‘She was hardly likely to wear jeans, Mother!’ Griffin was the one to answer impatiently, his hand still protective beneath Dora’s elbow.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Griffin,’ his mother dismissed coldly. ‘Well, more ridiculous than you usually are,’ she added scathingly. ‘I believe your sister is waiting for you in her bedroom,’ she drawled uninterestedly. ‘Dora will be perfectly safe here with me while you’re gone,’ she assured him mockingly as he made no move to leave the room. ‘Oh, and, Griffin…’ She called to him lightly as he turned to leave after giving Dora’s arm an encouraging squeeze. ‘You appear to have peach lipgloss on the collar of your shirt,’ she informed him, her eyebrows raised as she looked pointedly at the remaining peach lipgloss on Dora’s dismayed mouth. ‘I should sponge that off before the wedding, if I were you,’ she added icily.
The fiery colour had first flooded and then fled Dora’s cheeks, so that she was now actually chalky white. What must Margaret be thinking of her?
Should she try to explain how her lipgloss came to be on Griffin’s shirt collar? No, she immediately answered herself. Those sort of explanations were typical examples of the lady doth protest too much! It was probably best not to confirm or deny that the lipgloss was hers—even if Margaret knew perfectly well that it was.
And Griffin offered no help at all, winking across at her teasingly before going upstairs to Charlotte!
‘So how are you, Dora?’ Margaret turned her full attention on her once they were alone together. ‘Please, do sit down,’ she invited graciously. ‘I was so sorry to hear about your father,’ she added with genuine regret.
Dora didn’t know which to do first: answer as to how she was, sit down, or accept the other woman’s condolences.
After a few moments’ hesitation, she sat down, at the same time answering the other woman. ‘I’m very well, thank you. And although my father’s heart-attack was a shock, at least he didn’t suffer months of illness.’ Unlike her mother, whose months of suffering with cancer had reduced her to a shell of herself before she died.
Margaret sat down in the chair opposite her, crossing one slender knee over the other, the blue of her suit a perfect match for the colour of her eyes. ‘You should have let us know, Dora,’ she returned with light reproof. ‘I was very fond of your father. I would have welcomed the opportunity to pay my last respects.’
And her father, Dora knew, had had nothing but admiration for this coolly controlled woman too; Griffin was right: their respective parents had a high regard for each other!
‘It was all rather sudden’ Dora excused. ‘I wasn’t— It was— To be perfectly honest, I’m not quite sure who did attend the funeral.’ Not too many people, she acknowledged sadly. Her father had become rather reclusive after her mother’s death, and, having taken early retirement from the university, he’d lost contact with most of his former colleagues as he’d become more and more immersed in his books.
‘Of course not,’ Margaret sympathised politely. ‘I know how the shock of Charles’s death affected me,’ she added, emotion showing for once in her usual cool control.
Although the other woman didn’t seem to give a thought to how Charles’s death must have affected Dora!
But mother and son had always been very close, probably more so because Simon Sinclair had died when all the children were quite young, and Charles, as the eldest son, had effectively become the man of the house.
Dora had certainly been made aware, during her short engagement to Charles, that Margaret, having been the driving force so far behind Charles’s political aspirations, wasn’t going to take a back seat just because he would be married. They would all have been living in the same house together, too. Charles had not seen the necessity for the two of them to have a home of their own, not when this house was actually his, anyway. Dora hadn’t been able to argue this last point, but she hadn’t ever looked forward to moving into this house as Charles’s wife…
And so she was sure that Charles’s death had been a terrible shock for Margaret to come to terms with. Not only had she lost her son, but also her own place in political circles. For a second time… And it was a place Margaret had relished, one where she came truly alive. Dora was also sure that Griffin, with his wild, rebellious ways, could never take Charles’s place as Margaret’s favourite—even if he had wanted to, which Dora was sure he didn’t!
‘I suppose you’ve heard of Griffin’s latest escapade?’ Margaret bit out disgustedly, her eyes flashing deeply blue.
She made Griffin sound like a naughty little boy! And while that might be what he still seemed to his mother, that was the last thing Dora saw him as! Besides, she had no idea what escapade Margaret was referring to…
‘Er— I’m not sure,’ she answered evasively.
‘Television!’ Margaret spat the word out as if it were something slightly obscene that Griffin had become embroiled in, instead of a medium that reached millions of people in their homes every day. ‘Uncle Griffin—his namesake, you know—would have been horrified!’
Griffin’s namesake had been dead for over thirty years, and, from the little Dora had heard about the old reprobate from Charles and Charlotte, his great-nephew didn’t only take after him in name! The difference being, Dora suspected, that Uncle Griffin had been so wealthy, so influential in the family, that his ‘escapades’ had been overlooked on that basis!
‘I’m sure you’re right,’ Dora dismissed noncommittally.
After all, the opinion of a man who had been dead over thirty years was totally without relevance, anyway. In fact, she was sure that to the younger Griffin everyone else’s opinion was irrelevant; he had certainly never tried to win any popularity contests within his family that she could see.
‘Of course I’m right,’ Margaret snapped scathingly. ‘And once Griffin is living back here under my roof, I intend making sure that all that nonsense come to a halt,’ she added with satisfaction.
Dora could only stare at the older woman. Griffin was coming back here to live? He and his mother couldn’t be in the same room together without arguing, let alone live in the same house!
‘Griffin is coming here to live…?’ she murmured dazedly.
‘Of course,’ Margaret confirmed smugly. ‘Didn’t he tell you?’
There was no reason why Griffin should tell her anything, let alone where he did or did not intend to live! Although Margaret seemed to have a different impression of Dora’s presence here today as Griffin’s partner…
‘Margaret, I think I should tell you that—’
‘Izzy, Charlotte would be grateful if you would go up and help her put on her veil.’ Griffin’s voice cut coldly into the conversation as he walked back into the room unannounced, his narrowed gaze levelled warningly on his mother as he did so.
Dora was still reeling from the shock of hearing Griffin intended moving back into this house to live with his mother, all too aware of the fact that it was something he had chosen not to do since he’d left university at aged twenty-one. Because mother and son simply did not get on… There was something very strange going on here, and Dora wasn’t sure what it was…
But Griffin’s remark shifted her attention away from that for the moment; Charlotte wanted her to go upstairs! What were Griffin and Charlotte trying to do to her between the two of them? Margaret was Charlotte’s mother; Dora couldn’t even be classed as a family friend any more. Surely Margaret should be the one to go upstairs and help her daughter?
‘It’s perfectly all right, Dora,’ Margaret assured her caustically. ‘Charlotte assured me over an hour ago that she is twenty-eight years old and, as such, perfectly capable of dressing herself!’
Except, apparently, for her veil. Dora inwardly cringed. Charlotte seemed to have decided Dora should help her with that!
She would be glad when today was over, Dora decided for what must have been the tenth time that day. Over and done with. The book closed.
And yet she still couldn’t dismiss he
r feelings of surprise at Griffin’s decision to move back to this house to live…
She stood up reluctantly. ‘Does Charlotte still have the same bedroom?’
Griffin nodded abruptly, his expression unreadable. ‘Top of the stairs, turn right.’ He glanced at his wristwatch. ‘And don’t be too long; the cars are waiting outside.’
Dora hurried from the room, closing the door firmly behind her. From the stubborn expression on Griffin’s face, and the triumphant one on Margaret’s, she had the distinct feeling there was going to be an unpleasant verbal exchange between mother and son as soon as she was out of the room.
Griffin was moving back to live in this house…
It didn’t make any sense to her. Oh, it was a magnificent house, there was no doubt about that, with its large rooms, the grand sweeping staircase she was now ascending, the carpets only the very best, the furniture all antique. It was just that Griffin had never made any secret of his dislike of his previous home, or the contempt he felt towards the childhood he had spent there.
So why was he moving back…?
Dora suddenly knew the answer to that question as Charlotte turned to greet her with a glowingly happy smile. Griffin had ‘settled’ the family crisis, he’d said, enabling Charlotte to have her happy wedding day. And he had done so by agreeing to come back here himself and live with their mother! Dora knew it as surely as if Griffin had told her it was so.
And she couldn’t help wondering, after her recent conversation with Margaret and having seen that ambitious glint that had returned to Margaret’s eyes, exactly what else Griffin might have agreed to…
Did Charlotte know of the sacrifice Griffin was making on her behalf?
Somehow Dora doubted that very much. Charlotte would never agree to her brother being manipulated in that way. Which meant that Griffin would never be the one to tell her what he was doing. And from Griffin’s harshness towards his mother just now, when he’d walked back into the room and found Margaret discussing his move back here with Dora, she had feeling that Margaret’s silence on the subject was another part of their bargain.
So why had Margaret told Dora? What could her motive possibly be for such a disclosure? Because one thing Dora had learnt a year ago— Margaret never did anything without a motive.
Dora never had been able to completely understand the older woman. She’d never been able to comprehend how a mother could favour one child, namely Charles, over her other two children.
But Margaret was even more incomprehensible to her now. Griffin was right, his mother had changed since Charles’s death, and it wasn’t only those obvious physical changes.
In the past, Margaret had put all her time and energy into forwarding Charles’s political ambitions— Dora was aware herself that her engagement to Charles had only been countenanced because he’d already been thirty-four, and it had been time he’d settled down with a wife and family. But now, with Charles gone, Margaret seemed to have turned her attention on to her youngest son. Once again, Dora wondered just how far Margaret intended to push Griffin now that she finally had some influence over him. More to the point, how far was Griffin willing to go…?
But as she looked at Charlotte’s beautiful face, Dora knew she would have to put these questioning thoughts to one side until later. At the moment Griffin seemed prepared to go to any extremes to see that his sister’s wedding day went smoothly; it certainly wasn’t up to Dora to cast any doubts over it for Charlotte.
‘Dora!’ Charlotte greeted her with warm pleasure, glowing in her white satin and lace wedding dress, her dark hair loose about her slender shoulders, her blue eyes dancing with the excitement of the day. Like all the Sinclair children, Charlotte was tall, having to bend down slightly as she gave Dora a hug. ‘You look wonderful!’ she told Dora admiringly as she took in Dora’s elegant appearance.
‘I think that’s my line, Charlotte,’ she told the other woman dryly as they straightened away from each other. ‘I’m so happy for you, Charlotte,’ she said with genuine warmth. She had always liked Charlotte, and tall, sandy-haired Stuart was going to make her a wonderful husband.
Charlotte grimaced. ‘I was starting to wonder if we would ever make it this far! Mother has been— No.’ She put her hands up dismissively. ‘Griffin says I’m to forget about Mother and concentrate on being happy with Stuart—and that’s exactly what I intend to do. I’m so glad you could come, though, Dora.’ She smiled happily. ‘Griffin told me your sad news.’ She squeezed Dora’s arm in sympathy. ‘So I appreciate your coming to the wedding even more.’
‘This is your wedding day, Charlotte,’ she told the other woman briskly. ‘A day for only happy thoughts. So let’s see about this veil, hmm?’
Charlotte sat down in front of the mirror while Dora arranged the fine lace on her head and about her shoulders. ‘I could have done this myself, you know,’ Charlotte told her lightly. ‘The truth of the matter is I wanted to talk to you alone for a few minutes, and I doubt there will be time for that later.’
Dora kept her expression deliberately bland. ‘You wanted to talk to me?’
Charlotte met her gaze steadily in the mirror. ‘About Griffin.’ She nodded firmly, the beauty of her face showing the same strength of character Griffin possessed.
Dora’s hands trembled slightly on the lace of the veil. ‘Griffin?’ She tried to infuse light surprise into her voice—but knew she failed miserably.
Why on earth should the other woman want to talk to her about Griffin? As far as the Sinclair family were concerned, Griffin had always been just another member of Charles’s family to Dora. Unless Griffin had confided in his younger sister about their meeting two years ago…?
‘I’m worried about him.’ Charlotte nodded. ‘Yes, I know— Griffin is quite capable of taking care of himself!’ She laughed softly at Dora’s scornful expression. ‘But he and I have always been close—with Mother’s attention focused on Charles, we had to take care of each other. Sorry, Dora.’ She groaned as she realised what she had just said about Dora’s dead fiancé. ‘I know you were to have married Charles. It’s just that—’
‘I do understand, Charlotte.’ And she did. In Margaret’s eyes, her younger two children had been completely unimportant while Charles was alive.
But now that he was dead…?
Charlotte gave a rueful grimace. ‘I really did forget for a moment. You see, Griffin has always liked you, and—’
‘I thought you all did,’ Dora cut in teasingly, having felt a jolt in her chest at Charlotte’s words. Griffin didn’t like her—he loved to torment and tease her. There was a world of difference between the two things.
‘We do.’ Charlotte laughed again at Dora’s mockery. ‘But Griffin has always particularly liked you—’
‘I think you’re imagining things, Charlotte,’ she told the other woman briskly.
Charlotte continued to meet her gaze steadily in the mirror. ‘Griffin has always been my big, protective brother, Dora.’ She spoke softly. ‘I’ve always looked up to him, admired him, and I flatter myself that I know him. The night Charles introduced you to Griffin as his fiancée, Griffin looked as if someone had actually punched him! I’ve never asked him why, and he’s never offered me an explanation, either. And I’m not about to ask you now, so stop looking so worried!’ she added gently as Dora would have spoken.
It would have done Charlotte no good if she had decided to ask her; Dora had no intention of telling Griffin’s sister, or indeed anyone else, that she and Griffin had looked stunned on that particular evening because the two of the had once indulged in a mild flirtation!
‘Anyway,’ Charlotte continued, her veil in place now, ‘whether you accept it or not, Griffin has always liked you. Why else do you suppose he delivered your wedding invitation by hand, if not because he wanted an excuse to see you again?’
Dora had wondered the same thing herself for the last few weeks, and she hadn’t been able to come up with a suitable explanation. But she certainl
y refused to accept the one Charlotte was offering! Charlotte was in love, about to be married, and everything and everyone was included in those heightened emotions.
‘Perhaps he was trying to cut down on the cost of a postage stamp?’ she offered teasingly.
‘Dora—’
‘Charlotte, it’s ten to three, and you’re to be married at three o’clock,’ Dora cut in practically. ‘Don’t you think you should be concentrating on that, rather than imagining—?’
‘Keep an eye on Griffin for me, Dora.’ Charlotte stood up, turning to grasp Dora’s hands tightly in hers as she looked down at her imploringly. ‘I know.’ She shook her head ruefully. ‘You don’t think Griffin needs looking after. But I know my mother too well.’ Her expression darkened. ‘She’s up to something. I just know she is!’
‘Charlotte—’
‘The thing is, Griffin believes he can handle her.’ She shook her head distractedly. ‘And maybe up to a point he can. But my mother has never really forgiven my father for dying, and so robbing her of her political status. She spent the next fifteen years grooming Charles for the same role, and you know what happened there!’ Charlotte drew in a deep breath. ‘She’ll do anything, Dora, anything at all to try and get what she wants. And Griffin—’
‘Charlotte, forget about your mother, stop worrying about Griffin, and just go off and get married! Griffin has about as much ambition to enter politics as I have!’ she added teasingly as Charlotte still frowned.
But inside she didn’t feel so confident. Could Charlotte be right about Margaret’s plans for Griffin? Even if she was, there was no way Dora could see him doing what his mother wanted.
Not even for Charlotte…? she wondered uneasily. No, surely not!
‘Look, if it makes you feel better,’ she said as Charlotte still looked worried, ‘I promise I’ll keep an eye on Griffin for you.’ And much good it would do her! Griffin was big enough to take care of himself. And if he even guessed at the things Charlotte had just said to her—!
Their Engagement is Announced Page 6