‘It isn’t,’ her mother bit out tautly. ‘I haven’t stayed married to your father all these years to have him calmly disinherit you now.’
‘But I don’t want his money, Mummy—’
‘Neither do I,’ her mother said with distaste. ‘But I don’t intend Martin to have it either!’
Martin… Beth had tried so hard not to think of him at all the last few days; it had been vital to her even beginning to enjoy this holiday.
‘I think he’s probably earned it,’ she told her mother bitterly.
‘Oh, darling—’
‘Forget it, Mummy.’ She still felt too raw to talk about Martin. ‘I’m really sorry if the news upset you, but please don’t be outraged on my behalf; I’m glad to have it all behind me.’ And now, finally it just might be. She had no reason now to see her father or Martin ever again.
Certainly not that of duty!
‘I actually feel quite light-hearted,’ she assured her mother. And she did, feeling as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She had tried so hard to be the daughter her father wanted, had ultimately failed miserably, and now neither of them owed the other anything. She was finally completely free of him.
‘And I feel murderous,’ her mother informed her needlessly; it was perfectly obvious how she felt about this new development! ‘If the two of them think they can get away with this, they’re mistaken!’
Beth wished her mother didn’t feel quite so volatile about the subject; she wasn’t too likely to just drop the subject if that was the case. Maybe that was understandable in the circumstances, but Beth knew she would rather just forget the whole thing.
‘Da—Charles,’ she amended tightly, ‘can leave his money where he wants.’
‘Not to Martin,’ her mother ground out. ‘Never to him!’
Beth felt numb where both men were concerned. ‘Can we talk about this when I get back, Mummy?’
‘It will be too late then!’
‘I doubt that Charles intends dying in the next week or so,’ she derided. Yes, she decided, it felt much easier, much simpler, to call him Charles. She had lived without a father most of her life, had known Charles as that only briefly. But he was no real father to her, had never wanted to be, and never would be again.
‘That isn’t the point.’ Katherine was impatient with her again. ‘I will not allow him to do this to you—he’s already done enough.’
More than enough, that was why she wanted no further part of him. ‘It’s up to you what you do, Mummy,’ she told her flatly. ‘I can understand how you feel, but I don’t want to be involved in it. This particular quarrel is between you and Charles.’
‘All right, darling,’ her mother sighed. ‘I realise why you feel the way you do. But your father has had this coming to him for some time.’
Beth instantly felt misgivings; her mother in full flow was something to behold. ‘Had what coming to him?’ she prompted warily.
‘I’m not sure yet,’ her mother said slowly. ‘But I’m not just going to leave it.’
Beth felt her uneasiness deepen. ‘Please leave it, Mummy.’
‘Don’t give it another thought, Beth.’ Her mother sounded preoccupied. ‘Enjoy the rest of your holiday, and I’ll see you in about ten days’ time.’
‘Mummy—’
‘I shouldn’t have bothered you with this at all,’ she dismissed brightly—too brightly for Beth’s peace of mind. ‘I persuaded you to go on this holiday in the hope you would forget about Charles and Martin for a couple of weeks, and now I’ve gone and brought it all up again,’ she realised self-disgustedly. ‘I was just so angry—I’m calmer now,’ she continued in that over-bright voice. ‘We’ll talk when you get back.’
‘Mummy—’ Too late, her mother had already rung off.
Beth slowly replaced her receiver. She could call her mother straight back, but what good would that really do? She knew her mother well enough to be aware that would achieve absolutely nothing; her mother would simply tell her nothing more on the subject.
But Beth still felt that sense of uneasiness, as if there was more to come. She could go home, of course, get the next plane back to England, as her mother had first suggested she do. But she really had no desire to go back to England just yet, had actually started to enjoy this holiday.
How much Marcus Craven was starting to mean in all that she didn’t want to hazard a guess.
The kiss he had given her earlier, just before they parted, came back in full force. It shouldn’t have come as any surprise to her, when he had insisted on seeing her back to her room, that he had claimed the time-honoured salute to the end of their evening. And yet somehow it had caught her off balance, her reaction instinctive rather than controlled. And, although she had responded only briefly, she had returned the caress.
What would have happened if her mother hadn’t telephoned at that moment?
Nothing, she told herself firmly. She had learnt the hard way that she shouldn’t trust her instincts, that they let her down when she most needed them.
But her first instinct had been to mistrust Marcus Craven; should she ignore that? She didn’t know any more.
She had trusted her instincts three years ago, had ignored her mother’s warnings about Charles, had felt almost shy about meeting him again after all those years.
She had spent most of her life living quietly on the Isle of Man with her mother, had received terse birthday and Christmas cards along with a suitable present for her age-group on each occasion every year from her father. She had always written a polite thank-you note in return, and that had been their only contact for all those years. There had been no visits, no telephone calls.
But shortly after she had turned twenty-one it had been different. Her father had telephoned her, asking her to visit him in London. Beth had been so taken aback she hadn’t known what to say. Her mother had known exactly what she had wanted to say, and yet she had accepted it when Beth’s curiosity got the better of her and she arranged to meet her father in London the following week.
She and her mother had lived very quietly on the island, commuting from their home in the south of the island to the boutique they ran together in the capital, Douglas. They had made occasional buying trips to London, but this visit to her father in London was to be nothing like that. Her mother had held her tongue when Beth told her of the invitation, although knowing Charles as she did she must have been sorely tempted to discourage her from going anywhere near him. But as a mother she had realised that Beth had to learn these things for herself, that she couldn’t protect her any longer.
Her father had been charm itself. Tall, and, at fifty, still very attractive, his hair iron-grey, his eyes the same inflexible colour of steel. Beth had been bowled over by him from the first.
That first weekend had been spent in a whirlpool of dinner parties and social occasions, and at all of them her father had proudly introduced her to his friends as his daughter.
Always hovering on the edge of their group at these social occasions had been Martin Bradshaw, her father’s assistant, smoothly stepping in at her side if her father should be called away anywhere. He was tall and blond, with deep blue eyes set in one of the most handsome faces Beth had ever seen.
It had only been later that Beth had realised that was exactly what Martin was; her father’s ‘Blue-eyed Boy’!
That weekend had been the first of several visits to her father in London, and on each visit she had met Martin again too, quickly coming to look forward to those visits for that very reason.
Her mother had gently tried to warn her to be cautious where both men were concerned, but it had been too late for that; she was completely charmed by her father and the attention he lavished on her, and more than halfway in love with Martin.
When the invitations to London had become more and more frequent, her father asking that she come and be his partner or hostess at one function or another, she had been so thrilled that she had ignored her mother�
��s warnings, quickly arriving at a stage where she had just wanted to see and be with Martin; and as he was her father’s valued assistant she had seen him a lot during those weekends.
But it hadn’t been enough; she had wanted more than just the friendship he seemed to offer.
And despite all her mother’s concern it had ultimately been she who had made it easy for Beth to move to London!
The boutique they ran on the island had done well—in fact more than well—and now that Beth was no longer a child and dependent upon her Katherine had decided that the time had come to expand into the rest of the world, opening first one boutique in New York, and then one in London too. Katherine had gone herself to take charge in New York, leaving Beth to maintain things on the island. But when they had opened in London several months later it had been easier to leave Beth’s assistant in control on the island and take over in London herself.
It had been the move her father and Martin had been waiting for!
She had only been in London several weeks when Martin began to call at the boutique on one pretext or another. She had been deeply flattered, overjoyed when he had finally invited her out to dinner.
Beth still shuddered when she remembered how worried she had been at the time that her father wouldn’t approve of the relationship!
That first invitation had led to others, and within weeks she had known she was head over heels in love with Martin.
And her father had known, and approved, of what was going on.
By the time Beth’s mother had returned from New York it was to celebrate Beth’s and Martin’s engagement.
Beth had been so excited that evening, her father throwing a huge party for all his friends and associates. Her mother had seen that excitement and done her best to feel happy for her, to appear approving to all the people who eyed her so curiously; they had all been aware that Charles had a wife somewhere, but this was the first time most of these people had actually seen her.
Beth had been so proud of her mother that evening, of her beauty, the elegant way she dressed, the dark green gown she wore a perfect foil for her blonde hair and green eyes, but most of all Beth had been proud of the way her mother held her head up high and withstood all that curiosity that was directed at her.
Her mother had met Martin for the first time that evening, and Beth had sensed her reservations about him. But she had dismissed the feelings, knowing that her mother was always cautious until she knew someone well. She hadn’t doubted for a moment that her mother would come to love Martin once she got to know him.
The wedding had been weeks later, a grand affair, totally suitable for the daughter of Charles Palmer. Beth had walked down the aisle with stars in her eyes, had thought Martin the most handsome man in the world as he waited for her, like a golden Adonis.
To her great relief her father had approved of the marriage, although he had requested, due to the fact that he didn’t have a son to carry on the family name, that they keep the name Palmer after the marriage. It had seemed a little unorthodox to Beth; in fact she had been practising in her head for weeks how the name Beth Bradshaw would sound once they were married! But Martin had been agreeable to the idea of keeping Palmer, didn’t seem to mind changing his name to hers, and in the end it had seemed a small concession to have to make to ensure her father felt happy about the relationship too; the last thing she had wanted to do was alienate him when she had only recently found him again.
Her mother had looked at her searchingly after the wedding as she and Martin were about to leave for their honeymoon in the Bahamas. ‘I just want you to be happy, darling,’ she had said worriedly.
‘And I will be,’ Beth had assured her with glowing happiness.
The honeymoon had been her first disappointment.
There had been no question of their consummating their relationship before they were married; the situation had just never arisen. And yet despite the love Beth had felt for her new husband, and the consideration and love he had always shown her, the physical side of their relationship hadn’t brought the joy Beth had expected.
But she had assured herself that sometimes these things took time, needed to be treated with patience and gentleness to bring fulfilment to them both.
Her mother’s business had continued to flourish, extending to Hong Kong, the Bahamas, Italy, even that centre of chic, Paris. Beth was pleased for her mother, knew this was what she had always wanted. But her prolonged absences during those first few months of Beth’s marriage had meant she hadn’t had her mother to confide in the way she would have wished. She could hardly have blurted out, on one of her mother’s fleeting weekend visits, that she found the physical side of her marriage more than a little disappointing!
She had also found that she saw less of Martin now they were married than she had anticipated, always seeming as he did to be busy with work. Well, always was possibly an exaggeration, but, as Martin had insisted that as his wife she didn’t continue to work but occupy her time as hostess of the apartment they now lived in, she had found that time weighed heavily on her hands.
And then she had found she was pregnant, and life suddenly had a whole new meaning. Martin had been pleased by the news, her father delighted, and she had suddenly found herself cosseted and cared for by both of them, which was a wonderful experience in itself.
Her mother had been so pleased that the marriage was turning out so well, was greatly looking forward to the birth of her first grandchild, and Beth had been able to tell by what wasn’t said that until then her mother had feared for her happiness. Now there could be no doubting the strength of the bond between Beth and Martin, and her mother had been pleased for her.
And maybe if Beth hadn’t overheard the conversation between Martin and the woman who had been his lover for the last three years, if the shock of overhearing that hadn’t made her lose the baby, a son, she would have continued in happy ignorance for the rest of her life!
She was supposed to have been with her mother on a shopping trip for the baby that day, but had felt slightly ill for most of the morning, and by lunchtime she had known she had to go home and lie down, assuring her mother that she would be perfectly well after a short sleep, knowing this from experience.
She certainly hadn’t expected to come home and find Martin in their bed with another woman!
The couple in the bed couldn’t have heard her entrance to the apartment, so engrossed were they in each other, the sound of their laughter filling the air.
When Beth first let herself in she had heard that laughter with a sinking heart, believing Martin was entertaining a guest in the lounge, and hardly feeling in the mood to face anyone feeling as ill as she did, let alone a business acquaintance of Martin’s.
But to her puzzlement the lounge had been empty, the kitchen too, and she had followed the sound of the laughter to the bedroom she shared with Martin, surprised, but still totally unsuspecting, at the reason for him having taken anyone in there. She had believed Martin loved her—they had only been married for eighteen months, she was three months pregnant with their child; why should she have had any reason to suspect that Martin was in bed with his mistress?
The two in the bed had been completely naked, Martin lying on his back, the woman draped across his chest, caressing the cleft in his chin as they laughed together.
One look at Martin’s face had been enough to tell Beth that he and this woman had already made love, that this was after rather than fore-play. That dark slumbering look in his eyes, that relaxed set to his mouth after he had made love; Beth knew the expression so well. But she hadn’t realised, until that moment, that she had been sharing the intimacy with another woman all these months.
She had wanted to speak out, to let them know of her presence there behind the slightly ajar door, but as they had begun to speak she simply couldn’t move.
‘What if she comes home and catches us?’ the woman, a beautiful redhead of about thirty, purred sensuously. She was a complete stranger
to Beth; she would have remembered this woman if she had ever met her. ‘I know it’s exciting making love in the bed you share with her, but it could prove a little awkward if she were to find us here,’ she drawled mockingly.
‘It’s thinking of the times the two of us have made love here that makes it possible for me to bed the little fool at all,’ Martin said with distaste. ‘She had the sensual imagination and body of a schoolgirl. I suppose she has filled out a little, in certain places, since she became pregnant, but—’
‘So you find your pregnant wife exciting, do you?’ Dark eyes flashed, scarlet-tipped fingernails raking down Martin’s chest with just enough pressure to cause pain.
‘Little cat.’ Martin laughed his enjoyment of the movement, taking that slender hand in his to provocatively kiss the fingertips. ‘You know damn well I’ve never found her exciting; pregnancy certainly isn’t going to change that. In fact,’ he added with satisfaction, ‘it gives me a good excuse to end the physical side of our marriage completely. We must protect the baby at all costs.’
The woman’s mouth hardened. ‘That damned baby has cost us enough already.’
‘But once Charles’s grandson has been born…’ Martin caressed the satiny cheek closest to him ‘… our future will be assured, my position as father of that grandson established. Charles is only interested in his grandson, has used Beth to provide him with that at least, and I’m sure that once the child has been born I’ll be able to persuade him that Beth is no longer necessary to our plans. After a suitable period the two of us will finally be able to be together.’
The tiny uptilted nose wrinkled delicately. ‘I hope you don’t expect me to look after the brat?’
‘Of course not,’ Martin derided. ‘A nanny can be found for him to start with, and then when he’s old enough there is always boarding-school.’
The woman frowned down at him. ‘You’re absolutely sure it’s a boy?’
Romance of a Lifetime Page 5