Lynne Graham - Bittersweet Passion

Claire wished he would stop acting as if she was helpless and gave him a rueful look before saying, ‘I intend to make sure the money is divided up equally, Carter, and …’

‘I wouldn’t depend on that,’ Dane interrupted smoothly.

‘I was doing you a favour asking you to marry me!’ Carter was in the grip of an uncontrollable rage. ‘God only knows what’s in your background! I shouldn’t be surprised if you’ve laid a trap for Dane.’

‘Dane!’ Claire snapped in sudden dismay, recognising that flare of anger in Dane’s brilliant blue eyes and hastily stepping between the two men. ‘Just leave it, please. And let’s all have breakfast in peace.’

Carter slammed out of the room loudly enough to let her know what he thought of that suggestion.

‘I don’t know what the hell you got in the way for!’ Dane breathed. ‘That …’

‘That was precisely why I got in the way,’ she murmured unhappily. ‘There have been quite enough family divisions created over the past twenty-four hours.’

Neither Sandra nor Carter appeared for breakfast. Dane was deep in the newspaper when she got up to clear the table.

‘Can you be ready to leave by ten?’ he drawled casually.

She spun round. ‘Ten?’

‘I have a fairly busy itinerary, Claire, and you can’t have that much to pack,’ he replied impatiently. ‘I’ll phone Coverdale and tell him what’s happening. There’s no point in you staying up here any longer and we need to make arrangements. Aside of that, you could do with a shopping trip.’

The scornful glance which he spared her worn shirt-waister was revealing. For the barest of seconds she hated Dane. He pitied her. That’s why he was doing this: he felt sorry for her. Claire in her outdated, dowdy clothing with her unemployed boyfriend and her sob story. Very kitchen-sinky to someone like Dane with his glamorous looks and jet-setting background. ‘That won’t be necessary,’ she said stiffly.

He had already moved on to something else, she realised with his next remark. ‘You are still sure Max feels the same way as he did last year?’

Infuriated, her spine notched up another quarter inch. ‘Of course I am. Max writes to me every week without fail and I don’t know what you’re worried about, I’m not likely to cling. I’m completely capable of looking after myself.’

‘Sure you are,’ Dane agreed with tongue-in-cheek mockery.

Carter’s recriminations had been ugly, she reflected on her way upstairs. He had had little excuse for complaint when she was merely escaping the net he had cast for her. But Carter had been taken by surprise. He could never have expected this development. She wasn’t even entirely sure that she herself could accept that Dane had stepped in to save matters.

Her bedroom was drab and dismal like the house. Packing her few possessions took less than half an hour. Her jewellery box contained only three items. A signet ring she had long since outgrown, a locket with a broken chain and a bracelet—all gold and all gifts from Dane. Truth to tell, no one but Dane had ever given her the pretty feminine things that girls long for in their teens. The rest of the family had rarely bothered to acknowledge her existence. Was it any wonder he felt sorry for her? And perhaps there had been a sense of fellowship, too. She hadn’t fitted at Ranbury any better than he had, but she had conformed out of necessity.

Collecting her coat from the cloakroom, she left her cases at the foot of the stairs and went to find Maisie. She ought to be in by now. Maisie listened anxiously to Claire’s not very clear explanation, but her frown disappeared when she grasped that Claire was leaving with Dane. ‘You’ll be well looked after, then.’

Claire breathed in. ‘Maisie, I’m going to marry Dane and then …’ but she never got any further. The old lady’s faded eyes were suddenly suspiciously bright and she gave her a silent, vastly informative hug. Claire couldn’t bring herself to erase that delighted smile on Maisie’s face by adding the truth.

‘Oh dear!’ Maisie dabbed apologetically at her eyes, shaking her grey head. ‘He always kept an eye out for you, that young man. Even when you were little. You’ll be all right with Mr Dane. I can’t tell you how much happier I feel at the idea of you with a husband and a family and a home all of your own where you’ll be appreciated. He’s a very lucky man.’

Claire swallowed the lump in her throat. To listen to Maisie, she was a fit match for the highest in the land. ‘I’ll write,’ she promised. ‘And you’re not to worry about anything, do you hear me?’

‘Bless you, child. Sam and I were more worried for you,’ Maisie confided, blinking back tears. ‘But it’s right that you should be married, so I shouldn’t be acting up like this. Now, away with you.’

Claire was unaffectedly wiping her eyes when she joined Dane in the hall.

‘You’re very fond of each other,’ Dame remarked without any hint of Carter’s disapproval of such a bond.

Claire sniffed. ‘Yes, and I expect she’s feeling terribly hurt that she can’t be at the wedding but … well …’ Reflecting that it wasn’t going to be a real wedding as such, she subsided into awkward silence and she didn’t speak again until they were tucked in the luxurious rear seat of the limousine. Then she asked prosaically, ‘Where will I be staying in London?’

‘I’ll put you up in a hotel until we get everything sorted out.’

‘Oh.’

‘If I took you back to my apartment you’d be slightly de trop ,’ he extended drily. ‘I know you. You’d feel awkward.’

He had someone living with him, or at the very least a regular overnight guest, she translated, and nodded, trying to be as cool as he was about it. ‘I’ll pay you back,’ she said and glanced at him. ‘I mean, you do know I can’t settle any bills myself?’

‘I doubt if you’ll break the bank,’ he soothed with a lazy grin.

The car ferried them only as far as Teeside where they caught an inter-city flight to London. It was Claire’s first flight and, to her amusment, Dane seemed shaken by such deprivation. They were collected at Gatwick by another car which dropped them off at the Dorchester. After lunch in a lofty-ceilinged restaurant, she trailed in Dane’s wake to the reception desk, feeling murderously underdressed in her serviceable raincoat.

‘A … suite …?’ she whispered on the threshold as Dane tipped the porter. ‘A room would have done, Dane.’

A long finger flicked her cheekbone, his unsettling eyes softened. ‘Enjoy yourself, Claire. Hannah has made some appointments for you over the next couple of days. She should be over within the hour.’

‘Hannah?’

‘My social secretary. You’ll like her. She’s a nice lady, and Claire—’ Dane shut the door and wandered deeper into the room ‘—don’t worry about the money, and don’t talk about paying me back,’ he warned. ‘You’re family, and it’s a treat.’

‘Treats are for children,’ she argued, scarlet-faced.

His eyes cooled. ‘Don’t make yourself a problem,’ he advised. ‘If I have to take you to Paris and marry you, you’re not going to be dressed like an Oxfam reject. Now that’s blunt. But that’s the way it is.’

Claire all but cringed in front of him. The aching grittiness of tears washed her hurt eyes. He was even ashamed to be seen in public with her, used as he was to beautiful, perfectly groomed women.

Firm fingers tipped up her chin. ‘Do you think I’m blaming you? Adam didn’t give you enough money to feed the household, never mind spend anything on yourself. And if you don’t have a clue how to make the best of yourself, that’s not your fault when you had no other females around to advise you,’ he stressed. ‘But on the other hand, what sort of pride is it that says you have to stay this way when you don’t need to any more?’