Miranda Lee - Scandals And Secrets

‘Damian,’ she rebuked. ‘Get on with it!’

His hands dropped back to his sides and he sat up, a petulant expression on his too handsome face. ‘You always spoil my fun.’

‘Your idea of fun is not my idea of fun.’

‘Really? I always thought it was. I like a bit of young stuff myself.’

Celeste’s chin came up and she eyed her brother with distaste. ‘I’m going over to the house. I have other things I’d rather do than stand here freezing to death.’

‘What?’

‘What do you mean, what ?’

‘I mean what else have you got to do? After all, you haven’t found a new young stud to fill your leisure hours yet, have you? You know, Celeste, you never did tell me why you fired Gerry. I mean, I do realise it’s rather clichéd—and a tad tacky—for the rich lady employer to have her chauffeur perform extra services but he did seem well equipped for the job.’

Celeste was appalled at the fierce heat that raced up her neck and into her cheeks. Blushing had never been her style but her newly sensitised self was suddenly finding the picture she had painted of herself over the years not only embarrassing but almost obscene. When hadn’t she seen what she was doing? Where had her pride disappeared to? Clearly, her hatred of Byron and men in general had warped her so much that she didn’t care what anyone thought of her.

But suddenly, she did. Dear God, she did...

‘Well, well, well,’ Damian drawled. ‘Whatever did Gerry do? I would have thought he was a very straight young fellow. Did he try something a little more...adventurous? Is that it?’

‘Don’t be disgusting, Damian,’ she snapped. ‘I simply decided I didn’t need a chauffeur any longer.’

‘I see. So you have another gorgeous young hunk to tease Byron Whitmore with, do you?’

Celeste gasped before she could stop herself.

‘You thought I didn’t know?’ Damian’s smile was pure malice as he stood up and walked towards her. ‘Silly Celeste. Didn’t you know Irene always told me everything? I know all about your encounters with our dear sister’s husband. Whoops, half -sister. Though he wasn’t her husband the first time, was he? Merely her boyfriend.’

‘He was not,’ Celeste choked out, her head whirling with Damian’s disclosure. ‘Irene and Byron were not going out when I first met him. I was on work experience at Whitmore’s. She didn’t start going out with Byron till after I went back to boarding-school. I didn’t try to take Byron away from Irene. She took him away from me!’

‘And what of later, Celeste?’ Damian said in a low, smarmy voice. ‘He was her husband then, wasn’t he?’

Celeste closed her eyes and shuddered.

‘Yet you made love to him, didn’t you?’ Damian taunted softly. ‘You had to have him, no matter what...’

Celeste’s eyes opened, huge and haunted. ‘Yes,’ she confessed brokenly. ‘Yes...’

‘You callous bitch,’ he said with so much venom that Celeste was stunned.

She shook her head. ‘You don’t understand how it was.’

He laughed. ‘Oh, I understand only too well. We’re all tarred with the same brush. Irene... You... Me... We take after dear Papa, which makes us not good people to cross. We want what we want and God help anyone who gets in our way. You and Irene wanted the same man. A cat fight was inevitable, but the only one who came out on top was Byron. Literally.’

‘You’re disgusting!’

‘That’s the pot calling the kettle black, surely.’

‘It wasn’t like Irene said. I didn’t set out to seduce Byron. I didn’t set out to do anything !’ Anger that she was having to defend her morals to Damian, of all people, had her whirling away and dragging on the towelling robe that she’d brought with her. Flicking her hair over her shoulder, she turned back to face her brother with a steely expression on her face. ‘I do not wish to discuss what happened with Byron in the past. It’s dead and gone as Irene is dead and gone.’

‘Really, Celeste? Are you saying you don’t feel a thing for Byron any more, that he hasn’t been your silent sexual prey all along?’

Outrage at both Damian and her own stupid feelings rose in her breast. ‘I detest Byron Whitmore!’ she lashed out. ‘I wouldn’t let him touch me if he was the last man on earth!’

‘No kidding. Then it won’t bother you that he’s about to be married again.’

Celeste could no more stop the blood from leaving her face than she could the daggers of dismay that stabbed into her heart. She clutched the robe around her and did her level best not to sway on her feet, or look anything other than coldly indifferent. With a supreme effort of will, she somehow found a wry smile and a semblance of composure. ‘Is that so?’ she drawled. ‘And who’s the unlucky lady?’

Damian seemed disconcerted by her quick recovery. Clearly, he’d wanted to distress her, wanted to twist those daggers. His black eyes were still watchful on her, waiting for her to betray her feelings, but this only hardened Celeste’s resolve to keep them to herself. If she was stupid enough still to feel anything for that holier-than-thou hypocrite, then the last thing she was going to do was show it or admit it. That would betray everything that had sustained her all these years.

‘Her name is Catherine Gateshead,’ Damian informed her sourly.

‘And how did you come across this priceless information?’ Celeste thought her tone was perfect. Just a little sarcastic, and a lot bored.

‘A friend of hers told a friend of mine they were going to announce their engagement at Byron’s fiftieth birthday party last night. It seems they’ve been quite a hot item for quite some time.’

Celeste battled to control a whole host of reactions, not the least of which was shock at hearing Byron’s age. Fifty! He didn’t look fifty. Clearly, he wasn’t acting as though he was fifty, either, she thought bitterly. Still, he’d always been a highly sexed man and Irene had been dead for nearly a year.

‘And how old is this Catherine person?’ she asked as nonchalantly as she could manage.

Damian’s smirk suggested he’d picked up on her tension. ‘A good few years younger than you, dear sister. And smashing-looking, I’m told.’

Celeste threw her brother a savage look and he laughed.

‘Jealousy can be an ugly thing. Not that you’ve got anything to worry about, Celeste. No woman can hold a candle to you when you put your mind to it. I’ll never forget the look on that bastard Whitmore’s face when you swanned into the Regency ballroom recently in that dress. God, he couldn’t keep his eyes off you. Not that I blame him. That was some dress.’

Celeste cringed at the memory of the aforesaid dress. She hadn’t realised, till she was making her way down the centre of the ballroom and caught a glimpse of herself in one of the mirrored walls, how that dress looked from a distance. The skin-coloured material and tightly fitted style gave the illusion of nudity, the selected beading marking out a provocative outline around her nipples and crotch. Up close in the boutique, it had not looked so scandalously revealing. Still, under Byron’s critical gaze, she’d had no alternative but to carry off the outrageous outfit with panache or be left looking a fool.

‘It was perfectly obvious to anyone with a brain in their head,’ Damian was raving on, ‘that you’ve only got to click your fingers his way and he’d drop Catherine Whatsername as though she has a contagious disease. Alternatively, you could have some real fun and wait till he married the silly bitch, then move in for the ultimate kill. A married Byron seems to bring out your best hunting instincts.’

Celeste amazed herself by not reacting visibly to Damian’s crude and inflammatory remarks. Her expression remained remarkably cool, as was her laugh. ‘I think you’re confusing me with yourself, brother dear. You’re the one who’s always running after married people. I prefer my bed partners both single and decidedly younger than fifty. I don’t think Byron Whitmore fills the bill, do you?’