The Collector's Edition Volume 1 (21 page)

A buzz went around the guests as Harry surveyed the scene with his usual charismatic panache, unruffled, assuming authority as though it was naturally his, handsome, debonair, a class act that focused every eye on him. He targeted Olivia first.

‘Mrs. Stanton, I regret that I was unable to stop this little fracas. The boys were already fighting when I arrived at the Harcourt residence. On seeing me, your son ran off, with William in hot pursuit, both of them racing through the backyards of several houses, climbing over fences which I, with a recently injured leg, had to negotiate with restraint. Neither boy heeded my calls.’

‘My son has a broken nose and a smashed mouth. He needed his mother,’ Olivia said haughtily. ‘He was simply coming home.’

‘After he went to
my
home to stir
my
son,’ Ashley pointed out, determined that William not be blamed for everything. ‘People intent on causing trouble often get more than they bargain for.’

‘How true!’ Harry agreed, and blithely related one of his stories. ‘It reminds me of the time when Cromwell sent his Roundheads to pillage the village near Springfield Manor. One of my ancestors, Richard by name, resented this intrusion upon his peaceful life. He organised an ambush that pillaged the Roundheads, separating them from their weapons, their clothes and their teeth. They were sent back to Cromwell with the message that he’d better find men with more bite.’

Stunned silence.

Harry gave Geoff Stanton a man-to-man smile. ‘I’m sure you understand that an offensive act invites retaliation. Quite primitive, of course, but it is in all of us.’

Ashley suddenly realised that Harry was subtly showing his bite. He was not only defending William’s action, but prepared to go to battle on her behalf. Her heart fluttered. Harry was a formidable slayer of dragons.

Geoff Stanton was obviously weighing his response to this challenge. He enjoyed showing off but he was not a stupid man.

Olivia exploded. ‘How dare you walk in here and patronise us! What kind of butler ethics is this supposed to be? Just taking over as though—’

‘He’s an imposter, Olivia,’ Gordon Payne inserted loudly. ‘He is not a butler. He’s never been a butler. And he’s never likely to become one,’ he added derisively, strolling forward to stand by Geoff Stanton and revel in the reaction to his startling disclosure.

‘He is so, too,’ William rebutted.

‘For you, William,’ Harry said quietly. His vivid blue eyes burned intensely into Ashley’s. ‘And for your mother.’

‘A con man,’ Sonya Bixell breathed. ‘Oh, poor Ashley! He looks so good and sounds so good—’

‘I knew it!’ Olivia crowed. ‘Why would a real butler come here? You’ve been suckered in, Ashley.’

‘She has not!’ William denied fiercely, flinging his arm protectively around Ashley’s waist. ‘My mum is the smartest woman in the world. Mr. Cliffton is real good to her. He—’

‘Happens to be one of the richest men in England,’ Gordon Payne drawled, enjoying the
shock value of this new revelation. He warned his friend, ‘And that’s a lot of muscle, Geoff. To put it in a nutshell—Harold Alistair Cliffton, landed gentry, upper class, owner of an ancestral manor with attached farms and a village.’

It had to be a mistake, Ashley thought numbly. Yet Harold Alistair Cliffton was the name on Harry’s passport. How many Harold Alistair Clifftons were there in England? And Harry wasn’t denying it. Harry wasn’t laughing as though it was nonsense.

‘The art gallery in his home is alone worth millions,’ Gordon Payne went on. ‘Cliffton has carried on the family tradition of being a highly enterprising financier, and his personal fortune is calculated in billions. A bit of a gambler, but his reputation is that of always being one step ahead of the market. They say he has the Midas touch.’

‘I never deal in gold,’ Harry said dryly.

Ashley could feel the blood draining from her face. It was no mistake. Harry wasn’t the butler from Springfield Manor. He was the master. Master of so much her head whirled at the enormity of his possessions. His power.

He turned to her, his eyes blazing with compelling inner conviction. ‘In fact the only gold I want is right here. And I will not have it tarnished in any way whatsoever.’

He swung to Olivia. ‘Mrs. Stanton, I’d be obliged if you told your gathered guests what you did see
that led to the scurrilous allegations you made in front of your son.’

Olivia went red. ‘I won’t let you bluff me, no matter who you are. You were holding Ashley in an embrace.’

‘We were dancing. There is nothing reproachable in that, Mrs. Stanton.’ Harry cast a slow, quizzical glance around the room. ‘Is there anyone here who wishes to put some other interpretation upon two people enjoying a dance together?’

It was a mildly spoken question, but simmering behind it was a sword, ready to cut off any head that presented itself. Ashley didn’t think anyone was in doubt about that. Despite his air of languid elegance Harry emitted a power that was all the more mesmerising for being understated.

Not a word was so much as murmured.

Ashley noticed that Sonya Bixell looked absolutely entranced. She had a preference for the muscular type, and Harry was displaying a new dimension of muscle that clearly fascinated her.

‘Perhaps I should mention that if an action lies for defamation, I’m prepared to exchange the names of our legal advisers,’ he went on smoothly, turning to Olivia. ‘You have nothing more to say, Mrs. Stanton?’

Geoff Stanton forestalled any reply from his wife. ‘I don’t believe Ashley would do anything to, uh, compromise her, uh, spotless reputation.’

Harry bestowed another smile on him. ‘Thank you. Mr. Payne omitted to relay that I also have a
reputation for righting wrongs. I wouldn’t want that overlooked.’

He paused to let it sink in, then swung to Ashley and held out his hand to her. ‘The car is waiting outside. Are you ready to leave now?’

‘Yes,’ she said huskily.

She put her arm around William’s shoulders, hugging him close to her, not only to inhibit any further outbursts or mayhem from her son as they walked across the room to Harry, but also needing to hang onto the one known constant in her life. Whoever Harry was, whatever he was, he was providing the quickest avenue of escape from this dreadful scene, and she was not about to delay that, no matter how confused she felt over his real identity.

He took her hand in his, warm, strong, comforting. ‘Good night to you all,’ he said pleasantly.

‘You’ll pay for this,’ Olivia shot at him. She had been upstaged and forced to swallow a public reprimand while seeing her son and husband beaten into submission. The humiliation of it all was a dreadful blow to her self-blown authority.

‘I would pay anything for Ashley and William, Mrs. Stanton,’ Harry replied. ‘Do enjoy the rest of your party.’

Even in her fury she recognised that Harry couldn’t be touched. She turned her venom on Ashley. ‘Don’t think I’m going to forget this. You’ll pay, too. And this wretched boy of yours.’

Ashley’s chin came up in defiant pride. ‘Then you’ll need a long arm, Olivia. William and I are going to England with Harry.’ She paused, then tossed off the perfect exit line. ‘He wants to marry me.’

T
HE
Rolls was once more parked in the Stantons’ driveway. To Ashley’s intense relief, they reached it without further incident, Harry seeing her into the front passenger seat while William scrambled into the back. Harry had them on their way home in a matter of seconds.

As soon as the Stantons’ house was behind them, William could repress himself no longer. ‘Have you really got billions, Mr. Cliffton?’ he asked in a tone of awe.

Clearly, the offense he had taken at Dylan’s slurs on his mother had been superseded by the vista of a fortune that even his enterprising mind found beyond his imagination. Ashley empathised with his sense of disbelief, but she could not condone such point-blank curiosity about someone else’s private affairs.

‘William, you mustn’t ask personal questions like that. It’s bad manners.’

He sighed. ‘Sorry, Mr. Cliffton.’

Harry sighed, too. ‘Wealth isn’t everything, William. It sometimes gets in the way of more important things. Like people seeing you as a person who has the same needs and feelings as themselves. And the same sense of loneliness and isolation.’

It was true, Ashley realised. One never really thought of wealthy people being vulnerable to anything but their own excesses. Yet when Harry had revealed how much Pen had meant to him, how much he missed her, how empty his life had become, Ashley had listened with heartfelt sympathy, never doubting the depth of his feeling.

As though Harry was tuned in on her thoughts, he softly added, ‘All the wealth in the world doesn’t have the power of commanding life and death in those whom you love.’

Ashley caught her breath at the underlying pain in those sad words. Was Pen truly in the past for him? He had seemed really happy this week, but he hadn’t said he loved her. Did he want to marry her because he had found in her and William some kind of panacea for his loneliness?

‘Mum and I see you as a person,’ William claimed, having digested the sense of Harry’s remarks. ‘Is that why you pretended to be a butler with us?’

‘Partly,’ he answered.

He glanced at Ashley. She could feel his eyes raking her profile, feel his concern about what she was thinking, but she wasn’t ready to make any comment yet. Not in front of William. She stared steadily ahead, trying to calm the turmoil inside her. There was a lot to deal with.

‘Mostly it was to persuade your mother to let me stay with you,’ he added quietly.

Even if he had to camp in a tent in her backyard, Ashley remembered. His desire to stay could not be doubted.

‘Because you wanted to get to know us?’ William inquired further, working through the situation with commendable logic.

‘Yes.’

Ashley wondered if she had been hopelessly gullible in swallowing his butler masquerade. She had wanted to believe it because Harry…was Harry. The desire to keep him with her had been very strong.

His reluctance to reveal his wealth and position was understandable. She had been prickly enough about Springfield Manor and the style of life it entailed. How she would have resented his true situation, assuming he had come to lord it over her and William! She would have shown him to the door in a fury of pride and fierce independence. And she would have missed out on all that had followed.

‘Mum, is it true that Mr. Cliffton wants to marry you?’ William asked, unusually cautious in putting the question.

‘He said so,’ Ashley replied, feeling wary herself about being too definite on anything to do with Harold Alistair Cliffton.

‘Is it true, Mr. Cliffton? You want to marry Mum?’

‘Yes, I most certainly do.’ Nothing hesitant about that.

There was the audible release of a long breath from the back seat. Then, on a patently hopeful note, came the question, ‘Have you said yes, Mum?’

‘It’s not a decision I want to rush into, William,’ Ashley answered curtly. When it came to turning points in one’s life, becoming the wife of a billionaire from the English landed gentry was like having the whole world swing on its axis.

‘But, Mum, all you have to do is say yes. Just say yes! Please say yes!’ William was off the back seat and hanging between the two front ones, urging her consent. ‘Please, Mum, it would be so good for us. You wouldn’t have to ever work again or worry about how much things cost. And you’d be free to—’

‘Please sit down, William!’ she said sharply, hating his reference to money.

He ignored her, all pumped up to fight for what he wanted. ‘Look how great it’s been this week, like being a real family, and you not stuck in the office all day—’

‘William, your mother told you to sit down,’ Harry cut in with quiet but firm authority. ‘I think you’ve said enough for now.’

For once in William’s life, discretion was the better part of valour. He sighed and retreated, although he had made clear which way his vote had been cast. There could be no conflict about William’s future, Ashley thought with considerable irony. It was a tribute to the respect Harry
had earned from William that the obedient silence from the back seat was maintained until they arrived home.

‘Straight upstairs to the bathroom, William,’ Ashley ordered as they entered the house. ‘That cut needs to be cleaned and attended to.’

‘Would you like me to do it, Ashley?’ Harry asked.

‘I’m used to it,’ she said dryly. ‘A pot of coffee wouldn’t go astray. I’ll be down as soon as I’ve seen William to bed.’

‘Bed!’ It was a squawk of protest. ‘What about our war game?’

‘The war games are over for the night,’ Ashley declared very firmly.

‘But I didn’t do anything wrong, Mum. Dylan Stanton deserved what he got.’

‘I want some private time with Harry, William.’

‘Oh! All right then.’

Apparently he was prepared to keep the peace for what he hoped was the greater good. He didn’t even attempt any further persuasion on the marriage question. Like a docile lamb he suffered Ashley’s ministrations in the bathroom, standing still as she cleaned away the blood, then applied antiseptic cream and a butterfly closure to the cut. He swallowed two pain-killing tablets, changed into his pyjamas and settled himself in bed without any protest.

The eyelid below the cut was quite puffy and beginning to discolour. Ashley felt a fierce rush of
maternal love as she bent to kiss her wounded warrior son good night. He had fought for her against the scuttlebut and gossip amongst her neighbours. She wondered how bad it had been. What wasn’t known had probably been invented. She hoped they felt ashamed of themselves.

Perhaps William’s fight tonight had put an end to it. If not, Harry’s threats of legal redress would certainly have them thinking twice before opening their mouths again. She smiled. Her two protectors, both of them using the power at their disposal on her behalf. While she still felt confused about Harry’s motives, she knew her son’s were absolutely pure.

She dropped another kiss on his forehead. ‘Good night, William.’

‘I love you, Mum. I want what’s best for you,’ he pleaded softly.

‘I know.’ She gently stroked his hair. ‘I love you, too. When we go to England…then we’ll know what’s best. Go to sleep now.’

She was committed that far. Maybe she was committed all the way. But there were some things she had to find out first, and she needed the truth now, the absolute truth.

Harry was in the kitchen. He poured two cups of coffee and set them on the counter as she came downstairs, waiting until she reached the family room before looking at her. His face was grave, tense. His eyes had the intensity of lasers, searching hers for some hint of what she was feeling.

‘Should I start with an apology?’ he asked.

Her legs felt like water, but she walked steadily to the kitchen counter and drew out one of the stools to sit facing him. She settled on it and pulled her coffee closer before speaking.

‘Are you sorry for anything?’ she asked with creditable calm.

‘No. I’d do it all again to have what we’ve shared this week.’

Well, that was ruthlessly honest, Ashley thought. She lifted her gaze to his, determined on knowing all she needed to know. ‘What about your stated mission? Is all of that true?’

‘Yes. Except I was the one who wanted to meet you. George Fotheringham is my butler at Springfield Manor.’

Ashley took a deep breath. This was a big question. ‘Can’t you have children, Harry?’

He looked startled, then somewhat bemused. ‘I’ve always assumed I can. There’s no reason I know of to think I can’t. Why do you think otherwise?’

‘Why come for William?’

He gave her a rueful smile. ‘Because George was nagging me. Since Pen died I hadn’t formed any suitable alliance for the purpose of procreation, and he was disturbed that the family line might come to an end. That would leave his family unprovided for.’

‘So we were the means of letting you get on with your life without any further nagging from George.’

He shook his head. ‘It was more a case of getting on with my death until I met you, Ashley. That was what was really worrying George. When I broke my leg in a skiing accident, he instigated the search for an heir. He handed me William in an attempt to blackmail me into conducting my life sensibly.’

She had to smile. ‘He doesn’t know you very well, does he?’

Harry’s responding smile was more a wry twist. ‘He does, actually. His need for me to do my duty blinded him to the possibility that I might embrace the Australian connection.’

‘Then he’s not too happy about us.’

‘He will be. If you’ll marry me, Ashley,’ he said seriously, his eyes blazing with his desire for that outcome.

‘And have your children?’ she asked, wondering if this was the crux of everything.

The challenge, the uncertainty in her eyes made him pause. Very gently he asked, ‘Is that the problem? If you can’t have any more children, Ashley, please don’t think it’s an impediment to our marriage. We can have so much together. More than I ever hoped was possible for me. I hope that’s true for you, too.’

‘Oh, Harry!’ She could barely speak over the choking lump in her throat. Tears blurred her vision. The knots in her stomach started unravelling. He wanted to marry her simply for her, for them to have each other. Maybe she wasn’t as
perfect as Pen had been for him, but she had given him a reason for living. And he was so good to her!

She barely saw him coming before she was swept off the stool and into his embrace, his arms wrapping her tightly to him. ‘Ashley, my love,’ he murmured tenderly. ‘Can’t you feel how much I want you?’

My love?

‘I can have children, Harry,’ she blurted out. ‘But you didn’t once ask me about protection.’

His chest heaved and fell, his breath feathering her ear. ‘I wanted whatever you wanted, and in the end it had to be your choice. Any man who’s as much in love with you as I am would want to share his child with you. That’s natural and normal.’

‘You decided so soon?’ she asked incredulously, lifting her head to see his expression.

A whimsical little smile curved his mouth. His eyes softly pleaded for her understanding. ‘Ashley, when you’ve been in a desert, you know when you’ve struck an oasis. And you don’t want to leave it. Ever. You want to drink from it as deeply as possible. But if you don’t want another child…’

‘I didn’t say that,’ she quickly demurred. ‘I wanted to be sure I would be more to you than the mother of your heirs.’

‘The only mother I want for my heirs is a woman I love, Ashley. The loving comes first. And if children are born of that love, well and good. If not, we still have William. I’ll adopt him.’ He suddenly grinned. ‘That boy needs a father.’

She laughed, joy bubbling up to dissipate the last little shadows of doubt. ‘Do you think you’re up to the challenge?’

‘I must confess I could never resist a challenge. Will you take the chance and marry me?’

‘I don’t know what’s expected of a billionaire’s wife, let alone—’

‘There are only two requirements.’

‘What are they?’

‘Love me.’

How could she not love him? He gave her everything she had ever dreamed of in a partner for life. ‘And the other?’ she asked.

‘Let me love you. No restrictions. No restraints. Let me shower you with all the love I want to express in all the ways I can think of, because we only live once, Ashley, and we must make the most of every moment while we can.’

‘Yes,’ she agreed, knowing he was thinking of Pen, but it didn’t matter because he was thinking of her, too, and the love he had in his heart for her was the present and the future.

‘Is that the yes I want to hear?’

‘Yes,’ she said with a commitment she carried to his lips.

It was a kiss that released all the tension of the evening and replaced it with a wondrous welling of emotion, flowing from one to the other with every touch, every breath, every beat of their hearts. The ultimate two-way street, Ashley thought, and knew she would give Harry however many children he
wanted, because deep down in the roots of his being, his ancestry and the long-held heritage at Springfield Manor meant a lot to him.

Happy and confident that everything was settled to their mutual satisfaction, Ashley decided that Harry could do with a bit of chiding for his lengthy masquerade. ‘And just when were you going to tell me the truth about yourself, Harold Alistair Cliffton?’

‘On my home ground.’ He grinned. ‘I always play the advantage.’

‘You thought Springfield Manor would sway me?’

‘No. It simply kept the ball rolling my way until you were ready to acknowledge you didn’t want a life without me.’

‘Well, it should be interesting to meet George,’ she mused.

‘Why?’

‘Because he started it all, didn’t he? We wouldn’t have met except for George. One could say it’s a classic case of the butler did it.’

‘I think it was I, pretending to be the butler, who did it,’ Harry said, cocking one eyebrow in wicked humour.

Ashley laughed and wound her arms around his neck, swaying against him teasingly. ‘Let’s see if you can do it again.’

‘What a splendid idea! I think I’ll start with this little bow at your waist…’

‘Wait!’