A No Risk Affair

‘I promise I'll bring it back,’ he nodded, looking about the kitchen appreciatively, obviously liking the yellow and white decor in the tiny room, his gaze coming to rest on the obviously childish paintings she had pinned to the walls. ‘Your brother or sister must be a lot younger than you?’ he raised blond brows questioningly.

‘Andy is only five,’ she acknowledged noncommittally, handing him the cup of milk, her expectant stare clearly saying she wanted him to leave now.

‘I'm looking forward to a home-cooked meal,’ he told her by way of parting.

‘Don't look forward to it too much,’ Robyn warned with a grin. ‘I—My mother isn't the best cook in the world.’

‘After some of my own efforts in that direction anything will taste good,’ he assured her, not seeming to have noticed her slip.

He had disappeared into the adjoining cottage by the time she returned to the garden to finish hanging out the washing. Which was perhaps as well, because she had got to the twins clothes now, the numerous trousers, T-shirts and skirts obviously for more than one child. Sinclair Thornton would only have to glance over this way once some time during the day and he would realise the mistake he had made. Would he be amused or annoyed that she hadn't corrected him?

Oh well, it had only been a harmless joke. And if he was going to be their neighbour for the next few months he would have to learn to cope with that sort of thing, both Kim and Andy having inherited their mother's sense of fun.

Now that the early morning rush was over, the twins washed and dressed, their breakfasts cooked and eaten, and the two of them safely on board the bus that would take them to the school three miles away, she had time to get herself ready for work.

The denims and T-shirt were the first to go, replaced with one of the tailored skirts and a tan blouse she had bought herself for work. Then came her make-up, the shadings subdued, her lipgloss a deep plum colour, her cheeks lightly highlighted with blusher. And lastly came her hair. Released from the ribbon at her nape it flowed in a glorious red cascade down her back. But she didn't leave it in that style, knew that the loose coil on top of her head added to her maturity if it didn't help her look her twenty-four years.

Twenty-four, was that really all she was? Sometimes she felt twice that age, and at other times she wondered where all the years had gone to, the time seeming to have flown by since the twins were born. Married at eighteen, a mother—and more or less a grass-widow—at nineteen, divorced at only twenty-two, a lot had happened to her in the last six years. If she hadn't had the twins she didn't know how she would have coped with half of it. It was ironic, in the circumstances, that the two babies she loved more than anything else in the world had also been partly responsible, innocently, for most of what had happened after they were born. Although perhaps that wasn't quite true, it had been Brad's reaction to them that had been the cause of that.

She walked the mile and a half up to Bromptwood Hall, leaving her little car and the petrol she guarded so frugally, in the garage next to the cottage. She enjoyed the walk anyway, and she preferred to use what petrol she could afford to buy to take Kim and Andy out at the weekends. All three of them looked forward to and enjoyed these trips, and on warm days like this one her walk to work became a pleasure. She would think about the cold days when they arrived!

The office she occupied during the morning was next to the Colonel's study, the post already on her desk to be sorted and dealt with before lunch. In the afternoon she would become one of the guides for the tours around the historic house and gardens, enjoying that part of her work most of all, liking to talk to the people who visited, finding pleasure in showing them the grand old house.

Colonel Masters had married the daughter of the house, an only child, twenty-five years ago, and when his wife died eight years ago and the estate became expensive to run he had decided to open his doors to the public during the summer months, as a lot of other stately homes had been pressured into doing in recent years. It certainly didn't make him a fortune, but it kept him and his daughter Caroline in relative comfort, had also helped to send the latter to the exclusive school in Switzerland she had returned from only this summer.

If there were a black spot on Robyn's horizon it was the other girl. Spoilt and pampered all her life Caroline looked down on anyone who had to work for a living, treating most of the estate staff as inferior to herself, Robyn more so than most. She considered Robyn had been highly stupid to have got herself married and divorced to a man who hadn't even been able to give her a decent allowance after the divorce.

The younger girl sauntered into Robyn's office halfway through the morning, her dress made exclusively for her in London, her dark beauty emphasised by the delicate shade of blue. A deep admirer of the Princess of Wales—as were most women!—Caroline made it her business to have her clothes designed by the same people the Princess did. The fact that she was shorter and plumper than the Princess escaped her, as did the fact that she could never look quite as elegant as that famous lady, no matter what clothes she wore.

‘Daddy wants you to work late today,’ she told Robyn in a bored voice.

She heaved an inward sigh, knowing she was in for an argument. ‘The Colonel knows very well that I can't do that.’ She always finished promptly at three-fifteen so that she could be home in time to meet the twins off the school bus.

‘Because of those two brats of yours, I suppose,’ Caroline derided. ‘Can't they let themselves into the cottage for once?’

Dark brown eyes clashed with a callous blue. ‘No,’ Robyn replied emphatically.

‘Well, can't you get someone to sit with them until you get home?’ the younger girl was showing her impatience now.

Robyn eyed her with suspicion. ‘Why does your father want me to work late?’

Caroline shrugged. ‘There's a late party coming at three-thirty, and as you know it's Maggie's day off …’

She also knew that on the rare occasions that this happened the Colonel made alternative arrangements, ones that didn't include her working late; he had even taken the odd party around himself when necessary. The Colonel may not be the easiest man in the world to get on with but he did understand her home situation. ‘Your father told me he was going to ask you to take that party,’ she challenged.

Caroline's pretty face flushed her displeasure. ‘I have a hair appointment this afternoon.’

Robyn looked at the already perfectly styled dark hair. ‘You look just fine to me,’ she dismissed.

The younger girl gave her a scathing look. ‘And we all know how qualified you are to judge!’

She knew the other girl considered her casual clothes, light make-up, and unfashionably long hair excluded her from being able to talk with any authority on all three of them. And maybe they did, but she always knew what was in fashion nowadays—she only had to look at Caroline for that. It was strange really, there were only four years difference in their ages, and yet she felt so much older than the other girl, had found much more important things than fashion to fill and enrich her life.

‘Take your choice, Caroline,’ she shrugged. ‘Go down to the cottage and sit with the twins or take the party round.’ Her expression was widely innocent as she saw the other girl's look of horror at the mention of the twins.

‘Those little devils!’ Caroline gasped.

‘They love you too, Caroline,’ she drawled, knowing the dislike was mutual. Her exuberant offspring couldn't understand why Caroline refused to get down on the floor with them or go out in the garden and play in the dirt, pursuits their mother didn't seem to mind in the least. In fact, Robyn rather enjoyed playing with her children.

Irritation darkened the hard blue eyes. ‘The last time I called Kim laddered my tights by crawling all over me and Andy spilt orange juice all over my new dress.’

‘Both incidents were accidents,’ she defended, knowing that her children didn't have a vindictive bone in their bodies. ‘And it was only one little spot of orange juice, it sponged off quite easily.’

‘Luckily for you,’ Caroline snapped waspishly. ‘You don't exactly earn enough here to have replaced the dress, and I doubt Brad remembers to send your maintenance any more often than he used to.’

She flushed her resentment at the personal remark, knowing it was inevitable that people should be aware of her private business in the rural community that she had chosen to live in, also knowing that Caroline wasn't averse to using her knowledge when she felt like being particularly bitchy. ‘We manage,’ she bit out tautly.

Caroline smiled her pleasure at being able to pierce the shield of calmness that so irritated her. ‘My dear cousin never was a reliable husband,’ she mocked. ‘Was he?’ she taunted.

It wasn't difficult to imagine Brad and Caroline as being closely related. Brad may hide his selfish preoccupation with his own needs better than Caroline did, but the trait was there nonetheless. Brad was the son of the Colonel's sister, and it was the Colonel who had offered her and the twins the use of one of the estate cottages when she and Brad had first separated, claiming that family should stick together no matter what, that there had never been a divorce in the family. And for a while Brad had visited the three of them at the cottage, before even that trailed off. But the Colonel had insisted she and the twins stay on at the estate, had even given her the job as his own secretary. Not that she had ever felt part of the Masters family, but the job and cottage, were very welcome, especially when, as Caroline pointed out so maliciously, Brad was so remiss with monetary support for his children. For herself she didn't care, but for the twins she minded a great deal.

Not that any of that showed in her face as she looked up at Caroline. ‘He sends what he can when he can,’ she murmured stiffly.

‘Are you kidding?’ the younger girl scoffed. ‘He must earn a small fortune doing the job he does, and you don't see a penny of it!’

‘Caroline——’

‘I wouldn't let him get away with it,’ she declared haughtily. ‘Although how the two of you ever got married in the first place I'll never know!’ she added scornfully.

Robyn had often wondered about that herself since the separation and divorce, had come to the conclusion that it was her near hero-worship of Brad that had persuaded him to marry her. At the time she had been too much in love with him to realise how ill-suited they were. She had been eighteen to his twenty-eight, had found Brad exciting just to be with, had been wide-eyed and innocent about physical relationships, not having had a lover before Brad. The proof of that innocence had been her pregnancy only two months after their wedding! Brad had been furious at her stupidity, had taken it for granted that she would be responsible for any use of contraception between them. The rage he had flown into when he learnt he was to be a father had been only the first of many.

‘I don't believe this is any of your business, Caroline,’ she said distantly.

‘Maybe not,’ the younger girl shrugged. ‘But cousin-by-marriage or not, I am not looking after your two brats this afternoon.’

‘Kim and Andy are not brats——’

‘They're always into one scrape or another——’

‘That's just high spirits!’

‘Was it “high spirits” when they knocked over the Christmas tree last year?’

Robyn sighed. ‘It was an accident. Kim slipped on one of the rugs in the hall.’ And she could still remember her horror as the huge decorated tree had crashed down on her tiny daughter.

‘It was a mess,’ Caroline remembered disgustedly.

‘Maybe when you've given your father grandchildren of his own he'll stop feeling compelled to invite us to join your festivities,’ she derided.