avid eyes.

  Annabel appeared taken aback. “Who better? I could see how shocked you were when they walked in. Everyone was gawking.”

  “As they ought to.” Siobhan gave a short laugh. “You’d have to say they make a stunning couple.” Siobhan had become aware that Dev was looking keenly in their direction. His six-foot-three frame alone made him stand out from the rest.

  “Couple?” Annabel sucked air back through her teeth.

  “Wouldn’t you say? What’s it got to do with you, anyway, Annabel?” Siobhan asked. “Aren’t you getting engaged?”

  Realization hit Annabel that she had backed the wrong horse. “So I am,” she said, affecting a one-up-on-you tone. “But how can you not hate the woman who must have set out to destroy any hope you had with Dev? It’s not as though she’s one of us.”

  “One of us?” Siobhan reluctantly admitted to herself that she had felt a bit like that. “You always were a terrible snob, Annabel.”

  “You can’t be serious?” Annabel near shrieked.

  “And hey,” said Siobhan, “Dev is my friend. So is Amelia. I’d like to keep it that way. Dev was no more romantically interested in me than he was in you. Incidentally, if I were you I wouldn’t attempt to upset him or his family with any gossip-mongering. I’d say there was probably a price to pay.”

  That had belatedly occurred to Annabel. “God, you’re really jumping to conclusions,” she hastily back-pedalled. “I only wanted a quick word.”

  “Well, you got it,” said Siobhan. “You must excuse me, Annabel. I want to see Amelia. She looks ravishing tonight, don’t you think?”

  “A bit too flamboyant for my taste,” snapped Annabel. She turned, rushing away. She felt furious now she’d had to squeeze into her figure-hugging black-and-gold sheath. So much for the cabbage diet!

  * * *

  Because of the strict ban on drunk driving, the dinner guests had organized Silver Service limousines to take them home. Dev and Mel were dropped off at Mel’s apartment.

  Everyone knows. Everyone must know, Mel’s inner voice told her. She thought briefly of the morning papers and shoved the thought right out of her mind.

  Que sera, sera.

  Neither of them spoke in the lift beyond Dev’s saying casually, “That went well. Scott has asked me to be one of the godparents.”

  “Lovely! I’m very happy for them both.”

  “Jealous?” His eyes sparkled like gems in his handsome dark golden face.

  “Good grief, no.”

  “I know how you feel about kids, Mel,” he said. “Time’s slipping away.”

  The lift arrived at Mel’s floor. “For you, too,” she said tartly, stepping out. “However did you get mixed up with Annabel Corbett?”

  He simply laughed. “Now that’s just insane, Mel.”

  “I think she’d be prepared to ditch her soon-to-be fiancé if she thought she was still in with a chance.”

  “Then she really is nuts. Women c
an fancy themselves in love without giving a thought to reality,” Dev said dryly. “Siobhan looked extremely pretty.”

  “She certainly did. You didn’t know she would be in town?”

  “I said so, didn’t I?” Dev answered coolly, taking the key out of her hand and opening the door. “She and Annabel seemed to be having a few words at one point.”

  “Well, you were trying to give them reason,” Mel said, giving him a sidelong dark glance.

  “I—beg—your—pardon?”

  “Their hopes must have crashed, the way you were shepherding me. I thought we’d vowed not to show how we felt in public.”

  “And what feeling would that be, Mel?” he said suavely, taking off his jacket and placing it over the back of a chair.

  “Perhaps you wanted to give people a shock?” she suggested. “That Annabel is just so uncool.”

  “So she is! But think about it, Mel. Did anyone look or act shocked, outside of Siobhan and Annabel?”

  The truth of that gave Mel a much needed jolt.

  “Your mother taught you not to trust anyone. But you’re a woman now. A woman well able to shape her own destiny. I just don’t believe how you can keep putting yourself down. Alistair Milbank, among others, thinks the world of you, and I mean professionally, as well as everything else.”

  “Maybe going back to Kooraki, mixing with your people, has been my undoing,” Mel suggested wryly. “Look, I’m going to take this dress off.” She started to remove the crystal-studded barrette that held one side of her lush fall of hair behind her ear.

  He could never walk away from Mel. “You look so good in it you should never take it off,” he said. “Feel like a nightcap?”

  She shook her head. “You have a big day tomorrow, don’t you?”