Ordinary Girl, Society Groom. Natasha Oakley

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      And then it hit her. Like a sledgehammer powering through the air, it hit her.

      He didn’t believe her.

      The room around her felt hot, the air heavy with a mixture of cigarette smoke and perfume. Outside the open window the low hum of traffic and the occasional siren tore through the night sky.

      Jem Norland didn’t believe she was his stepfather’s natural daughter. He was looking down his supercilious nose as though she was something he’d stepped in. It was none of his business, nothing to do with him but he dared…he dared…

      She couldn’t even begin to put words to what she was feeling. Her anger was incandescent. How dared he question her? Her mother? Did he think her mother hadn’t known who’d fathered her baby?

      He wanted to know why she’d made contact now. She’d tell him. She’d make him feel so small he’d want to crawl beneath the skirting board. ‘Because I’ve only just realised how much it matters.’

      She saw the frown snap across his forehead.

      ‘When my mother died…There was a letter. Kept with her will.’ Eloise found it difficult to speak. Her anger choked her and her grief was still raw. Even now. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t go on.

      Images of that day. The policewomen who’d come to tell her. The long drive back home. The shock and the emptiness. And the sense of disbelief as she’d read the words her mother had written in her distinctive italic hand. A letter from the grave. The truth. At last.

      They’d been words her mum had hoped to say—one day. No dark premonition had made her put them down on paper. It was her usual, thoughtful care for the daughter she loved that had made her write it down and tuck it inside her will. Just in case.

      At first Eloise had been too busy to think clearly. There’d been a funeral to arrange—and pay for. A home to empty. Her life had changed in a single second and she’d ached for things to return to the way they’d been before—even though she’d known they couldn’t.

      It was much later that the anger had set in. Six years later. When she’d collected her mother’s meagre possessions from storage. A whole lifetime contained in two crates. When she’d really thought about the council-owned flat they’d called home. When she’d done that first Internet search and had seen a picture of Coldwaltham Abbey.

      Her father had let them struggle with nothing. Nothing.

      And then she’d re-read her mother’s letter. Amazingly, there’d been no bitterness. Her mum had loved her father, had believed in him right up to the moment she’d tucked the letter inside her will. Probably until the day she’d died.

      From that moment Eloise had felt a gnawing curiosity. That was why now. But how could a man like Jem Norland ever hope to understand even a tenth of what she was feeling? She wasn’t entirely sure she understood it herself.

      Eloise took a deep breath and tried again. ‘My mother was involved in a head-on collision. Six years ago. A lorry…’ Her voice faltered, tears blocking her throat. ‘The driver fell asleep at the wheel. She d-died. Instantly.’

      ‘I’m sorry.’

      Eloise sensed Jem move towards her. She stepped back, her hand raised to shield her. ‘It was a long time ago. You want to know why I waited until now?’ She didn’t wait for his answer, she continued relentlessly. ‘She never told me who my father was. It was a secret. She told no one. She put a letter—’

      ‘No one?’

      The anger flickered back in her eyes. ‘She must have been a pushover for your stepfather. She just disappeared quietly. Went off to have her baby by herself. Never asked for anything. Never tried to make contact. Never…’ Her voice broke on a sob. ‘My mother was worth a million of him. It was his loss.’

      CHAPTER TWO

      SHE turned abruptly and pushed her way through the throng of silk and chiffon-clad women with their attendant dinner-jacketed swains, her heart pounding with an anger she’d never experienced before.

      And sorrow. It had seeped into her bones. It permeated everything.

      Her letter hadn’t even reached the man her mother had loved. It had been passed around strangers. Her mother’s secret had been shared with all the people she’d tried to keep it from.

      Her own quiet, dignified request for answers, her need to understand what had happened, had been misconstrued. She felt violated and desperately hurt. Angry for herself—and for her mother.

      Eloise found the ladies’ cloakroom by pure instinct. She could hardly see for the tears burning behind her eyes. She pushed open the door and stepped down into the marble opulence.

      Thankfully it was empty. She stumbled forward and let the tap run cold for a second or two before splashing her face.

      He didn’t believe her. She’d never expected that. She’d spent so much time imagining what kind of response her letter would receive. She’d never imagined for a single second it would be met with blatant disbelief and never reach the man she’d intended it for.

      The door clicked open. Eloise glanced up at the two middle-aged women who paused in their conversation the minute they saw her. She forced herself to stand straight and calmly turned off the cold tap. She didn’t want their sympathy—or their questions.

      As soon as they’d passed Eloise covered her eyes with her hand. She needed to go home. Decide what she was going to do now. Cry.

      She needed to cry out the frustration and the anger. The sadness. The waste of it all.

      Cassie wouldn’t like it but she couldn’t risk speaking to Jem Norland again. Why did he think her mother had lied? How dared he think that? She brushed away an angry tear.

      The door at the end of the powder room clicked open. ‘Are you feeling unwell?’ one of ladies who’d passed earlier asked.

      Eloise spun round. ‘I’m fine. Sorry,’ she answered briskly. ‘I’m fine. Really.’ She made a show of checking her make-up in the lighted mirrors and adjusted the narrow straps of her evening gown before leaving the ladies’ room.

      The babble of conversation immediately hit her as a wall of sound. The heat was stifling and the air was full of heavy perfume. Eloise pulled a tired hand across her forehead, easing out the tension, and crossed the room towards her employer.

      ‘You look dreadful,’ Cassie remarked as soon as she joined her.

      Eloise let her breath out in a gentle, single stream. They were friends to a point, but Cassie wasn’t the kind of woman you could confide in.

      In fact, since her mother’s death she’d discovered she really didn’t have any friends she trusted in that way. Not for the things that were truly important, the things that touched your soul and defined your personality.

      ‘It’s nothing a good night’s sleep won’t cure,’ she lied. ‘I think I’ll go home, though.’

      Cassie’s mouth thinned. She didn’t like СКАЧАТЬ