Winter at Cray (5 page)

‘
I—I don
’
t think there
’
s anything illegal in using one
’
s maiden name
,’
she said slowly, hating the way here voice trembled.

‘
Didn
’
t you know she was married?
’
Diamond persisted, seemingly quite unworried that the man she was talking to was a journalist and that Louise was obviously hating every minute of her indiscretion.

‘
Should
I know, Mrs. Kincaid?
’
he countered, his eyes still on Louise so that she clasped her hands together in her lap to still their trembling, wondering if he was as ignorant of the facts as he affected to be.

Diamond had the bit between her teeth and she would not relinquish it readily, Louise realised despairingly.

‘
Oh, it was before my time, of course,
’
Diamond went on,
‘
but it was public knowledge at the time, I believe.
’

Louise wished desperately that he would take that disturbingly curious gaze off her for just a moment as she sat tight-lipped, hoping her self-control was equal to the call upon it.
‘
I don
’
t think this is either the time or the place, Diamond
,’
she began,
‘
Mr. Darrell doesn
’
t—
’

‘
Journalists
like
a good story
,’
Diamond insisted.
‘
Don
’
t you, Jonathan?
’

‘
Only if it
’
s printable and
still
a good story
,’
he told her.
‘
Is it, Miss Kincaid?
’

‘
Mrs. Dupont
,’
Diamond informed him sulkily, and Louise got up from her chair, her eyes bright with anger and humiliation.

‘
If you
’
ll excuse me
,’
she whispered,
‘
I have to get Robert to bed.
’
It was a poor excuse, she thought, and wished she had not been so obviously anxious to get away. It was ridiculous to get so upset about the past after all this time and it was annoying and spiteful of
Diamond to have brought up the subject, especially with someone as shrewd and obviously interested as Jonathan Darrell.

To her consternation, when she walked away he followed her across the room and she turned and stared at him enquiringly, her gaze anything but friendly.
‘
I have to go and do some work on what I
’
ve gathered so far,
’
he explained, undeterred by her frown.

‘I’m
sorry to disappoint you,
’
she told him, her voice cold and discouraging, she hoped, despite its quaver, and he smiled.

‘
‘I’m
not disappointed,
’
he declared,
‘
but I would be interested to know why you give me the cold shoulder when apparently you get on so well with Essie.
’

She dared not look at him, sure that she would see only amusement in the dark eyes if she did and sure that her anger would break out at the sight of it.
‘
I don
’
t like journalists,
’
she informed him, not without satisfaction at her own bluntness, but he merely laughed.

‘
Now there has to be a reason for that remark,
’
he mused,
‘
and I
’
ve a feeling that Mrs. Diamond Kincaid could provide it.
’

It was as frank a threat as it could be and she glanced at him sharply.
‘
You—
’

He shook his head, still smiling.
‘
Don
’
t worry,
’
he told her,
‘
everything comes to him who waits.
’

There was no time to demand his meaning, for they were level with Hector Kincaid, his great-grandson already half-asleep on his knee, but she turned her head for a moment, her blue eyes wide and vulnerable, as if she suspected he might mean more than he said.

Robert slid from the old man
’
s knee and took her hand, too shy to linger over his farewells; he merely called out a collective goodnight and walked out of the room holding her hand tightly.

She was surprised to find Jonathan Darrell still standing in the hall when they emerged from the sitting-room and she looked at him questioningly, cautious of the smile that sought to pacify her.

‘
I
’
m probably asking for another snub,
’
he told her, apparently undismayed at the prospect,
‘
but I
’
ve a small nephew about Robert
’
s age and when his father
’
s away I
’
m always expected to stand in at bedtime for the traditional ride upstairs.
Am
I speaking out of turn
?’

The offer, and the thought behind it, was so unexpected that she could only stare for a moment, then she shook her head slowly.
‘
It—it was very thoughtful of you,
’
she managed at last,
‘
but I
’
m not sure—
’

‘
What about it, Robert.?
’
He looked down at the boy and grinned.
‘
Would you like a pick-a-back upstairs
?’

Knowing her son
’
s reaction to most strangers, Louise waited for the inevitable shy shake of his head, and a quick tug at her hand to urge her away, but instead Robert surveyed the tall newcomer with mingled suspicion and interest in his eyes. Apparently he felt none of her own resentment.

‘
What
’
s a pick—pick—
’

‘
Pick-a-back,
’
he was informed with a grin.
‘
It
’
s a ride on my back, or even higher if you
’
re brave enough.
’

The little square chin, with its deep dimple, thrust out aggressively at the challenge.
‘
I
am
brave,
’
he declared, and Jonathan Darrell chuckled.

‘
Up you come, then
!’

Louise lent a hand, speechless not only with surprise but, she had to admit, dislike of the situation, for never before had her son been so uninhibited with a stranger. It was almost as if they had known each other for years and were good friends.

It was a simple, childish experience, Louise thought as she followed them upstairs, but one which was new to Robert, and his laughter shrilled above the deeper sound of his mount
’
s, making her more than ever uneasy. It was hot like Robert to take to someone so easily and the more disturbing because she herself disliked the man he was befriending.

She was briefly aware, from the
corner
of her eye, of Stephen leaving the sitting-room to stand below in the hall, but she was keeping her gaze anxiously on Robert for the moment and spared him no more than a hasty glance. He watched their progress with a frown and she bit her lip on the inevitable reproach she would have to face when they spoke again.

Upstairs, Robert fixed his dark, shiny eyes on his new friend
’
s face with evident delight.
‘
Will you give me a ride tomorrow night, too?
’
he asked, and Louise glanced up hastily to see what the reaction would be.

‘I’m
afraid not,
’
he was informed.
‘
Sorry, Robert, I shan
’
t be here.
’

Robert frowned his disappointment.
‘
Say goodnight,
’
Louise prompted,
‘
and thank you.
’

‘
Thank you,
’
he echoed obediently.
‘
Goo
’
night, Mr.—
’
He looked up at Louise for guidance.

‘
Mr. Darrell,
’
she supplied, and he frowned over
it.

‘
Mr. Dal.
’

‘
No. Darrell,
’
Louise corrected him gently.
‘
Mr. Darrell.
’

Jonathan Darrell put a large hand on the shock of black hair and shook his head understandingly.
‘
He
’
s had quite a few names to remember in the last twenty-four hours,
’
he said.
‘
Maybe something simpler like Jon would be better. If
you
’
ve
no objection, of course,
’
he added with a look that challenged her to argue.

‘
I—I don
’
t know
,
’
she demurred.
‘
It
’
s not very respectful from a child, is it
?
’
It was not altogether the lack of respect that worried her, she admitted to herself, but the added intimacy of using a Christian name.

‘
Oh, come on!
’
He might almost have guessed her reason for objecting.
‘
I
’
m used to being either Darrell or Jon, and respect doesn
’
t come with a handle, you know.
’

The hint of superiority in the correction angered her.
‘
Respect has to be earned,
’
she retorted, and flushed when he chuckled softly, bobbing his head in mock humility.

‘Y
es, ma
’
am.
’
He had probably meant only to tease her, but she chose to take it as sarcasm and lifted her chin, a warning glint in her eyes.

‘
Good
night,
Mr. Darrell.
’

‘
Goodnight, Mrs.—Dupont?
’

This time she knew he intended to bait her and she felt the hammering of the pulse in her temple as she met his gaze, her fingers tight on Robert
’
s shoulder.
‘
Miss Kincaid,
’
she insisted flatly,
‘
if you don
’
t mind.
’

She was aware that Robert was taking an undue interest in their conversation and sought to bring it to a close by half-turning away.

Jonathan Darrell shrugged his shoulders, his eyes disconcertingly steady.
‘
As you like, of course,
’
he agreed.
‘
Goodnight, Miss Kincaid.
’

Robert took matters into his own hands at that point.
‘
Goo
’
night, Jon,
’
he said, and Louise hustled him hastily into his room and closed the door. She resented the fact, unreasonably perhaps, that Jonathan Darrell had succeeded in disturbing the air of quiet tranquillity she had carefully built around herself in the past four and a half years. Also he had successfully breached Robert
’
s normally impregnable defences and in doing so made her realise that there was something missing from her son
’
s life.

She had never before admitted that a household of women was not the best environment for a small boy and now she had been forced to recognise it—worse, she had been baited into losing her temper to the point of rudeness.

The sooner Jonathan Darrell departed from Cray the better she would be pleased. Just the same she found it annoyingly difficult to erase the memory of that slow smile from her mind as she put Robert to bed.