HIGH TIDE AT MIDNIGHT (18 page)

'I reckon Mr Nick knows where he's to, better'n you or I,' Inez said serenely.

'You let him bide, my dear, and give heed to yourself. You've got something

different to put on than .they old trousers, I hope. Miss Karen'll be here

tonight and she always comes dressed up like Lady Fan Todd.'

'I've got a long skirt,' Morwenna admitted weakly, wondering why she did

not deny any wish to compete with Karen on any level.

"That'll do,' said Inez. 'And watch what you'm doing with that knife. You're

about as 'andy as a cow with a musket.'

'I'm not that bad,' Morwenna protested. 'Look, I've got all this peel off in one

piece.' She held it up triumphantly.

'And most of the apple with it,' said Inez, unimpressed. 'Still, seeing as

you've done it, us might as well make use of it. Say the words after me, then

throw the peel over your left shoulder. "St Simon and St Jude, may I intrude

and tell me the name of my lover

'No.' Morwenna looked down at the length of unbroken peel in her fingers.

'No, I'd rather not.'

'Go along with you,' Inez urged robustly. ' 'Tes only an old bit of

superstition. It can't hurt you.'

'I suppose not,' Morwenna muttered, capitulating. But she felt ridiculously

nervous and self-conscious as she repeated the words of the old charm and

tossed the apple peel over her left shoulder.

'Dear life,' Inez remarked blankly, and Morwenna knew before she even

turned what initial letter the peel would have formed on the kitchen floor.

She steeled herself to laugh it away, but the smile froze on her lips as she

turned and saw Dominic standing silent in the kitchen doorway, the

betraying apple peel at his feet.

'Teaching our visitor old wives' tales, Inez?' he asked, his mouth curling

sardonically.

' 'Tes just an old custom, my dear, and where's the harm in that?'

'None.' He pushed the peel aside with the toe of his shoe. 'As long as no one

makes the mistake of taking it seriously.'

Morwenna would have given anything she possessed to prevent that

all-too-betraying blush from spreading over her face, but it was beyond her

control. She swallowed as she rose to her feet. 'I'll clear that mess away,' she

began, but he cut sharply across her words.

'Leave it, Miss Kerslake. Inez will see to it. I'd like a word with you in

private.'

She walked stiffly after him, wiping her sticky hands unobtrusively down

her jeans like a naughty child.

'Is something wrong?' she asked haltingly as he led the way into the study

and closed the door behind them.

'Do you know why my uncle has taken it into his head to dine downstairs

tonight?' He was frowning.

She shook her head. 'Does there have to be any particular reason?' she asked

lamely.

He sent her a narrow-eyed look. 'Everything Nick says or does these days

seems to have the same basic motivation,' he said coldly. 'He seems

determined to re-open old wounds, and I'm quite aware whom we have to

thank for that.'

She moistened her lips. 'I think you overestimate my influence, Mr

Trevennon.'

'I don't.' His eyes were fixed on her face. 'Oh, I acquit you of any desire to

become an old man's darling, but the charge of being obsessively

single-minded about gaining your own ends still stands.'She wanted to tell

him then that it was no longer she was that single-minded. That if it was left

to her, she would go no further with her attempt to clear her mother's name.

Laura herself would not have cared, she thought achingly. Her generous

affection would have wanted Nick's happiness, whatever the cost. She had

expected him to be happy. Perhaps even then she had suspected that once

she was out of the way, he and Barbie Inglis would arrive at an

understanding then undreamed of.

'I don't think you understand,' she began, but he interrupted remorselessly.

'I understand only too well. You're quite determined to drag this whole mess

out into the open once again, and you don't care who you may hurt in the

process.'

Karen Inglis? she wondered. Was that whom his concern was for? Any sort

of disgrace to her aunt would be bound to affect her even peripherally. She

felt her face stiffen.

'There's nothing I can do,' she said quietly.

His laugh was short and harsh. 'All that golden innocence and charm on the

surface, and complete and utter ruthlessness underneath, my Lady

Morwenna.'

'Please don't call me that.'

'Why not?' He raised his eyebrows. 'She was ruthless too, in her own way,

and look where it led her.' He walked over to her, so close that their bodies

were almost touching, and looked down at her. 'Morwenna,' his voice was

low and it tingled across her senses. But he wasn't making love, he was

making war, and she must never let herself forget that.: 'Give this thing up

now. I'm asking you.'

She could feel the power emanating from him, a sensual dynamic power that

turned her bones to water and which he was using deliberately to bend her to

his will. But it was not her decision, it was Nick's, and she wasn't even

certain how much he wanted Dominic to know, if anything. If he wanted to

tell him, wouldn't he have been in his confidence already?

She whispered, 'I'm sorry.'

He did not move, but suddenly he was light years away from her. Then he

said very quietly, 'You will be.'

She turned away from him, biting her lip until she tasted blood. She walked

very calmly out of the room and shut the door behind her, then she ran like

the wind for the stairs and she did not stop running until she was safely in her

room. Then she lay across the bed, her fingers gripping the worn quilt, and

cried until she had no more tears left.

LATER, when she looked critically at herself in the mirror, there was no sign

of that storm of weeping. True, she was a little pale and her eyes looked

larger than usual, but that could be because of the cosmetics she had used.

She had twisted her hair into a soft coil on top of her head, allowing a few

soft tendrils to escape around her ears and the nape of her neck. Her skirt

was black velvet with contrasting panels embroidered in gold thread and she

wore a simple black silky top with a scooped neck. Around her slim throat

she tied a gold locket on a piece of black velvet ribbon. She looked good, she

thought. Not dramatic or sensational, but good.

The sitting room door was open as she approached the top of the stairs and

she could hear voices and laughter. So the evening's guests had arrived. She

walked slowly down, lifting her skirt carefully. Morwenna Trevennon, she

thought wryly, descending the stairs to face whatever wrath was to come.

They were all assembled, she realised as she stood in the doorway. She was

the last one down. She hadn't planned on making an entrance, but if one had

been thrust upon her she would make the most of it.

'Good evening," she said clearly and sweetly into a lull in the conversation.

'My dear child.' Nick smiled across the room at her from where he was

ensconced by the fire. 'What a picture you look! Dominic—someone—give

Morwenna some sherry.'

It was Mark who brought the glass to her. 'Wow!' he murmured under his

breath, his eyes travelling over her in undisguised appreciation. She laughed

back at him, lowering her eyes in mock demureness. This was the sort of

reaction she was used to and could cope with. It took her across the room on

Mark's arm to the sofa where Barbie Inglis was sitting. She was wearing

green, impeccably cut, but a harsh colour for her. Or was she just ultra-pale

that evening? Karen's dark beauty was triumphantly stated in flame coloured

chiffon. Lady Fan Todd, Morwenna thought, and the glimmer of a smile

caught at the corners of her mouth, making her look mysterious and

mischievous at the same moment. The conversation which had been at a

standstill since her appearance re-started with a jerk.

They had been discussing holidays, it seemed, past, present and to come.

Karen was in her element, as flame-like as the dress she was wearing,

overdoing the enthusiasms slightly perhaps, but who would notice that when

she was such a pleasure to watch. She was talking about surfing, arguing the

merits of the local beaches and comparing them with those of California

where she had spent a year. Of course, Morwenna thought cattily, and was

ashamed of herself. She had never surfed, so the talk was of little interest to

her. Nor to Nick, who sat shading his face from the heat of the fire, his eyes

hooded enigmatically. Looking at him, the proud head, the fine bones, she

knew what Dominic would be like as he grew old and the knowledge that

she would not be here to see it or share it with him slashed at her like a knife.

And she was not the only one who was silent. Beside her, Barbie Inglis sat as

if she was supported on invisible wires, her carefully applied lipstick turning

her mouth into a straight gash of crimson without humour or tenderness.

Morwenna felt her sense of compassion growing. Laura Kerslake had been

loved and cherished. She had been compensated a hundred times over for

any loss of affection slfe had suffered from her adopted family. But this

quiet tense woman sitting next to her had gained nothing from that

despairing act of spite. Even the happiness that could have been hers had

been denied her because of it.

She wanted suddenly, desperately to turn to her and take her arm and tell her

that they knew what she had done and that there was nothing, nothing to be

gained by concealment any longer, and put an end to this thing once and for

all, but she had no right. She had walked into the situation unknowingly, but

the protagonists were Nick and Barbie and they had to find their own

salvation.

She sipped her sherry. It was a good one, but it might as well have been gall

and wormwood, and there was a little pain throbbing dully in her temple.

She wanted to press her fingers against it, but when she looked up she saw

that Dominic was watching her and she could not afford to show any sign of

weakness, even a slight one like an incipient headache.

The meal was delicious. The dining room was lit by candles which

concealed the shabbiness, and emphasised the beauty of the polished table

and the old-fashioned silver, glowing thanks to Zack's unwilling

ministrations. Clear soup preceded the duck, which was followed by a

creamy syllabub.

Morwenna made a pretence of eating, but in reality she did little more than

push the food round her plate. Her throat felt tight suddenly and she was on

edge all the time, although she could not have explained why. It was like the

feeling that one got before a thunderstorm, she thought, that feeling of

tension that made one glad when lightning eventually ripped the sky apart

and cleared the air.

Nick was in his element, she noticed. Karen was no longer permitted to

monopolise the conversation, which had turned to purely local matters, and

had a frankly reminiscent flavour. Nick was turning to Barbie more and

more, destroying, the web of silence she seemed to have created about

herself, drawing her into the talk with shared memories and requests for her

opinion. And she was beginning perceptibly to relax. There was more colour

in her face, and she was beginning to smile naturally.

So in a way this made what happened next all the more startling. They had

finished dinner and were back in the sitting room having coffee. Inez had

brought in a trolley and Karervhad jumped up immediately and gone to it,

busying herself with the pouring out as if she was already the hostess. As she

might be, Morwenna reminded herself. She would hardly have taken so

much upon herself without some positive encouragement from Dominic.

When the cups had been handed round and Morwenna realised that hers was

still empty on the trolley, she decided not to say anything. Her headache was

getting worse and she did not want any coffee anyway. Karen was moving

over to Dominic, cup in hand. She was smiling, her head thrown back

provocatively, her voice lowered as she said something for his ears alone.

And perhaps he was smiling back with a look in his eyes that he kept for her

alone. Morwenna felt her nails dig into the palms of her hands and it took all

her self-control to stop herself from getting up and running out of the room.

But that might be what Karen wanted. She knew all the pressure

points—exactly when and how to make Morwenna feel a complete outsider.

The coffee was just a final pinprick.

Nick said gruffly, 'Karen, I think you've forgotten someone. Morwenna has

no coffee.'

All eyes were turned on her immediately and she felt herself flush and heard