Prada and Prejudice (Dating Mr Darcy - Book 1) (34 page)

“Put your phone away. Take me back to the surgery,” Rhys told him.

Alastair looked at him in puzzlement. “You? But you’re not a family member—”

“I’m O-negative,” Rhys said, his words impatient. “And yes, I’m a family member. This probably isn’t the best time or place to tell you—”

“Tell me what?” Alastair asked, and lowered his mobile phone in confusion.

Rhys took his arm. “I can’t go into it at the moment, but right now all you need to know, Alastair, is that…” He paused. “I’m your son.”

Chapter 44

On Friday evening, Natalie went to her flat to pack a few clothes. Her mobile rang as she got out of her car. “Rhys! Where are you? Are you still at work?”

“No, I’m at St. George’s. They’re prepping Hannah James for surgery. She was hit by a motorcycle this afternoon.”

“Oh, my God!” Natalie exclaimed. “What happened? Poor girl…is she all right?”

“I don’t know the details. She’ll need blood, and I match her type, so I’m donating. I’m not sure when I’ll get home.”

“Don’t worry, take your time. I’m just packing my things up. I’ll be waiting for you at yours.”

“Hmm,” he murmured, “I like the sound of that. Wear that T-shirt I like, why don’t you? And nothing else.”

Natalie smiled. “So you prefer me in a faded T-shirt instead of, say, sexy, lace-trimmed lingerie?”

“Either would do very nicely,” he said. He sighed. “It’s been a really long day.”

“I’m glad you’re there,” Natalie told him. “Alastair and Cherie must be wrecked.”

“They are. And they’re having problems of their own as well. They’ve barely spoken to one another.”

Natalie frowned. “That’s odd – they always get on so well. I expect they’re just worried about Hannah. Give them my love.” She paused as Alexa Clarkson pulled up behind her and parked. “Oh, crikey…Alexa’s here, I’ve got to go.”

“Ian’s wife? That can’t be good.”

Nat sighed. “She probably wants to have another go at me.”

“I hope not. I’ll keep you updated on Hannah. Talk to you later, darling.” Rhys ended the call and scowled. If anything should happen to Natalie tomorrow night…

Ian Clarkson would be a dead man. He’d see to it himself.

As Natalie unlocked the door to let them in a few minutes later, Alexa came straight to the point. “Nat, tell me what’s going on.”

“I’ve told you, nothing’s going on.” Natalie tossed her handbag on a chair. “I’m only here to pack a few things. I’m moving in with Rhys tonight.”

Alexa reached in her handbag and withdrew a mobile phone. “Ian dropped this upstairs when he came by to pick up his things. I threw him out,” she added matter-of-factly. “I want you to listen to something.”

Natalie was silent as Alexa replayed the message.

“‘Ian, it’s Natalie. I want proof before this goes any further. Prove that what you say is true, or I promise you, I’ll call the police.’”

Alexa met Nat’s eyes as she put the mobile away. “What’s going on, Nat? I want the truth. Is Ian threatening you?”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t really talk about it,” Natalie said, and turned away, distraught. “It’s a police matter now.”

“A police matter?” Alexa grabbed Nat’s arm. “Right, you’ve
got
to tell me what he’s done. This involves my husband, Nat! I have a right to know.”

Natalie sighed. “Of course you do. Come and sit down.” She led the way into the sitting room and helped Alexa lower herself awkwardly onto the sofa. “You should be at home, resting,” Natalie scolded her. “This can’t be good for the baby.”

“I’m fine. I need to know what Ian’s done. And not knowing is far more upsetting. Please, Nat.”

“Ian’s blackmailing me,” she admitted. “He found proof that my father was embezzling from Dashwood and James. He’s threatened to go to the media with the story if I don’t cooperate. He’ll ruin my father’s name, and stir up damaging publicity just as we’re trying to re-launch the store.”

Alexa’s eyes widened. “My God! Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?”

“I didn’t want to upset you. And I couldn’t risk Ian finding out that I told anyone. He’s far too clever, and I’m a crap liar. Besides,” she added reprovingly, “you didn’t exactly give me a chance to explain.”

Alexa had the grace to look uncomfortable. “No, I didn’t. I’m sorry. I was so bloody angry—”

“You thought I was having an affair with Ian.” Natalie leaned forward. “If I saw photos of you and Rhys in the tabloids kissing, I’d jump to the same conclusion.”

“Well,” Alexa said ruefully as she rubbed the enormous mound of her stomach, “I’m far too big around – and far too tired – to get up to anything like that now.”

“You’re gorgeous,” Natalie said staunchly, and took Alexa’s hands in hers. “Ian’s a fool if he can’t see that.”

“He’s been indifferent through my entire pregnancy,” Alexa said slowly. “He’s had a couple of other affairs. I told myself it didn’t matter, that it was me he loved. But I have to face facts. I don’t think he ever really loved me.”

Natalie hesitated. “Ian’s hit on me so many times I’ve lost count. Gemma, too. Once he found evidence of my father’s guilt, he couldn’t wait to use it against me.”

“How did he find out?” Alexa asked.

“He found copies of the account books in a box of his stepfather’s things in your attic. His stepfather was the head accountant for Dashwood and James. He noticed the books had been tampered with, and blackmailed my father. And so Ian decided to blackmail me.”

“It’s all so crazy!” Alexa exclaimed. “Why would anyone even care what your father did all those years ago?”

“Ian knew I wouldn’t want to see my father’s name dragged through the mud. Dad had a mistress, Alexa. He embezzled money to support her, and probably to keep her quiet.”

“And what does Ian want in return, exactly?” Alexa asked. “It can’t be money.”

Alexa’s family money was old, and plentiful. Something to do with the manufacture of Scottish woollens, Natalie knew, and a tea plantation in Kenya…

“No, it isn’t money.” Natalie’s voice was a thread. “He wants a partnership in the stores. And he’s reserved a room at the Savoy tomorrow night, after the re-launch. I’m to meet him there, to…celebrate.”

Alexa paled. “I know he’s gone off me since my pregnancy,” she murmured. “But to think that he’d go to such lengths, just to get you in bed…! And he’s mad if he thinks Alastair or Sir Richard would ever give him a partnership. I just can’t get my head around this. It’s like some kind of sick…game.”

“You can see why I couldn’t tell you the truth.”

Alexa nodded slowly. “I’m sorry he put you through this.”

“I’m to meet him tomorrow night as planned, so the police will have proof against him in court. Then they’ll arrest him.” She looked up, her eyes wide. “I’m scared, Alexa. I don’t want to go through with this.”

“You don’t actually think he’d hurt you—?”

“No, but if he finds out I’ve gone to the police he’ll be furious. He calls me on my mobile, he’s cornered me by the copier and in the kitchen at work…he even let himself into my flat. He told the landlord he was my brother.” She paused. “Rhys insisted I stay at his until this is over.”

“Yes, he’s quite right,” Alexa agreed, still numb with shock. “I can’t believe this. What a bloody nightmare.”

As they returned to their cars, Natalie told Alexa, “You shouldn’t drive. I can take you home.”

“I’m fine.” Alexa leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Don’t worry about me, just please…be careful.”

“I will. Call me as soon as the baby’s born.”

Alexa promised she would. “I’m sorry, Nat, for everything. I hate that Ian’s doing this. And I hate that I doubted you.”

“It’s OK, really.” Natalie frowned. “What’ll you do if Ian’s arrested? You and the baby can come and stay with us—”

“No need,” Alexa reassured her. “Mum’s coming down tomorrow, and my sisters are already arguing over names for the baby. And money’s not a problem, so we’ll be fine.”

“If you’re sure…you know I’m always here for you. Drive safely.” Natalie hugged Alexa tightly and waved as she pulled away.

Later, as she put her duffel bag into the Peugeot’s boot, her mobile rang. “Rhys! How’s Hannah?”

“I’m on my way home,” he said. “Hannah came through the surgery with flying colours. She’ll be home by Tuesday.”

“Oh, I’m so glad! I’m just leaving.”

“What did Alexa want? She didn’t have another go at you—?”

“No, she apologised.” Briefly Natalie related the details of Alexa finding Ian’s mobile phone.

“Good, now she can put the blame on Ian, where it belongs.” Rhys paused. “I haven’t had anything to eat but a couple of biscuits and watered-down juice after they took my blood.”

“I’ll make spag bol if you’ve got tomatoes and pasta and a bit of red wine—”

“No red wine,” he said firmly. “I’d have to take off my shirt, in that case.”

“I like the sound of that,” Natalie mused as she slid behind the wheel. “I’m picturing you sitting shirtless across the table, spilling sauce down your chest…”

“I never spill sauce down my chest.” He paused. “It usually lands a bit further south than that.”

“I’ll look forward to the cleanup, then.”

Rhys’s laugh was low and throaty. “Careful, Natalie, I’ll wreck the Jag if you keep talking like that.”

The news that Hannah’s surgery had gone well left Cherie limp with relief. Alastair hadn’t spoken to her since he’d arrived. As she got up and headed to reception to enquire about visiting hours, she heard someone call her name, and turned around. “Sarah! What are you doing here?”

Sarah Hadley gave her a quick hug. “I volunteer a couple of evenings a week. Never mind that – I heard Hannah was hurt! Is she all right?”

“Yes, she just got out of surgery. She was hit by a motorbike.”

“Poor girl!” Sarah didn’t press for details; she could see the shadows of exhaustion under Cherie’s eyes. “Come and have a coffee, we can catch up.”

“Hannah and Duncan broke up,” Cherie said after they sat down. “She’s been working at the store for the summer. She met a stock clerk, and Alastair didn’t approve. He moved her to another department, and she was furious.”

“It’s not easy, is it?” Sarah said in sympathy. “Those teenage hormones…”

“Yes, between Hannah’s dramas and Alastair’s long hours at work, it’s been difficult.”

“Neil said the two of you had dinner at that new French restaurant.”

Cherie took a measured sip of her coffee. “Yes. Alastair cancelled at the last minute, and suggested I ask you, but you’d gone to Bath. I hope you don’t mind-?”

“Mind?” she echoed. “We’re divorced. Besides, you and Alastair are the gold standard of marital bliss.”

“Not any longer.” Cherie hesitated. “Alastair’s always working. It’s caused a…strain.”

“Let me guess – Neil was always there, ready to comfort you, compliment you, make you laugh.”

Cherie stared at her. “Well…yes. He’s been a rock. How did you know?”

“I was married to him for seventeen years! He used that self-deprecating charm to lure Duncan’s English teacher, and a neighbour’s wife, into bed.” She set her coffee down. “I divorced Neil because he was a serial cheater.”

Cherie pressed her lips together. To think she’d nearly become one of his conquests. Anger swept over her, not only at Neil, but at herself, for being so bloody stupid. She’d risked almost thirty years of marriage to a good man for no good reason other than her own selfishness and vanity.

And unless she could convince Alastair otherwise, it might already be too late to salvage what was left of their marriage.

Chapter 45

Dominic threw his mobile down in frustration. His calls to Keeley’s private number went straight to voicemail. He’d tried all afternoon to reach her, without success. The news of his upcoming duet with Keeley at the re-launch had been posted on the D&J website and all over the social media networks.

Never mind that she hadn’t agreed to do it yet…

Dominic had to convince her before tomorrow’s re-launch. But how could he do that if she wouldn’t bloody
talk
to him?

There was only one thing to do, he decided, and grabbed the keys to his Maserati.

He’d drive to Notting Hill and ask her in person.

“Miss Pennington’s not home. Especially,” the bodyguard added as he blocked Keeley’s front door, “not to you.”

“Then I hope you like music, mate.” Dominic jerked his head in the direction of the Maserati. “‘Cause I brought my amp and guitar, and I’ll plug up and play ‘Up the Monarchy’s Arse’ at full whack until Keeley opens that fucking door.”

The front door swung open. “What’s going on?” Keeley demanded. “Dominic? What are you doing here? You’ve got a nerve—”

“Never mind that, I need to talk to you,” he interrupted her. “It’s important. I’ve got a business proposal.”

The bodyguard shoved him. “I said bugger off, mate.”

Dominic shoved him back. “Listen, you stupid twat—”

“Let him in,” Keeley told the bodyguard. She glared at Dominic. “You have exactly—” she looked at her wristwatch “—five minutes. Starting now.”

“Keels,” he said as she shut the door and turned to face him, “I’m sorry about the wedding thing, OK? But you know as well as me that we would’ve been divorced in ten minutes anyway.”

“You humiliated me in front of the entire world!” she snapped. “That’s a bit hard to forgive.” She glanced pointedly at her watch. “Four minutes, thirty seconds.”

“Yeah, well, you told the
Mirror
my willy was so small you needed sat nav to find it,” he retorted. “So we’re even. Besides, that bloke you’re seeing, the reporter who got the exclusive – you wouldn’t have met him if it wasn’t for me.”

“Jonathan’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” She sniffed, only partly mollified. “Three minutes.”

“Remember that song we wrote together?”

“Of course I do.” Her expression softened. “You wrote it for me.”

“Yeah, it was good, wasn’t it? The thing is,” he added carefully, “I want to…change the lyrics round a bit.”

Keeley narrowed her eyes. “Change the lyrics how, exactly?”

“Well, there’s this girl—”