Beaumont Brides Collection (25 page)

She turned a pair of expressionless eyes upon him. ‘Better?’ Better than what, she wondered.

‘I was just explaining that the noise of the band had given you headache. Did the brandy help?’

‘Brandy?’ Melanie was aghast. ‘The poor girl had a headache and you gave her brandy? I couldn’t think of anything worse.’

‘I don’t believe there is anything,’ Fizz agreed. ‘But Luke has already told me that he’s not cut out to be a nursemaid.’

He gave her a look that would have fried onions, before offering the shrug of a helpless male. ‘It seemed like a good idea at the time.’

‘It’s all right, Melanie, I didn’t drink it,’ Fizz reassured her. ‘I’m driving, you see.’

‘Well, can I get you an aspirin or something?’

‘Nothing. Thank you,’ she said, her conscience jabbing her painfully. ‘A liberal application of cold water was all I needed to clear my head.’

‘Very liberal. Your hair is damp,’ Claudia remarked, her eyes full of mischief.

‘And is it?’ Luke enquired. She turned to face him and their eyes clashed over Melanie’s head. Although the effort cost her dear, she raised one questioning brow. ‘Clear?’ he enquired.

‘Perfectly. There’s absolutely no chance of a relapse.’

His mouth tightened slightly, his eyes seemed suddenly colder than she remembered, but otherwise there was nothing to indicate that he had received her message loud and clear. But then with his arms full of Claudia he would scarcely notice her defection. And as if to confirm this he looked down and said, ‘Perhaps you’d like to dance, Claudia?’

Claudia glanced at Fizz, then back at Luke and with a little cat like smile she snuggled against him. ‘Love to, darling.’

‘But I thought you were desperate to talk to Fizz,’ Edward Beaumont, interrupted. ‘That’s why I was so late,’ he explained to his host. ‘She arrived just as I was leaving, but she was so desperate to see Fizz that I had to wait for her.’

‘Fizz isn’t going anywhere, Beau. And they’re playing my tune,’ Claudia said, with a husky laugh, as someone opened a door and the soft strains of Lady in Red filtered into the hall.

Beau. Fizz exchanged a look with her father.

Beau was the affectionate nickname that everyone in the theatre world used for her father, and when she was working with him Claudia naturally used it too. But he wouldn’t tolerate it at home, largely because she used it to rub in the fact that while she was a success in the family profession, Fizz was stuck in Broomhill running her tedious little radio station.

Despite the fact that she was all smiles and charm, her use of it now was tantamount to hoisting a storm warning. She had obviously heard about Melanie’s imminent arrival as part of the cast of “Holiday Bay” and she clearly wasn’t in any mood to tolerate it.

Melanie’s face betrayed her unease. ‘Do you think Claudia will mind working with me?’ she asked Fizz.

Edward roused himself from contemplation of Melanie’s face. ‘Why on earth would she mind? She’s glad enough of the work when there’s nothing else to be had.’

‘Oh, but she’s rather a grand actress. I saw her when she came to Australia last year.’ She smiled shyly at Edward Beaumont. ‘You too, of course. I thought you were both terribly good.’

‘Did you?’ Edward asked, thoughtfully. ‘Is your mother English?

‘She was,’ Melanie confirmed, a little sadly. ‘She died last year. How did you guess?’

‘The way you said “terribly good”. You don’t hear it much these days.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Will you two young ladies excuse me for a moment? I think I need a drink.’

‘And something to eat,’ Melanie exclaimed. ‘Giving a party is such hard work. I’m positively starving.’ She linked her arms through theirs and led them both into the drawing room.

‘Are you all right, Dad?’ Fizz asked, quietly, as Melanie led the way along the table, heaping food upon their plates.

‘Me? Absolutely fine. It was just something Melanie said reminded me of someone I once knew, that was all. Silly. It was years ago.’

She wasn’t shocked. Her father, after all, had never pretended to be a saint. That had been her mother’s role.

‘What happened?’

He shrugged. ‘Your mother’s accident. Poor woman-’ Fizz stopped him with a warning touch to his arm as Melanie reached the end of the table. ‘We lost touch. She moved on. Found someone else I suppose.’

He turned away as an acquaintance claimed his attention and she was left holding two plates of food that she didn’t want. Spotting Andy sulking in a corner, she took one of them across to him. He didn’t look as if he was enjoying himself any more than she was.

‘You’re an unlikely wallflower at a party, Andy, but since you’re not dancing would you help me out with one of these?’

He took the plate she proffered and gave Fizz a tentative smile. ‘Does this mean I’m forgiven for being an absolute heel earlier on?’

‘No. It means I’ve been lumbered with a spare plate.’ She gave him a look that betrayed her exasperation. ‘You’re handling this very badly, Andy. I know you’re not used to having to make much of an effort, but Melanie Brett isn’t your average girl.’ She no longer felt the slightest guilt in urging Andy to woo Melanie away from a man who was clearly capable of such brutal infidelity.

‘You’ve changed your tune,’ Andy said, with surprise. ‘Anyway Melanie’s been told by that pompous great -’ He managed to stop himself before using a word that Fizz’s expression told him he would regret. ‘She has been told to be a good little girl and play hostess to her guests. No dancing, no disappearing act. Not that he’s making the same sacrifice I notice.’

Fizz ignored this. Her own behaviour wouldn’t bear close scrutiny and she certainly had no wish to discuss Luke Devlin’s. ‘You know Andy, you could try using your imagination for a change.’

He gave her a long look. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’

Advice to the lovelorn. It would make a good programme. Letters, music and advice. Maybe she could start a new career as an agony aunt. With a sigh, she buried her impatience. This was all new territory for Andy.

‘You could try being a little less selfish. This is her party, so she can’t just waltz off and have a good time. She has to make sure everyone else is enjoying themselves, that no one is left on their own. But I’m sure she’d love to have your company, your help, particularly with some of the locals. They are simply dying to talk to her but don’t quite dare. Now Luke Devlin can hardly object to that, can he? And I’m sure that Melanie will be very grateful.’

‘How grateful?’

He was a slow learner. ‘If you’ll take my advice, Andy, for what it’s worth, don’t try and take it too fast.’

Andy grinned. ‘You mean I should invite her to tea with my dear old Mum?’

She shrugged. ‘Why not. It’s certainly original enough to tempt her.’

‘Is that what it’s going to take to woo you, Fizz?’ he asked.

‘I’m not in the market for wooing, Andy.’

He leaned across and kissed her cheek. ‘That’s a pity. You’ve a glow about you tonight. You haven’t been on the Thunderbolt have you?’

‘You’ve used up your ration of cheek for this month, Mr Gilbert. I’d go and find Melanie if I were you and give her a bit of moral support.’

She certainly wasn’t getting it from Luke. His entire attention was directed towards making sure that Claudia was having a good time.

She watched as he directed her down the buffet, offering her a taste of anything she was uncertain of from his own plate, laughing as she pulled a face at something she had nibbled from the end of his fork. As a performance it was beautifully judged.

It was extraordinary, Fizz thought. For a man who didn’t have a good word to say for the Beaumonts a week ago, he was certainly going out of his way to cultivate their company tonight.

Jealousy was an unpleasant emotion. But as Fizz watched her sister flirting with the ease of long practise and saw Luke Devlin responding, she knew the feeling that was twisting her stomach into knots could be nothing else. Jealousy.

It wouldn’t be so bad if the attraction had been genuine, but even before she had seen the newspaper clipping she suspected from his remarks that Luke had no great admiration for her sister. It could be, of course, that mutual respect had no place in his pursuit of women. It could be that he collected them in the same way he collected companies.

CHAPTER NINE

‘FIZZ?’ Andy took her arm, suddenly full of concern. ‘Look, Melanie can wait. Would you like to go and have a dance or something?’

‘What?’ A dance was the last thing she wanted, but she could hardly get up and run from the room, which was what she wanted to do more than anything in the world. But neither could she bear to go on sitting there, watching the pair of them. ‘Oh, a dance.’ She gladly abandoned her untouched plate and allowed Andy to lead her across the room. No one, least of all Luke Devlin, took the slightest bit of notice. Once in the hall, however, she let him go. ‘I don’t think I want to dance after all, Andy. Go and find Melanie. She needs someone to look after her more than I do,’ she said.

He hesitated, clearly torn. ‘Are you sure?’

She forced a smile. ‘Yes, of course. Don’t waste time arguing, just go.’ She gave him a little push back into the drawing room. ‘And if you see Dad will you tell him that I’ve gone home?’

She found her cloak, swung it around her shoulders and shivered as she stepped out into a freezing night. It had stopped snowing, she saw with relief. There was just a light frosting, like the sprinkle of icing sugar on a sponge. And the clouds had rolled inland leaving a frosty night bright with stars that threw a silver sheen across the quiet surface of the sea.

Behind her the noise of the party rose and fell, the thump of the band a solid under blanket of sound. Afraid that someone might have seen her, would come after her, she hurried across the ice-slicked gravel, the thin soles of her high-heeled shoes slipping treacherously as she found her way to her car in the darkness. By the time she tried to fit her key into the lock she was shivering so much that it took her several tries before she managed to finally open the door.

Once inside she made a determined effort to get a grip on herself. The car, in good working order despite its age, started immediately and taking enormous care manoeuvring around the dozens of cars parked along the drive, she made it without mishap to the road. The gritting lorries had already been out she was relieved to see and automatically switching on the radio she heard the late night presenter warning drivers to take care on the narrow lanes that might not be reached until morning.

That was her life, she reminded herself.

Her radio station, serving the community night and day. She had lost her head over a man once before. To risk it again over a man like Luke Devlin would be madness.

Her sister could have him, and welcome to him. And, as if to prove to herself that she didn’t care one way or the other, she didn’t go home, but headed her car towards the seafront and parked facing the sea. It was dark but for the navigation lights of ships passing in the distance and the reflection of the line of lamps that punctuated the elegant wrought iron railings of the pier.

At the far end, the pavilion lay like a ghost, reflecting the faint frosty starlight from its white domes.

Inside, the small night staff fortified with endless coffee and sandwiches would be keeping everything ticking over until dawn, monitoring the news bulletins from IRN, keeping the night owls fed with music and chat and she suddenly had a great longing to be there, with them.

She needed to remind herself that just a few days ago she had thought getting her wings singed in Luke Devlin’s flame was worth the sacrifice if it meant she could hang on to this. So she got out of her car and, because it was locked at night, used her key to let herself onto the pier. Then she walked its silent length, her dark cloak billowing around her ankles.

She arrived home just before six the next morning, preferring to stay with the night crew, sharing their coffee and their jokes rather than return to her empty flat and face her thoughts. But when the day crew began to arrive, giving her curious looks, she realised it was time to leave.

Someone had been there before her. Luke. She immediately recognised the handwriting on the envelope propped up against the front door. She picked up the envelope and the delicate bunch of snowdrops that lay beside it. She lifted them to her nose and caught the elusive scent of cold woodland, smiling despite herself at the thought of Luke Devlin out in the freezing night picking snowdrops for her. Tying them up with a piece of narrow white ribbon.

What on earth did he mean by it? She gently stroked the satin, pulling it between her finger and thumb as if it might give her some clue. It sprung back into a slight kink. She looked at it more closely, saw the faint telltale buckling where it had been threaded through eyelets and the smile abruptly left her face.

The ribbon wasn’t new. Well no. Where would a man get ribbon in the early hours of a Sunday morning? Easy. You raid your lover’s lingerie. A nightdress or petticoat. She couldn’t believe the nerve of the man. To tie up snowdrops of all things! A symbol of everything that was brave and pure.

She carried them into the kitchen and dumped flowers, ribbon, envelope straight into the pedal bin beneath the sink, letting the lid fall with a satisfyingly loud thunk. She didn’t want his flowers, she didn’t want to read his apology. If it was an apology.