‘That I was ruined.’ His face was sheened with a film of perspiration. ‘That I’d wilfully brought it on myself. That I’d shamed my father’s memory and destroyed my daughter’s future.’
Lucy’s eyes closed. Randal had been cruel, then. Even though what he had said had been the truth, he had spared her father nothing. She could just hear the hard, ruthless voice he would have used.
‘I was just struggling to accept that I was facing total penury and social humiliation when he mentioned you.’ He was watching her as she raised her blonde head. He cleared his throat. ‘He—he said he was prepared to make a deal.’
‘A deal...’ she repeated tightly, face white.
He flushed. ‘He said he might fancy marrying you, and that if he did, he wouldn’t take me to court. He said I was to say nothing to you. It was to be your decision. I was to stay out of the picture. He would break the news to you, and I was to go to the casino at exactly seven, and wait in his office.’
‘That was last night?’ she guessed, feeling sick inside.
‘Yes. He arrived at eight. He said he’d reached his decision. He would marry you and I’d be able to pay the twenty thousand pounds back in instalments. Then he told me to write a twenty-page account of exactly how I’d spent my inheritance. Two pages for every year.’ He reddened angrily. ‘I felt like a schoolboy!’
‘That’s why you were at the casino until midnight?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’ He gave a deep sigh. ‘It’s funny, though. Even though I resented writing out that account—it made me look at it all clearly. I felt stronger. And the funniest thing was that I felt almost relieved.’
‘Relieved?’
‘Yes...as though the madness was over. I sat in that streamlined office on my own, writing out that report, and I kept looking at Marlborough’s empty chair, and feeling safe.’ He frowned. ‘Does that make sense?’
Lucy nodded. ‘Someone stronger had taken control.’
He studied her for a moment, then shrugged. ‘Well, anyway...he read through my account at ten. He said it was too frivolous. He was very terse with me and slammed out of the office telling me to write it out again. This time I made it more concise and businesslike. He seemed satisfied by it, and told me he would think about my case and come up with a way I could repay him the money.’
‘My marriage?’ she asked hoarsely.
‘I don’t know, Lucy.’ He looked miserable. ‘It didn’t seem that way. I think he’s prepared to hold back on bankruptcy proceedings if he marries you. But I think he still wants the money back.’
Lucy remembered what he had said and nodded. ‘You’re right. I think he’s going to find you a job.’
He went white. ‘A job? A job...?’ He ran a dry tongue over his lips. ‘But I wouldn’t know how. What as? I mean—’
‘You don’t have much choice now, Father,’ she pointed out gently. ‘You have to do as he says.’
He gave a deep sigh. Then his eyes searched hers. ‘And you? You don’t exactly seem like a rapturous bride. Are—are you happy to be marrying him?’
Lucy gave a wry smile, blinking back sudden hot tears. ‘I’ll have to be, won’t I? It seems we neither of us have any choice.’
He looked sick. ‘Darling, I feel so guilty! How can you ever forgive me for what I’ve done!’
‘I’ve always known this would happen,’ she said, compassion in her eyes. ‘The only unexpected part of it is Randal Marlborough. I suppose in a way I feel relieved too.’ Looking down at the emerald on her finger she said hoarsely, ‘Although how I’ll survive marriage to him...’
‘You don’t love him?’
‘I hate him!’
He winced, put a hand on her arm. ‘Darling, he can’t be that bad. He’s a very rich and powerful man. The women at the casino seem to purr every time he walks past. Don’t you find him at all attractive?’
She flushed deeply and said, ‘I’m in love with Edward! I always thought I would marry him!’
‘Of course,’ her father said, shamefacedly. ‘Poor Edward...I feel badly about him, too. He’s been such a support for both of us. A tower of strength.’ He studied her anxiously. ‘He’ll be distraught when he hears.’
‘You haven’t told him, then?’ she said quickly.
He shook his head. ‘Gave my word to Marlborough.’
Lucy got to her feet, wincing, turning her back so he would not see the despair in her eyes. ‘I’ll tell Edward, then. I’ll tell him in person. He deserves at least that.’
Edward arrived at eight, cheerful and hungry, and Lucy was waiting for him in the kitchen. The dinner was timed for eight-thirty, and was bubbling away on the stove.
‘Hello, darling!’ Edward said, coming into the kitchen. ‘What’s up with your father? He seems awfully subdued.’ He leant towards the oven. ‘Mmm! That smells delicious!’
Lucy watched him, white and unmoving.
He did a double take. There was a little silence. ‘Lucy? Are you all—?’ His eyes fell to her left hand and he broke off, the colour draining from his face. ‘What the hell is that?’ His eyes shot back to meet hers. ‘Whose ring are you—?’
‘Randal Marlborough’s,’ she said blankly. ‘He’s asked me to marry him.’
His eyes widened. ‘What!’
She took a deep breath, lifting her head. ‘It’s finally happened, Edward. The crash...’ She quickly outlined the details to him.
‘Oh, my God...!’ Edward stared at her, breathing hard. ‘I knew it was coming, but I didn’t expect debt as well.’
‘My father didn’t tell you, then?’
He shook his blond head. ‘Not a word.’
Suddenly, she frowned. ‘But surely you knew how close the crash was? You check all his expenditures daily. You must have known we only had days left before—’
‘Of course I knew!’ Edward said quickly. ‘But I couldn’t bear to burden you with it, Lucy.’
‘But it affected me!’ she said incredulously. ‘If it was a burden to hear about—how do you think it feels to have to live with it!’
He raked a hand through his hair. ‘Darling, you’re so sweet and gentle. Not strong enough to cope. I feel so guilty. You’re so highly strung, so nervous, unable to take pressure and—’
She gave a bitter laugh, shaking her head. ‘Edward, I always believed you when you said that I was like that. But lately I’ve been forced to realise that I was only like that because I never had to deal with reality. Now that I am...’ Her green eyes slid to his face with regret as she said quietly, ‘I find I’m able to. I find I’m quite strong. I find I’m...a survivor.’
His lashes flickered. ‘You’re going to marry Marlborough, then?’
‘I have to,’ she said, and gave a pained shrug, adding, ‘It’s the only way to survive.’
He gave a deep sigh, then took her in his arms. ‘Darling, is there no other way?’
‘You know there isn’t,’ she whispered against his neck, her eyes closed as she breathed in the scent of him, aching inside, wishing it were him she was marrying, not Randal.
He held her very close, kissing her. ‘I’ve spent my life dreaming of marrying you. I was a fool to leave it so late. I should have realised another man would step in and take you.’
‘I kept trying to warn you,’ she whispered, tears pricking her eyes. ‘Oh, Edward, if only we could turn back the clock...’
He raised his head and stared down at her, then gave a groan and kissed her, his mouth meeting hers with all the gentle, loving warmth she had grown up feeling so familiar with. Her arms curled around his neck. She wanted to cry, to rail against fate, to pour out her love for him.
Suddenly, he dragged his mouth from hers, and put her from him firmly. ‘It’s no good!’ he said hoarsely. ‘We must both be brave. You have to sacrifice yourself, and I have to help you do it.’
Tears slid over her lashes. ‘Edward, I can’t bear it...!’
‘We must make a clean break,’ he said raggedly. ‘We must just en
d it, now, before it becomes too painful.’
‘No!’ She caught at his shoulders as he tried to leave. ‘Don’t just leave like this! You’ve been a part of my life forever. How can I just stop loving you and—?’
‘Don’t tell me you love me!’ he groaned hoarsely, breaking away from her and groping blindly for the door. ‘Just go into your new life, my darling! Marry Marlborough, save your family, and forget me...’ He wrenched open the door, whispering, ‘Forget me, my darling.’
The door slammed behind him. Lucy stood there in agony, then ran after him, tears spilling over her lashes.
‘Edward!’ She caught him at the door. ‘Don’t go...please...’
He stared down at her, standing in the open doorway, his eyes hellish. ‘My God, don’t make this harder than it is already. I’m trying to be strong for both of us. Goodbye, Lucy.’ His mouth shook. ‘I love you.’
The front door slammed and she put her shaking hands to her face as the tears streamed over her white cheeks. His words spun in her mind and she held on to them for dear life. We must be brave...we must be strong...
Her father came slowly into the hall, his face ashen. ‘Was that Edward? Going?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘He says we must make a clean break of it...and I think he’s right.’
‘Oh, God.’ Her father paled visibly, slumping against the wall. ‘I’m responsible for all this. All this misery and destruction...’
Lucy drew a ragged breath. ‘Don’t expect this misery and destruction to last, Father. Randal is already thinking of a job for you.’
He stiffened, shooting her a quick, uncertain look.
She met his stare levelly. ‘I expect you’ll be working before the wedding itself.’ There was a brief silence. Then Lucy said quietly, ‘I’ll finish the dinner,’ and moved past him into the kitchen.
It helped to perform mundane tasks. They ate in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. Their lives were changing so rapidly that it felt as though they were on a roller-coaster. And Edward had been axed from their world as brutally as though he were an unwanted tree. She winced inside, hating Randal for his selfishness, his cruelty, his ruthlessness. Edward had been so noble and strong. If only she could have married him. If only he hadn’t wanted to wait until the crash came...she wondered why he had. She frowned, and then found herself wondering why Edward had not said or done anything to warn her that the crash was literally days away. Then she felt guilty for such disloyal thoughts when he had been so noble. With a sigh, she dismissed them. She might never even see him again, and that hurt so much that she cried silently at the dinner table, her face white as she mourned the loss of her oldest friend...
* * *
Randal picked her up the following evening at six to drive down to Mallory Hall. He was stylishly dressed, his suit grey-blue, a dark silk tie knotted at his throat, his jacket open as he walked up the path and rang the bell.
Lucy answered it, her face hostile. ‘I’m ready to leave.’
‘Well, I’m not,’ he said flatly, stepping past her arrogantly. ‘I want a word with your father. Where is he?’
Lucy closed the door after him, green eyes hating him. ‘Haven’t you humiliated him enough? Can’t you just—?’
‘Did I hear you say you wanted to see me?’ Gerald Winslow’s nervous voice came from behind them.
Randal lifted his dark head, his face hardening. ‘Yes. We’ll talk in the drawing-room.’
Lucy said at once, ‘I wish to be present.’
‘Why not?’ Randal lifted black brows. ‘So long as you don’t interrupt.’
Lucy glared at him but did not reply, instead allowing him to lead her at his usual dynamic pace into the drawing-room, which he dominated, as he always dominated every room he stood in.
He pushed Lucy into an armchair, indicated with a long hand that her father was to sit, too, then strode coolly to the mantelpiece to stand there, hands thrust in trouser pockets, like the head of the family, an arrogant tilt to his dark head. That jagged scar on his cheek only enhanced his air of dangerous power.
‘I’ve found you a job,’ Randal said flatly. ‘You’re to start tomorrow morning at nine sharp.’
Lucy tensed, shooting a quick glance at her father’s ashen face.
‘May I ask what kind of job it is?’ Gerald cleared his throat.
‘Social secretary,’ he said coolly.
Lucy stared, round-eyed, holding her breath.
‘You’ll be working for Mr and Mrs Stewart Saxon,’ Randal went on at a brisk pace. ‘They’re a very wealthy couple, racehorse owners, live in a vast manor just outside Newmarket. They hold a lot of charity functions—coffee mornings, cocktail parties, balls. Fund-raising events that need skilful organisation. They also have a vast circle of friends and business acquaintances to entertain.’
Gerald Winslow was sitting forward, eyes bright with excitement, holding his breath.
Randal looked at him coolly. ‘Apart from organising and supervising these social events, you’ll be required to entertain guests and clients. They need someone debonair, witty, entertaining and well-spoken. I thought you fitted the bill, recommended you, and they’re prepared to take you on three months’ trial.’
‘Well, I...’ Her father was flushed. ‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘Try yes,’ Randal said coolly, raising an eyebrow.
‘Well, yes, of course!’ He got to his feet, smiling. ‘I’d absolutely love the job. It’s perfect for me. Good heavens—I never expected anything like this, Marlborough. I don’t know how to thank you.’
Randal gave a hard smile. ‘Just get through the three months’ trial, make it a permanent job, and stop drinking.’
‘Of course.’ Gerald nodded at once.
‘You can stop drinking, can’t you?’ Randal clipped out.
‘Easily,’ her father said in a quiet, level voice. ‘It was always just an indulgence—never an illness.’
‘Good.’ Randal gave a curt nod, took a white envelope from his inside jacket pocket and handed it to him. ‘Here are the details of the job. Be there at nine sharp. Oh, and Winslow—’ He arched wry brows at him, drawling, ‘Remember to use the servants’ entrance.’
Gerald Winslow blinked, but extended a hand, saying gravely, ‘I don’t know how to thank you. I shan’t let you down.’
Randal shook his hand firmly, his face hard. Then he flicked his blue eyes to Lucy, who was watching in amazement, staring at him and at her father with dazed eyes.
‘Ready?’
She got to her feet at once, kissed her father, and left with Randal. The cream silk dress she wore was a plain shift, worn with a matching jacket of the same length and simplicity.
As they drove down to Mallory, she said carefully, ‘That’s the perfect job for my father. I don’t know how to thank you, Randal.’
‘I want my money,’ he drawled cynically. ‘I won’t get it unless he has a job that he can actually hold down.’
Her eyes were bitter, suddenly. ‘I might have known it wasn’t an act of kindness!’
He laughed, eyes ruthlessly mocking. ‘Never expect kindness from me, Lucy. You’ll only get hurt.’
‘You couldn’t hurt me if you tried,’ she said contemptuously. ‘I feel nothing for you but loathing.’
‘And desire,’ he drawled, sliding one strong hand over her slim thigh. ‘But that’s fine with me. You may as well know. I only have three priorities in life. One—my own satisfaction. Two—money. Three—sexual pleasure. This marriage will bring me all three now.’
She hated him suddenly more than she ever had before, and pushed his hand from her thigh, heart thudding at the sight of it, so strong and networked with black hairs.
‘I must admit I regret you don’t come with a dowry or land or a title.’ The blue eyes flicked over her slender body with insolent sexual appraisal. ‘But you’re such a lady in public, and as for the bedroom...’ He let the words hang between them, not completing the sentence, his eye
s wicked as he laughed softly at the rush of angry colour to her cheeks.
‘If you ever say that to me again—’ she began in a voice thickly choked with rage.
‘Let me guess,’ he drawled. ‘You’ll slap my face.’
She glared at him and he laughed.
‘Save it for our wedding night, Lucy. Plenty of time for passionate expression of hatred then.’
They drove the rest of the way in tense silence. Lucy stared out of the window, consumed with hatred. And to think she had almost admired and respected him for finding such a wonderful job for her father!
Mallory Hall was as ravishing as she remembered it. The red sunset behind its cool white walls made her catch her breath. Her eyes traced the pure lines of the stone and glass, the lined lawns surrounding it, the elegant trees silhouetted against the sky.
Randal’s home...his true home. He might not bear the name Mallory, she thought with bitterness, but he bore the hallmarks of that powerful family. The smuggler and the highwayman were part of his character, as they were part of Mallory’s with its secret passages and wickedly glamorous history.
‘My dear.’ Edwina Marlborough was waiting for them in the drawing-room. ‘I’m so pleased.’ She pressed her scented cheek against Lucy’s in a kiss, murmuring, ‘I knew it was you.’
Lucy looked at her with a frown of enquiry.
Edwina smiled with those vivid green eyes. ‘This is my husband—James Marlborough.’
The austere silver-haired gentleman stepped forwards. ‘Edwina was right about you. You’re perfect for Randal. It’s typical of him to see you, want you and get you.’
‘Oh, absolutely!’ Edwina laughed. ‘Randal always gets what he wants. Even if he has to fight dirty for it. He always gets it in the end.’
‘Did he win you by fair means or foul?’ James drawled, laughing too. ‘On second thoughts—don’t answer that! I’m sure the phrase “all’s fair in love and war” is one Randal wouldn’t hesitate to quote in that rakish way of his. He really is a true Mallory.’
‘Kindly stop talking about me as though I’m not here,’ Randal said flatly, striding to the drinks cabinet. ‘And where the hell are the servants? This decanter is empty.’
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