The British Bachelors Collection

‘I’ve already given her a lecture about that,’ Violet said huffily.

‘And what about the partner in crime?’

‘He wasn’t a partner in crime.’

‘Aside from the forging of references technicality.’

‘He’s working on restoring a boat with his friend.’

‘He knows much about boat restoration?’

‘Er...’

‘Say no more, Violet. They’re obviously a match made in Heaven.’

‘You’re so cynical!’

‘Not according to my mother. She complimented me on my terrific taste in women and waxed lyrical about the joys of knowing that I’m no longer dating women with IQs smaller than their waist measurements.’

They had reached the café and he pushed open the door and stood aside as she walked past him. The brush of his body against hers made her skin burn. So his mother was pleased with her as a so-called girlfriend. She thought back to the eye-catching brunette on the magazine cover. He must find it trying to have pulled the short straw for this little arrangement. He could have been walking into a café, or into an expensive restaurant because hadn’t he already told her that the women he dated wouldn’t have been caught dead anywhere where they couldn’t be admired, with a leggy brunette dangling on his arm. Instead of her.

He ordered them both coffee and then sat back in his chair to idly run his finger along the handle of the cup.

‘Well?’ Violet prompted, suddenly uncomfortable with the silence. ‘I don’t suppose we’re here because you wanted to pass the time of day with me. It’s been nearly two weeks. The new term is due to start in another ten days. Your mother seems to be doing really well. Have you brought me here to tell me that this arrangement is over?’ She felt a hollow spasm in the pit of her stomach at the prospect of never seeing him again and then marvelled at how fast a habit, even a bad one, could be turned into something that left a gaping hole when there was the prospect of it being removed.

‘When I told you that our little deal would be over and done with in a matter of days, I hadn’t foreseen certain eventualities.’

‘What eventualities?’

‘The consultants agree that treatment can be continued in Devon.’

‘And that’s good, isn’t it? I know your mother is very anxious about Dominic. She speaks to him every day on the telephone and has plenty of contact with his carers, but he’s not accustomed to having her away for such a long period of time.’

‘When did she tell you this?’

‘She’s phoned me at home a couple of times.’

‘You never mentioned that to me.’

‘I didn’t realise that I was supposed to report back to you on a daily basis...’

‘You’re supposed to understand the limitations of what we have here. You’re supposed to recognise that there are boundaries. Encouraging my mother to telephone you is stepping outside them.’

‘I didn’t encourage your mother to call me!’

‘You gave her your mobile number.’

‘She asked for it. What was I supposed to do? Refuse to give it to her?’

‘My mother plans on returning to Devon tomorrow. She’ll be able to attend the local hospital and I will personally make sure that she has the best in house medical team to hand that money can buy.

‘That’s good.’ She would miss Eleanor Carver. She would miss the company of someone who was kind and witty and the first and only parent substitute she had known since her own mother had died. There had been no breathtaking revelations to the older woman or dark, secret confessions, but it had been an unexpected luxury to feel as though no one expected her to answer questions or be in charge. ‘I guess you’ll be going with her.’

‘I will.’

‘How is that going to work out for you and your work? I know you said that it’s easy to work out of the office but is that really how it’s going to be in practice?’

‘It’ll work.’ He paused and looked at her carefully. ‘The best laid plans, however...’

‘I hate to sound pushy but would you be willing to sign something so that I know you won’t go back on what you promised?’

‘Don’t you trust me?’ he asked, amused.

‘Well, you did put me in this position through some pretty underhand tactics...’

‘Remind me how much your sister is enjoying life in sunny Ibiza...’ Damien waved aside that pointed reminder of his generosity. ‘Naturally, I will be more than happy to sign a piece of paper confirming that your sister won’t be seeing the inside of a prison once our deal is over.’

‘But I thought it was...’ Violet looked at him in confusion.

‘There’s been an unfortunate extension.’ He delivered that in the tone of voice which promised that, whatever he had to say, there would be no room for rebuttal. ‘It seems that your avid attention and cosy chats with my mother on the phone have encouraged her to think that you should accompany me down to Devon.’

‘What?’ Violet stammered.

‘I could repeat it if you like, but I can see from the expression on your face that you’ve heard me loud and clear. Believe me, it’s not something I want either but, given the circumstances, there’s very little room for manoeuvre.’ Could he be treated to anyone looking more appalled than she currently was?

‘Of course there’s room for manoeuvre!’ Violet protested shakily.

‘Shall I tell her that the prospect of going to Devon horrifies you?’

‘You know that’s not the sort of thing I’m talking about. I...I...have loads to do before school starts...classes to prepare for...’

Damien waited patiently as she expounded on the million and one things that apparently required her urgent attention in London before raising his hand to stop her in mid-flow.

‘My mother seems to think that having you around for a few days while her treatment commences would give her strength. She’s aware that you start back at school in a week and a half.’ She had no choice but to do exactly what he said; Damien knew that. When it came to this arrangement, she didn’t have a vote. Still, he would have liked to have her on board without her kicking and screaming every inch of the way. And really, was it so horrific a prospect? Where his mother lived was beautiful. ‘She’s not asking you to ditch your job and sit by her bedside indefinitely.’

‘I know that!’

‘If I can manage my workload out of the office, then I fail to see why you can’t do the same.’

‘It just feels like this is...getting out of control...’

‘Not following you.’

‘You know what I mean, Damien,’ Violet snapped irritably. ‘I thought when I accepted this...this...assignment...that it was only going to be for a few days and it’s already been almost two weeks...’

‘This situation isn’t open to discussion,’ Damien said in a hard voice. ‘You traded your freedom for your sister’s. It’s as simple as that.’

‘And what about when I leave Devon? When do I get my freedom back?’ Violet hated the way she sounded. As though she couldn’t care less about his mother or her recovery. As though the last thing in the world she wanted was to help her in a time of need. And yet this wasn’t what she had signed up for and the prospect of getting in ever deeper with Damien and his family felt horribly dangerous. How could she explain that? ‘I’m sorry, but I have to know when I can expect my life to return to normal.’

‘Your life will return to normal—’ he leaned forward, his expression grim and as cold as the sea in winter ‘—just about the same time as mine does. I did not envisage this happening but it’s happened and here’s how we’re going to deal with it. You’re going to put in an appearance in Devon. You’re going to enjoy long country walks and you’re going to keep my mother’s spirit fighting fit and upbeat as you chat to her about plants and flowers and all things horticultural. At the end of the week, you’re going to return to London and, at that point, your presence will no longer be required. Until such time as I inform you that your participation is redundant, you remain on call.’

Violet blanched. What leg did she have to stand on? He was right. She had effectively traded her freedom for Phillipa’s. While her sister was living a carefree existence in Ibiza, she was sinking ever deeper into a morass that felt like treacle around her. She couldn’t move and all decision-making had been taken out of her hands.

‘The more involved I get, the harder it’s going to be to tell your mother...that...’

‘Leave that to me.’ Damien continued to look at her steadily. ‘There’s another reason she wants you there in Devon,’ he said heavily. ‘And, believe me, I’m not with her on this. But she wants you to meet my brother.’ His mother had never known the reasons for his break-up with Annalise, nor had she ever remarked on the fact that, after Annalise, he had never again brought another woman down to the country estate in Devon. The very last thing he wanted was a break in this tradition, least of all when it involved a woman who was destined to disappear within days.

‘That’s very sweet of her, Damien, but I don’t want to get any more involved with your family than I already am.’

‘And do you think that I do?’ he countered harshly. ‘We both have lives waiting out there for us.’ The fact that control over the situation had somehow been taken out of his hands lent an edge to his anger. When his mother had suggested bringing Violet to Devon, he had told her, gently but firmly, that that would be impossible. He cited work considerations, made a big deal of explaining how long it took to prepare for a new term—something of which he knew absolutely nothing but about which he had been more than happy to expound at length. He had been confident that no such thing would happen. His fake girlfriend would not be setting one foot beyond the hospital room.

His mother had never been known to enter into an argument with him or to advance contrary opinions when she knew how he felt about something. He had been woefully unprepared for her to dig her heels in and make a stance, ending her diatribe, which had taken him completely by surprise by asking tartly, ‘Why don’t you want her to come to Devon, Damien? Is there something going on that I should know about?’

Deprived of any answering argument, he had recovered quickly and warmly assured his mother that there was nothing Violet would love more than to see the estate and get to know Dominic.

‘You will need a more extensive wardrobe than the one you have,’ he informed her because, as far as he was concerned, there was nothing further to be said on the matter. ‘You need wellies. Fleeces. Some sort of waterproof coat. I’m taking it that you don’t have any of those? Thought not. In that case, you’re going to go to Harrods and use the account I’ve already talked to you about.’

‘Do you know something? I can’t wait for all of this to be over! I can’t wait for when I no longer have to listen to you bossing me about and reminding me that I’m in no position to argue!’ Over the past few days she had been lulled into a false sense of security, of thinking that he wasn’t quite as bad as she had originally thought. She had watched him interacting with his mother, had listened as he had soothed the same concerns on a daily basis without ever showing a hint of impatience. She had foolishly started feeling a weird connection with him.

‘Is that how you treat everyone?’ she blurted, angry with herself for harbouring idiotic illusions. ‘Is that how you’ve treated all the women you’ve been out with? Is that how you treated Annalise?’ It was out before she had a chance to rein it in and his eyes narrowed into chips of glacial ice.

‘Was that another topic under discussion with my mother?’

‘No, of course not! And it’s none of my business. I just feel...frustrated that my whole world has been turned upside down...’

‘Excuse me if I don’t feel unduly sympathetic to your cause,’ Damien inserted flatly. ‘We both know what was at stake here. As for Annalise, that’s a subject best left unexplored.’ Without taking his eyes from her face, he signalled for the bill.

‘You can’t expect me to spend a week in your mother’s company and not have an inkling of anything to do with your past.’ She inhaled deeply and ploughed on. ‘What do you expect me to say when she talks about you? It’s going to be different in Devon. We’ll have a great deal more time together. Your mother’s already mentioned her once. She’s sure to mention her again. What am I supposed to say? That we don’t discuss personal details like that? What sort of relationship are we supposed to have if we never talk about anything personal?’

She stared at him with mounting frustration and the longer the silence stretched, the angrier she became. He might be the puppet-master but there were limits as to how tightly he could jerk the strings! She foresaw long, cosy conversations with his mother when her only response to any questions asked, aside from the most basic, would be a rictus smile while she frantically tried to think of a way out. She would be condemned to yet more lying just because he was too arrogant to throw her a few titbits about his past.

‘I don’t care what happened between the two of you. I just want to be able to look as though I know what your mother’s on about if she brings the name up in conversation. Why are you so...so...secretive?’

Damien was outraged that she had the nerve to launch an attack on him. Naturally there was a part of him that fully understood the logic of what she was saying. Undiluted time spent with his mother in front of an open fire in the snug would be quite different from more or less supervised snatches of time spent next to a hospital bed during permitted visiting hours. Women talked and it was unlikely that he could be a stifling physical presence every waking minute of the day. That said, the implicit criticism ringing in her voice touched a nerve.

Bill paid, he stood up and waited until she had scrambled to her feet.

‘Are you going to say anything?’ She reached out and stayed him with her hand. ‘Okay, so you’ve had loads of girlfriends. That’s fine.’

‘I was going to marry her,’ Damien gritted.

Violet’s hand dropped and she looked at him in stupefied silence. She couldn’t imagine him ever getting close enough to any woman to ask for her hand in marriage. He just seemed too much of a loner. No...it was more than that. There was something watchful and remote about him that didn’t sit with the notion of him being in love. And yet he had been. In love. Violet didn’t know why she was so shocked and yet she was.

‘What happened?’ They were outside now, heading back towards the hospital. Her concerns about going to Devon had been temporarily displaced by Damien’s startling revelation.

‘What happened,’ he drawled, stopping to look down at her, ‘was that it didn’t work out. I didn’t share the details with my mother. I don’t intend to share them with you. Any other vital pieces of information you feel you need to equip yourself with before you’re thrown headlong into my mother’s company?’

‘What was she like?’ Violet couldn’t resist asking. In her head, she imagined yet another supermodel, although it was unlikely that she could be as stunning as the one on the cover of the magazine.

‘A brilliant lawyer who has since become a circuit judge.’

Well, that said it all, Violet thought. It also explained a whole host of things. Such as why a highly intelligent male should choose to go out with women who weren’t intellectually challenging. Why his interest in the opposite sex began and ended in bed. Why he had never allowed himself to have a committed relationship again. He had been dumped and he still carried the scars. She felt a twinge of envy for the woman who had had such power over him. Was he still in touch with her? Did he still love her?

‘And do you bump into her? London’s small.’

‘Question time over, Violet. You now have enough information on the subject to run with it.’ Damien’s lips thinned as he thought of Annalise. Still hovering in the wings, still imagining that she was the love of his life. Did he care? Hardly. Did he bump into her? Over the years, with tedious and suspicious regularity. There she would be, at some social function for the great and the good, always making sure to seek him out so that she could check out his latest date and update him on her career. He never avoided her because it paid to be reminded of his mistake. She was a learning curve that would never be forgotten.

Violet saw the grim set of his features and drew her own, inevitable conclusions. He had been in love with a highly intelligent woman, someone well matched for him, and his marriage proposal had been rejected. For someone like Damien, it would be a rejection never forgotten. He had found his perfect woman and, when that hadn’t worked out, he had stopped trying to find another.

What they had might be a business arrangement, but everything he had ever had with every woman after Annalise had been an arrangement. Arrangements were all he could do.

‘I’ll get some appropriate clothes,’ Violet conceded. ‘And you can text me with the travel info. But, at the end of the week, it’s over for me. I can’t keep deceiving your mother.’

‘By the end of the week, I think you will have played your part and I will officially guarantee that your sister is off the hook.’

‘I can’t wait,’ Violet breathed with heartfelt sincerity.

CHAPTER FIVE

THE HOUSE THAT greeted Violet the following evening was very much like something out of a fairy tale. Arrangements for Eleanor’s transfer had been made at speed. Her circumstances were special, as she was the principal carer for Dominic, and Damien, with his vast financial resources, had made sure that once the decision to transfer was made, it all happened smoothly and efficiently.

In the car, Violet had alternated between bursts of conversation about nothing in particular to break the silence and long periods of sober reflection that the task she had undertaken seemed to be spinning out of control.

She was travelling with a stranger to an unknown destination, removed from everything she knew and was familiar with, and would have to spend the next few days pretending to be someone she wasn’t. If she had known what this so-called arrangement would have entailed, would she have embarked on it in the first place? Regrettably, yes, but knowing that didn’t stop her feeling like a sacrificial lamb as the powerful car roared down the motorway, eating up the miles and removing her further and further from her comfort zone.

While Phillipa was taking time out in Ibiza, doing very little in a tapas restaurant and no doubt enjoying the attention of all the locals as she wafted around in sarongs and summer dresses, here she was, sinking deeper and deeper into a situation that felt like quicksand, all so that her sister could carry on enjoying life without having to pay for the mistakes she had made.

‘Maybe she should have had her stint in prison,’ Violet said, apropos of nothing, and Damien shot her a sideways glance.

Locked in to doing exactly what he required of her, he could sense the strain in the rigid tension of her body. She would rather be anywhere else on earth than sitting here in this car with him. Naturally, he could understand that. More or less. After all, who wanted to be held hostage to a situation they hadn’t courted, paying for a crime they hadn’t committed? Yet was his company so loathsome that she literally found it impossible to make the best of a bad job? She was pressed so tightly against the passenger door that he feared she might fall out were it not for the fact that the doors were locked and she was wearing a seat belt.

There had been times over the past week and a half when some of her resentment had fallen away and she had chatted normally to him. There had also been times when, in the presence of his mother, he had touched her and his keenly attuned antenna had picked up something—something as fleeting as a shadow and yet as substantial as jolt of electricity. Something that had communicated itself to him, travelling down unseen pathways, announcing a response in her that she might not even have been aware of.

‘You don’t mean that,’ he said calmly.

‘Don’t tell me what I mean! If it weren’t for Phillipa I wouldn’t be here now.’

‘But you are and there’s no point dwelling on what ifs. And stop acting as though you’re being escorted to a torture chamber. You’re not. You’ll find my mother’s estate a very relaxing place to spend a few days.’

‘It’s hardly going to be a relaxing situation, is it? I don’t feel relaxed when I’m around you.’ When she thought about seeing him for hours on end, having meals in his company, being submerged in his presence without any respite except when she went to bed, she got a panicky, fluttery feeling in the depths of her stomach.

Without warning, Damien swerved his powerful car off the small road. They were only a matter of half an hour away from the house and the roads had become more deserted the closer they had approached the estate.

‘What are you doing?’ Violet asked warily as he killed the engine and proceeded to lean back at an angle so that he was looking directly at her. In the semi-darkness of the car, with night rapidly settling in around them, she felt the breath catch painfully in her throat. Apprehension jostled with something else—something dark and scary, the same dark, scary thing that had been nibbling away at the edges of her self-control ever since he had told her about Devon.

‘So you don’t feel relaxed around me. Tell me why. Get it off your chest before we reach the house. Okay, you’re not here of your own free will, but there’s no point lamenting that and covering old ground. It is as it is. Have you never been in a position where you had to grit your teeth and get through it?’

‘Of course I have!’

‘Then tell me what the difference is between then and now.’

‘You’re scary, Damien. You’re not like other people. You don’t feel. You’re so...so...cold...’

‘Funny. Cold is not a word that any woman has ever used to describe me...’

Violet felt her heart begin to race and her mouth went dry. ‘I’m not talking about...what you’re like in bed with women...’

‘Would you like to?’

‘No!’

‘Then how would you like me to try and relax you?’

Violet couldn’t detect anything in his voice and yet those words, innocuous as they were, sent a shiver of awareness rippling up and down her spine. She had a vivid, graphic image of him relaxing her, touching her, making her whole body melt until she was nothing more than a rag doll. Was this the real reason why she was so apprehensive? Terrified even? At the back of her mind, was she more scared of just being alone with him than she was of playing a game and acting out a part in a place with which she was unfamiliar? Did her own responses to him, which she constantly tried to squash, frighten her more than he did?

It didn’t seem to matter than he was cold, distant, emotionally absent. On some level, a part of her responded to him in ways that were shocking and unfamiliar.

She could feel the lazy perusal of his eyes on her and she wished she hadn’t embarked on a conversation which now seemed to be unravelling.

‘I’m just nervous,’ she muttered in a valiant struggle to regain her self-composure. ‘I’ll be fine once we get there. I guess.’

‘Try a little harder and you might start to convince me. You get along well with my mother. Is it Dominic?’ The question had to be asked. He hadn’t been in this position for a very long time. He had brought no one to Devon. He had vowed to never again put himself in the position of ever having to witness a negative reaction to his brother. However, this was an unavoidable circumstance and he felt the protective machinery of his defences seal around him like a wall of iron.

‘What are you talking about?’ Violet was genuinely puzzled.

‘Some people feel uncomfortable around the disabled. Is that why you’re so strung out?’ It had taken Annalise to wake him up to that fact, to the truth that there were people who shied away from what they didn’t know or understand, who felt that the disabled were to be laughed at or rigorously avoided. The ripple effect of those reactions were not contained, they always spread outwards to the people who cared. It was good to bring this up now.