Keeping Luke's Secret

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‘But I’m not being given a choice, am I?’ he snapped, standing up impatiently. ‘You can go as far with this as you want to, Mother,’ he bit out harshly, ‘but I want nothing to do with it!’

Rachel winced. ‘There’s really no need to shout, Luke,’ she admonished gently.

His mouth had thinned into an angry line, fists clenched at his sides. ‘I’d like to do more than shout,’ he told her unnecessarily, the violence he was repressing easily discernible. ‘But you’ve already made it more than obvious that I would be wasting my time,’ he added disgustedly. ‘I think I will be away this weekend, after all!’ He turned to look at Leonie with glacial eyes. ‘I hope you know what you’re letting yourself in for!’ came his parting shot as he strode forcefully from the room, closing the door behind him with suppressed fury.

‘Oh, dear,’ Rachel sighed wearily. ‘I really do seem to have upset him this time. He never calls me "Mother” unless he’s really displeased with me,’ she confided at Leonie’s questioning look.

Was it any wonder Luke felt as he did? Surely Rachel must know what this proposed biography was doing to him, couldn’t have been left in any doubts, after this last exchange, how Luke felt about Rachel’s involvement in this biography?

A biography Leonie now seemed to have committed herself to writing…

How had that happened? She had come here today for the sole purpose of telling Rachel she couldn’t be involved. Had intended politely, but firmly, turning down the other woman’s offer. But somehow that didn’t seem to be what she had actually done…!

Leonie moistened her lips. ‘Rachel,’ she began slowly, ‘I don’t wish to appear rude, but—’ She broke off as the older woman began to laugh huskily. ‘Did I say something amusing?’ She gave a quizzical frown.

‘Not really.’ The actress sobered slightly, giving a reassuring squeeze of Leonie’s arm before moving to press the bell beside the fireplace. ‘I’ll order us some fresh coffee. In the meantime…’ she smiled ‘…you can ask me whether or not I deliberately engineered that situation just now so that you would find yourself in the position—obviously against your better judgement!—of being committed to writing my biography. That was what you were about to ask me, wasn’t it, Leonie?’ She arched teasing brows.

That was exactly what she had been about to ask! But now she knew she didn’t need to bother—it was all too obvious that was exactly what Rachel had done, making Leonie aware that she had better re-evaluate her previous opinion of Rachel.

Oh, she didn’t doubt that the other woman was as warm and friendly as she appeared. There was no doubting her natural beauty, even in her seventies, either. But that guileless expression that Leonie had taken for openness of character wasn’t all that it appeared to be; Rachel was more than capable of practising a deception, or manoeuvring a situation, to suit her own ends. In fact, there was more of a likeness between mother and son than she had previously realised!

Although that realisation didn’t change the outcome of what she had just done. Because there was no way, without giving Luke Richmond the satisfaction of believing she was indeed frightened of him, that she could back out of this commitment.

The fact that Rachel now looked very like her son had a few minutes ago, like the cat who had lapped up all the cream, did nothing to assuage Leonie’s feelings of unease…

’This is a nice surprise, darling,’ her grandfather told her warmly as she joined him in his Devonshire garden a short time later, busy in the greenhouse with the seedlings he had grown ready for late-spring planting. ‘I have all too little female company since your grandmother died last year,’ he added wistfully.

Leonie, despite returning his smile affectionately, felt a little guilty for her own lack of visits during the last few months, aware that it was over five weeks since she had last driven down to see him.

He looked as robust as usual, though, his brushed-back hair a thick iron-grey, his over-six-feet frame still as wiry as ever, the tweed jacket and brown trousers he had on for gardening having previously been what he’d worn during his university lecturing days, a post he had stepped down from over ten years ago to retire to his beloved Devon. Unfortunately, as he had said, her grandmother had died the previous year, leaving him very much on his own…

He frowned vaguely. ‘I hope I have something that I can give you for lunch…’

‘Cheese melted on toast will do me just fine,’ she assured him, tucking her arm into the crook of his as they went out into the garden to sit beneath the apple tree, where Leonie had placed the tray of tea things she had prepared on her way through the house. ‘You really should lock the cottage door,’ she told her grandfather ruefully as he looked at the laden tray. ‘Anyone could just walk in.’

‘I wouldn’t call you just anyone, my darling,’ he teased as he watched her pour the tea. ‘Besides, anyone could get in anyway, if they were determined enough, Leonie, locked door or no,’ he defended lightly as she shot him a reproving look.

He was right, of course. But that didn’t mean she didn’t worry about him down here in Devon all on his own. Although she knew he wouldn’t thank her for fussing.

A noted historian in his own right, he had continued to lecture until he was well into his sixties, had always been a voice of authority that was listened to, by his students and colleagues alike.

Luke Richmond had asked her what she was trying to prove by becoming a historian like her grandfather. She wasn’t trying to prove anything; she just respected and loved her grandfather very much. The fact that she had also known her choice of career would please him immensely had come into it, of course, but it wasn’t the whole story…

’So, to what do I owe the honour of this visit?’ he prompted once they both had a cup of tea. “’Just passing” won’t pass muster, I’m afraid,’ he added dryly.

Obviously not, but by driving to Rachel Richmond’s house in Hampshire earlier this morning she had already been almost halfway here; it had seemed only logical to make the rest of the drive to her grandfather’s home in Devon. Besides, for the past week she had wanted to ask him about something…

‘It’s so relaxing here.’ She sighed happily, resting back in her garden chair, birds singing in the trees, the wild flowers already in abundance in the well-cared-for cottage garden that was her grandfather’s pride and joy.

‘It is.’ He too looked around them with satisfaction. ‘How’s your young man?’ he prompted interestedly.

Leonie smiled at the description; at thirty-two Jeremy could hardly be called that. Although, probably to her grandfather, in his eightieth year, that did seem young!

‘Fine,’ she answered dismissively. ‘He’s away on some computer course or other this weekend,’ she added helpfully.

‘Ah. At a bit of a loose end, are you?’ Her grandfather nodded understandingly, blue eyes twinkling teasingly beneath bushy iron-grey brows.

‘Grandfather!’ Leonie chided laughingly. ‘You make it sound as if I only came to see you because I have nothing better to do this weekend!’

‘That’s how it should be with old fogies like me,’ he assured her seriously. ‘Enjoy your life, Leonie, with people your own age. That’s the way it should be. Despite what your mother may tell you to the contrary,’ he added dryly.

They shared a conspiratorial smile; as an only child, Leonie was expected, by her mother at least, to telephone her parents at least once a week, and to visit them in Cornwall once a month. Thank heavens her grandfather was just pleased to see her, no matter how long it had been since her last visit.

‘Actually, I was in Hampshire earlier this morning,’ she began slowly, still not quite sure how to broach this subject when her grandfather had never mentioned it himself. ‘I believe I met an old acquaintance of yours there…? At least, he seemed convinced the two of you had met.’

‘Really?’ her grandfather prompted interestedly before taking a sip of his tea.

‘Yes. You didn’t tell me your social life now involved screenwriters,’ she added lightly, grey eyes glowing teasingly.

He gave a perplexed frown. ‘I’m not sure…’

‘Luke Richmond,’ Leonie told him questioningly; she had far from forgotten the fact that the other man had claimed to have spoken to her grandfather concerning his biography.

Her grandfather looked blank for a moment, and then his brow cleared. ‘Ah—Luke Richmond!’ he repeated knowingly. ‘A rather dour young man as I recall…’ He nodded. ‘How on earth did you come to meet him, darling? Or has your own social life now moved into the world of the movies?’ he added teasingly.

‘Oh, no, you don’t, Grandfather!’ Leonie dismissed laughingly—although she couldn’t say she disagreed with his summing up of Luke Richmond’s nature! ‘I know exactly what you’re doing,’ she assured him wryly, ‘and I’m not going to be distracted. Why didn’t you tell any of us that you had been approached with the suggestion of writing the screenplay of your life?’

He grimaced. ‘Can you imagine your mother’s reaction to that?’ he scorned.

Leonie had no illusions about her mother, knew she was a complete snob—and she had not been at all happy the previous year when Leonie’s book on her father-in-law had come into print.

‘I can,’ she acknowledged dryly. ‘But even so… You could have told me, Grandfather,’ she admonished, giving him a playfully reproachful glance.

Her grandfather grinned, suddenly looking quite boyish. ‘What on earth were you doing in Hampshire this morning with Luke Richmond?’

Leonie looked at him searchingly, trying to gauge his reaction, but her grandfather was turned slightly away from her, making this difficult.

‘I wasn’t exactly with him,’ she said slowly. ‘I—he was a guest at the home of the person I was visiting.’

For some reason, after coming all this way to see her grandfather, Leonie now found herself reluctant to discuss Rachel Richmond with him. Or the fact that she had been stupid enough to be tricked into writing the other woman’s memoirs.

Her grandfather nodded. ‘He seemed like a very capable young man when I met him.’

‘If a little dour,’ she reminded dryly.

Her grandfather shrugged. ‘Only to be expected, I suppose. It can’t have been much of a life for him,’ he added softly. ‘Living in his mother’s shadow, I mean,’ he added at Leonie’s continued silence, turning to give her a rueful grimace.

No, it can’t have been easy for Luke all these years, Leonie acknowledged heavily. By agreeing to write Rachel’s book, she was about to make Luke’s lot in life all the harder to bear!

CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_d356196b-0546-53ad-a9fc-405983f14933)

‘I THOUGHT you were paid to come here and work, not sit dreaming your time away under the apple blossom!’

Leonie didn’t need to turn to know the identity of her accuser—if the words weren’t condescending enough, the sarcasm of Luke Richmond’s voice was all too recognisable!

‘Actually, Mr Richmond,’ she drawled evenly, slowly turning to look at him as he stood behind the garden chair she sat in under the apple blossom, ‘I’m not being paid at all,’ she told him dryly. ‘And your mother suggested I might like to look through these photograph albums, with a view to the possibility of using some of them in the book, while she took her afternoon rest.’ She looked pointedly at the pile of albums on the wooden table in front of her.

Actually, it was a glorious day, the mid-May sunshine dappling through the apple blossom, she had enjoyed lunch with Rachel, and she was feeling rather sleepy herself. Certainly too relaxed and comfortable to feel like engaging in verbal warfare with Luke!

She grinned up at him. ‘I must say, you were gorgeous as a baby,’ she drawled mockingly.

There was no answering smile in the grimness of Luke’s features as he moved to settle himself in the nearest vacant chair to her own. ‘And now?’ he challenged tauntingly.

Now, if she was absolutely honest, he was more than gorgeous—he was breathtakingly handsome. His hair, in the sunlight, had red tints amongst the darkness, those chiselled features seeming to have a year-round tan, his sheer masculinity also in no doubt in the dark brown tee shirt and black denims. That was if she were to be absolutely honest—which probably wasn’t a good idea around a man whose only feelings towards her were wariness and suspicion.

She hadn’t seen or heard from him in the three weeks since she’d last been here, but if his attitude now was anything to go by his feelings towards her didn’t seem to have changed.

Leonie shrugged dismissively. ‘I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you what you can already see for yourself in the mirror every morning when you shave.’

His mouth twisted derisively at her obviously evasive answer. ‘I thought all babies were gorgeous? To women, at least,’ he added with a challenging lift of those dark brows.

‘Spoiling for a fight’ came to mind!

Relaxed as she was, Leonie was in no mood to give him that satisfaction. ‘Perhaps they are,’ she replied noncommittally. ‘Your mother didn’t mention you were coming down this weekend,’ she murmured sleepily.

‘Didn’t she?’ he returned unhelpfully, his hooded gaze fixed penetratingly on Leonie’s face. ‘What do you mean, you aren’t getting paid?’ He frowned. ‘I’m sure you can’t be giving up your weekends just for the fun of it!’ he added disparagingly.

Leonie shrugged again; it really was too lovely a day for a fight. Even with Luke Richmond. ‘I advised your mother that it would be better to wait until the book is written before we talk about remuneration.’

Luke’s gaze narrowed. ‘Why?’

She gave him a considering look before answering. ‘My work may not be what your mother wants. One successful biography, on someone I’m very close to, does not mean I will have the same success writing your mother’s story,’ she dismissed.

Luke was silent after this statement, as if mulling over the truth of what she had said. Maybe he was; at this moment, Leonie felt too soporific to care what he thought.

‘You don’t look much like your grandfather, do you?’ Luke suddenly bit out abruptly.

Giving Leonie a sharp reminder that it wasn’t a good idea to become too relaxed when around this man!

She straightened in her chair, the green tee shirt she wore, with black fitted trousers, a perfect foil for her fair colouring. ‘That’s probably as well—considering he’s an eighty-year-old man, and I’m a woman fifty years younger!’ she returned facetiously, no longer feeling quite so sleepy. In fact, she felt under attack!

Luke gave an unappreciative grimace. ‘That wasn’t what I meant, and you know it,’ he rasped.

‘Do I?’ she returned, her own gaze coolly challenging.

Luke stood up abruptly. ‘I’ll take you for a walk round the grounds.’

No ‘would you like to?’, or even a ‘shall we?’—just an ‘I’ll take you’! This man’s arrogance could prove extremely irritating if she were exposed to it for too long. Besides, she had little interest in accompanying him on a walk round the grounds. In accompanying him anywhere!