Act Of Betrayal

It occurred to her that she ought to warn Mrs Fraser that she wouldn’t be there for dinner. She didn’t want to add a charge of thoughtlessness to the crime sheet against her. And she could ’phone Alan at the same time.

The first errand was simple enough, but the second was more tricky. The ‘phone rang and rang, but there was no answer. She groaned silently as she replaced the receiver. She would have to try later.

When she got back to her room, Celia was stretched on the bed waiting for her. She was smiling, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and malice.

‘Well, sweetie, you’re quite a dark horse aren’t you—but rather silly to think you could ever keep such a delectable man all to yourself. It was just as well I was still in Switzerland while it was all going on, or I might have tried to steal him myself. And he wouldn’t have got away from me so easily.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘He could hardly believe we were cousins.’

Laura picked up her comb again, forcing suddenly nerveless fingers back to their former task. She said tonelessly, ‘Well, he wouldn’t be the first to find it amazing that we’re related.’

‘That’s true,’ Celia agreed limpidly. ‘But he’s by far the most interesting to date.’ She stretched like a little cat. ‘Poor Laura. It was being rather optimistic, sweetie, to think you could ever hold his interest for long.’

Laura’s fingers gripped the edge of the dressing table. She was used to Celia, she thought, inured to the kind of jibes she excelled at, but for the first time she was tempted to rake her nails down that lovely, contemptuous face.

She said with no particular expression, ‘Well, I didn’t labour under that particular misapprehension for very long.’

Celia giggled. ‘No, indeed. It can’t be many men who are unfaithful to their wives during the first year of marriage. Your little honeymoon didn’t last long at all.’ She paused, her eyes fixed almost avidly on Laura’s mirrored reflection. ‘And did you really not know about the Tristan Construction connection? Don’t you think the whole thing’s quite fascinating?’

Laura shrugged, carelessly she hoped. ‘It’s hardly any of my concern. We’re divorced—remember?’

‘How could I forget?’ Celia sounded gloating. ‘And I’m glad you had the sense to let him go without a struggle, Laura. It’s never very dignified fighting a battle you simply aren’t capable of winning.’

Laura dug a last hairpin viciously into the top-knot she’d created, almost transfixing her scalp in the process. ‘Frankly, I don’t think that aspect ever occurred to me.’ She was surprised to realise this was the truth. She’d been too hurt, too shattered by Jason’s infidelity to want to do anything but crawl away and lick the wounds he’d inflicted. To somehow learn to endure the blow she’d suffered to her new-found, fragile confidence in her womanhood.

‘It would have occurred to me,’ Celia said complacently. ‘And I think—yes, I really do think I’d have fought tooth and nail—and won. But that’s the difference between us, isn’t it, sweetie?’

‘One of them, certainly,’ Laura returned. Dissatisfied, she pulled the pins out of her tawny hair and let it spill round her face again.

‘So, I can take it you won’t start fighting now?’ Celia lifted a hand and studied its perfectly manicured nails.

‘I don’t think I understand.’ Laura picked up her jar of moisturiser and began to apply it sparingly to her face and throat.

‘Then think.’ Celia’s voice sounded almost strident suddenly. ‘He doesn’t belong to you anymore, as you’ve just admitted. In fact it’s a moot point whether he ever actually belonged to you at all, even if you did wangle a wedding ring out of him. So, I take it you’ll have no real objection if I have him instead now?’

Laura’s mouth felt so dry, she felt as if her lips might crack open and bleed as she forced the words between them. ‘No, I’ve no reason, and certainly no right to object, but I should warn you your father may well feel very differently. He never liked Jason or approved of him, and I don’t think he’ll care for the fact that you’ve invited him here this evening.’

Celia smiled. ‘He may not have liked the penniless artist who married his little niece for her money, then—done her wrong, as the saying is. But the Jason Wingard who’s now the managing director of a big, successful firm like Tristan Construction is a very different proposition. He’s no fortune hunter now to be shown the door, but an extremely eligible, and incredibly sexy man.’

‘Perhaps.’ Laura could hardly believe how calm she sounded, how collected, when emotionally she felt ravaged. ‘But I still doubt if your father will see it like that, no matter how rich Jason may be now.’

‘If you think for one moment that Daddy would let any personal feelings stand in the way of business, then you don’t know him,’ Celia told her coolly. ‘You told me yourself how important this contract is, and like a dutiful daughter I intend to spare no effort to make sure that Caswells gets this contract, along with any other goodies Tristan Construction might care to throw our way. Your ex-husband was telling me, when you so thoughtlessly interrupted us, that they’re heavily committed to private housing over the next few years, as well as the local projects. And housing estates mean show houses—completely furnished, including carpets.’

‘You seem to have it all worked out,’ Laura said.

‘I have.’ Celia lifted herself off the bed, straightening a crease from her shirt. ‘I just want to make sure, Laura darling, that you aren’t going to be the skeleton at any little feasts I may plan.’ She laughed. ‘Because I intend to mix the firm’s business with a hell of a lot of pleasure.’

‘So, why tell me?’ Laura began to apply foundation in quick jerky movements. ‘What do you want from me? Surely not my blessing?’

‘Hardly.’ Celia’s eyes, bright and predatory, met hers. ‘No, this is just a timely reminder that Jason is no longer your affair, and that I don’t intend to brook any interference from you or anyone else. You had him, and you couldn’t hold him. Well, that’s tough, but it’s the way the cookie crumbles sometimes. Now, it’s my turn.’

Laura replaced the lid on the little jar. She said slowly, ‘Celia—Jason may be legally single, but that doesn’t mean that he’s necessarily—free. Doesn’t it disturb you that there may still be other—priorities in his life?’

‘Why should it?’ Celia gave a negligent shrug. ‘I’m not a naïve, narrow-minded little schoolgirl. And I’ll make damned sure his sole priority in future is me.’

‘Then I wish you luck.’ Laura rose too. ‘Now I’d be glad of some privacy. I’d like to get dressed.’

Celia’s eyes swept her cousin’s slim figure, wrapped in its cotton robe, and her lip curled. She said, ‘What a ridiculous prude you are, Laura. It’s little wonder Jason found himself another woman.’

As the door closed behind her, Laura dropped limply back on to her dressing stool. Celia’s behaviour was incredible, even by her own standards, plumbing new depths of selfishness and arrogance.

But then, there was little wonder, she thought ruefully. Following the death of his wife, Martin Caswell had poured his energy and considerable resources into making sure his only daughter had everything she wanted in life, almost before the wish had been expressed. It wasn’t a healthy situation, and Celia had grown up believing that the world was hers for the taking.

And generally, the world went along with Celia’s belief, Laura was forced to admit. Her name had been linked, at one time or another, with all the wealthiest young men in the locality, but never very seriously, or for very long.

But now Celia had seen a man she wanted at last, and she intended to go after him with that incredible single-mindedness which had always characterised her devotion to her own interests.

And she really thinks, Laura thought with growing anger, that I’m going to sit back and watch her.

She slipped off her robe and began to dress, struggling with normally simple hooks and fasteners.

For the past three years, she’d looked on this house as a refuge, and ignored Celia’s vagaries out of gratitude to Uncle Martin. But in view of Celia’s expressed intentions, this could not go on.

She thought, ‘I’ve got to get out of here, and soon.’

There was a rap on the door, and she jumped nervously, laddering the tights she was smoothing on to her slender legs.

Mrs Fraser appeared. ‘Mr Caswell has come home, and is asking for you,’ she announced magisterially. ‘He’s in the study, and he doesn’t seem best pleased, so I wouldn’t keep him waiting.’

When Laura entered the study a little while later, she decided the housekeeper had not exaggerated her uncle’s peevishness. His usually ruddy colour had deepened alarmingly, and his mouth was set in sour lines.

‘This is a damned mess,’ he greeted Laura fretfully, his tone faintly accusing, as if in some way it was all her fault. ‘Had you any idea this was likely to happen?’

Laura sighed. ‘Uncle Martin, you know quite well I haven’t seen or heard from Jason since before the divorce. The only communication we had after I left was through our solicitors.’

‘Yes, yes, I suppose so.’ He drummed his fingers on the desk, frowning heavily. He said half to himself. ‘And I thought we were rid of him.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘Well, it seems we must make the best of it. There’s no room for personalities in business, after all. What’s past is past, and the Tristan contract could be a lifesaver for us. So I hope I can depend on you, Laura, not to make waves.’

Laura’s hands clenched together. ‘Behave in a civilised manner, do you mean?’ she enquired ironically. ‘Now, where have I heard that before?’

Her uncle shrugged irritably. ‘What the hell does it matter? And it’s exactly what I mean. We can’t let our personal feelings get in the way, Laura. Our first loyalty has to be to the firm.’ He paused. ‘Even Celia is going to make every effort …’

‘So I understand.’ Laura looked at him drily. ‘Starting off with a cocktail party this very evening. How will you feel, entertaining Jason under this roof again?’

‘I’ll do what I need to do.’ Martin Caswell walked over to the tray of decanters situated on a side table and poured himself a generous measure of whisky. ‘And so will you, my child, if you know what’s good for you.’

‘I see.’ Laura ran the tip of her tongue over her dry lips. ‘Uncle Martin—don’t you think it might be better if I went right away from here? This is a very embarrassing situation for all of us and …’

‘Nonsense.’ Martin Caswell slammed his glass down on the desk, slopping some of the contents on to the polished surface. ‘Good God, girl, divorce is no novelty these days. You’re not unique. Besides where would you go? What could you do?’

She looked at him. ‘I’m a good cook. I can keep house. Even these days there are jobs …’