Beaumont Brides Collection (29 page)

His face darkened as her dart found its mark, but she could see he wasn’t in any mood to admit that he had played his part, apologise.

‘Yes, God help me. I locked the door. And then I kissed you. You did want me to kiss you?’ he demanded. ‘The signals seemed all set on go?’ She didn’t answer him, he knew the answer, but her silence made him even angrier. ‘Answer me, damn you!’

‘Yes.’ Her throat was so tight that she could scarcely speak. ‘I wanted you to kiss me.’

He nodded, satisfied. ‘I just wanted to be sure I’d got it right. You accepted my invitation to join me in the study. You invited me to kiss you, took off your dress with breathtaking alacrity and all this as a little offering of gratitude for my support of Pavilion Radio. Or did you think I’d change my mind before the next instalment fell due? No wonder you were so keen to get Melanie involved with someone else.’

Fizz welcomed the surge of anger that bubbled up from deep inside her, bringing the life flooding back into her veins. Anger would wash her clean.

‘I just wanted to get her away from you!’

‘Self-sacrifice? The noblest of all motives. I don’t think so.’

She glared at him. ‘Have you ever seen it in action? Up close, day after day? You wouldn’t be so quick -’

‘I’ve seen it, Fizz. Believe me, I can recognise the genuine article.’ He shook his head. ‘Did you know that everyone thinks your father gave you a job to keep you occupied because you can’t do anything else? But they’re wrong aren’t they?’

‘Quite wrong.’

‘You are a very talented lady, indeed.’

‘Not especially talented. I just work hard.’

‘Well you certainly could have fooled me. I’d have said it was all down to natural talent. It certainly ensured Michael Harries generosity for the last five years.’

She suddenly realised that he wasn’t talking about the fact that she ran the radio station. He was talking about something quite different, quite dreadful and she gasped at such slander, but he was unimpressed.

‘I trust Edward Beaumont is suitably grateful. It seems a quite remarkable sacrifice to make for any man’s financial gain. I believe there’s a word for it.’

Fizz. Bang. His head cracked back at the force with which she hit him, but apart from that there was no reaction. He didn’t even raise his hand to the livid imprint of her fingers on his cheek. But his eyes cut her to ribbons with razor-edged scorn.

‘Two actually. One for him and one for you.’

She swung again, her hand clenched into a tight little fist, but this time he caught her wrist. Her throat finally released from the grip of pent-up tears that now began to flow silent and unchecked down her face, spewed out the bottled up angry words.

‘You’re such a prig, Luke Devlin. It didn’t take much to bring you to the boil, so don’t you dare get sanctimonious with me! But you’re like a child in a sweetshop. Not content with the toffee in your hand you’ve got to have the chocolate too. But then Claudia is some chocolate.’

‘Chocolate?’ He laughed, but it wasn’t a pleasant sound. ‘Your sister is as pink and obvious as a stick of Broomhill rock. And as hard.’

‘But sweet, Luke. Sweet.’

‘Jealous are we?’ His eyes were hard, dark as obsidian, his mouth a thin angry line. ‘I flirted with her and you cared? Come on, Fizz, you thought I was living with Melanie and that didn’t bother you one bit.’ Oh, it bothered her. It bothered her a lot. ‘And you see, poor saphead that I am, I wanted…’ - he seemed to have difficulty breathing - ‘…I just wanted to protect you.’ His laugh was harsh, humourless. ‘You did seem anxious that your sister shouldn’t know what you had been up to and it seemed to me that the easiest way to divert her was to make a fuss of her. She did seem to expect it.’

‘In other words you were simply being a gentleman?’

‘A gentleman?’ he repeated, dangerously. ‘The gentleman and the whore. It would make a great title for a film, don’t you think?’

‘It sounds a touch clichéd to me. I do hope you don’t expect me to be grateful?’

‘Frankly, Fizz, I no longer care either way.’ He finally dropped her wrist and she rubbed it in a vague, distracted manner while he stared down at her. ‘It’s extraordinary. My sister and I were such good friends that I’d never considered the possibility that siblings could dislike one another quite as much as you two seem to. I can understand you being jealous of her, but -’

‘Jealous?’

‘Of her success.’

Fizz walked across to the door and opened it. ‘There’s a taxi rank on the seafront, Luke. I hope for your sake, that there’s someone there this late on a Sunday, or you’ll have a long walk home.’

He didn’t argue, but picked up his jacket and slung it over his shoulder. ‘Don’t worry about it, Fizz. The fresh air will help to clear away the smell of the Beaumont family.’

Fizz resisted the urge to slam the door, closing it very carefully behind him and shooting home the bolts before leaning heavily against it, shaking from head to foot while all the terrible words that had been spoken spun around inside her head.

Awful words.

He had insulted her beyond belief. And her father. And poor Michael. And she had behaved so badly that she wouldn’t want to look her face in the mirror for a very long time.

But worse, far worse was the suggestion that she was jealous of Claudia. And it wasn’t true. It wasn’t. God alone knew that they had no illusions about each other. She knew Claudia’s weaknesses and Claudia understood her better than anyone else ever had. They had shared a strangely pampered, yet neglected childhood, the nightmare of their mother’s accident, dark secrets.

 They cared for one another in a way no one else would ever understand.

That was why Claudia hadn’t told her about the snowdrops. Despite her cynical attitude, her warning that Luke was not for her, she had seen his note and left the flowers beside it hoping to foster a little romance.

*****

Turning up his collar, sticking his hands deep in his pockets against the biting wind, Luke took the hill at a punishing pace. Punishing himself.

He had thought he was in control, perfectly safe flirting with Fizz Beaumont. When you made a lot of money as young as he had, it was essential to learn to keep your emotions under control and he had learned his lessons well. He had never made the same mistake twice.

But he had never fallen in love before, not like this. Which was why he hadn’t recognised the danger signs.

Idiot! Just what had given him the impression that he could break Felicity Beaumont’s heart at will? Why indeed had he supposed she would have one when the rest of the family had been so sparsely equipped? Phillip had warned him that revenge had an unpleasant way of backfiring. No doubt he would say that it served him right, but at least he would take no pleasure in it.

But how was it possible that he could have been so taken in? She was the one whose nerves were in tatters, who trembled when he touched her, who had melted so unexpectedly in his arms. He would never forget her face. The way she looked then, her skin in the firelight. Even now he felt the tug of longing. Something so much deeper than physical need.

Could that really have all been just an act? He could scarcely believe it. And yet she had said as much, denied nothing.

She had seduced him, drawn him in, had invited him to make love to her and she had done it so cleverly that all the time he thought he was the one conducting the orchestra. And when Melanie had interrupted she had still been in control, had still been pulling his strings because when he saw how upset she was, he had nothing else in his head but the desire to protect her.

Despite the cold he broke into a sweat as he recalled the gut-wrenching concern when he realised she had left the party without a word, his mad drive down to Broomhill, expecting any moment to see that crazy old E-type upended in a ditch, his relief when he found her car parked on the promenade. And when he realised he couldn’t get at her he had left that note. What an idiot he had been! Thank God she hadn’t read it.

Then he stopped.

Why had she thrown it in the bin unread? That was rather odd, surely? In her position most women would have wanted to revel in their triumph. Or maybe it just hadn’t mattered that much to her. Maybe it was just business, sex as a reward for bailing her father out of a sticky situation, not as he had so naively thought, simple, uncomplicated desire.

Instead of Fizz Beaumont’s heart lying shattered in his hand, the trophy he had sought to lie on his sister’s grave along with Claudia Beaumont’s brilliant career and Edward Beaumont’s reputation, he was the one left feeling used and heart sore.

Well, they would see.

They would see.

‘Luke?’ He turned to regard the car that had drawn up alongside him and Melanie’s concerned face looking up at him. ‘What are you doing walking?’ He didn’t answer and she opened the door and climbed out to stand beside him. ‘Come on, get in.’ She took his hand. ‘You’re freezing.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said, absently. ‘But thanks for stopping.’

He climbed into the back of the car, saw Melanie and Andy exchange a glance. Then he shut his eyes and began to think again about Felicity Beaumont.

If he had been that wrong, he decided, he had missed something. Something important. He would have to go back to the beginning. What had happened with Patrick March?

*****

Luke looked up from the folder in his hand to the man sitting before him. According to the sheet of paper in front of him Patrick March was thirty-three years old, but he looked nearer forty. It would take more than a salon tan to disguise a cocaine habit, alcohol abuse and a mouth that in repose wore a naturally bitter expression. Patrick, conscious of the scrutiny, shifted uneasily in his chair.

‘It’s a long time since you’ve done any film work, Patrick,’ he said, finally.

‘I’ve never been out of work.’ Luke waited. Fizz would have recognised the technique, although perhaps not the Australian accent he had adopted for the interview. ‘Mostly in the States of course. Sitcoms, adverts, summer stock.’ Again the silence descended. ‘I did a couple of films a few years back.’

‘Is that why you stayed in America? In the hope of more film work? I have the press cuttings your agent sent me.’ He looked up, his expression deceptively mild. ‘Of course they’re rather old, but they’re very flattering. You looked set for big things, Patrick. What happened?’ Patrick’s shrug was studied, diffident, the kind of gesture to portray that there was something else, inviting the onlooker to probe a little deeper. Luke obliged. ‘You did have a part starring in a film with…’ He glanced at the papers in front of him. ‘Felicity Beaumont?’ He frowned thoughtfully, wondering if acting could be infectious. It was hard to tell who was working harder at playing a part. ‘Is she any relation to Claudia Beaumont?’

‘She’s her sister, her younger sister. Claudia’s okay. I mean she can act,’ he said, generously. ‘I guess Fizz was given the part because, well, I guess they hoped her name would ensure reviews, get plenty of publicity. Another Beaumont takes the stage. All that stuff.’

Luke buried his resentment at this man’s casual use of Fizz. ‘It happens,’ Luke agreed, apparently sympathetic. ‘The film was never finished? Why?’

Patrick appeared to hesitate, a man apparently torn between gossip and discretion. It might have been genuine; Luke had no idea how good an actor the man was. It didn’t really matter.

He knew that Patrick March was desperate for work and that he would succumb to the need to justify what had happened, so he waited patiently until the he gave a helpless little shrug and grinned.

‘Oh, well it was all a long time ago. The truth is Fizz had a bit of a crush on me.’

The grin gave him an oddly boyish charm. And Luke had seen the old publicity photographs. Even now, with the telltale marks of disappointment etched into his still handsome face he could see how girls might easily have a crush on Patrick March.

‘A bit of a crush?’ His manner suggested disbelief.

‘A bit? Did I say a bit? The truth is it was off the scale crazy. I suppose I should have seen it coming. I mean she was a good looking kid, eager to learn and I went out of my way to help her, but I had a steady relationship with one of the make-up girls.’ He gave Luke a knowing look. ‘I got her a job on the crew so that we could be together in Italy. Fizz Beaumont did everything she could to break it up.’

Luke felt his heart sinking. He had wanted to be wrong. He would have liked to look this man in the face and call him a liar. But Fizz hadn’t been exactly subtle in her attempts to shoehorn Melanie out of his life. ‘It must have been difficult for you,’ he encouraged.

‘It wasn’t funny. She practically cornered me in my caravan, began tearing off her clothes, all over me like a rash. When I wouldn’t play ball she had hysterics, refused to carry on with the film, acted just like the spoiled brat she was.’

Luke’s mouth flooded with saliva and for a moment he felt physically sick. It took all his willpower to reach for the glass of water on the table in front of him and sip it while he carefully blotted out the memory of Fizz sliding down the zip of her dress, stepping out of it and throwing herself at him.

 ‘The director even suggested I should play along with her, just to get the film back on the road, you know. Of course I couldn’t. It wouldn’t have been right.’