A Reckless Affair

by Alexandra Scott

  Without an impressive degree of self-control she would surely have flinched, but she was confident her inner turmoil was totally concealed—other than, perhaps, a tiny tremble in her voice which might have given him a clue.

  ‘Neither,’ she began firmly, ‘do you wear a ring.’ They ought not to be going down this road, ought not to be acting in this silly, almost—oh, heavens—almost flirtatious way. At least, she ought not to be—he might be excused. ‘But I certainly do not make the deduction that you are unmarried...’

  ‘It would be the right one.’

  His reply in itself might have set off alarm bells, but all she was aware of was a throb of satisfaction. ‘Nevertheless, it need not have been.’

  ‘Are you telling me...?’ When she pulled gently, he released her hand. ‘Are you telling me I was wrong to draw implications from the absence of a ring?’

  ‘Not exactly,’ she said primly, repressing the desire to smile but capitulating when he grinned.

  ‘I rest my case.’ Both of them sat back, smiling at each other, while waiters came to remove plates and to serve the next course.

  It was impossible, she conceded with a tiny pain immediately below her ribs, to pretend she didn’t find him dangerously attractive. In a room full of good-looking, wealthy men he stood out. That was not simply her own opinion—more than one woman in their immediate neighbourhood would probably be willing to neglect her escort for Jake Vanbrugh. That he had been recognised when they arrived was obvious—he had exchanged casual greetings with several couples but had shown no signs of wishing to linger or introduce them to Ginny.

  They were drinking strong black coffee when he dropped his bombshell, one which made her crash down her cup and look at him in consternation. ‘On Saturday, Ginny, I’m going down to Richmond to visit my parents. I want you to come with me.’

  ‘What?’ She frowned, taking a moment to allow her brain to absorb the implications. Then her reaction was immediate. ‘Oh, no. I couldn’t possibly; I wouldn’t dream of intruding.’ The whole situation was getting out of hand. It was Mr Hugo Vanbrugh she had come all this way to see; there had been no intention of becoming involved with other members of his family.

  She felt a sob begin to rise in her throat as thoughts of her own deceit began to hit her. She had meant to be so honest, so understanding. Certainly the last thing in her mind had been the possibility of some kind of perverse emotional entanglement. But she could at least nip that in the bud—she herself was the only one who might suffer and...

  ‘You wouldn’t be.’ The flimsy excuse was disregarded the instant it was uttered, and with the smiling charm which was proving impossible to resist.

  They decided to stroll back to her hotel. The limousine was dismissed and it was impossible for Ginny to deny the pleasure of the experience—being with a handsome man with unobtrusive good manners, added to a certain amount of euphoria engendered by the wine...

  ‘My parents are hospitable people,’ he continued, his hand touching her elbow to warn of an obstruction in their path. ‘And I know they would love to see you.’

  Now his touch became more of a threat. He seemed to be tempting her into a trap of her own making, arousing feelings she was reluctant to face, and her shiver was an involuntary reaction.

  ‘You’re cold. I knew we should have been driven.’

  ‘No, I’m not cold.’ She took a firm grip of herself. ‘Not in the very least. It was simply... Anyway...’ A change of subject was indicated, before she lost herself in a maze of unconvincing explanations. ‘I don’t feel I can go, Jake, I... I took only a few days off work...’

  ‘You won’t see my father otherwise. He and my mother are off on a cruise next week, so... you’d best fly down with me if you want to see him.’

  They had reached the hotel and went in and sat down in the foyer, deserted now but for the young man who sat yawning behind the reception desk.

  ‘Besides, apart from that—’ his eyes were signalling a message she hardly dared translate ‘—I want to see you again.’

  His swift, unexpected touch, just the brush of a finger against her cheek, brought her heart leaping in wild agitation.

  ‘More than that, I’m determined on it. You may not know it—’ he leaned forward, his manner becoming more intimate ‘—but Hugo Vanbrugh is a very determined man, used to getting his own way, and I’ m cast in the same mould as my father.’ He smiled as if his words were not to be taken entirely literally—he might even have been amused by her wide-eyed expression of shock.

  Yes, she thought numbly, she could see that Hugo Vanbrugh was someone very used to having his own way—she was living proof of that, and she felt a stab of disgust. What kind of man was it who would seduce a lonely young wife? It was convenient to forget her mother’s willing participation... Then Jake’s voice brought her back from her reverie.

  ‘But you look tired. Why don’t you go up to bed now?’ Automatically she allowed herself to be led to the lift, and stood waiting while it was summoned. ‘Have a good night’s sleep.’ Again a finger brushed tenderly, this time against her mouth. ‘I shall have Karen bring over all the details tomorrow and I shall pick you up here on Saturday morning. Good-night.’

  Leaning back in the furthest corner of the lift, she watched the doors slide closed to exclude him. Only then did she release a great sigh, as if, by some feat of courage and daring, she had escaped encroaching danger. And it was a few seconds before her disordered thoughts were sorted to the extent that she could recognise the exact nature of that danger.

  There was only one thing for it: she must leave New York at the first opportunity—tomorrow morning if possible. There were many places in the States where she could happily spend the rest of her short stay. Boston or St Louis, even Sioux City—anywhere that the Vanbrugh empire was unlikely to extend, and where, perhaps more to the point, Jake Vanbrugh was unlikely to think of looking for her.

  Certainly the present situation was one she could never have envisaged. It had all been so carefully plotted—to come and to make the most discreet contact with the man who had fathered her so many years ago. It was not difficult to visualise how much of a shock such a piece of news might be to a happily married man.

  She knew few men would welcome such news, and that was why she had been so cautious, why she had concocted such a misleading explanation. She had meant to cause no anxiety—her first concern would have been to assure him there was no threat of exposure. And then after passing on the few things which might have held some sentimental interest for him, they would have said goodbye, she would have returned to her job in London and any future meetings would have been arranged by mutual consent.

  It had been her hope, but no more, that their meeting would settle the deep uncertainty which had troubled her after discovering the truth about her birth. And if it didn’t then she was determined it would be her problem, one she would keep to herself and not expect him to share.

  True, there had been the fanciful notion that he might from time to time visit her in the UK, that they could get to know each other, might even find they liked each other. After all, since her mother had fallen so hopelessly in love with him, and he with her mother, Ginny and he were bound to find some common ground. And, in a strange way, she felt she would be doing something for her mother—completing a story which had been unresolved for more than a quarter of a century.

  She reached her bedroom and began, listlessly, to unbutton her blouse. Only, the plans she had made had begun to unravel the moment she’d reached New York. For one thing, on finding the company had offices in the city centre, she had rushed off immediately. Experience ought to have told her it was unlikely she would be ushered into the presence of the top man—life in the higher echelons simply did not work like that and, in any case, what she had most certainly not anticipated was meeting not the man himself, but his son. Still less had her wildest flights of fancy expected that, after a few hours’ acquaintance, she would find herself in the graves
t danger of falling in love.

  There! She had faced up to the dread which had been hovering at the back of her mind all evening. Her knees gave way and she sank onto the bed. Fingers pressed against her mouth, she stared at her reflection in the dressing-table mirror, hardly noticing that her face was drained of colour or that her eyes were wide with shock.

  In spite of herself she was reliving that moment in the restaurant when she’d had that yearning to turn her palm up to his, to feel the brush of sensitive skin on... A shudder of something very close to fear ran through her.

  With determination she got up and began to walk about the room, putting clothes away as she made up her mind to deal with the dangers.

  If she was to keep on reminding herself that Jake Vanbrugh was her half-brother then all these juvenile feelings would die down. It was most likely all down to the intense emotions of the past months, plus the very fact of arriving in New York. The combination was more than enough to knock anyone off balance.

  Slightly more relaxed, she pulled her nightdress over her head and went into the bathroom to brush her teeth. Tomorrow she would leave a polite little note for Jake, letting him know that a distant cousin had flown in from Nova Scotia and had persuaded her to join a trip to Niagara Falls. The permutations were endless.

  Ginny pulled the light-cord and stood in the half-dark, dreading that moment when the bedside lamp would be extinguished and she would face the bleak terror of the night. There was a word used to describe illicit feelings between certain blood relatives, one from which she shrank with disgust.

  But it was firmly lodged there at the back of her mind and she could drive it out only by seeing Jake Vanbrugh as he was—her half-brother. She had to find the strength to take him up on his invitation, to fly down to Richmond with him. It was the only way she would be forced to face the truth and to see Jake Vanbrugh as her father’s son. That was what he was and always would be. Nothing less, and certainly nothing more.

  CHAPTER TWO

  GINNY moved among the guests, smiling, exchanging pleasantries, answering the various queries about herself. It was the kind of life to which it would. be dangerously easy to become addicted. Alone for a moment, determined to ignore the strange feeling of discomfort in her chest, she stood back, taking in the sheer elegance of the room.

  Three high arched windows were thrown open to the covered terrace, where friends lingered chatting. Beyond that were acres of immaculate lawn. There were rose bushes, each blooming, or so it seemed, at the height of its fragrant perfection. And so many beautifully dressed people, iced drinks clinking, all so animated, friendly and sophisticated.

  It was everything that came to mind when one considered these East Coast states. Richmond was very nearly a caricature of itself—the very scene one would have lapped up in a glitzy TV miniseries.

  Inside, too, there was so much good taste in the discreet furnishings, which ranged through soft creams to the more subtle gamboge and tawny golds. Pale walls were the perfect backdrop for the small collection of modern paintings, while at the far end the grand piano—music by Chopin on the stand-was waiting for the hostess to sit and entertain her guests.

  ‘Ginny, my dear.’ The slow, drawling tones of that very woman made Ginny turn and fix a smile firmly on her mouth. ‘I hope my son isn’t neglecting you. I do so want everyone to enjoy the afternoon.’

  ‘No.’ How breathless and unsure she sounded. Not at all like Mrs Vanbrugh. ‘I’m enjoying myself enormously. It’s a real pleasure to spend time in such lovely surroundings, meeting such friendly people. And I have a drink here.’ She reached for the glass of mint julep and sipped appreciately. ‘Mmm. Delicious. And once again, my very best wishes for your anniversary. A ruby wedding is something rather special.’

  ‘Thank you, my dear. We have been very lucky, Hugo and I. Oh...’ She glanced over Ginny’s shoulder towards the doors which opened into the hall. ‘I see him now...and with Jake—isn’t that lucky? I did wonder where they had disappeared to. Just wait while I bring them over to you. Don’t move now.’

  While her hostess walked purposefully towards the doorway Ginny turned and stood, watching, admiring almost everything about the woman she had just met, who had barely blinked at having an uninvited guest thrust on her at such a busy time.

  She was small, and her white hair was cut short and waved in a casual flattering style. The striking eyes seemed all she had in common with her son and their colour was enhanced by the violet dress. She was slender and vivacious too, now smiling up at her husband, one hand slipped through his arm and one through that of her son.

  Ginny had a strange feeling—as if she were a detached observer. She withdrew a little into the shelter of one of the pillars which held up the canopied roof. Perhaps she wasn’t really here at all. Maybe she had stuck to her original intention of bailing out and severing all links with the Vanbrugh family. She wished!

  She was watching Hugo Vanbrugh now through slightly narrowed, cynical eyes—he was the very picture of a doting, constant husband, and yet... She forced herself to be less judgemental. It was easy enough to understand past events, to see how her mother had been swept off her feet.

  He was tall, but not as tall as his son. Damn. Damn. Damn. Why did she have to make comparisons when she was trying to wipe Jake from her mind? But Hugo was impressive, a man of obvious authority with the glamour of having been a fighting man, which her father, in the medical services, had so clearly lacked.

  He was slightly rugged, wearing a light cream-coloured suit of the kind which was almost a uniform in the present company. She watched him link fingers with his wife’s, smile lovingly, exude fidelity, and she found she could look no more. Tears stung as she turned away.

  Such a scene of marital harmony and felicity... Her early instinct has been right—she should never have come to Virginia with Jake. It was sheer madness to have taken such a risk.

  Apart from anything else there had been something strange about her meeting with Hugo, brief though the introduction had been. Something odd and perceptive about the way his eyes had probed, his head held slightly to one side as if picking up vibes, his hand holding hers for a split second longer than had been necessary. She had felt her knees begin to shake and had been grateful for the arrival of a group of guests, with their noise and laughter.

  ‘Miss Ginny.’ At that moment of introspection she felt her arm being grasped and, startled, she looked up into the face of someone she had met earlier, a Colonel—an old army colleague of Hugo Vanbrugh.

  He was a tall, handsome man, something of a dandy, with his grey moustache parted neatly in the middle and curled to each side into pomaded whiskers on each mahogany-coloured cheek. He was wearing pale striped trousers with his cream jacket, and a blue silk shirt chosen, Ginny was sure, to enhance the blue-grey eyes which sparkled with mischief and the joy of living. A red rose was in his buttonhole, marking the occasion of a ruby wedding.

  Without effort, Ginny succumbed to the charming old-world manners, allowing herself to be guided towards one of the open windows, glad of an excuse to escape her pressing concerns for even a short time.

  ‘I’ve been longing to speak with you, Miss Ginny. I’m so determined, you see, to find out, despite your delightful English accent, if there is any chance that your full name is Virginia and, if so, were you named for our State? I would so love you to confirm both of these facts.’

  His words made another small piece of the jigsaw drop into position. She felt a momentary shock, though she was confident nothing in her manner had betrayed her, her voice remaining calm and unruffled as she would have wished. ‘You’re right about my name being Virginia, though no one has ever used the full name.’ She affected sadness, apologised prettily with hands outstretched in a gesture of regret. ‘But I’m afraid I know of no connection with the State. My parents, as far as I know, chose the name simply because they liked it.’ Lies came so easily to the tongue when they were so assiduously practised.

  ‘W
ell, I’m real sorry about that.’ His cheerful expression was a comfort. ‘I was about to ask Hugo...’ His eyes narrowed, became more searching. ‘You remind me... I don’t suppose you and I have met before, have we?’

  Ginny’s heart gave a great leap. She breathed in slowly, then quite deliberately she raised her glass and sipped from it before replacing it on a table. ‘Colonel...’ There was a gurgle of humour in her voice, and she shook her head with another regretful smile, ‘I should certainly have remembered if we had. You are not the kind of man I should have been likely to forget.’

  A practised flatterer himself, he was able to smile when he saw the tables turned. ‘How very disappointing.’ The appreciative eyes sparkled down at her.

  ‘Colonel.’ The deep voice from behind made Ginny turn as Jake put a possessive hand on her elbow. ‘Why is it you always monopolise the prettiest girl in the room?’

  ‘I suppose—’ the older man shrugged modestly ‘—you could put it down to practice.’

  ‘More than likely.’ Jake grinned. ‘I’ve been looking everywhere for Ginny, then I caught sight of you out here and I knew where she would be. Do you mind if I steal her away for a few moments?’

  ‘I mind, darn it Of course I mind. But I can quite see she might prefer your company to mine.’

  ‘You mustn’t say such things, Colonel, I’ve loved talking with you.’ It was more a desperate gesture towards common sense than the strict truth.

  ‘Thank you, my dear, you are very kind—but an old campaigner knows when the time has come to make a tactical retreat. I fear I stand little chance with Jake around—though if I had been twenty, or even ten years younger, I might have given him a run for his money. But off you go.’ He was being mockingly flirtatious. Raising Ginny’s hand, he took it to his lips, and she felt the brush of silky hair against her skin. ‘I hope to see you before you leave for England, Miss Virginia. And in the meantime...’ He frowned, searching her features closely. ‘I shall try to remember.’