‘Doctors make the very worst patients,’ she said as she followed him into the cottage. ‘They think they’re bulletproof. I guess it comes from years of diagnosing everyone else’s ailments. You think it will never happen to you.’
‘What about your background?’ he asked, as he closed the door of the cottage. ‘What do your parents do?’
‘I don’t have parents,’ she said and looked away from his penetrating gaze. ‘Or at least not real ones,’ she added with a rueful twist to her mouth. ‘I was brought up by foster-parents.’
‘Tough call.’
She turned to face him, the empathetic warmth of his expression making her chest feel as if something similar to rapidly rising bread dough had been placed in it. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It was.’
‘And still is?’
Eloise had to look away from that all-seeing gaze. ‘I’m over it,’ she said. ‘My foster-parents have been good, better than good actually. They have made it their life’s work to ensure I was kept on the straight and narrow.’
‘And have they succeeded?’ he asked, as he reached for a bottle of red wine and two glasses.
She couldn’t help a small wry smile as she took the glass of wine he poured for her, meeting his dark eyes in the process. ‘They would be shocked to see me right now,’ she said, indicating the glass in her hand. ‘They’re staunch teetotallers.’
He smiled one of his spine-loosening smiles as he raised his glass to hers in a toast. ‘To the moral corruption of Dr Eloise Hayden from Australia,’ he said.
She twisted her mouth at him. ‘I’m not sure I should drink to that.’
He smiled at her over the top of his glass. ‘You have some other suggestion?’
She touched her glass against his, the sound of it a little loud in the silence. ‘To finding out the truth about Ethan Jenson’s death,’ she said.
He brought his glass to his lips, his eyes still holding hers.
Eloise felt the irresistible pull of his gaze and took another sip of wine to distract herself. She was a little stunned by her reaction to him. It was not her style at all to become infatuated with someone so quickly. She wondered if it was her hormones or something. He was undoubtedly one of the most attractive men she had encountered in a very long time but that didn’t mean she had to fall into bed with him. Her foster-parents would be appalled to think she was considering having an affair with a divorced man. According to their beliefs, such a union was taboo and the fact he had a teenage daughter would make it a million times worse.
Not that she was considering having an affair with him or anyone, she quickly reassured herself. She was here to work, that’s all. After all, a month was hardly long enough to get to know someone enough to make such a commitment.
She took another sip of wine, enjoying the black cherry and hint of cinnamon taste on her tongue, wondering if she should say something to break the little silence, but before she could think of something work related and safe, Lachlan swooped in under her defences and asked, ‘So what happened to your real parents?’
CHAPTER SIX
ELOISE did her best to disguise the slight tremble of her hand as she lowered her glass to the kitchen counter. ‘They died a long time ago.’
‘How old were you?’
She tucked a strand of her hair behind one ear and lowered her eyes from the probe of his. ‘I was eight…almost nine.’
‘An accident?’
She met his eyes briefly. ‘I’m not sure about my father,’ she said, looking away again. ‘I’ve never met him. I don’t think my mother even knew who he was, actually.’ She paused for a moment before adding, ‘She died of a drug overdose.’
‘That must have been a hard thing to deal with as a small child,’ he said. ‘Were there no other relatives to take you in?’
She gave him an embittered movement of her lips. ‘Yes. I had grandparents but they hadn’t spoken to my mother for years. They weren’t interested in taking in her child. They considered me the spawn of the devil and wanted absolutely nothing to do with me.’
Lachlan frowned. ‘You were an innocent child, for God’s sake. How could they blame you for your mother’s actions?’
‘My mother dabbled with drugs during her teens and had me just after she turned eighteen. I think I was the result of a one-night stand with a dealer,’ Eloise said in a tone stripped of emotion. ‘She was a heroin addict by the age of twenty-one, Chief Inspector. I’m sure you’ve met plenty like her in your line of work, just as I have done. She slept with anyone she could to feed her habit. She died at the age of twenty-seven. She was three times my age at the time of her death but I always felt as if I was the adult.’
‘How did you survive such an upbringing?’ he asked.
She gave a little shrug. ‘How does anyone survive?’ she asked. ‘You and I have both dealt with the other victims of crime—the relatives of the perpetrator. They live with the shame of what their loved ones have done. They become outcasts, untouchables if you like. My maternal grandparents considered me beyond redemption, having been exposed to such depravity for so long. They assumed I would turn out just like their daughter so to spare themselves further heartbreak they cut all ties with me.’
‘Is that why you’re on the other side of the law?’ he asked. ‘To prove a point to them so to speak?’
She let out a tiny sigh. ‘I guess to some degree—yes. I wanted to show that no matter what background you come from you can rise above it if you have enough determination. I loved my mother but she had a problem that was too big to fix and I was far too young to help her. Knowing what I know now about addiction, and if I’d been even a little bit older, I could have got her into some sort of programme. It might have helped. I know it doesn’t always but I like to think it would have in her case. I think she really wanted to get straight. She hated her life. She hated putting me through it but she was caught in a cycle of addiction that was too strong for her.’
In the small pause that ensued Eloise felt the warm pressure of his brown eyes on her. He didn’t offer any useless platitudes but listened in a respectful silence that somehow gave her the courage to reveal more than she had ever done before—to anyone.
‘My grandparents didn’t want anything to do with her,’ she carried on after another beat or two of silence. ‘They were both well-to-do academics with high-profile lecturing positions at a Sydney university. They just couldn’t cope with the shame of having their once academically brilliant daughter dropping out of her studies to have a child out of wedlock, let alone to go on to sell herself to get her next high. She stole from them and some of their friends so many times they eventually placed a restraining order on her.’
‘I admire you for what you’ve achieved,’ he said, his voice deep and gravelly. ‘It must have taken a lot of guts to get where you’ve got.’
‘My foster-parents were determined to do their bit to salvage me,’ she said. ‘They took me on as a sort of project, I think. I resented them for years, out of loneliness and frustration, I expect, but deep down I think they wanted the best for me, even if they didn’t always feel entirely comfortable about my background.’
‘Are you close to them?’
She gave another little shrug. ‘No…I don’t think anyone can ever take the place of your mother. My mother would never have made the first-round criteria of mother of the year or anything, but she loved me. I never doubted it. The trouble was, heroin got there first. It was her first priority and was until the day she died.’
‘And here I am worrying about Poppy,’ he said wryly. ‘I need to get a grip or, as she says, take a chill pill.’
Eloise met his warm gaze. ‘You have every right to worry about her,’ she said. ‘She’s your daughter and you love her. She needs protecting. She’s at that terribly vulnerable age—not quite an adult, not really a child. It must be hard, doing it alone.’
He gave her a twisted smile. ‘To tell you the truth, I’ve often felt as if I’ve always been doing it o
n my own,’ he said. ‘Margaret never really wanted a child. We got caught out while we were dating. Contraception isn’t always foolproof and certainly back then even less so. We were faced with the agonising decision of terminating or carrying on. I was twenty-three years old, she was twenty-two. We didn’t have two pennies to rub together but somehow I managed to convince her to keep the baby.’
Eloise was surprised it had been him to do so. So often it was the man in the relationship who wanted the easy way out. It made her realise there was more to Lachlan D’Ancey than she had given him credit for.
‘We got married later that summer,’ he went on. ‘It wasn’t a happy marriage from the word go. Margaret had had her career path all mapped out and never let me forget it was my fault it had been thwarted. It was a difficult pregnancy and Poppy was an unsettled baby. We lived a long way from any relatives who might have helped out a bit. And of course my shift work didn’t help. I never seemed to be there when she needed it most.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Eloise said. ‘It must have been very hard for both of you. Are you on better terms now that you’re divorced?’
He leaned back against the counter, cradling his glass in one hand. ‘The bond of a child is not something you can sign away on the piece of paper that dissolves a marriage. Margaret sacrificed a lot in agreeing to go through with the pregnancy. She could have just as easily ignored my wishes and got on with her life, but she didn’t and I will always admire her for that. But as for being friends…’ He let out a breath that sounded as if it had come from deep within him. ‘We’re friends but not particularly close. Besides, it wouldn’t be appropriate now that she has Roger as her partner.’
‘How does Poppy get on with her mother’s boyfriend?’
‘She doesn’t say much,’ he answered. ‘I think she worries it might upset me or something.’ His mouth lifted in a smile as he added, ‘I know she was a bit rude towards you this afternoon but I think she’s really pretty keen on finding me a replacement.’
Eloise could feel her cheeks warming as he held her gaze. ‘Why is that?’ she asked. ‘Most girls her age would prefer not to have to compete for their father’s attention with another woman. I hear horror stories all the time over blended families and the rivalry that goes on. It can get pretty ugly, or so I’m told.’
‘I know, I’ve seen it myself and, as you say, it can be very ugly.’ He let out a little sigh and added, ‘I’ve often thought Poppy might have been happier if she’d had a brother or sister, especially now that Margaret and I aren’t together any more. She begged her mother for years to have another child but Margaret wouldn’t hear of it.’
‘What about you?’ she asked, surprised yet again at her audacity at asking him such a personal question. ‘Would you have liked another child?’
Lachlan gave the contents of his glass a little swirl, watching as the wine left a light film higher on the bowl of the glass. ‘I grew up with two siblings, a younger brother and sister. We had a great time, playing in the back garden, building tree-houses, playing cricket or swimming in the stream at the back of the village green. I would have liked Poppy to have had a similar childhood, but it wasn’t to be.’
‘It’s not too late,’ she said. ‘You could easily have another child or two.’
His eyes came back to hers, a mischievous twinkle lurking in the brown depths. ‘Are you auditioning for the job, Dr Hayden?’
Eloise felt her cheeks flame all over again and to disguise her discomfiture said in a dismissive tone, ‘And give up my career? I don’t think so. I’ve worked too hard and for too long to stand in some man’s kitchen barefoot and pregnant.’
‘You know what they say about women who put their careers ahead of having a husband and family,’ he said.
‘Yes, I do, actually,’ she answered curtly. ‘They have freedom and lots of money and luxurious holidays without tears and tantrums.’
‘They also end up lonely in their old age.’
‘That’s funny because I know plenty of married women with children who are desperately lonely,’ she argued. ‘They’ve spent their lives giving everything to their families, only to have them leave without a backward glance. Then to add insult to injury their husbands exchange them for a newer version. It totally stinks.’
‘So you’re not prepared to risk it?’ he asked.
She let out a little almost inaudible sigh. ‘I thought about it once…but it ended in tears.’
‘Yours or his?’
Her eyes came back to his. ‘I’d been warned before that dating a colleague was asking for trouble,’ she said. ‘I foolishly thought I could get away with it but it backfired horribly. As soon as word got out in our department that we were seeing each other, life became unbearable for both of us. I bailed out first.’
‘How did he take it?’
She gave him a jaded look. ‘He married a hairdresser three months later.’
He winced. ‘That must have hurt.’
‘Not as much as it probably should have,’ she said. ‘I guess if I’d really been in love with him I would have been devastated, but I wasn’t. I went back to work the next day and sat down at the desk three away from his and carried on.’
‘Have you ever been in love?’ he asked, as he reached to top up her glass. ‘As in weak-at-the-knees-heart thumping-can’t-think-of-anything-else type of love?’
Eloise felt her whole body react as his hand briefly brushed against hers as he held her glass steady. She avoided his gaze, trying to get her heart rate to return to somewhere near normal, her stomach leaping and diving as she breathed in his male scent. That alluring hint of musk and citrus, the warmth of his body, the sheer bulk of it so close to hers, the impulse to reach out and touch the peppery shadow of evening growth on his lean jaw almost more than she could bear.
It must be the wine, she thought, eyeing it suspiciously as he poured it into her glass. Red wine was lethal when it came to self-control. It made people do things they wouldn’t normally do. The relaxation of inhibitions, she saw it all the time in her line of work. Perfectly rational intelligent people did outrageous things under the influence of alcohol. She was clearly no different and would have to watch herself in future, especially around someone as seriously tempting as Lachlan D’Ancey.
‘No,’ she finally managed to croak out as she raised her glass to her lips. ‘What about you?’
He held her gaze for several pulsating seconds. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m a bit ashamed to say I didn’t love Margaret in that way. I cared about her, I still do and very deeply, but I never felt like I couldn’t live without her or anything. As I said, we got caught out and in another time and place we would never have ended up together.’
‘But you have Poppy.’
He smiled a smile that totally transformed his features. ‘Yes, I have Poppy.’
‘And you would do anything to protect her, wouldn’t you?’
Lachlan’s brows came together in a wary frown. ‘What exactly are you saying, Dr Hayden?’
‘I’m saying that I am here to investigate a suspicious death,’ she said. ‘A death of a person it is alleged your daughter had an intimate relationship with in the days before he died.’
He put down his glass with a sharp little crack. ‘That is hearsay, not a substantiated fact.’
‘Not according to Robert Polgrean.’
‘Robert is an eighteen-year-old boy who has fancied himself in love with my daughter for years,’ he bit out.
‘Davey Trevallyn saw Ethan Jenson and your daughter on the beach together,’ she said. ‘Beatrice told me.’
He threw his hands in the air in disgust. ‘Beatrice Trevallyn believes everything her son tells her, but it doesn’t mean a word of it is true. He’s has learning difficulties, Dr Hayden. Please don’t misunderstand me, I’m not discounting him as a person or even as a reliable witness, but you have to factor in that he is operating mentally at the age of about ten.’
‘So you don’t believe your daughter
was seeing Ethan Jenson?’
He set his jaw. ‘She told you herself, she met him once or twice.’
‘So you don’t think she was sleeping with him?’
He frowned at her darkly. ‘What sort of question is that?’ he asked. ‘Of course she wasn’t sleeping with him.’
‘Had she been sleeping with Robert Polgrean?’
You’re taking way too long to answer, Lachlan thought as Eloise’s gaze penetrated his.
He hated to think of his little girl becoming intimate with anyone. Robert was about the only person he could envisage as a potential son-in-law but not until years had passed. But most fathers would feel the same about their daughters, he realised. Poppy was sixteen. Sure, she looked and acted a whole lot older but she was still—in his eyes at least—a little girl.
His little girl.
‘No,’ he said firmly.
Eloise gave a little snort of derision. ‘Do you realise most teenage girls these days have had sex by the age of fourteen?’
‘I know the statistics, Dr Hayden, but I also know my daughter,’ he said. ‘She’s not the sleep-around type.’
‘That’s what every parent says. No one wants to think of their son or daughter being sexually active too early but hormones make it virtually impossible for most young people to resist temptation.’
‘What about you, Dr Hayden?’ he asked with a mocking smile. ‘How are you at resisting temptation?’
Eloise tightened her mouth. ‘We’re not talking about me, Chief Inspector D’Ancey,’ she clipped out. ‘We’re talking about your daughter. You say she’s at a friend’s house this evening, but what if she isn’t? What if she lied to you so she could meet someone in secret, someone you might not approve of, such as Ethan Jenson?’
‘Ethan Jenson is dead.’
Her chin came up. ‘I know, but he wasn’t a little over a week ago, was he?’
His brown gaze burned like a furnace, his expression nothing short of incredulous. ‘Are you suggesting I had something to do with Ethan Jenson’s death?’
Brides of Penhally Bay - Vol 2 Page 38