The Theotokis Inheritance (2 page)

Helena frowned briefly. How typically masculine! He had no problem with Isobel’s cherished belongings being handed over to complete strangers to ‘deal’ with, without a thought as to what everything had meant to the old lady. Well, Helena wasn’t having that. She had spent so many happy hours at Mulberry Court when she’d been growing up—had almost been like the child Isobel had never had.

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ she said. ‘I think that that part of the equation should be our responsibility alone, without the input of strangers.’

Oscar raised his eyebrows—more in surprise that Helena had voiced her opinion than what she’d actually said. He shrugged.

‘Well, yes, perhaps,’ he said reluctantly, accepting for the first time that they both had to agree on everything before any action could be taken. ‘But I’m afraid
my time here is very limited. I’m due back in Greece by the end of the month, though I expect to be in the London office until then.’ He paused. ‘What about your own commitments?’ he asked. ‘I remember Isobel mentioning that you live and work in London.’

Helena nodded. ‘I head the team at the Harcourt Employment Agency at the moment,’ she said, ‘but I have started looking for something else.’ She bit her lip. So far, she’d found nothing which offered anything comparable with her present salary, nor the lovely mews cottage she was renting as part of the deal.

‘You’re not happy there?’ Oscar asked briefly.

Helena paused before answering. ‘It’s just… just that I think it’s time for a change,’ she replied guardedly.

There was silence for a moment, then, ‘I could come back this weekend—if you’re free as well,’ Oscar said. ‘A couple of days should be enough to give us a clear picture of what has to be done.’

‘As it happens I am free, and it would be a start,’ Helena said, ‘but it’s bound to take some time, and we shouldn’t rush things.’ She paused. ‘I intend to take the matter very seriously—and do my utmost for Isobel… in her memory,’ she added.

She began walking across to where she’d parked her car, with Oscar following, and she opened her bag. ‘In the meantime,’ she said, ‘if you think you need to contact me, here’s my card.’

He glanced at it briefly, then withdrew his own from his wallet and handed it to her, and without even looking at it Helena slipped it into her bag.

‘I must get back,’ she said, glancing at her watch.
‘The roads are going to be a lot busier than they were this morning.’

He held open her door for her, and as she got in she looked up at him through the open window, wondering if she should apologize for the situation they’d found themselves in—the situation that he’d been landed in. But before a single word had formed on her lips, Helena checked herself. She had nothing to say sorry for. Isobel Theotokis had every right to dispose of her property in whichever way she wanted.

‘So—I’ll come back down on Friday night,’ she said, ‘and that’ll give us Saturday and Sunday to have a proper discussion and look over the house.’ She switched on the engine. ‘I’ll book myself a room locally,’ she added.

‘I’ll have to stay somewhere myself,’ he said casually, ‘so I’ll see to it. I’ll leave you a message to let you know the arrangements.’

‘Oh… OK. Fine. Thanks,’ Helena said, and with a brief wave of her hand she began driving slowly out of the car park, glancing in her rear-view mirror to see Oscar standing there, watching her go. She’d love to have been able to read his mind! So far he’d been cool, almost impassive, at their news, and once or twice she’d caught him staring at her with an inscrutable expression on his face. But it was good that there’d been no obvious sense of awkwardness between them, she thought, though there wasn’t much doubt that he was wishing he was now the sole owner of Mulberry Court.

As she began her journey back to London, Helena felt mightily relieved to be alone with her thoughts. She, Helena Kingston, had just been left a fortune, and
it was like winning a lottery she’d never entered. But was she prepared for such wealth? Her beloved father, a widower for many years, having lost his wife when Helena had been just ten, had left a very modest inheritance for his only child. Money which she had put aside for the day when she might need it for something special. And so far she never had, thanks to her successful career.

But quite apart from everything else—apart from even the amazing legacy she had just received—there was another problem she had to face: she and Oscar were going to have to spend time together again under totally bizarre circumstances. This wasn’t ten years ago when they’d both been young and carefree and so in love, something which had been so important then, but which would be utterly embarrassing to even mention now. Did he remember any of it? she wondered. Did he remember all the time they’d spent walking, talking, kissing and enjoying spending time with each other? How could either of them pretend it had never happened? Helena made a face to herself. If he did remember any of it, he’d also have to remember how he’d dumped her—but then, he’d probably dumped so many other women since, she was just another note on whatever mental record he kept of his love life.

As Oscar got into his own car, his feelings were in turmoil. Because it had given his emotions a huge and undeniable jolt to see Helena today.

His handsome brow creased into a frown and his hands, tense on the steering wheel, became pale under
his grip as he sat there for a few moments, deep in thought.

What had he done to her? What had he done to himself, to them both? Why had he allowed fate to rule their lives? Because when he had looked down into her wide, misty eyes, he was aware of his heart exploding into a million painful fragments of regret. The heart which had taken so long to heal had shattered again, renewing his sense of loss.

Over time, Oscar had managed to convince himself that he would probably never see Helena again. But he’d thought about her often enough, wondered who she’d married, how many beautiful children she might have. And while trying to concentrate on what was going on around them today, he’d automatically noted that there was no gold band on her ring finger and every male instinct he possessed had urged him to pull her up towards him, to enfold her, to taste her mouth again.

But he knew that would not have gone down very well. Why would she ever want him near her again? A nerve clenched in his strong jaw as his thoughts ran on.

Of course, it was not unexpected that he should be named as a beneficiary in his great-aunt’s will because he was now the only member of his generation left—he’d never had siblings and his two cousins had been killed in a multiple car crash. But although he’d always known that Isobel had been very fond of Helena, the will
had
taken him by surprise, he admitted. Not that he cared a jot about having to share the value involved; that was irrelevant. Great wealth had never interested him in a personal sense. It was only the continuing success
of the family firm that was important—ever since he’d realized that it was his destiny.

Destiny
. Oscar’s lip curled briefly. There was still one, more vital, personal expectation of him which he had so far not fulfilled. To find himself a suitable wife. And if his father—Georgios—had his wish, a wife from the rich Papadopoulos family, who had important financial ties with the Theotokis clan.

‘It is about time you married and settled down, Oscar,’ Giorgios frequently said. ‘A good Greek wife would be a wonderful support, a wonderful investment! Would bless you with many children! There are those two beautiful daughters just waiting for you to make up your mind! Either of them would make you a happy man! What is your problem?’

The ‘problem’ was, Oscar knew he did not love either Allegra or Callidora Papadopoulos, desirable though they were. And no other woman, yet, had made him want to commit to lifelong love and loyalty. Because when he did find such a woman—if she existed—that was how it must be. For ever. And Oscar knew he would never view any wife as an ‘investment’—as his father clearly did. Profit and loss were not part of the equation. Unconditional love was the only thing that mattered.

Now, straightening his shoulders, Oscar switched on the engine and prepared to drive away. For the foreseeable future he had a more immediate matter to resolve—the disposal of Mulberry Court and its contents. And it would be unavoidable that he and Helena would be spending a great deal of time together and that she was going to have to be consulted every step of the way.

* * *

Oscar had already decided which accommodation they’d be using and now, leaving Dorchester, he drove rapidly towards the Horseshoe Inn, an out-of-town up-market establishment a few miles away. It was small but well-appointed, and discreet—somewhere they could talk and get this business sorted without too many distractions. Vast hotels had never had any appeal for Oscar and he never used them if he could help it. And when in London he always used his private apartment, where he looked after himself and where this car—a favourite among the several others he owned—could be safely garaged.

Now, as the sleek grey Italian sports car took him swiftly to his destination, he remembered how confidently Helena had manoeuvred her own vehicle out of the overcrowded car park and he tilted one eyebrow thoughtfully. Her car was obviously not new, but in reasonable condition—and probably perfectly adequate for London use, he thought.

Although in recent years his aunt had often spoken of Helena—and always in glowing terms—he didn’t really know anything about her career. His eyes narrowed slightly as a thought struck him. Perhaps he could pay her off, give her far and away more than the combined value of the house and all its assets and leave the business of disposing of everything to him? Surely it would be tidier all round if just one of them was involved. Wouldn’t she find that far less hassle than having to spend time down here? Then he made a face to himself, discounting the thought almost at once. Helena—obviously very confident and self-assured—had given every indication that
she intended being full-on in the whole assignment. He groaned inwardly.
Aunt Isobel
, he thought,
I always loved you, but why have you done this to me?

A
FTER
a fairly tedious journey home, Helena made herself some toast and a mug of hot chocolate, then undressed and went into her bathroom for a shower. As the warm water began drenching her body and releasing the tension in her tired muscles, she kept reliving every moment of that incredible afternoon. Her life had changed! The world had changed! Well, it was certainly going to be different.

But Helena knew that all the formalities of the day, and the enormous significance of inheriting a fortune, were as nothing compared with the overpowering feelings she’d experienced at meeting Oscar again. Lifting her hair from the nape of her neck, she soaped her skin languidly, smoothing the sponge across her shoulders and down her arms, conscious that even thinking of him made her feel sensuous, dangerously sensitive. She remembered how her face had flamed crimson red as his brilliant dark eyes had bored into hers, how her pulse had raced, her tongue had dried as he’d stared down at her. She had wanted to look away, to escape from his entrapping gaze, but she hadn’t been able to. She’d been transfixed by his nearness, helpless beneath his scrutiny, and she’d wanted to scream out in protest
that she was no longer a young, inexperienced, naïve teenager! She’d grown up and moved far, far away from his sphere of influence! Her need for him had long since dissipated, had been replaced by all of life’s other imperatives, like standing on her own two feet, holding down a good job that earned her enough money to survive in London’s fast track world. And to make and keep friends, form relationships… to just
be
. Without
him
.

Yet now, it seemed, she was being forced to stand within his aura of light once again. But this time in a business capacity. How was she going to live through that?

Helena sighed as she reached for a towel, just thinking of business bringing her back down to earth and her present problems—the problems she’d been facing before today’s revelations. Her problems with relationships.

Her split with Mark had happened two months ago—unexpectedly and painfully. And the trouble was that she kept bumping into him with the new ‘love of his life’, as he’d described her, both of them looking blissfully happy. That was bad enough, but then almost at once Simon Harcourt had started getting amorous towards her. Lately his attentions had become so annoying that Helena felt she would have no alternative but to leave the job, soon. Even if it did mean having to give up the cottage that went with it.

What she’d really like to do, Helena thought savagely, was to emigrate and get right away from everyone she knew in London and live in a completely
different environment. Just until she got into calmer emotional waters.

Then, even as the unlikely thought of emigration crossed her mind, another amazing one struck her and she stared at her own reflection in the steamed-up mirror for a second. Could
Isobel
have given her an unexpected lifeline, an escape? Could such an impossible, fleeting idea work?

If she were to go and stay—well, live—just for a short time at Mulberry Court, she could reassess things and take stock of her situation. For the first time she would be in her very own home—well, partly her very own home—and find some peace to really recover from the emotional switchback she’d been riding lately. It would make it easy to give Simon her notice because she could tell him, quite truthfully, that her circumstances had changed and that for the next year she was needed in Dorset.

A wave of excitement swept over Helena as she considered all this. It really could be a temporary answer, she thought. She had enough money saved to pay for her immediate needs and anyway there was sure to be temping work she could find in Dorchester when she needed to.

She bit her lip thoughtfully. The big question was—what would Oscar think of her taking up residence, even temporary residence? Would he be agreeable to that? Wouldn’t he think it opportunistic of her… or even inappropriate?

Presently, as she slipped into her nightdress, her mobile beeped, indicating a text message from Oscar:
‘Horseshoe Inn bkd wk end. Meet Fri nt O.’

Helena snapped the phone shut, wondering where he was now. What was he doing, and was he thinking about her at all? Was he feeling as confused about the afternoon’s bombshell as she was? No, of course he wasn’t, on either count, she decided at once. This would be a pretty insignificant affair to him, just another small and inconvenient detail in his important life which had to be sorted out. And everything in his attitude towards her had suggested that she, Helena Kingston, was merely part of that unwelcome inconvenience.

She slid gratefully into bed and pulled the duvet up around her shoulders, wondering whether she’d ever be able to get any sleep. She wished she had someone close that she could share her news with, a brother or a sister—it was far too late to ring her best friend, Anna. But still, she was used to steering her own way through life’s sometimes turbulent waters without anyone’s hand to hold on to. And she was certainly not going to let this particular tsunami sweep her under the waves.

Snuggling down, she tried to shut everything from her mind, to calm herself into believing that it would all seem straightforward in the morning. But how could it? Because behind her closed lids all she could see were Oscar’s intense black eyes in their pools of startling white, gazing at her with that heart-stopping expression that had always sent shivers down her spine.

On Friday evening, Helena had no trouble in finding the Horseshoe Inn, though it was unknown to her. Situated on a private road and nestling amongst trees,
the Grade II listed building backed on to open country, and after her long drive it looked like heaven.

Inside, the tall, bearded man standing in the small reception area by the crowded bar smiled at her enquiringly. ‘Hi there,’ he said. ‘I’m Adam—can I help?’

‘I believe accommodation has been booked for me for a couple of nights,’ Helena said. ‘I’m Helena Kingston.’

‘Of course—yes.’ The man glanced at the huge calendar in front of him. ‘Room numbers two and five have been allocated, one for Mr Theotokis and one for yourself,’ he said, smiling again. He paused. ‘Would you like something to drink before I show you to your room? The chef’s on duty until midnight if you’d like a meal,’ he added.

Immediately, Helena felt completely at ease. The inn had a sophisticated air, yet was welcoming and reassuring, its ambience the sort she imagined Oscar would approve of—though what his opinions, likes and dislikes were she actually had no idea of at all. Not now, not any more. But, hopefully, they might have just enough in their shared pasts to make this unlooked for alliance reasonably pleasant. Helena certainly hoped so, even though his reaction to the news had been slightly ambivalent.

‘I’d love a pot of tea in about ten minutes, and perhaps a sandwich?’ Helena said, glancing over to the lively-looking restaurant area at the far end. She picked up the small case she’d brought with her, then hesitated. ‘Is Mr Theotokis about?’

‘Haven’t seen him—and he hasn’t booked in yet,’ Adam said, taking a key from one of the pegs on
the wall. ‘Let me show you the way,’ he said, taking Helena’s case from her.

Her charmingly rustic bedroom with every conceivable mod con was going to suit her very well, Helena thought as she looked around her. She’d be quite happy to stay here for a couple of nights. Sitting on the edge of the huge double bed for a moment, she glanced at her watch. It was getting late and she’d imagined Oscar to have been here by now, and she wasn’t sure what to do next. Would he expect her to wait around for him until he turned up, or could she go to bed after she’d had her tea?

At that exact moment her mobile rang. It was Oscar. ‘Helena, I’m sorry to be this late,’ he said. Then, ‘I take it you found the place OK?’

‘I did, and my room is excellent—thanks.’

There was a pause. ‘I’m not far away, so I should arrive in twenty minutes or so.’

‘Shall I… Would you like me to order something for you?’ Helena asked. ‘I’m told the chef’s still on duty.’

‘You can order me a whisky—but nothing to eat, thanks,’ Oscar said, and without another word he rang off.

By the time he arrived almost half an hour later, Helena had eaten the sandwiches she’d ordered for herself, and was sitting in a quiet corner of the still busy bar with her glass of wine and Oscar’s whisky already on the table. He came straight over and sat down opposite her.

‘Hi,’ he said briefly, then picked up his glass and took a generous swallow. ‘
You
obviously got here with no difficulty,’ he said, sitting down, and feeling fleetingly
pleased to be with someone he knew—or knew once. And she was looking good—amazing, in fact—in her jeans and striped sweater, her hair tied back in a long ponytail.

Helena couldn’t help noting the dark expression on his features, and an uncomfortable chill ran through her. He was obviously thoroughly annoyed at being so late, she thought—or maybe he wasn’t appreciating having to be here at all—with her. Helena’s spirits sank at the thought of what lay ahead of them, of how he might view everything to do with their shared legacy. And, now that he’d had time to mull it over, how he was viewing her significant presence in the whole affair. Was he going to expect her to meekly see his point of view—to kowtow just because of who he was? And would she ever have the nerve to put her suggestion to him about staying at the house? He certainly didn’t seem in a particularly positive mood at the moment, she thought.

‘Anyway, it’s rather late for us to discuss anything tonight,’ he said briefly. ‘So we’ll have an early breakfast in the morning, then spend the rest of the day at Mulberry Court and catalogue all the items that need disposing of.’ He took another drink. ‘The quicker we make a start, the better.’

Helena finished her wine and picked up her bag. ‘I’m aware that you have a very busy life, Oscar,’ she said firmly, ‘but…’ She paused. ‘I would really like to spend some time just looking around Isobel’s home, revisiting something of my past, perhaps,’ she said. ‘I knew Mulberry Court so well when I was growing up, but it is such a long time since I was there—I wasn’t even
able to make the funeral—which upset me a lot. And Isobel’s death was so sudden—so totally unexpected.’ She paused.

‘Yes, I thought you’d been forgotten,’ Oscar said, ‘that your name had somehow been omitted from the long list of my aunt’s friends and acquaintances who would have been informed of her death.’

‘No, I wasn’t forgotten—and I did explain later, with my apologies,’ Helena said carefully. ‘I was actually ill in bed with a horrendous attack of flu,’ she added, surprised that her attendance at what would have been a very crowded occasion had been missed by anyone—especially Isobel’s ambitious great-nephew. She stood up.

‘Well, then, I’ll see you in the morning,’ she said, and Oscar stood as well, looking down at her briefly.

‘Yes, and tomorrow you can have your little trip down memory lane,’ he said obliquely.

After she’d gone, Oscar bought himself another whisky and sat back down, relieved that the golden liquid was beginning to calm him, bringing him back to normal. The reason behind his lateness had been an accident that had shaken him up quite badly. In all the countless hours of driving he’d done, he’d never been caught up in anything like it—and he hoped he never would again. One of the first on the scene, and having to rescue two young kids from the back of a car that had seemed ready to burst into flames, had been a shattering experience. But the emergency services had arrived in an impressively short time and had been fulsome in their praise of Oscar’s quick thinking—which, when he thought about it now, had been purely instinctive.
He drank quickly again. It was a miracle that no one had been killed or badly hurt, though the young mother who’d been driving had clearly been in deep shock. Thank God he’d been there at just the right moment to be of some use.

After a while, his thoughts turned to his reasons for being here. In the few days which had elapsed since the reading of the will, he’d had time to think things over and had to accept that its contents—and instructions—were hardly Helena’s fault. But one thing was certain—it was going to be a major inconvenience for both of them. Though, from what she had said just now, she was going to take her time. Well, if there was too much procrastination he’d have to hurry her up a bit, he decided.

He fingered his glass thoughtfully, that other idea occurring to him again. Could he get her to agree to sell him her share straight away? She might be glad of some quick money—living in London was expensive, and she could certainly do with a new car.

He drained his glass and went over to the bar for the key to his room. Adam looked up and smiled. ‘Everything all right, Mr Theotokis?’ he asked.

‘I certainly hope it’s going to be,’ Oscar said enigmatically.

‘No, no,
no
! You can’t do this to me… it isn’t fair! You
shan’t
have them… you can have the house, you can have everything… but these are mine! Isobel promised!’ And then a low, pitiful scream followed as the figurines fell to the floor and shattered into a thousand pieces. Helena sat bolt upright in bed, putting her hand to her
mouth. Had she screamed out loud just then—had anyone heard her? That was one of the most awful, vivid dreams she’d ever had in her life. But this dream—this nightmare—had been so strong it had actually felt physical. She had felt Oscar’s hands holding hers in an iron grip as they’d both struggled for possession of the beautiful ornaments. Pushing and pulling each other like demented creatures. But Helena had been no match for his masculine strength and with that cry of despair she had released her hold and watched her precious figurines destroyed before her eyes.

As the early dawn light filtered in through the slightly parted curtains at the window, Helena allowed herself a shaky smile as she waited for her heart rate to return to normal. Thank goodness for dreams, she thought, because that was all they were—mythical wanderings of a half-awake mind. Her figurines were not smashed, they were still safely in their place at Mulberry Court, but could her dream have been a warning? she wondered. A warning to stand her ground with Isobel’s nephew and not let herself be intimidated by the fact that he was a true blood relative and she a complete outsider?