The English Lord's Secret Son

“No.” Wyndham responded suavely.

“Cate works hard at everything she does,” said Hugh. “She has managed to build a very good relationship with a lady, Lady McCready actually, now in her mid-eighties, who owns a small but fabulous Whitsunday island called Isla Bella.”

“After one of Italy’s great gardens perhaps or simply a beautiful island?” he asked without looking at Cate.

“Lady McCready did confide she and her husband named their island after a trip to Italy,” Cate said. “They loved Italy and the wonderful gardens.”

Now he looked down his blade of a nose at her. “The island is for sale?”

“Could be. Could be,” Hugh broke in, somewhat puzzled by a certain tension in the atmosphere. He had an instinct for such things.

“You have doubts, Ms Hamilton?” Wyndham asked, his tone faintly brittle.

“Up to a point, yes. Lady McCready is very much against exploitation of her island. No boutique hotels for the rich and their … friends. Certainly no tourist destination. The island has been her home since the death of her husband. She would never be budged on an investment.”

Before Hugh could intervene Wyndham pre-empted him. “Let me make it quite clear, Ms Hamilton. It’s a private home I wish to build. A tropical retreat for me and my family. Hopefully a few friends will be allowed. I’m a very busy man. Occasionally I like getting away from it all. This is the first trip I’ve been able to make to Australia. I very much like what I see. The Great Barrier Reef is one of the great wonders of the world. I intend to see it while I’m here.”

“Wonderful!” Hugh said, giving Cate the beginnings of a sharpish look. “If you are seriously interested, perhaps Cate could contact Lady McCready. She trusts Cate, you see.”

For a fleeting instant Wyndham looked as though he wouldn’t trust her for a minute. “Perhaps we could discuss it over dinner this evening,” he suggested, as though formalising the matter, making it a business call.

“Cate?” Hugh prompted, his grey gaze turning faintly steely.

Hugh was as near to perturbed as she had seen him. Her behaviour, she knew, wasn’t being consistent. She always did what was expected. The intelligent, indeed the only, thing to do.

Her training took over. “Certainly, Lord Wyndham,” she said, demonstrating her loyalty to the firm. “That would be lovely. I could in the meantime see if I can contact Lady McCready.”

“With that happy thought in mind,” he said smoothly, “perhaps you can recommend a restaurant. You know Sydney. I don’t.”

“C’est Bon!” Cate and Hugh said together.

“I could pick you up at your hotel,” Cate said, trying hard to be charming for Hugh’s sake. “Shall we say eight o’clock?”

“Are you sure I couldn’t pick you up at your home?” Wyndham asked, a glitter in his sapphire eyes. “A limo has been put at my disposal.”

“It’s quite a drive,” said Cate quite untruthfully. “Really, Lord Wyndham, it suits me perfectly to pick you up. No trouble at all.”

“Well, that’s settled!” Hugh made the emphatic announcement while wondering at the same time what was going on. The fact Cate and Lord Wyndham were antagonistic hadn’t been lost on him. It wasn’t as though Wyndham didn’t approve of career women. He had caught the gleam of respect in his razor-sharp glance as Cate demonstrated her expertise. Perhaps they would settle down over dinner. He sincerely hoped so. This was a big deal for Inter-Austral. Wyndham was prepared to invest a heap of money. Obviously the man was massively rich. Cate was right: Queensland was emerging as the hot spot. The state had huge potential expanding on the back of the resources sector. Australia for that matter had one of the highest concentrations of wealth in the world: one super-rich individual per eight thousand or so as opposed to around thirty-seven thousand globally. Lord Wyndham had come to the right place.

Stella, an exceedingly observant woman, saw the upset in Cate’s face the moment she walked through the door. It was as still as a marble carving. “Cate, what’s up? Are you going to tell me?” Stella, whose whole background had been a gigantic puzzle, perversely demanded she know everything in Cate’s life. It had taken Cate many long years to realise Stella in her own quiet way was very controlling.

Cate put her expensive leather handbag down on the marble-topped console in the entrance hall, wondering how best to break the momentous news.

Stella took her silence for refusal and began to walk away, obviously offended.

Cate followed Stella, taking hold of her arm. “Where’s Jules?” she asked urgently.

Stella turned to stare at her. “Why, he’s in his bedroom playing the video game you bought him. He’s done his homework. Never have to tell him. He really is a remarkable child.”

“Come into the living room.” Cate kept her voice significantly lower. It was their favourite room, furnished with a mix of Asian and Western antiques. Three plush white leather sofas faced the magnificent view across the sparkling blue satin water to the Harbour Bridge and the Opera House. The wide covered deck to the rear was the only major structural change they had made. It had been worth every penny.

“So what is it, then?” Stella set a silk cushion aside as she continued to study the face of her adopted daughter. Both of them had kept Annabel’s secret and agreed they would continue to. Cate, however, had stopped calling Stella Mum. Whether she was aware of it or not she had never really thought of Stella as her mum. Jules called Stella Nan. Maybe it wasn’t going to stay that way, Cate thought with a funny little stab of premonition.

“Something extraordinary happened today,” she announced, collapsing beside Stella. “I have trouble even getting it out.”

“You might try,” Stella said, a formless anxiety starting to spread through her. “You’ve lost your job?” She squeezed her eyes shut. Cate lived such a high-powered life. She handled incredible sums of money. Could something have gone wrong? Big mistakes happened.

“That might have been easier.” Cate impatiently kicked off her high-heeled shoes. “I can’t put off telling you—”

“But you are, dear,” Stella stressed somewhat impatiently.

Cate had seen that coming. “All right! You have to know. Of all the men in the world—you’re not going to believe this, so steel yourself—Julian Carlisle, the present Baron Wyndham, walked into the boardroom this very morning.”

Stella threw up her arms as though she were going to dive into water. “For God’s sake!” Now she bent over as if in pain, winding her arms tight around her body like some form of shield.

“Exactly,” Cate seconded grimly. Since the revelation that Annabel was her mother, not Stella, Stella’s penchant for secrecy loomed large in Cate’s mind.

“Has he come in search of you?” Stella asked, as though sensing big trouble ahead. “Has he come in search of Jules?”

“How could he? He knows nothing about Jules.” Cate was sorry for the way the colour had faded out of Stella’s face. In her early fifties, Stella was still a fine-looking woman. She had kept her slim figure; her thick dark hair was stylishly cut. She had excellent skin and lovely dark eyes. There was no physical resemblance between aunt and niece. For that matter, Cate didn’t even resemble her biological mother, Annabel. Annabel never had confessed who Cate’s father was, but he had to have been blond with light eyes. “He doesn’t know Jules exists,” Cate said so harshly, she might have been willing it to remain so. “I’m certain he hasn’t found out anything in all these years. He had his own life then. He has it now. I’ve been no part of it. Probably a vaguely unpleasant memory.”

“You hardly came from the wrong side of the tracks,” Stella burst out indignantly. “I never did understand why you didn’t tell him about us.”

“My God, Stella, that’s good coming from you.” Cate couldn’t help ramming that point home. “How would I have known about us when you told me nothing? It was as if it was none of my business.”

Stella flushed. The truth was hard to take. “I was trying to protect you.”