Geraldine stiffened. ‘I loved him once!’
‘I find that very hard to believe,’ Whitney dismissed scathingly.
‘Then why do you suppose I stayed married to him?’ Geraldine demanded.
‘Money. The power of being Mrs James Hawkworth,’ Whitney scorned.
‘At the end, maybe,’ the other woman conceded heavily. ‘But only because Hawk had shown me that he could never love me as I loved him.’
‘Never love—! You don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Whitney dismissed heavily.
Geraldine’s mouth twisted. ‘I don’t think I’m the one guilty of that. Of a lot of other things, maybe, but where Hawk is concerned I’ve always known what I was talking about. He never loved me; we only got married because I was pregnant—’
‘What?’ Whitney gasped.
‘Pregnant,’ Geraldine repeated derisively. ‘I was something of a motor-cycle groupie in those days, following the drivers from race to race, sleeping with any of them that I could.’
‘My father…?’
Geraldine shrugged. ‘Why not? I liked him very much, as it happens. If he hadn’t known me for exactly what I was I might have become your stepmama after all,’ she derided. ‘But it was Hawk I wanted. He was the most exciting, most elusive, of all of them; held himself above taking advantage of what so many women offered him. He became a challenge to me. And it didn’t hurt that he was heir to the Hawkworth millions either,’ she derided. ‘But he wasn’t interested.’
‘Then how—’
‘I caught him in a weak moment,’ Geraldine told her triumphantly. ‘One of his friends was seriously injured in an accident on the circuit, and I made sure I was conveniently around when he needed company to help him forget when his friend died. A pregnancy was something neither of us counted on. But being Hawk he did the honourable thing and married me!’
Whitney was very pale. ‘But I—There was no baby.’ She frowned her puzzlement.
‘I miscarried,’ Geraldine shrugged. ‘At four months. Once again Hawk was the gentleman.’ Her mouth twisted. ‘He didn’t divorce me when the reason for our marriage no longer existed. But in every way that mattered our marriage was over.’
For years Whitney had thought Hawk was so deeply in love with Geraldine that he didn’t want another woman in his life, and now she found he had never loved his wife.
She didn’t understand him, doubted she ever would.
CHAPTER TEN
THE week after their return to England fell into a pattern. And Whitney had never been so bored, doing nothing, in her life.
They had left Amsterdam that same afternoon, had cruised down the North Sea Canal to Ijmuiden before passing out to open sea and back to England. It had been a faster cruise back, only one night spent on board, a night when Whitney spent the night in her bedroom and Hawk in his. Whatever had happened between them—if anything had except an act for Alex Cordell’s benefit on Hawk’s side—it was definitely over now.
The Beresfords had kept to Tom’s suite the majority of the time, and when Geraldine was taken into custody in London her husband was at her side. For all her faults, Tom seemed to be going to stand by her.
Hawk had driven Whitney to her home, refusing to come in, telling her they both needed breathing space to think where they went from here.
A week later she had still heard nothing from him. And with no job to go to either, she was quietly going out of her mind!
‘What on earth do you think you’re doing?’
She almost fell from her precarious perch on the window-ledge, showering the man that stood in the street below with water from the plastic can she held in her hand. ‘Sorry!’ She grimaced at Martin’s indignant shout as he brushed the water off his jacket. ‘But you shouldn’t have frightened me like that.’
Martin squinted as the sun shone in his eyes as he looked up at her. ‘Aren’t you frightened of falling?’
‘No,’ she laughed as she edged back into the room, sticking her head back out to look at him once she was safely inside. ‘Are you coming in or shall we just continue to shout at each other like this?’ she derided.
‘Very funny.’ He stood in front of the door waiting for her to come and open it.
She had no idea why Martin had managed to pry himself from his desk long enough to come and visit her, but after seeing no one for a week she didn’t particularly care, and dragged him inside.
‘Hey,’ he protested as he had no choice but to follow her up the stairs. ‘I’m a married man!’
‘Sorry,’ she grimaced. ‘Make yourself comfortable while I go and wash the dirt from my hands.’
Martin’s wariness had gone by the time she joined him in what was obviously a lounge. He looked a little sheepish. ‘I thought for a minute—’
‘I know exactly what you thought,’ she laughed.
‘That my luck had changed!’ He grinned.
She gave him a chiding look. ‘You were terrified!’
‘No, I—’ He broke off, his expression rueful. ‘I don’t have the energy to keep up with a youngster like you,’ he acknowledged. ‘Tempted though I might be to try, I’m comfortable with my wife.’
‘Comfortable’ may sound dull to some people, but Whitney could only guess at the love and caring that progressed a marriage to that depth of intimate feeling. It sounded wonderful. But it would never be hers, because she would never have Hawk.
‘What were you doing when I arrived?’ Martin frowned.
‘Watering my garden.’ She indicated the flower boxes outside the window.
‘Ah.’ He nodded understanding, stretching out in one of the arm chairs. ‘Nice place you have here.’ He looked around approvingly.
‘I like it.’ She nodded, watching him warily; Martin didn’t usually have the time or the patience for social pleasantries!
He returned her gaze with narrowed eyes. ‘How have you been?’
‘Fine.’
‘You don’t look it,’ he told her with the brutal honesty that was typical of him.
She had missed Hawk more than ever this last week, and the dark shadows beneath her eyes told their own story, as did the way her jeans hung loosely on her hips. Food held no interest for her, and she had ‘spring-cleaned’ the house from top to bottom in an effort to keep busy and expend some energy. The combination of the two had left her pale and thin.
‘Did Hawk send you?’ she asked half resentfully, half hopefully.
‘Only indirectly,’ he shrugged.
She frowned. ‘How indirectly?’
‘I asked him when you were coming back to work,’ Martin explained. ‘He told me to come and find out.’
Whitney’s frown deepened. ‘But I no longer have a job on the National.’
‘Since when?’
‘Since Hawk dismissed me!’
Martin shook his head. ‘He hasn’t dismissed you. I’m your editor, I should know!’
‘But—where did you think I’ve been for the last week and a half?’ she demanded incredulously.
Martin suddenly looked embarrased, and for a hard-bitten newspaper man that wasn’t easy to do. ‘Hawk told me the two of you were having a holiday together,’ he explained awkwardly. ‘It was a statement, not a request, and it isn’t my business to question his decisions.’
Hawk hadn’t sacked her at all; he intended her returning to work as soon as they got back from Amsterdam! Only he hadn’t bothered to tell her that, damn him.
‘Well?’ Martin prompted at her continued silence. ‘Obviously things haven’t worked out between you and Hawk, but you still have a job to go to.’
Amazing as it might seem, she realised that was true. She felt anger at Hawk for his high-handed treatment of her, and relief that she didn’t have to spend another aimless day around the house.
‘Obviously you’ve missed the main Beresford/Cordell story.’ Martin shrugged. ‘But in the circumstances maybe you were too close to it to be objective.’
She wished she co
uld agree with him, but in fact she hadn’t been close to the real story at all, had completely misjudged the situation. Besides, Bill Summers had done an excellent job on the story; she knew she couldn’t possibly have done better.
‘But we do have the exclusive rights to Geraldine Beresford’s side of the story,’ Martin put in softly.
Whitney gave him a sharp look. ‘She hasn’t been charged?’
Martin shrugged. ‘Not so far. And I doubt that she will.’
‘But she’s as guilty—’
‘As her husband was?’ He quirked mocking eyebrows.
Whitney flushed. ‘OK, so I made a mistake about that. But Geraldine really is guilty; she admitted as much.’
Martin nodded. ‘She’s admitted carrying the drugs, but the police are convinced she did it unwittingly.’
‘With people like Tom Beresford and—and Hawk behind her, I’m not surprised!’ she said disgustedly.
‘You’re claws are showing, Whitney,’ Martin drawled. ‘Why don’t you listen to her side of the story before drawing any conclusions?’
‘Me?’ she echoed incredulously.
He nodded. ‘She’s insisted you be the reporter to do the interview. You have an appointment with her in’—he looked at his wristwatch—‘half an hour.’
‘Why didn’t you say so?’ She sprang into action. ‘I have to change. I have to—’
‘God save me from a woman getting ready to go out.’ He stood up determinedly. ‘Just be at the Beresfords by two-thirty,’ he warned.
‘You can count on it,’ she assured him fervently.
After days of inactivity it felt good to have something cerebral to do, and she was interested in hearing what Geraldine had to say. Obviously the other woman wanted to speak to her again, too.
The housekeeper opened the door to her ring, but Whitney had noticed the two men outside the house; obviously the new ‘minders’. Tom and Geraldine were going to need their privacy protected more than ever now that Geraldine was involved in a court case concerning drugs, even if it was only as the star witness.
Geraldine seemed to have changed in some way when she joined Whitney in the lounge a few minutes later. She was still as beautiful, her eyes still as hard, her control still coolly confident, but some of the brittleness seemed to have gone from her manner.
‘I suppose you imagined I would be behind bars by now?’ she derided mockingly, indicating for the housekeeper to put the tray on the coffee-table.
‘One can always hope,’ Whitney returned tartly.
The green eyes softened with amusement. ‘I doubt the two of us will ever be friends.’
Whitney doubted it, too; in fact she didn’t even think it was a possibility!
Geraldine’s mouth twisted. ‘Thank God—hmm?’ she prompted derisively.
‘My father said you were a man’s woman,’ she shrugged. ‘I doubt that will ever change.’
Geraldine sobered at the mention of Whitney’s father. ‘Dan,’ she sighed regretfully. ‘I really liked him, you know.’
‘So you said,’ Whitney nodded tersely.
‘But you don’t give a damn how I feel about anything or anyone,’ Geraldine guessed self-derisively.
‘I’m here to do an interview, Geraldine, not go over old history,’ she reminded tersely.
Geraldine sat back on the sofa after pouring their tea, crossing one silky leg over the other. ‘Go ahead,’ she invited.
‘Before we start, how is your husband now?’ she frowned.
‘Much better, thank you. I’m making sure he doesn’t overdo things now.’
Whitney studied the other woman closely, noting a slight softening in Geraldine’s manner at the mention of her husband. Maybe she really did love the man, although it certainly wasn’t Whitney’s idea of love.
She plunged on with the questions she had hurriedly written down before leaving home, amazed—and shocked—at the candidness of some of Geraldine’s replies.
Two hours later she had so much information written down her head was buzzing with it all. And she still had one more question to ask.
‘Now that you know your present husband’s first wife died of a drugs overdose, and your first husband’s best friend died in the same way, how do you feel about your lover’s use of you?’ She put the question in with a casualness she was far from feeling, her hands shaking slightly as she waited for the answer.
‘I’ve always despised the abuse of drugs because of the way Dan died,’ Geraldine answered hardly. ‘Knowing Alex was involved in his death, and that of Tom’s first wife, I can only hate him.’
Whitney’s hands stopped shaking as she suddenly went numb, a ringing in her ears.
‘Whitney?’ Geraldine crossed the room to her side as she realised Whitney had made no effort to write her answer down as she had the others, her gaze accusing as she saw how pale Whitney had become. ‘You tricked me,’ she realised impatiently.
‘Hawk wouldn’t tell me the truth, and I—’ She broke off, breathing hard, numbed at having confirmed the question that had been nagging at her ever since Hawk had explained his involvement in trying to arrest Alex Cordell. ‘Why?’ she groaned.
‘Why what?’ Geraldine came down on her haunches beside her, watching her anxiously.
‘My father despised those sort of drugs and what they could do to you.’ She shook her head disbelievingly.
Geraldine turned away. ‘I’m not in a position to answer those questions, Whitney.’
‘Why not?’ she demanded. ‘You know the truth, don’t you?’
‘Yes. But—’ She sighed. ‘I would have thought Hawk would have told you everything by now. The two of you are lovers—’
‘Not any more.’ She shook her head bitterly.
Geraldine frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘It was just an act,’ she dismissed impatiently. ‘To fool Alex Cordell into believing he was in no danger of exposure from me.’
‘You and Hawk weren’t lovers?’ Geraldine said slowly.
Colour darkened her cheeks. ‘Not at first, no,’ she said heavily.
‘But after we came on board?’ the other woman encouraged.
‘Yes,’ she sighed.
‘Then why—I’m going to telephone Hawk.’ Geraldine straightened decisively.
‘No!’
‘But, Whitney—’
‘Thank you for the interview, Geraldine,’ she told her abruptly. ‘You’ve been very helpful. But I do have to go now.’
Geraldine followed her to the door. ‘There’s so much you still don’t know,’ she tried to tell her.
‘I know all I need to—all I want to,’ she said emotionally.
‘But you can’t,’ Geraldine shook her head. ‘You can’t know that I lied to you about Hawk’s reason for giving up racing, that it had nothing to do with his guardianship of you, that after your father’s death he decided it wasn’t worth the pain and heartache—’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she dismissed dully. ‘None of it matters.’
‘But it does,’ the other woman insisted frustratedly. ‘Hawk’s been in love with you for years, and now he’s doing nothing about it!’
‘You’re wrong,’ Whitney said bitterly.
‘I know he loves you,’ Geraldine rasped.
‘You misunderstood me,’ she told her wearily. ‘However Hawk feels about me, he is doing something about it—he’s dismissed me from his life!’
‘I never realised how stupid he was,’ Geraldine said disgustedly.
Whitney gave her a wan smile. ‘We both know that Hawk always knows exactly what he’s doing.’
‘And right now he’s being stupid,’ Geraldine rasped. ‘My God, you’re no longer a child, and it’s time he realised it! I’ve never liked you, Whitney—But it wasn’t personal,’ she added, receiving a snort of derision from Whitney. ‘I would have resented anyone who intruded on my life with Hawk. He was never really happy with me, but at first I did try to be the sort of wife I thought he needed. An
d then you came along, the daughter of his best friend. It could all have been so different,’ she sighed. ‘We could have been a family, you could have been the daughter I lost—’
‘You told me you didn’t want that!’ Whitney protested.
Geraldine’s mouth twisted. ‘I only needed to take one look at you to know it couldn’t be like that. Even at fifteen you were beautiful, and you obviously worshipped Hawk—’
‘I loved him for being kind to me, that was all,’ she defended.
Geraldine nodded. ‘He could never have been any other way with you.’
‘Because he’s always “kind to children and animals”,’ she said bitterly.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ the other woman snapped. ‘Oh, that’s true, too, but it wasn’t the reason Hawk was so good with you. He wanted you even then.’
‘Now who’s being ridiculous?’
Geraldine shook her head sadly. ‘I know what I’m talking about, Whitney,’ she said confidently. ‘Just as I know Hawk tried to fight his feelings for you. He even tried to resume our physical relationship, but it didn’t work out,’ she added at Whitney’s pained gasp. ‘After that I became even more determined to keep the two of you apart; I wasn’t going to be ousted from my position as his wife by a mere child!’
‘You aren’t doing anything to keep us apart now,’ she derided hardly. ‘And we still aren’t together.’ She turned to leave.
‘But you haven’t heard what I did to keep you apart,’ Geraldine called after her. ‘Whitney, listen to me—’
‘I’m sorry,’ she shook her head. ‘I really do have to go.’
‘But—’
‘Goodbye, Geraldine,’ she cut in firmly. ‘I should try and hang on to Tom Beresford; he seems like a good man.’
‘I’m going to, and he is,’ Geraldine nodded. ‘But—’ Her mouth compressed as Whitney walked away.
Whitney didn’t give herself time to think. She went straight to the National building, entering Martin’s office after only the briefest of knocks, and dropped her notebook on to his desk.
‘What—!’ He stared at the chaos the notebook had made of the rest of the papers on his desk. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’ he demanded angrily.
‘That’s my notes on my interview with Geraldine Beresford,’ she told him coldly. ‘I’ve decided I can’t do the story after all, I’m too personally involved.’
Hawk's Prey Page 13