A Husband's Price. Diana Hamilton

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СКАЧАТЬ felt suddenly nauseous. One shock too many, she supposed. The bank manager had used the intercom to ask someone called Joyce to bring through a tray of tea, leaning back in his chair then, steepling his fingers as he had continued—just as if she’d denied any knowledge of the Hallam Group—‘Quality hotels and leisure complexes; they don’t touch anything that’s run-of-the-mill or even marginally second-rate. It’s mainly a family-run company, as you probably know, and Harold Hallam was the majority shareholder. He died, oh, it must be a good twelve months ago and rumour has it his heir is about to expand, acquire new properties.’

      He had paused when the tea was brought through and poured, then had suggested, ‘If you could interest them in Farthings Hall and effect a quick sale, it would be better all round—a quick takeover by the Hallam Group would mean less time for the type of speculation that could agitate your father. I suggest you ask your solicitor to get in touch with them.’

      Useful advice, because only yesterday her solicitor had phoned to say that someone from the Hallam Group would be coming out to Farthings Hall to meet her this morning to discuss the possibility of a private sale.

      ‘Don’t commit yourself to anything. This new chief executive might be trying to show his board of directors what a smart operator he is. Remember, this will be an exploratory meeting only. The legal people can be brought in after the initial informal discussion between the principles. That’s the general idea, I believe.’

      That suited Claudia. And what suited her even more was David Ingram’s invitation to her father. They were near neighbours, had been friends since boyhood, and David had wanted to know how Guy felt about being picked up the next morning. After lunch, they could have a game of chess.

      Claudia had breathed a huge sigh of cowardly relief when her father had accepted the invitation. She could have her meeting with the Hallam man with her father none the wiser. Every day that passed without him having to learn the miserable truth was a bonus.

      And Rosie was out of the way, too, safely at school. Had she been at home, she would have wanted to be with her mummy, even though she loved Amy to pieces. Serious conversation with a bubbly, demanding five-and-a-bit-year-old was problematical to say the least.

      The trouble was, since the death of her daddy and Steppie—as Helen, her stepgrandmother, had preferred to be called—Rosie had become very clingy. Not that either of them had spent much time with the little girl, and both of them had developed the habit of absenting themselves if Rosie had been ill or just plain tiresome.

      Their deaths must have left a hole in the little girl’s life; one day they’d been around—in the background, but around—and the next they’d been blown away. But possibly the most traumatic thing had been her beloved grandpa’s illness and his subsequent need for lots of rest and quiet. Rosie probably couldn’t understand why her grandpa could no longer play those boisterous games she enjoyed or read to her for hours on end.

      Claudia sighed and heaved herself out of the bath. The Hallam man would be arriving in half an hour. She couldn’t remember if the solicitor had actually said his name. But it would be Mr Hallam. She definitely recalled him saying that her visitor was the deceased Harold Hallam’s heir. It would be his son. Her solicitor would surely have said, had the new chief executive gone under a name other than the family one.

      And what to wear? A simple grey linen suit with a cream silk blouse. Cool, businesslike, entirely suitable for a young widow.

      Her soft brown hair caught back into the nape of her neck with a mock-tortoiseshell clip, and with the merest suggestion of make-up, her mind played truant, sliding back to those photographs she’d been looking at on her return from her traumatic meeting with her bank manager. Particularly, the one of her.

      How she had changed. Still five feet seven inches, of course, but she’d lost all those lavish curves. After Rosie’s birth she’d fined down but now, since the traumas of the last few weeks, she looked positively scrawny. The Claudia in that old photograph had been a cheerful optimist, with laughing eyes and a beaming, open smile.

      The mirror image she scrutinised now was older, wiser, a bit of a cynic with an overlay of composure, a strength of will that practically defied anyone to mess with her. She was through with being anyone’s eager little doormat. She was twenty-four years old, the age Adam Weston had been when they’d first met. She looked and felt a great deal older.

      And another difference: the woman in the mirror was as good as bankrupt. The girl in the photograph had been quite a considerable heiress.

      And therein had lain the attraction, of course.

      She remembered with absolute and still painful clarity exactly how, over six years ago now, she had discovered that particular home truth.

      Helen had told her. Helen had been sitting on the edge of her bed, clad in brief scarlet satin panties and bra, looking absolutely furious, yet finding compassion as she grabbed Claudia’s hand and squeezed it.

      ‘And you know what that slimeball Adam Toerag Weston had the gall to say? I can still hardly believe it! He actually told me not to be miffed because he’d been messing about—as he so chivalrously put it—with you! Miffed—I ask you! As if I’d be interested in a loser like him! As if I’d have some furtive, sleazy affair with a jobless, homeless, penniless layabout when I’m married to a lovely, lovely man like your father! But this is the point, dearest—’

      Helen had released her hand with a final squeeze, reached for a scarlet satin robe and wrapped it around her body. ‘He actually said that he’d played up to you because you were quite an heiress. You’d agreed to marry him, or so he claimed, and, as his darling daughter’s husband, Guy wouldn’t object to keeping him in the manner to which he had always wanted to become accustomed—not if he didn’t want to alienate his darling daughter. I only hope, dearest, that you haven’t let him go too far with you, that you haven’t actually fallen for him, or anything stupid like that...’

      Claudia had closed her eyes to stop the hurt from showing. She had wanted to scream that it wasn’t true, that Adam loved her, loved her for herself, that he didn’t care about her father’s wealth, Farthings Hall, the land, all that stuff. But she had never lied to herself. And if the evidence of her own eyes hadn’t been enough there had been that conversation on the first date they’d ever had.

      It hadn’t been an accident that had found her in the vicinity of the old caravan at the back of the glasshouses about seven hours after she’d first been introduced to Adam. Or an accident that she had been wearing a pair of very brief shorts and her best sleeveless T-shirt. The crisp white garments had shown off her long and shapely legs and accentuated the honey-gold tan she’d managed to acquire.

      Her heart had been fluttering wildly as she’d approached the open caravan door, but she’d told herself not to be stupid. She, as his employer’s daughter, had the perfect excuse for being here.

      She could hear him moving about, whistling tunelessly beneath his breath, and before she could knock or call out he had appeared in the doorway, still wearing nothing but those threadbare cut-offs, a towel slung over one shoulder. Instead of the heavy working boots, he’d been sporting a pair of beat-up trainers.

      ‘Hello again.’ He’d smiled that smile. For several seconds Claudia hadn’t been able to speak. She’d felt her face go fiery red and had hoped quite desperately that he’d put it down to the heat, to the sun glinting off the roofs of the glasshouses, boiling down from a cloudless blue sky.

      ‘I...’ Agitatedly, she had pulled in a deep, deep breath. A huge mistake. Just looking at him, being on the receiving end of that deeply sexy СКАЧАТЬ