Sweet Deception (3 page)

Richard's girlfriends were never entirely sure how to treat me. I suspected he described me as something like a younger sister, so they invariably started off trying to be pleasant to me, wanting to win me over. But it quickly became apparent to them that they were never going to get on with me, so after a while they settled into just being as polite as possible whenever I was around—or ignoring me, which worked, too.

I turned to Richard. “So this is your latest.”

“Petra Hawthorne,” she filled in.

I looked back at her, seeing a chance to cause trouble for Richard. “I've stopped learning the names of Richard's girlfriends. Every time he drags me down to one of these family occasions, he has a new one. He never seems to keep them for longer than six months.”

“Which is five months and twenty-nine days longer than you keep your boyfriends,” he fired back. Then he seemed to notice Petra, who was looking between us frowning, clearly perturbed by our sparring. I'd guess that if there was one quality she lacked, it would be a sense of humour.

Richard rested his hand on her small waist. “Don't worry, darling.” His voice was smooth and reassuring, but I could
hear an edge to it, which I knew was directed at me. “Charlotte's just kidding around. Pay no attention to her, I certainly don't.”

“Oh right.” Petra forced a smile. “I see.”

He ushered her outside, shooting a frown at me over his shoulder, a clear signal to behave. They did make an attractive couple, I admitted reluctantly as I followed after them. Very grown up and sophisticated. Trailing behind them, I felt a bit like their wayward teenage daughter, and for the first time, I began to wish I'd made a bit more effort this morning—at the least that I'd had time for a shower.

I'd heard Richard had a new car, and when I saw it my heart sank. Outwardly, it was impressive—a sleek Mercedes-Benz CL-Class coupe, in a dark silvery-grey. But basically it was one of those two-door sports cars, really only meant for a couple, with a cramped seat in the back for those occasions when you had an extra passenger. I didn't deal well with confined spaces, and just the thought of being cooped up in there for more than five minutes made my heart start to beat faster.

Confirming my fears, Richard opened the door, and pulled the driver's seat forwards for me to climb in the back. I just looked at him.

“What's the problem?” The amusement in his voice belied his innocent face.

“You seriously expect me to spend the next two hours
squashed up in the back?” It would take at least that to get to my parents' country house in Hampshire.

“How else are you planning to get to Claylands?”

I stared at him for a long moment, contemplating whether I dared head back inside. But finally I gave in and clambered into the back seat, muttering a few choice oaths under my breath as I did so.

I shifted around, trying to get comfortable, as the other two got in. Richard put the key in the ignition, but before he started the car his gaze caught mine in the rear-view mirror.

“The seatbelt's there for a reason.”

I gave an exasperated sigh, but did as he said and fastened the seatbelt. At this point, I just wanted to get the whole day over with as fast as possible.

As we started on our journey, Petra kept up a steady stream of bright, polite chatter—everything from how lucky we were to have such good weather today, to where they'd been for dinner the night before, as well as expounding about her job as a PR executive at a FTSE 100 company, which apparently she
absolutely loved.
We'd been driving for only about fifteen minutes, and had just reached Chelsea, when Richard began to slow the car.

“It's just over there.” Petra pointed to an upmarket florist's shop.

“Why're we stopping?” I asked.

Petra turned to me, with a big smile, clearly still trying to win me over. “I ordered some flowers for your parents, and I just need to nip in and collect them. I know how important your mum and dad are to Richard, so I wanted to get them something really lovely.”

It took me a second to figure out that it was a present for their anniversary. That was probably something I should have done, too. Oh, well. Too late now. Maybe she'd let me put my name on the card . . .

But just as that selfish little thought was going through my head, I saw the look of gratitude that Richard shot Petra, and I felt ashamed. My mum and dad had been good to him over the years, and he'd never forgotten their kindness. As my brother's best friend, he'd always been welcome at our house. But then, when he was nineteen, his parents had died in a plane crash. He hadn't had any siblings or close living relatives, so my mum and dad had made it clear that he was to treat their home as his own, and there'd always been a place for him at Christmas and Easter. After my brother died, they'd made a point of keeping in touch with him. In return, he seemed to have made it his mission to keep an eye on their wayward younger daughter.

Naturally Richard offered to go and collect the flowers—because he prided himself on being a gentleman—but Petra insisted on doing it, so she could check they'd got the order correct. I watched as she got out of the car, and ran
delicately across the road in her heels.

“So what happened to Prince Charming?” Richard said after a moment.

It took me a second to figure out he was referring to Gavin, my overnight guest. “He'll see himself out.”

He frowned at me in the rear-view mirror. “Aren't you getting a little old for these one-night stands? You do know that you don't have to sleep with every loser who crosses your path.”

His words didn't bother me. I'd heard it all before. As far as I was concerned, it was up to me how I lived—and no one had the right to judge me. “Have you ever considered that it's about me, not them? That maybe I just like sex, but I don't want a boyfriend? And that someone like Gavin allows me to have that—a great time in the bedroom, but with no strings attached.”

“Is that so?” Richard raised a sceptical eyebrow. “Because given the state you were both in this morning, I find it hard to believe you derived any pleasure from whatever took place in your bed last night.” I wished I could contradict him, but frankly I couldn't since I had no memory of what had happened. “And anyway surely sex isn't just about physical gratification—it's much more about expressing emotional intimacy.”

“Oh, yeah?” My lips twitched into a smile. “Is that what your girlfriends tell you? Maybe you're just not doing it
right.”

“Ha, ha. Very funny.” He rolled his eyes, as if to suggest I was being childish, but I ignored him. This was far too good an opportunity to tease him.

“Or have you ever thought it might just be the women you're dating?” I went on, inclining my head towards the florist shop. “I imagine Little Miss Uptight likes it missionary with the lights off.”

Richard didn't bother to respond. He was too smart to rise to such obvious bait. So instead I leaned forwards, folding my arms along the headrest of the passenger seat, and resting my chin on my hands, so my head was turned directly to him. If I was going to goad him, I needed to try a little harder.

“Or maybe I'm wrong. Perhaps Petra likes to get a little dirty in the bedroom. For the moment, anyway . . . It's probably all part of her ploy to hook you into marriage, isn't it?”

Richard's dark eyes flicked over to mine. “Trust me, marriage is the last thing on Petra's mind. She's focused on her career right now.”

“Oh, please,” I scoffed. “Come on. Even you can't be so naïve to fall for that line.”

As much as he might irritate me, Richard was what most women would deem a “catch.” He was good-looking, charming—if a little uptight—and, most importantly of all in these situations, he was seriously minted.

His father had run a successful advertising business before he died, and as his only child, Richard had inherited all the shares. He'd continued with his plan to finish his degree at Oxford University, allowing the management team to run the company. But then when he graduated, he entered the business and began to learn the ropes. I'd never shown much interest, but from what my parents said, he'd assumed control two years ago, on his twenty-eighth birthday, and the company had expanded greatly under his stewardship.

Unsurprisingly, given all of that, he had been featured in
Tatler
as one of their “Most Eligible Bachelors” for the past few years. It caused me much amusement, but there were women out there who took it deadly seriously. Every girl Richard dated was desperate for him to put a ring on her finger. For all her practised nonchalance, Petra was undoubtedly salivating at the thought.

“Trust me,” I said. “She's after a big fat diamond on her left hand.”

He shrugged, refusing to be drawn. “Even if she is, that doesn't mean it's going to happen.”

“Oh, really?” I lifted an eyebrow. “How can you be so sure about that?”

“Because I'd need to propose, and right now I have no intention of doing so. I'm too busy with the company to even think about settling down.”

“Perhaps.” I pretended to muse on this for a moment.
“But what if she gets pregnant?”

He flicked a look over to me. “She won't,” he said flatly.

“How can you be sure? Because she's told you she's on the pill? Or is she letting you ‘take care of business'? Either way, no contraception is one hundred per cent infallible.” I affected a shocked look, placing a hand to my mouth in a gesture of surprise. “
Oh, Richard darling, I have no idea how this happened.
” I mimicked Petra's high-pitched voice. “
I didn't want to get pregnant, you know that, but now that I am, whatever shall we do?
” I paused. “
Marriage, you say? Well, I'd never given it much thought. But now that you mention it, I've had my eye on this little diamond ring in Boodles—
”

“Okay, okay.” Richard cut me off. He was trying to sound like he didn't care, but I could hear the irritation in his voice. “That's enough. I get the idea.”

I would have gone on further, despite what he said, but Petra came out of the florist's then, carrying a huge bouquet of white and pink roses and lilies. Usually Richard would have been straight out of the car, opening the door for her, but now I saw him hesitate for just the briefest of moments. Whatever I'd said had done the job. He wouldn't be able to look at Petra in quite the same light from now on. I felt a pang of remorse, but quickly quashed it. This was payback for him dragging me along to my parents' lunch, and no less than he deserved.

There was a tap on the window, as Petra tried to get his
attention. “Would you mind helping me, darling?” I could see from the quizzical look on her face that she was wondering why his assistance wasn't as forthcoming as usual.

“Sure. Of course.” He got out of the car, and helped her arrange the bouquet in the back, on the seat next to me.

“Lovely flowers, aren't they?” Petra said, once they were settled back in.

“Hmm.” Richard was noncommittal as he started the engine up.

Petra frowned. This obviously wasn't the response she'd been expecting. She put a hand on his wrist.

“Is anything wrong, darling?”

“Why would it be?” His voice was polite but cool. “I'm just concentrating on driving.”

“Oh.” She forced a bright smile. “Of course.”

She removed her hand, and turned to look out the window. They lapsed into silence.

I snuggled down in the back seat, trying to get as comfortable as possible in the cramped space, and closed my eyes, allowing a little satisfied smile to play across my lips. Now that I'd ruined Richard's afternoon, I could happily go to sleep.

*  *  *

The jerk of the car as it went over a speed bump woke me. My eyes flew open, and I saw that we were on the country
road that led to Claylands, my parents' house. I'd slept through for the whole journey.

“Gosh, it's even more beautiful than you told me,” Petra cooed at Richard from the passenger seat, as we pulled up to my childhood home.

Even I couldn't disagree with that. My mother liked to refer to Claylands as “the cottage,” but in reality it was a grand Georgian house, with ten acres of land attached, as well as stables and a barn conversion for guests. The long driveway was already lined with cars—my lie-in had obviously made us one of the last to arrive—so Richard dropped Petra and me at the house, and then went to park.

I could see Petra was impressed as we entered the wood-panelled hallway.

A young man, dressed in a white suit that designated him as one of the catering staff, stepped forwards to take our names. “Ah, yes.” He frowned a little when he heard who I was. “If you'll just wait here for a moment, I'll get your mother. She asked to be alerted to your arrival.”

“Of course she did,” I muttered as he hurried off.

My parents weren't exactly filthy rich, but they were certainly well-off by most people's standards. They were both leaders in their respective fields of law and medicine, and that inevitably had brought financial rewards. That didn't mean I had money, though. My mum and dad were great believers in the idea that everyone should make his or her
own way in life. Ever since I could remember, they'd told us children that we would never inherit a penny from them—they intended to donate everything to charity. They would happily pay for our education, but after that we were on our own.

Friends often thought I'd be bitter about them withholding their money, but frankly I thought their reasoning made sense. From the moment I'd been kicked out of university at nineteen, I'd been supporting myself, and I was quite happy to do so. I suppose it would be easy to argue that I would always have a safety net if anything went horribly wrong—but anyone who thought I'd go running back to Mummy and Daddy if I messed up didn't know me very well. I'd rather gnaw my right arm off than lose my independence.