‘I don’t give a hoot what it is, so long as you keep him sweet,’ he answered.
So that was it! The something she had thought her father was up to was now very clear. He needed quite substantial investment in the firm and, the banks being unmistakably disinclined to lend him any more, he was hoping that Latham Tavenner would. Why he had invited him to dinner was a bit mystifying, but perhaps that was how these things were done—probably over a glass of port. She did not at all like her father’s instruction that she ‘keep him sweet’, and indeed cringed at the very idea of being nice to the man purely so that her father should have him good-humoured when he asked for his money.
* * *
Belvia was up early the next morning, and was starting to feel indignant at her father’s ‘keep him sweet’ edict. She hoped her manners were such that she would be polite and pleasant to any guest in their home.
On going downstairs, she discovered that, early as she had arisen, Josy was down before her and was already worrying about what to give their guest for dinner that night.
‘What were you going to give us?’ Belvia asked.
‘Chicken curry, rice and a side-salad, and bread-and-butter pudding.’
‘Then that’s what we’ll have. I’ll make some celery soup, if you like.’
‘Oh, would you?’ Josy accepted as she attended to their father’s breakfast.
He had gone to his office by eight, and at a minute past nine Josy, as if afraid Belvia might yet change her mind, was reminding her to ring Kate Mitchell to let her know that she could not come to her party.
‘Hello, Kate,’ Belvia greeted the kind lady who had taken her under her wing when she had first gone to train at Newman and Company. ‘Enjoying your last day?’
‘Mixed feelings now it’s come to it,’ Kate replied. ‘I’ll see you tonight at the party w—’
‘Er—the thing is, something’s cropped up...’
Five minutes later Belvia put down the phone and went in search of her sister. ‘Did she mind very much?’ Josy asked at once.
‘A bit. I’ve promised I’ll look in later. Much, much later,’ Belvia added in a rush when she saw her twin blench. ‘Father won’t want either of us there when he taps Mr Tavenner for his money, so once dinner’s out of the way and we’ve been “sweet”, we’ll be free to disappear.’ Belvia had been about to tack on what Kate had said when she had casually asked if Newman and Company had ever had anything to do with Latham Tavenner and his outfit, but Josy was already looking uptight, and she felt it best to get away from the subject altogether.
They spent the whole of the morning giving the already spruce sitting-room and dining-room another sprucing. And what with one thing and another—all preparations made for the evening meal, right down to the best china being brought out and rinsed—it was early afternoon before Belvia felt she could leave her sister and go up to the stables to exercise Hetty.
If their father wasn’t happy with their efforts that day, then hard luck, Belvia thought as she sat astride Hetty and they cantered around the countryside, though she admitted to feeling uncomfortable inside that her father was entertaining the financier purely for his own ends. But, while not wanting to be a party to any of it, she had to own to a sneaking curiosity to see for herself the hard-headed businessman Kate had told her about. Kate had never met him, but had said he had a reputation for being a shrewd, if fair, operator. Kate had not been able to tell her much more about him other than that he was still a bachelor, though not for want of half the female population around trying to do something to alter that. Kate also thought that he and his sister, to whom he was said to be very close, had been orphaned quite young and had been brought up by relatives.
Not much to go on, Belvia mused as she returned home. If he was still a bachelor, with women running after him, then how old was he, for goodness’ sake? Or was it perhaps that he was getting on in years, bald and fat, and, since it was plain that he was not short of a penny or two, was it his fortune that half the women in town were after?
She stepped lightly into the kitchen, where she found that Josy was getting into a state as the time when she was going to have to act as co-hostess came nearer.
‘It’ll be a breeze.’ Belvia tried to bolster her up. ‘Come on, leave this and go and take a shower and put something pretty on.’
Belvia went up the stairs with her and they parted to go to their separate rooms. Now what, Belvia wondered, bearing in mind that—with no time to change—she would be going on to a party later, should she wear?
‘Oh, Belvia, you look stunning!’ Josy exclaimed when she joined her in the kitchen. Belvia was dressed in a simple—although expensive—black dress.
‘Have you taken a look at yourself?’ She smiled encouragingly at Josy, who had made a tremendous effort to build her confidence and was wearing an equally simple dress of pale green that brought out the red in her hair. ‘You’re beautiful.’
‘Tosh,’ Josy responded, and Belvia went and gave her a hug.
‘We’re going to have to do something about your low self-esteem,’ she told her seriously, then the doorbell sounded and a look of panic immediately came over her shy sister’s face.
Ten minutes later Belvia judged it was time to leave the kitchen. By the time they reached the sitting-room, Josy had her panic under control. Belvia gave her a quick reassuring glance, then opened the door and led the way in—and stopped dead!
Latham Tavenner was neither bald nor fat, nor in his dotage. He had turned as they went in and, as she looked at the tall, dark-haired man in his mid-thirties, who with all-assessing, cool grey eyes looked back and appeared neither interested nor uninterested, for no known reason, her heart gave a crazy flutter.
Ridiculous. She dismissed such nonsense as not worth consideration and, knowing that Josy would stick close like glue, she went forward so that her father could make the introductions.
‘This is the youngest twin, Belvia,’ her father announced jovially. ‘Belvia, our guest Latham Tavenner.’
‘How do you do?’ Belvia trotted out, extending her right hand, and felt her whole body tingle as Latham Tavenner took her hand in a firm but cursory grip then, unsmiling and without a word, dropped it and turned his attention to Josy, who was close by her side.
‘And this is my other daughter, Josy.’
Protectively Belvia stood watch as Josy stretched out a nervous hand and gulped, ‘Hello.’
Belvia moved a fraction closer to her and saw Latham Tavenner look from Josy to her and, after a barely perceptible pause, back to her sister again. ‘Hello, Josy,’ he responded, and—although Belvia had formed the view that the man did not have a smile in him—he smiled.
Although Josy’s smile was a degree on the shaky side, she made it. But as Latham Tavenner let go of her hand and seemed as if he would engage her in conversation Belvia discerned in the quick look that Josy shot to her that she was signalling, ‘Help me’.
‘If you’ll excuse us,’ she butted in before he could address another word to her sister, ‘Josy and I need to go and do things culinary.’
Oh, heavens, Belvia thought as she offered up a phoney smile to go with her words, and in return received the full blast of not just cool but arctic grey eyes.
Who the hell did he think he was? she fumed as she grabbed hold of Josy’s arm and took her kitchenwards.
‘He’s terrifying!’ Josy cried, the moment they were out of earshot.
‘How?’ Belvia queried calmly.
‘Didn’t you see him! Smooth, sophisticated...’
‘And eats little girls for supper,’ Belvia teased, on the brink of being panicky herself, she realised, for sophisticated he certainly was. And smooth. Though for herself she had no need to worry for, from what she could make of it—and it couldn’t be just his suave manner or he would have smiled at her too—Latham Tavenner had taken a shine to her sister!
That notion was further endorsed when, everything ready, they moved to the dining-room a
nd, as the meal got under way, Latham Tavenner seemed to make a point of trying to draw out her shy sister.
‘Do you have a career, Josy?’ he enquired pleasantly as he took a spoonful of soup.
Belvia saw her slop her own soup. ‘Josy prefers to stay at home and look after Father and me,’ she hurried in. Not liking him any better when he tossed her a ‘who-asked-you?’ look she added swiftly, ‘And very well she does it, too.’
Having brought the financier’s attention on herself, Belvia then had to weather his cool appraisal. Clearly he was not liking her any more than she liked him, but he brought out his ‘polite guest’ manners to enquire distantly, ‘And do you follow a career?’
‘Belvia was in training to be an accountant,’ her father answered for her.
‘Was?’ their guest picked up.
‘She got bored, and threw it up.’
Thanks, Father, Belvia fumed, and, what with one thing and another, decided she’d had enough of the pair of them.
‘You manage to keep busy, no doubt?’ Latham Tavenner addressed her directly.
‘Some,’ she managed through gritted teeth.
‘What did you do today, for instance?’ he wanted to know, and Belvia knew at that point that he was not one iota interested in any cooking or cleaning she might have done. All too obviously he had formed an opinion, aided by her father, that she was an idle layabout, intent on nothing but pleasure.
Far be it from her to spoil his opinion. And at least while he was talking to her he was leaving Josy alone. ‘Ooh, nothing much,’ she replied, sending him another phoney smile. ‘I messed about for most of the morning—ringing up friends, that sort of thing—and then this afternoon I went out for a ride on Hetty...’
‘Hetty?’
‘Josy’s horse. And—’
‘Doesn’t Josy mind you riding her horse?’
Had they been better acquainted, she might have kicked his shins—she’d had just about enough of him and the way he looked down his nose at her.
‘Not today,’ she returned, her attempt to keep smiling wearing thin. ‘Today Josy was too busy in the house to exercise her herself, so I thought I’d do her a favour.’
‘How very generous of you!’ he clipped curtly.
Good. Now perhaps he’d leave her in peace and chat to her father! To goad her further, however, it was to her sister that he turned, and Belvia did not know just then whether she felt piqued or protective about that.
‘Have you been riding long, Josy?’ he enquired.
‘Yes,’ Josy whispered and, as Belvia saw the mist of sadness that came to her sister’s eyes, it was protectiveness pure and simple that rushed to the fore.
‘Will you have some chutney with your curry?’ she said in a rush, picking up the mango chutney and placing it in front of him.
‘Thank you,’ he accepted politely enough, but there was a tough look in the hard grey glance he served her with that left her with an unmistakable impression that one Latham Tavenner had no time whatsoever for her.
Which was just fine by her—she had no time for him either. And if he had some notion—picked up, no doubt, from the fact that she was jobless—that she was work-shy and that the house could be six feet deep in dust before she would pick up a duster, it was nought to her.
Thankfully her father was taking a hand in the conversation, which was just as well. By the look of it, Latham Tavenner had given up trying to address Josy, only to be answered by Belvia. Which suited her fine, since that meant that she did not have to talk to him either.
When the meal came to an end Belvia had long since got over any feeling of awkwardness that her father was entertaining Latham Tavenner for his own ends. She was liking neither her father nor his guest just then, and in her view they deserved each other.
‘That was a very nice meal,’ Latham complimented her sister as he placed his napkin on the table.
‘Thank you,’ Josy answered quietly, but added—and Belvia wished she had not—’Belvia made the soup.’
You needn’t look so surprised, she fumed crossly to herself. ‘Anyone can open a tin,’ she offered uncaringly, and saw a glint in his eyes that spoke of his knowing the difference between home-made and tinned—and not taking kindly to being lied to on any subject, no matter how trivial.
‘If you’ll excuse me.’ Josy’s voice penetrated, and Belvia switched her glance to where her sister was taking a tray from the room. Her duty done, she would not show her face again that night, as Belvia well knew.
And, since it was only for Josy’s sake that she had delayed going to the party, Belvia could find no good reason why she should not disappear too.
‘If you’ll excuse me, also,’ she murmured, and was on her feet when she was staggered to hear her father—in front of company—take her to task!
‘Where are you off to?’ he demanded.
‘I’m going out,’ she replied.
‘At this time of night?’
Belvia stared at him, barely able to credit that, in the belief that it made him look important, he should speak to her so in front of his guest. ‘I’ve got a date,’ she replied flippantly. Casting a quick glance to Latham Tavenner, she could hardly credit either that, without bothering to hide his look of total dislike, he was staring contemptuously at her! Who did he think he...? He might have been orphaned at a tender age, and might well be of the opinion that she should show more respect for her father, but...
Belvia made for the door but, feeling suddenly goaded beyond what was reasonable—by the pair of them—she turned. ‘After dinner is the only time he can get away from his wife,’ she tossed at anyone who might be interested.
She saw her father dart a hasty glance to his guest, but cared not if she had embarrassed him. He’d asked for it—speaking to her like that in front of a guest. She slid her glance to that guest, and was shaken by the harsh anger in his face—almost malevolent! He was not embarrassed—he was furious.
Finding his look threatening, she dragged her gaze from him and, feeling oddly all of a tremble inside, she left the dining-room.
Out in the hall, away from him, she told herself not to be so ridiculous and went upstairs to collect her bag and car keys. Grief! To look like that—just because she had been saucy to her bullying father, whom she knew far better than he did!
Belvia went out to her car, but was still feeling a trifle disturbed when she arrived at Kate’s party. She made herself think positively and decided that, on the up side, she had done her father a favour. Because if Latham Tavenner was so incensed about her manner to her parent, then he might feel more inclined to let him have the investment he wanted. And, on the double up side, she doubted that Latham Tavenner would accept an invitation to dine at her home a second time. Which meant, happily, that she would never have to see him again.
CHAPTER TWO
FOR all that the party was good, Belvia came home dogged, as she had been at the party, by thoughts of Latham Tavenner. Damn the man, she fumed, then showered and climbed into bed, to sleep badly and dream of the wretched man.
She slept late and found that her father, off on his weekend pursuits, had already left the house to pick up his present lady-love.
‘Good party?’ Josy asked, looking up from stacking the dishwasher as Belvia walked into the kitchen.
‘It was, actually,’ she replied, and sank down on a kitchen chair and related some of the highlights.
‘Coffee?’ Josy enquired.
‘Gasping!’
Josy busied herself making them both a cup of coffee, and then, placing a beaker down in front of Belvia, commented, ‘You were shouting in your sleep last night.’
‘Was I?’ Belvia enquired, startled. In childhood she had shouted out in her sleep whenever she was disturbed about something, and she had gone through another bout of it shortly after her mother had died. ‘I haven’t done that in years. Was I yelling anything interesting?’
Josy smiled. ‘Just gibberish.’ And, her smile fading, ‘Anyth
ing worrying you, Bel?’
‘Not a sausage,’ Belvia laughed, ‘save for the mountain of clearing-up we left in the dining-room.’
‘I’d have done it last night, only—’
‘I know,’ Belvia cut in gently, fully aware that, but for the fact that Josy had risked bumping into Latham Tavenner around the sitting-room area, she would have set to in the dining-room after the man had left it. Apparently there was something about the cool, detached man that disturbed both of them. She had been thinking of him when she had gone to bed last night, and could think of no other reason why she should have been visited by a return of shouting out in her sleep.
What she needed was exercise, and plenty of it, she decided, and quickly downed her coffee. ‘I’ll go and investigate the dining-room,’ she remarked, getting to her feet.
‘Don’t you want any breakfast?’
‘Not hungry,’ Belvia replied, and, at the ridiculous thought that she had never been off her food until she had met Latham Tavenner, she realised that she was giving a man in whose company she had spent not much more than an hour far too much time.
She was in the sitting-room later that morning, plumping up cushions, when Josy went by to answer a ring at the door. She heard the door open and then close, and stopped what she was doing altogether when, her face pale, her eyes worried, Josy came into the sitting-room with a basket arrangement of flowers.
‘Why, how lovely!’ Belvia said spontaneously of the splendid arrangement.
‘They’re from—him!’ Josy whispered in scared tones.
‘Him’ had to be Latham Tavenner! ‘Well, it’s only a thank-you for his dinner last night,’ Belvia replied bracingly.
‘But your name isn’t on the card!’
Belvia would have been astonished if it had been. ‘So?’ she enquired.
‘You helped cook dinner too. I—think he likes me,’ Josy said worriedly.
The Sister Secret (Family Ties) Page 2