Secret Reflection (17 page)

John?

She’d take it upstairs and see if he recognised it. If not, it would be a nice antique for Tom and Nancy to put on display, or perhaps sell, if authentication proved it a genuine antique.

Reaching further inside the cavity her hand came upon what felt like a book. Her heart tripped. Had she found it? So easily? She retrieved it very slowly and carefully. It was a book – bound in red calf leather.

Taking a deep breath, she said a silent prayer and opened it. On the marbled flyleaf she read in a sloping script:
John Charles Tarrant
. Below the name the years 1859, 1860 and 1861 were listed.

‘Omigod!’ she squealed as she began to skim a few pages. She hadn’t found Edward’s journal, but she had discovered John’s!

The grandfather clock beside the door chimed the half hour and she shrieked when she realised she’d been at it for so long. She’d become so covered in dust that she needed to shower and wash her hair, again, before going to the polo match and she had less than an hour to do it. Even though she would have much preferred to spend the day reading the journal, she knew she couldn’t disappoint Nancy and Tom – they’d seemed so excited at the idea of going to the match.

With great care she rewrapped the pocket-watch and then tucked both that and the book inside her sweater for the trip back to her room. Hastily, she righted the brick in its cavity, before sliding the board back in place and repacking the books on the shelves. She wasn’t certain she’d put them back where they belonged, but it would have to do for the moment. Once she’d read John’s journal she’d come back and continue her explorations where she’d left off.

Barnsley greeted her with an eagerness he didn’t show the first time. She’d barely stepped inside the front door when he begged to see the letter.

Kelly handed it across and was instantly forgotten as he pored over the parchment. She would have given him the watch and book as well, but she wanted to read the journal first, and she hoped to use the pocket-watch and kerchief in her cross examination of John, so she didn’t mention either find as yet.

‘I can’t stay,’ she said, ‘my hosts are waiting outside to take me to a polo match. Can I come by some time early next week and get your verdict?’

Without looking up, Barnsley said, ‘Yes, that would be fine. Come Tuesday … it is the quietest day. By then I should be able to give you a definitive answer on this.’ He lifted the page to catch the sunlight behind it. ‘Interesting,’ he murmured.

Kelly nodded, though he didn’t once look up. She let herself out, mentally arranging her next few days. If she returned here Tuesday, it would leave Monday free to venture into London and continue her investigations there. The documents she’d ordered would be ready, and she still had a long list of theatrical agencies to visit. That left ample time to read John’s diary, question him further and still search for Edward’s journal.

Amazed and enthralled at the speed and agility of both horse and rider, Kelly found herself cheering on the sideline along with her friends. She didn’t pretend to understand the rules, although by the end of three short periods of play, known as chukkas, she’d worked out that she would never play herself, and nor would her future children if she had anything to say about it. It was a rough sport. Richard appeared a very good horseman; skilled and aggressive, he didn’t seem to care if his opposite number was a man or a woman – he treated each with equally lethal contempt.

After the final chukka, they all retired to enjoy a civilised picnic on the beautiful grounds of the polo club. Richard was philosophical about his team’s loss of the pre-season competition, more intent on filling the champagne glasses and throwing meaningful glances Kelly’s way until she almost wanted to suggest to Nancy and Tom that it was past time they head back to Stanthorpe. The idea that the journal and pocket-watch were sitting waiting for her in her attaché case had kept her distracted for much of the afternoon.

As they sat on a blanket soaking up the sun, Kelly felt the fine hairs on her arms rise. Her eyes darted about the small crowd on the lawn nearby. She was being watched. She knew it as surely as she knew her own name, and it wasn’t Richard, though his solicitousness was really beginning to get on her nerves. No. This was someone else, someone who watched from a distance.

Taking care not to seem obvious, she studied the people crowded about the nearby marquee but for the life of her, she didn’t recognise anyone. Not that she expected to: she knew no one here except those of her own party. Still, the sensation persisted and she found herself scrutinising every person she saw. It reminded her of the last few months before the divorce. Though she hadn’t realised it at first, Frank had had an investigator track her every move in the hope of finding some kind of incriminating evidence that would allow him to appear innocent of any wrongdoing. When she hadn’t provided him with ammunition, he’d manufactured it by setting up a fake business meeting between Kelly and her former boyfriend, Jake Mullhall, in a very public restaurant where many of her colleagues dined.

Her teeth clenched as she remembered the scene. Frank burst in soon after they were seated, spitting accusations then playing the tragic cuckold to the hilt. It still made her feel sick. Not the accusations. Nor the break-up. Just the sense of futility she felt when nothing she could say or do would make any of those present believe anything other than what they thought they saw.

All those months of being followed had left her with a strange feeling of discomfort and her daily run-ins with her man in the mirror had only increased her paranoia.

When the feeling now made the hair at her nape bristle, she chided herself inwardly and accepted another glass of champagne from Richard. After all, who would be watching her here? Surely Frank had stopped having her tailed now the divorce was final.

‘You should call me “Rick”,’ Richard suggested to her as he leaned a little closer. ‘Richard is so formal and I’d like to think we’re becoming friends,’ he continued as he clinked his champagne flute against hers.

Kelly’s eyes darted up in time to catch the amused grin that Tom and Nancy exchanged.

‘I’ll try,’ Kelly returned with a half-hearted smile. ‘But you’ll have to pardon me if I forget. In my business whenever you meet someone new you make certain to attach the correct name to the face, so “Richard” is already imprinted on my brain.’

His lips thinned but he nodded his understanding.

‘Why don’t I take you all on a tour around the clubhouse?’ he suggested, once he’d drained his glass.

‘You guys go ahead,’ Nancy said, leaning back into Tom’s strong embrace, ‘I think I’ll just lounge here and enjoy the tranquility.’ A flock of very noisy birds took wing an instant later putting paid to her statement. Nancy giggled and batted a hand in the air, ‘Go – I’m too content to move.’

Kelly was forced to take the hand Richard offered as she tried to stand, but made certain to claim it back as soon as she stood upright. Whether Richard noticed her reticence she didn’t know, but he didn’t appear offended.

The clubhouse Tea Room was a quaint wooden affair with lots of windows and bright garden furniture. She was surprised it wasn’t more palatial when Richard mentioned that the Prince of Wales and his sons often played here, but the atmosphere seemed welcoming and friendly.

As they exited into the sunshine, Kelly’s peripheral vision was caught by what looked like a girl slipping out of sight around the corner that led to the parking area. For a moment, she recalled her run-in with Deanna. But then again, she really didn’t think that this was the sort of event Deanna would attend. From what she could gather, polo was very much a rich man’s sport.

Yet, as they walked away, she still couldn’t shake the sensation of being watched.

Taking her time, she covertly looked left and right, observing the little clusters of people that stood about. A sudden flash of insight made her focus on the men present, instead. Perhaps the actor who played John lurked somewhere? Maybe that was why she felt it so keenly.

Weaving through groups that surrounded the entrance to the marquee, Kelly was so intent on studying the faces nearby that she didn’t notice much else until something warm and damp suddenly slapped into her back.

‘Wha—?’ she spun about expecting to see Tom or Nancy standing behind her, grinning. Nobody stood there, but the overpowering stench of horse manure assailed her nostrils and when she looked down she saw the offending pat. ‘Who the hell …?’ she began.

For a split second Richard’s eyes hardened as he stared into the crowd beyond the marquee, then he quickly switched his attention back to her and smiled apologetically. ‘Problem with being around horses … accidents and all that. Here,’ he gripped the shoulders of her jacket to help her remove it, ‘the attendants in the powder room should have something that will fix this. I expect it’s not such an unusual occurrence around here.’

He led her back to the clubhouse where one of the waitresses came to the rescue with a packet of moist wipes. A little scrubbing and most of the smell had gone. She wadded up the jacket, tucked it under her arm and rejoined Richard whose expression was a study in restrained anger.

‘If you give me the jacket, I can have it cleaned properly,’ he offered.

‘No, that’s fine. I can just toss it into the machine at Stanthorpe. I don’t suppose you saw who threw it?’

Again his eyes narrowed momentarily but he shook his head. ‘Could have been anyone. Probably a child just larking about.’

She wasn’t sure she believed him, but then again, she could see no reason for him to lie about it. Her intuition suggested the girl she’d seen earlier was Deanna, and this incident was just another example of her jealousy over Richard. But she had no proof and she certainly couldn’t question Richard about it.

The champagne and sunshine had made them all pleasantly tired, and Kelly eagerly nodded when Nancy suggested they return to Stanthorpe for an evening siesta.

Thanking Richard for a wonderful afternoon, Nancy kissed his cheek when they reached the car. Next in line, Kelly smiled her appreciation but Richard gripped her shoulders and before she knew it he had kissed her gently on the lips. Startled, she looked up to find his blue eyes making promises she didn’t really want to know about.

‘I will come by at seven tomorrow evening to collect you for our dinner,’ he stated, before he backed away to allow her to open the car door. ‘I’m planning something truly spectacular.’

‘I’ll be ready,’ she said, though somehow she knew she wouldn’t be.

‘What was that all about, Dee?’

He knew she’d turn up sooner or later. After driving back to the coach house he opened another bottle of champagne and settled in front of the television to wait. She didn’t disappoint him. He hadn’t even finished his first glass.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ricky.’ She didn’t face him, instead she busied herself hanging up her coat, and then his, which he’d simply tossed over the back of the armchair when he’d arrived home.

‘You know exactly what I am talking about. You deliberately threw that manure at Kelly. Why?’

‘I did not!’ she spat petulantly. ‘But even if I had, which I didn’t, it would have been your fault. I saw the way you were cuddling up to her … giving her champagne and whispering in her ear.’ She studied him from beneath her lashes. Too young and inexperienced to be subtle, he always saw through her games.

‘You make too much of these things, Dee. C’m’ere.’ He opened his arms to her.

She hesitated only a second before she crossed the room, knelt on the couch and let him hold her.

‘I should spank you, you know. What you did was very naughty.’ He spoke to her like she was a twelve-year-old and she responded in kind.

‘Well you shouldn’t flirt with other women.’ She added a pout for effect. ‘Besides, she’s old.’

‘Old?’

‘Yes, old … and scrawny.’

Richard laughed. ‘I admit she is quite slim. But I don’t think she is much older than I am.’

‘Yes she is – at least by a few years … another woman can always tell these things.’

Again he laughed. His underage mistress was trying so hard to seem like a sophisticated woman of the world, when in fact she’d never even been as far as London. He had promised her several times that he would take her there as soon as she’d safely turned eighteen. But keeping her hidden out here in the country suited him. He had several other girlfriends in London, and if this was the way she behaved when he merely flirted, he couldn’t imagine what she’d get up to if she knew about Sigrid and Marlene. And he mustn’t forget the luscious Sonia.

‘Let’s forget about Kelly for now … what do you think, should we take a bubble bath in the spa?’

‘Ooh, yes, Ricky. I always
looooove
our bubble baths.’ She promptly stood and started peeling off her clothing. He felt his groin harden in an instant. She turned her back to him and shimmied out of her jeans. Her panties were bright green with pink polka-dots. He smiled to himself. There were times when he completely forgot she was so young, but the underpants were distinctly ‘teenage’.

As she peeled off her jumper, she half turned so he could get a good look at one full taut breast. When she dropped the woolen bundle to the floor, she blew him a kiss. ‘Aren’t you going to go and turn on the water?’ she asked, all innocence.

‘No way I’m going to miss this show,’ he said, reaching out to run a finger down her thigh. Heat surged up his spine when he saw a rash of goosebumps rise along her fair skin.

She hooked her thumbs in the top of her panties and slowly began to lower them. As she did, she bent before him, giving him a close-up view of her gently rounded buttocks and as she stepped out of them she parted her legs, letting him see all of her, red and moist and welcoming. Her scent flowed over him and, still seated in the chair, his jeans were suddenly way too tight.

The finger that had skimmed her thigh made its way back up the inside of her leg, slowing as he got closer to his target. She wriggled her bottom and giggled. He loved the way she enjoyed it so much – the teasing, whatever kinky ideas he came up with. Such a shame he’d have to give her up very soon.