скачать книгу бесплатно
‘What a thing to happen!’ Lanley exclaimed, coming up to them. ‘So the rumours are true, Jane. You’re a sly character, getting out of Daneworth while the going’s good. Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend? Of course I already know who he is. Everyone’s ears pricked up when the Falcon family came to town.’
‘I’m here for a wedding,’ Marcel said coldly. ‘So are the other members of my family.’
‘Of course, of course. But no Falcon ever passed up the chance of making money, now, did he? And a lot depends on how you present it to the world. Suppose we three—’
But she’d had enough.
‘Goodbye,’ she said, rising to her feet.
‘Now, wait—’
Lanley reached to grab her but she evaded him and fled deeper into the garden. Trying to follow her, Lanley found himself detained by Marcel, his face dark with rage.
‘Leave her alone,’ he said furiously.
‘Hey, no need to get irate. I could do you a favour.’
‘The only favour you could do me is to vanish off the face of the earth. Now, get out before I have you arrested.’
‘I suppose you could, too,’ Lanley said in a resigned voice. ‘All right, I’ll go—for now.’ He began to go but turned. ‘You couldn’t just give me a quote about your father?’
‘Get out!’
When the man had departed Marcel looked around. He was breathing hard, trying to force himself to be calm when all he wanted to do was roar to the heavens. Anguish possessed him, but more than anguish was rage—terrifying anger at her, at himself, at the cruel fate that had allowed this to happen.
Where was she? Vanished into thin air?
Again!
He began to run, hunting her here and there until at last he came across her leaning against a tree, her back to him. He touched her and her reaction was instant and violent.
‘No, leave me alone. I won’t talk to you.’
‘It’s not Lanley, I’ve sent him away.’
But she didn’t seem to hear, fending him off madly until she lost her balance and fell, knocking her head against the tree. He tried to catch her but could only partly break her fall, steadying her as she slid to the ground.
‘Your head,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Cassie.’
People were approaching, calling out.
‘She’s collapsed,’ he called back. ‘She needs a doctor.’
Lifting her in his arms, he hurried the hundred yards back to the hotel. Word had gone ahead and the hotel doctor was waiting for them.
Her eyes were closed but she was aware of everything, especially Marcel’s arms holding her firmly. Where their bodies touched she could feel his warmth, and just sense the soft thunder of his heart.
Cassie. He’d called her Cassie.
Hadn’t he?
Her mind was swimming. Through the confusion she could hear his voice crying ‘Cassie,’ but had he said it or had she imagined it through the fog of her agitation? Had he known her all the time and concealed it? What would he do now?
She felt herself laid down and heard voices above her. She gave a soft gasp and opened her eyes.
‘I think Mrs Henshaw’s coming round,’ the doctor said.
Marcel’s face hovered over her.
‘I’m all right, honestly,’ she murmured. ‘I just bumped my head against the tree and it made me dizzy for a moment.’
‘Let’s do a check,’ the doctor said.
She barely heard. Her eyes were seeking Marcel’s face, desperate to know what she could read in it.
But it was blank. There was nothing there.
For a moment she fought the truth, but then she forced herself to accept it. He hadn’t recognised her, hadn’t spoken her name. She’d simply imagined what she wanted to believe.
No!
A thousand voices screamed denial in her head. That wasn’t what she wanted. She wouldn’t think it or allow him to think it.
The doctor finished checking her, cleaned the graze and pronounced himself satisfied. ‘But I’d recommend an early night,’ he said. ‘Are you staying here?’
‘No.’
‘Does anyone live at home with you?’
‘No.’
‘Pity. I’d rather you weren’t alone tonight.’
‘She won’t be,’ Marcel intervened. ‘She’ll stay in my suite, with a woman to watch out for her.’
‘Oh, will I?’ she said indignantly.
‘Yes, Mrs Henshaw. You will. Please don’t waste my time with further argument.’
He walked out, leaving her seething. ‘Cheek!’
‘Be fair,’ said the doctor. ‘He obviously cares a lot about you.’
‘Not at all. I’ve only just met him.’ In a few minutes it was clear that Marcel had gone to make arrangements. He returned with a wheelchair. ‘I don’t need that,’ she said, aghast. ‘Yes, you do. Take my hand.’
This was the moment to hurry away, put the whole disastrous evening behind her and forget that Marcel had ever existed. But he had firm hold of her, ushering her into the chair in a manner that brooked no refusal.
Since arguing was useless she sat in silence as he took her into the elevator and upstairs to his suite, where a pleasant-looking young woman was waiting.
‘This is my sister Freya,’ he said.
‘I’ve brought you a nightdress,’ Freya said.
‘I’ll leave you.’ Marcel departed quickly.
‘This is the bedroom and bathroom,’ Freya told her. ‘I’ll look in often to make sure you’re all right. Let me help you undress.’
As they worked on it Freya asked, ‘Whatever did Marcel do to you?’
‘It wasn’t his fault. I fell against a tree.’ ‘Well, he obviously feels responsible.’ ‘He has no need.’
‘Perhaps he’s just a very generous and responsible man. I’m still getting to know him.’
‘I thought he said you were his sister.’ ‘His stepsister.’ Freya laughed. ‘He keeps calling me his sister so that he doesn’t have to marry me.’ ‘What?’
‘Amos wants me to marry one of his sons so that I’ll really be part of the family. His first choice is Darius but Darius is no more keen than I am. So then Marcel is “next in the firing line” as he puts it. That “sister” business is his way of protecting himself.’
‘How do you feel about that?’
Freya chuckled. ‘I’m not weeping into my pillow. He’s not my style at all. Too much like his father. Oh, it’s rotten of me to say that when Amos has been so kind to me, but now I can still escape. The thought of being married to a man like that—’ She gave a melodramatic shudder.
‘Like what?’
‘Money, money, money. That and always being one step ahead of his enemies.’
‘Does Marcel have a lot of enemies?’ ‘I’ve no idea. I don’t think he has many friends. There’s a coldness in him that it’s hard to get past. There now, you’re ready for bed. Would you like me to stay?’ ‘No, thank you. You’ve been very kind.’ She was desperate to be alone. As soon as the door closed she pulled the covers over her head and tried to sort out her confused mind.
Freya had spoken of his coldness, but the young man she’d known and loved had been incapable of coldness. Somehow, one had become the other.
This isn’t happening. It can’t be. I’ll wake up and find it was a dream. At least, I hope so. Or do I hope so? Is that what I really want? Did he recognise me or not? Is he just pretending not to? What am I hoping for?
But thinking was too troubling, so at last she gave up and fell asleep.
CHAPTER THREE
SHE awoke suddenly in the dark. Listening intently, she could make out the sound of footsteps nearing her room. Marcel. She slid further down the bed, pulling the duvet over her, not sure that she wanted to see him.
The door opened, someone came in and stood looking down at her. Her heart was thundering as the moment of truth neared. Last night he’d seemed not to know her, but then she’d heard her name whispering past. Surely that had come from him and now everything was different. What would he say to her? What could she say to him?
She gasped as a hand touched her.
‘It’s only me,’ said Freya. ‘I’m sorry, did I wake you?’
‘No, no, I … I’m all right.’ She didn’t know what she was saying. Everything was spinning in chaos.
Freya switched on the lamp and sat down on the bed, placing a cup on the sidetable.
‘I’m going now, but I brought you a cup of tea first.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Jane—do you mind if I call you Jane? Or should it be Mrs Henshaw?’
‘Oh, please, no.’ She shuddered. ‘I’ve had enough of Mrs Henshaw.’ ‘Jane, then?’
‘Yes, Jane. Although I think I’ve had enough of Jane too.’
‘Goodness, what does that mean?’ Freya’s friendliness was charming.
‘Suddenly I seem to be a lot of different people and none of them is really me. Does that sound crazy?’
‘Not in this family,’ Freya said wryly. ‘You have to be a bit crazy to get your head around the way they all live. Sometimes I worry for my mother. She’s Amos’s third wife and he wasn’t faithful to either of the others.’
‘Where does Marcel come in the picture?’ Jane Henshaw asked, careful to drink her tea at once to hide her face.
‘When Amos was married to Elaine, Darius’s mother, he travelled abroad a lot, and while he was doing business in France he met Laura, set up home with her and they had Marcel.’
‘While he was still married to Elaine?’
‘While he was still actually living with her in England. He divided his time between London and Paris, and even had another son by his wife. That’s Jackson. A couple of years later Elaine found out about his infidelity and left him. He brought Laura and Marcel over to England and married her as soon as his divorce was through.’
‘So Marcel grew up in England?’ Jane said slowly.
‘I think he was about eleven when he moved here. Of course it didn’t last. When he was fifteen Laura discovered that Amos had been “at it” again, and she returned to Paris, taking Marcel with her. He came back seven years later, but not to Amos. He resented the way his mother had been treated, and he even stopped using the name Falcon and went back to using Laura’s name, Degrande.
‘He had a rebellious streak and set up home with some other lads, living from day to day, doing any job they could get. He enjoyed it for a couple of years, then went back to France. Eventually he and Amos were reconciled, and he returned to England and became a Falcon again. Actually I think that was bound to happen. In his heart he was always a chip off the old block. Those two years being free and easy were fun, but it was never going to last.’
‘They might have done. Perhaps something happened to send that side of him into hiding.’
‘Kill it off for good, more like,’ Freya said robustly. ‘Marcel is Amos’s son through and through—hard, implacable, money-minded. Will it pay? What will I get out of it, and how can I squeeze more? That’s how his mind works.’
‘You don’t like him, do you?’
‘He’s all right, always pleasant to me, but Amos can forget about me marrying him. I’d sooner marry the devil.’
‘I’m surprised he isn’t married already. Rich men don’t tend to be short of women.’
‘Oh, he’s never been short of women,’ Freya agreed. ‘Just not the kind he’s likely to marry, if you see what I mean. They serve their purpose, he pays them off. I believe his ‘leaving tips’ are quite generous. But he doesn’t fall in love.’ She gave a brief laugh. ‘Don’t take me too seriously. I’m only warning you that he’ll be tough to work for. After all, you’re not likely to want to marry him, are you?’
‘Not if I’ve got any sense,’ she said lightly.
‘Right, I must be going, but first I need to take some of Marcel’s clothes from the wardrobe. He’s sleeping out there on the sofa and he says don’t worry, he won’t trouble you.’
‘He’s very kind.’
‘He can be. Not always. Now I’m off.’ ‘Goodbye. And thank you.’ Freya slipped out of the door.
Cassie lay in silence, trying to come to terms with the storm of feeling inside her. It had started when she’d glimpsed him tonight, but now it had a new aspect. The woman who now convulsively clenched and unclenched her hands was no longer lovelorn and yearning, but possessed by a bitter anger.
