The Australian Heiress (16 page)

Camille saw Fiona Duncan first, then as her companion turned his head in response to Fiona’s expression, Stephen.

Camille’s first reaction was total dismay, followed immediately by anger. So
this
was where Stephen ran to find understanding and comfort. Speaking to Linda daily, Camille knew that Linda and Stephen were communicating less and less, but God, they hadn’t even celebrated their first anniversary!

“Camille, what’s wrong?” Melissa asked.

It took a real effort to respond normally. “Nothing, pet. What about over here?” She turned to her right, where there was an empty table for two.

For once Melissa didn’t argue. Highly intelligent sensitive child that she was, she was aware of Camille’s sudden unease. Camille put the tray down on the table and busied herself setting things out. She wanted to flee, but that wasn’t possible. She had Melissa to think of. It was going to be hard, but she didn’t want to spoil the child’s outing.

She settled Melissa facing the far end of the room and took the chair opposite, presenting her back to Fiona Duncan’s oddly triumphant gaze. Fiona didn’t look shamed or caught out. More a challenging “Who cares?” expression. What was marriage these days? Just a piece of paper.

Camille fumed, her heart breaking for her friend. She knew she wasn’t mistaken. This was an arranged tête-à-tête.

Within minutes Fiona and Stephen rose as one. Fiona, blond, confident, athletic, dress understated but every expensive, swept by with a “Hi” and a waggle of her fingers. Stephen stopped.

“Fancy seeing you here!” He gave a nonchalant smile, golden brown eyes moving from Camille to Melissa. “And this must be Nick Lombard’s little girl. Am I right?”

“Marissa,”
Melissa piped up, responding to Stephen’s attractive smile.

“Nice to meet you, Marissa. I’m a friend of Camille’s, Stephen Carghill.”

“Hello, Mr. Carghill.”

“Fiona’s waiting, Stephen,” Camille said.

“No problem!” Stephen said casually, glancing toward the entry way. But Camille, knowing him so well, recognized his discomfort. It was there in his eyes and the color that ran beneath his tanned skin. “I have to be getting back to the office, anyway. It was sheer chance I happened to run into Fiona in the arcade.”

“And sheer chance we happened to choose here,” Camille said dully.

“Please don’t say anything to Lindy,” he murmured in a rapid undertone.

“No.” Camille shook her head.

“Is that a ‘will’ or a ‘won’t’?”

“Why,
Stephen?”

He flushed. “I never knew you were such a p-r-ud-e.” He spelled it out in case Melissa could understand. “Fiona’s my friend. I need someone to talk to just like Lindy needs you.”

“Sure. Don’t let me keep you. I won’t be mentioning it.”

“Thanks.” He bent swiftly and kissed her cheek. “Hope to see you again, Marissa.”

“What’s a prude?” Melissa asked as soon as Stephen had gone.

“It’s a person who expects people to behave.”

“Isn’t that good?”

“Mr. Carghill was having a little joke.”

“It didn’t sound like it.” Melissa wrinkled her nose.

“And
you
know a lot more than you let on.” Camille shook her head. “Your teacher said you were having great difficulty reading and sounding out words, but it’s not true, is it?”

Melissa looked at Camille thoughtfully. She put down her sandwich and picked up the menu. “Wine of the day,” she read “Jacob’s Creek sheerez.”

“Shiraz—that’s the grape variety.” Camille nodded eagerly in encouragement.

“Brown Brothers rise-ling.”

“That’s very good,” Camille said with almost a mother’s pride. “The word is pronounced reez-ling. It’s a white wine. I think we might have to have a word with your teacher.”

“I can add numbers, too,” Melissa said blithely.
“The kids don’t like me now. They’d hate me if I was smart.”

“Maybe it’s got more to do with being friendly,” Camille suggested. “You and I are friends.”

“Oh, yes!”

“Which means we make certain we’re nice to each other. We don’t want to fight or hurt each other’s feelings, do we?”

Melissa considered for a moment. “You’re different.” She shook her gleaming head of curls. “You can see
inside
me. Kids are dumb. Anyway, I think I’m going to lose a front tooth. I’ll be hideous even with my curls.”

“Never!” Camille kissed her fingers.
“Bella! Bellissima!”

Melissa gave a surprisingly merry laugh, the first Camille had ever heard from her. “I know what that means. It’s Italian for beautiful. Daddy speaks Italian.” Melissa began to nibble at her cake. “He’s dropdead gorgeous. I heard Miss Larkins tell that to someone on the phone.”

“He certainly is handsome,” Camille agreed, wryly amused. “You’ve inherited his hair and his eyes. So what was that with ‘Marissa’? When Sean got it wrong, you didn’t bother to correct him.”

“I like it,” Melissa said, looking a shade guilty. “Don’t you?”

“As a matter of fact, yes. It suits you. It has a Mediterranean ring to it, but you were christened Melissa. It was your mother’s choice. Doesn’t that matter?”

“Of course!” Melissa said with a tight frown. And then she repeated what she’d said about her mother before. “Mommy adored me. She was so proud of me.
She thought I was the most beautiful child in the world. She wasn’t to know I’d be a wizened-up little monkey.”

Camille set down her coffee. “Wherever did you hear that?”

“Grandmother told me. She said that’s what Mommy said when I was born.”

“But, darling, most little babies are red and wrinkled when they’re born. That goes away. Your grandmother was just trying to make you laugh.”

“No, she wasn’t,” Melissa shook her head emphatically. “My grandmother hates Daddy and she hates me.”

Camille winced, shocked by all the cruel talk this child had been exposed to. “Darling, we’ll talk about this later. Don’t let’s spoil our day.” She smiled. “I’m thrilled with the way you look. I know you are, too. You have beautiful hair and now we can see it to its full advantage.”

“And my head feels so light!” Melissa’s sense of hurt and injury fell away. “I was floating when I came out of the salon. Daddy’ll love it, won’t he?”

“I’m sure he will,” Camille replied. “In fact, I’ve no doubt.”

When they finally arrived home after an enjoyable shopping trip, it was to find Clare’s car parked in the drive. Immediately Melissa’s bright mood darkened.

“Oh, no!” She grimaced. “That’s Clare’s car.”

“She’s not going to trouble you, is she?”

“She certainly is. Daddy says I have to be polite to her, but it’s hard. She hasn’t got nice eyes. She doesn’t mean what she says, either.”

“Well, we just have to remember our good manners,”
Camille said. “I won’t be able to stay all that long, darling. I have to catch up on a few things at home.”

“Don’t let her chase you away.”

“She isn’t chasing me.”

“Yes, she is. I want you to stay until Daddy gets home. Please, Camille. I really need you.”

Camille could quite see that might be true.

The front door was open, but Camille rang the bell. It echoed through the hall, summoning Miss Larkins.

“Oh, it’s you, Melissa. Miss Guilford.” She hurried on down the stairs. To her credit her face showed pleasure at the dramatic change in Melissa’s appearance. “Why, Melissa, how nice you look! I never realized what a change of hairstyle might do.”

“I don’t care
what
you think,” Melissa said rudely.

“Of course,” the nanny said. “It was stupid of me to try to be friends.”

“Don’t listen to her, Camille,” Melissa warned. “There hasn’t been one nice thing she’s ever said.”

“What
I’d
like to propose,” Camille said, “is that you start over this minute. Give each other a chance. Can you do that, Melissa? Miss Larkins?”

The woman nodded. “I’m here to look after Melissa in every way I can.” She turned to the little girl. “I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot.”

“Melissa?” Camille prompted her by shaking her shoulder. “I don’t like her,” Melissa said. “And I never will.”

Miss Larkins’s fixed smile grew strained. “Shall we go upstairs, Melissa? I see you’ve got lots of lovely shopping bags.”

“Camille bought me things I
like,”
Melissa kept up her belligerence.

“Melissa, you have beautiful clothes,” Miss Larkins chided her. “Any other little girl would be very grateful.”

“These are casual clothes, Miss Larkins,” Camille said in a soothing voice. “I know Melissa has the best of everything, but on occasion she wants to look more casual—like her friends.”

“I only wish she could
make
some friends!” Miss Larkins said tartly. “The last little girl she had here I had to send home with Mr. Lombard’s chauffeur. Melissa doesn’t relate to other children at all well. She won’t share.”

“I will
too!”
Melissa frowned ferociously. “Amanda was trying to take the clothes off my doll. She’s a
good
doll with a porcelain head and hand-set eyes. Not a silly Barbie.”

“I think I sense a tantrum coming on. I’ll take care of her now, Miss Guilford. I’m sure you’re wanting to get away.”

“She is
not!”
Melissa stamped her foot and shouted, “Camille’s staying with me until Daddy gets home.”

“For God’s sake, what’s happening out here?” a woman’s voice demanded. They all looked toward the living room as Clare Tennant walked through the archway into the hallway. She looked extremely elegant—black silk with pearls, diamond-and-sapphire clasp at the front.

“Shit!” Melissa exclaimed softly. Yet it was audible enough for Clare Tennant to hear—and look suitably shocked.

I beg your pardon, young lady. What kind of word is
that?”

“It’s what you say when
you’re
mad,” Melissa declared.

“Well, not at six years of age. What do you think will happen when I tell your father?”

“He’ll forgive me,” Melissa answered confidently. “He’s heard it before.”

“I daresay, but he wouldn’t expect it from his daughter.” The look she gave the child was full of censure.

Seriously concerned about what Melissa might come out with next, Camille intervened. “Perhaps we can leave it for the time being.”

“You condone such behavior, do you?” Clare Tennant turned on her, her eyes going from Camille’s stylishly shod feet to the top of her head.

“It’s not a word I care to hear Melissa use, but times have undoubtedly changed. She probably picked it up in the playground. I don’t think we should make too much of it. Nicholas can speak to her.”

“Nicholas?” Clare Tennant gave her a glance sharper than a dagger.

“Perhaps you could take Melissa upstairs, Nanny,” Camille said in a calm voice. Melissa was wound up like a top. Miss Larkins was showing signs of alarm. “You might want to take the things we bought and hang them up. Go with Nanny, Melissa,” she said firmly. “I’ll be up shortly.”

“Promise?”

“Absolutely.”

“Oh, all right then. Don’t be long.” Almost meekly Melissa took the nanny’s outstretched hand.

Camille watched their progress up the staircase until they reached the gallery, at which point Melissa turned and waved. Then Camille’s gaze returned to Clare Tennant, only to find the woman staring at her with such malevolence Camille felt herself go cold.

“After
all
I’ve said to you, you’re going to keep pursuing Nick.”

Camille closed her eyes briefly. She didn’t want to face this odd woman. “Mrs. Tennant, I don’t have to answer to you,” she said dully.

“You might be the one person who could stop me from becoming Nick’s wife.”

Was she entirely sane? Camille frowned. “Are you sure that’s not just your
own
obsession?”

“Why don’t you ask
him
?” Clare Tennant retorted with a look of challenge. “Nick and I were close even
before
Carole died.”

Camille almost visibly recoiled. “Did
she
get in the way of your obsession, too?” She spoke without thinking. “Did you stalk her as you’re stalking me?” It was a stab in the dark, and it didn’t appear to come off.

Clare Tennant stiffened in outrage. “What on earth are you talking about?”

Camille didn’t shift her gaze. “Haven’t you been following me, calling me on the phone?”

The older woman made a violently dismissive gesture with her hands. “You’re mad!”

“I don’t think so. I’ve spoken about it to the police.”

“And you mentioned my name?” Clare Tennant stared at her in horror. “You should take care. I’ll see
you in court, Miss Guilford. You’re not an heiress anymore.”

“So you deny it?”

“I don’t have to listen to this kind of thing from you.” She turned away.

“Perhaps I should apologize. I didn’t mention your name to the police, Mrs. Tennant. But you
have
been making veiled threats. And you’ve certainly identified yourself as my enemy.”

Clare Tennant broke into peculiar laughter. “One of hundreds, my dear. I heard from one of them only the other day. Robyn Masterman. Now there’s a stop-at-nothing girl. You’d be risking your life if you tried to ruin
her
marriage plans.”

“She’s a fool.” Camille’s voice was tight with disgust. “Philip Garner’s history, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Perhaps you should tell Robyn that. She’s quite jealous, you know.”

“She need have no fears about me,” Camille said.

“Perhaps she sees what you
are.
You’re one of those women who cause a great deal of trouble in life. I’ve heard something of your parents’ shocking story.”

“Tragic, don’t you mean?” Was it possible Nicholas had told her? Surely not!

“I do know she drove even hardheaded Harry Guilford to the edge. Had she lived, the marriage would certainly have gone on the rocks. Some women are natural-born destroyers.”

Camille felt a surge of relief. Nicholas
hadn’t
told her. “Please don’t attempt to threaten me again,” she
said in a firm voice, “or I
will
give the police your name.”

A vein throbbed in Clare Tennant’s temple. “How dare you insult me this way!”

“I feel I need to,” Camille answered quietly. “Now, I’m going up to see Melissa.”