Prada And Prejudice. Katie Oliver

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      “He’s in his study, miss. Would you like a drink?”

      She’d like more than a drink, she’d like an entire bottle, thank you, and no need for a glass. But, “No thanks,” she said, and walked quickly to the end of the hall. Sir Richard stood before the window, his hands clasped behind his back.

      “Grandfather,” she said in a rush as she tossed her handbag aside, “I’m so glad you’re here. You’ll never believe what that awful Rhys Gordon’s done now!”

      He turned away from the window and fixed a rheumy eye on her. From his desk, he picked up a copy of the Daily Mail, held it up, and asked, “Has it anything to do with this?”

      A photograph was prominently featured on the cover. It was a long shot, and grainy, but it unmistakably showed Natalie standing on the pavement in front of her flat, pressed against Rhys with her arms looped around his neck. It was headlined, ‘Exclusive Photos! D&J Heiress Gives Gordon the Business’.

      She grabbed it from him, shocked. “What?!”

      “I read the papers every morning, and occasionally, I read the tabloids. Although today, I wish I hadn’t. You can imagine my dismay to see my granddaughter prominently displayed on the cover of this—” his lip curled in distaste “—publication.”

      Natalie hurled the tabloid aside. “This is all Rhys’s fault! He engineered all of this for publicity!”

      “Well, then,” Sir Richard said, “it seems he’s succeeded.”

      “Is that all you can say?” she demanded. “He’s using this fake affair nonsense to get Dashwood and James in the headlines! He’s using me as tabloid fodder! At the party, he pretended to help me, after I…when I…” She faltered, and bit her lip.

      “After you got drunk and threw your drink at him?” he said, his expression forbidding. “An action meant, if these stories are true, for that twit of a boyfriend of yours.”

      “Ex-boyfriend,” she murmured.

      “Natalie, sit down,” he commanded. “It’s time we talked.”

      Grandfather rarely issued commands, most especially not to her. This was serious, indeed. She sank without a word into one of the wing chairs facing his desk.

      “First of all, I know it was you Rhys referred to in the board meeting this morning,” he informed her. “It was you who treated him so shabbily. I know, because I asked you to cover for Mrs. Tuttle in the lingerie department last Saturday.”

      “I was hung over—” she began.

      “It doesn’t matter, Natalie,” he cut in sharply. “There’s no excuse for treating a customer – any customer – so poorly. I won’t have it.”

      “But he was insufferably rude—”

      “He was testing you. He wanted to see how you’d handle the situation. You failed miserably, by the way.”

      “It was sneaky, what he did!”

      “I may not care for his tactics, but his instincts are spot on. Nor does he avoid unpleasantness. Unlike you, Natalie, who’s avoided unpleasantness – and work – for two years.”

      “That’s not fair,” Natalie protested. “I worked. I did! Well, for a bit…but I wanted to be with Dominic instead.”

      “Ah, yes. Dominic.” Distaste was plain upon his face.

      “I thought…I was sure I was in love with him.”

      “Yes. So you followed him on tour, putting your own life on hold, and let him treat you like – pardon my vulgarity – shit.” He held up a hand as she protested. “Ever since you met him, you’ve drifted along like an unmoored ship. I allowed it, because I thought eventually you’d settle down…to something, or someone. But you haven’t. And now, this.”

      “I can explain—”

      “Can you indeed? Can you explain how Rhys Gordon ‘engineered’ this photo of you, pressing yourself against him with your arms round his neck?”

      Natalie blushed. “I was drunk, and furious at Dominic. But nothing happened. Rhys took me home, and left.”

      “Then you’re very lucky. I’m not so far past it that I don’t remember what young men can be like, especially when it comes to taking advantage of a situation. How fortunate for you that Mr. Gordon behaved like a gentleman.”

      Natalie hung her head.

      “Your mother called me earlier. Reporters and photographers are camped out in front of her house, ringing her telephone—”

      “I know. She left me four messages.”

      “Did it never occur to you to call her back?”

      “I couldn’t! I had a lunch meeting with Rhys and couldn’t check my messages until this afternoon.”

      Sir Richard regarded her, his expression unreadable. “I hate to say it, Natalie, but things can’t continue on as they are. You must either find employment, or settle down with a more suitable young man. I won’t allow you to throw your life away in this irresponsible manner any longer.”

      She looked at him in alarm. “What do you mean?”

      “You must learn to make your own way. You’ve been provided with an excellent education and every privilege a young woman could want. Natalie, I love you dearly. But I will not tolerate – or finance – your bohemian lifestyle any longer.”

      “But…how will I pay the rent on my flat without my quarterly allowance? Or put petrol in my car?”

      “You’ll find a job, I expect, like the rest of the world.” He paused. “You might even find that you like being useful.”

      Stiffly, Natalie stood and retrieved her handbag. It was unbearable to hear grandfather echoing Rhys’s own words. “I came here because I thought you’d understand. Instead, you’re telling me you’re cutting me off unless I find a job, or a husband. Have I got the gist of it?”

      “I dislike having to say these things as much as you dislike hearing them. But they must be said.”

      “I feel completely blindsided,” Natalie whispered, and her throat tightened. “Dominic’s dumped me, Caro’s getting married…everyone’s getting on with their lives, doing things, building careers. Moving on…and leaving me b-behind.”

      Sir Richard drew her into his arms and stroked her hair as she wept. “None of that, now. You have a lot to offer, Natalie, and it’s only yourself that’s holding you back. I know your father’s suicide gutted you. It was a terrible thing. He was my only son, you know.” He patted her back as she hiccupped out a sob. “But life – and business, unfortunately – continues. We must soldier on.”

      Natalie forced a watery smile and lifted her head. “You sound like the Queen.”

      “Dashwood and СКАЧАТЬ