Sophie Weston - The Millionaire's Daughter

‘Don’t spoil it, Annis,’ she said in a low voice. ‘It’s so long since he relaxed properly.’

Annis looked down from her five feet eleven into her diminutive stepmother’s exquisite face. Annis had given thanks for Lynda every day since she’d married Tony Carew and had taken his daughter under her wing. They were as different as two women could be but Lynda had given her unstinting affection, making no distinction between Annis and her own daughter Isabella.

What was more, she made Tony Carew laugh again. Under Lynda’s influence he came home from the office at night. He even took some notice of his neglected ugly duckling daughter and found, to his astonishment, that she was interesting. Found that she was not a sullen adolescent, just painfully shy. Found that he liked her.

So now Annis looked at Lynda, who would not remind her that it was she who had given Annis back her father. Annis knew herself beaten. Again.

‘Yes,’ she said capitulating entirely. ‘Yes, all right. I’ll paint my face and sing for my supper. Just no more throwing me together with your spare men.’

Lynda laughed and let go of her arm. ‘Take your drink with you.’

It was only when Annis was sitting in front of her stepmother’s enormous dressing table that she realised that Lynda had made no promises.

‘Outsmarted again,’ she told her reflection with irony, and, as she so often ended up saying after a tussle of wills with her sweetly accommodating stepmother, ‘When will you learn? You’ll walk straight back into the arms of tonight’s Mr Available.’

Only, in spite of all the evidence to the contrary, Konstantin Vitale did not feel like Mr Available. Reflecting on that exchange downstairs, her eyebrows knit in puzzlement.

Of course, it was probably not his fault. It was even possible that he did not know that Lynda was matchmaking. Annis knew her stepmother very well. The most Lynda would have told him was that she needed a spare man to make up numbers and sit next to her clever stepdaughter. That’s what she had told the sculptor, the writer and the aspiring politician.

Lynda’s candidates were normally men with promising futures and a shortage of current cash. That was what made the idea of dating millionaire Tony Carew’s daughter rather attractive, no matter how scarred and difficult she might turn out to be. Annis wondered exactly what Konstantin Vitale did for a living. And if she had done enough to make him think better of the dating-the-unattractive-heiress scenario.

Annis found her reflection was frowning horribly. She leaned forward and smoothed her heavy eyebrows apart. ‘Borrow an earring,’ Lynda had said. Well, she could do better than that with the run of her stepmother’s resources. With the efficiency of long, long practice, Annis set about livening up her neat navy business suit.

She borrowed a silk scarf so fine that it was transparent, with the evening colours of an impressionist painting shimmering as she moved, and some long turquoise earrings that Lynda had brought back from Morocco. No time for elaborate make-up, thought Annis, who was no good at it, even at the best of times. So she just combed her hair forward to hide the scar, flicked damp fronds into place against her long neck and dusted a touch of rose to her full-lipped mouth.

Then she squared her shoulders and went back to face the battle.

Fortunately the first person she saw was not Konstantin Vitale. Not even another glamorous spare man. It was Lynda’s own daughter, Bella.

Isabella, at twenty-three as golden and charming as her mother, regarded Annis as one of her very best friends.

It was Bella who saved her now.

‘Annie,’ she screamed, rushing over.

A number of people looked up and smiled. Across the room, Annis saw, even Konstantin Vitale of The Look glanced up. For a moment the bored shell cracked. He looked almost intrigued. But then, thought Annis wryly, men usually did look intrigued when they first caught sight of Isabella Carew.

Tonight she was on top form, in a slip of a dress that was all shimmery curves and slipping straps, showing yards of perfect leg. She enveloped Annis in a bear hug.

‘Hi, Brain Box.’

Annis kissed her sister more sedately. ‘Hi yourself, Bella Bug. How’s life?’

‘Great. What—’

Lynda frowned her daughter down. ‘We can have a family chat later. There’s someone I want Annis to meet.’

‘Another one?’ said Annis incredulously.

Bella grinned. She was not hampered by any chivalrous feelings of obligation and she knew as well as Annis did what Lynda was up to. Only Bella was a lot better at heading off her mother’s matchmaking tactics.

‘Leave it out, Mother. The girl works. She’s had a hard day. Let her get her breath before Prince Charming parachutes in.’

Annoyance tightened Lynda’s pretty mouth for a moment.

‘I thought you were going to have a word with the cook.’

Bella was impervious. ‘I did. The guys will tell you when she’s ready to serve dinner.’

Lynda gave up. There were more guests arriving and she knew she would not part the girls until they had caught up on each other’s news. ‘We’ll have a good talk later,’ she told Annis. Leaving, she added, belatedly conscientious, ‘You’re looking wonderful, darling.’

Both Isabella and Annis stared after her, speechless.

‘Why does she always sound surprised when she says that?’ said Annis eventually.

Bella giggled. ‘Because she didn’t stand over you and choose every single thing you’ve got on,’ she said. ‘She does it to me too.’

Annis’s eyebrows flew up. She had her father’s eyebrows, heavy and expressive. Like her height and her aquiline nose they were less than feminine, but Annis had learned to use them to good advantage to make her point. As she did now.

Bella snorted with laughter. ‘When Mother saw me tonight, she said didn’t I think I would get cold in this?’

And she gave an illustrative twirl. Across the room Konstantin was arrested. Not, thought Annis, by a tall brunette still wearing her business suit, no matter how much Alessandra van Herzberg silk scarf she had draped across it. It did not augur well for Lynda’s cosy schemes. Good.

‘And will you?’

‘In here? Darling.’ Bella rolled her eyes naughtily. ‘Quite apart from the central heating and the fire, can’t you feel all that hot breath in the air?’

Konstantin had stopped even pretending to listen to the florid man.

‘Oh I can,’ Annis agreed dryly.

‘Anyway, I’m not sure but I think I may—I just may—be getting my love to keep me warm.’

He was measuring the distance between them. He was, Annis thought, going to come over. She was aware of a little flutter under the breastbone. She knew exactly what it was: the plain girl bracing herself for yet another encounter with a man who was going to look straight through her.

Well, that was all right, wasn’t it? She hadn’t liked it when he did not look straight through her, propping himself against the wall and laughing at her. No, of course she hadn’t liked it, Annis answered herself. That didn’t mean that she wanted to be reminded that no man would see her beside beautiful Bella.

With an effort she brought her attention back to her stepsister.

‘Lucky you,’ she said sincerely.

‘Well, it’s early days, but—’ And Bella crossed her fingers for luck.

‘You’ll be fine.’

And she would. Bella skipped from love affair to love affair, delightful, delighted and ultimately uninvolved. Annis, who took a long time to get into a love affair and even longer to get out, could only admire her. Bella launched into each one with total passion. Then, when the passion ran out, she detached herself with skill and kindness and, as far as Annis could see, no injuries at all, not even to the male ego.