Wealthy Australian, Secret Son. Margaret Way

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СКАЧАТЬ considered that carefully. “You might have, Christopher, when you were younger. But not now.”

      “No.” Christopher shook his blond head, as though his own opinion had been confirmed. “I don’t look like anyone, really,” he confided.

       Oh, yes, you do!

      Charlotte kept her head down, her heart fluttering wildly in her breast. Christopher’s face had changed as the baby softness had firmed and his features became more pronounced. Heredity. It was all so dangerous.

      It was Diane Rodgers who located Charlotte’s expensive sandals, then passed them to her in such a manner as to suggest a hurry-up. There was a faint accompanying glare as well. Charlotte bent to put her strappy sandals back on, then made an attempt to fix her hair. She felt totally disorientated. And there was Christopher, chattering away to Rohan as if he had known him all his young life. It almost broke her.

      “Here’s your hat, love.” A familiar face swam into view. Kathy Nolan—a good friend to her mother and a good friend to her. “It’s beautiful.”

      “Thank you, Kathy.” Charlotte took the picture hat in her hand.

      “Feeling better now, love?” Kathy Nolan was very fond of Charlotte.

      “Much better, thank you, Kathy. I’m so sorry I embarrassed you all. The heat got to me.”

      Kathy, a kindly woman, let that go. A beautiful breeze was keeping the temperature positively balmy. Charlotte had fainted because Rohan Costello was the last man in the universe she would have expected to buy the Marsdon mansion, Kathy reckoned. To tell the truth she felt a little freaked out herself. Rohan Costello, of all people! And didn’t he look marvellous! Always a handsome boy, the adult Rohan took her breath away. Many people in the Valley—herself and her husband certainly—had been unhappy when the Costellos had left after Rohan had completed his final year at secondary school. Later they had learned he was their top achiever. The highest category. No surprise.

      Poor Barbara had never made allowances for the ages of the other children when Mattie had drowned. It had been a terrible accident. With all the care in the world, accidents still happened. Yet Barbara had gone on a bitter, never-ending attack. So very sad! Loss took people in different ways. Bereft of her son, Barbara Marsdon had been in despair. That inner devastation had brought about the divorce. The marriage had been beyond repair. Barbara had told her she’d doubted her ability to be a good mother to Charlotte. She wasn’t functioning properly. That had been true enough. Charlotte was to remain with her father.

      Yet here was Rohan Costello, back in the Valley. Not only that, taking possession of Riverbend. Fact is far stranger than fiction, Kathy thought.

      Diane Rodgers, looking very glamorous in classic white, with a striking black and white creation on her head, spoke up. “Would you like me to help you back to the Lodge, Mrs Prescott? No trouble, I assure you.”

      At the sound of those precise tones, Christopher swung back. “Mummy has me,” he said, not rudely—he knew better than that—but he didn’t like the way the lady was speaking to his mother. It didn’t sound gentle and caring, like Mrs Nolan. It sounded more like teachers at his school when the kids weren’t on their best behaviour.

      “Wouldn’t you like to stay on, Christopher?” Rohan suggested. “I’m sure you have a friend with you. I’ll run your mother home.”

      Christopher considered that for a full minute. “I won’t stay if you don’t feel well, Mummy,” he said, his protective attitude on show. “Peter will be okay.”

      Charlotte rose to her feet, hoping she didn’t look as desperate as she felt. “Sweetheart, I don’t want you to bother about me. I don’t want anyone to bother about me. I’m fine.”

      “You’re sure of that, Charlie?” Morrissey laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

      “You mustn’t let me keep you, George.” Charlotte gave him a shaky smile. “I know you and Ruth will love wandering around the grounds. They’re in tip-top condition.”

      “That they are!” George Morrissey agreed. He turned back to the tall authoritative figure of the adult Rohan Costello. “I’d be delighted if you’d say hello to my wife, Rohan. She’d love to catch up.”

      “It would be a pleasure.” Rohan gave a slight inclination of his handsome dark head.

      The doctor lifted a hand in general farewell, then walked off towards the entrance hall.

      “You must allow me to run you back to the Lodge at least, Charlotte,” Rohan said, with a compelling undernote she couldn’t fail to miss. “I’ll make sure Chris gets home.”

      “Thank you, Rohan,” Christopher piped up. “Can’t take the helicopter, I suppose?” he joked, executing a full circle, arms outstretched. “Whump, whump, whump!”

      “Not that far.” Rohan returned the boy’s entrancing smile. “But I promise you a ride one day soon.”

      Christopher looked blown away. “Gee, that’s great! Wait until I tell Peter.”

      “Maybe Peter too,” Rohan said.

      “That’d be awesome! So where’s Grandpa?” Christopher suddenly asked of his mother. “Why didn’t he come into the house?”

      “He may well be outside, Christopher,” Rohan answered smoothly. “Why don’t you go and see? Your mother is safe with me.”

      “Is that all right, Mummy? I can go?” Christopher studied her face. His mother was so beautiful. The most beautiful mother in the world.

      “Of course you can, darling.” Charlotte summoned up a smile. “I want you to enjoy yourself.”

      “Thank you.” Christopher shifted his blue gaze back to Rohan. “It’s great to meet you, Rohan.” He put out his hand. Man to man.

      Rohan shook it gravely. “Great to meet you too, Christopher,” he responded. “At long last.”

      Many things in life changed. Some things never did.

      CHAPTER THREE

      THEY were quite alone. It was terrifying. Was she afraid of Rohan? That simply couldn’t be. But she was terrified of the emotions that must be raging through him. Terrified of the steel in him. Where had her beautiful white knight gone? A shudder ripped through her. This was a Rohan she had never seen.

      The village ladies had gone back outside, to enjoy the rest of the afternoon. Diane Rodgers had hovered, but Rohan had given her a taut smile and told her in his dark mellifluous voice to go and take a look at the roses. They were in magnificent full bloom. Ms Rodgers looked as though she had been planning something entirely different. One would have had to be blind to miss Ms Rodgers’s keen interest in Rohan. And who could blame her?

      The pulverising shock had not worn off. Nor would it for a long time. Now she felt an added trepidation, and—God help her—the old pounding excitement. He looked wonderful. Wonderful! The man who had loved her and whom she had loved in return.

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