Act of Betrayal (6 page)

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 i f your father will see it like

that, no matter how rich Jason may be now.' ' I f 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-ouj,' Laura said. T 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 naive, narrow-minded little schoolgirl. And I ' l l 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, i f you know what's good for you.' ' I see.'

Laura ran the tip of her tongue over her dry hps. '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 . . . ' 'You already have a

job—here.' He glared at her. 'My God, Laura, I thought you had

some gratitude in you. I take you in when you're on your knees,

and just when I most need your help, your support, you threaten

to walk out.'

'Am I supposed to have no feelings at all?' she asked hoarsely.

'Feelings? Don't talk to me about feelings when the whole future

of Caswells could be at stake.' He threw himself back in his

chair. 'They want to use the new Fibrona in both these projects

they're committed to locally. If they do, and they like it, it

could be worth a fortune in advertising for us. My God, Laura,

the stuff isn't even properly in production yet—the lab still

want to do more tests on the fireproofing element—yet somehow

Tristan Construction have heard about it, and they've beaten a

path to our door. I've always said Fibrona was revolutionary, and

this proves it. It will the saving of Caswells, I tell you.'

Laura said urgently, 'But it isn't the only fibre we produce and

we have other customers besides Tristans. Aren't we putting all

our eggs into one rather chancy basket? Supposing we invest

heavily in the production of Fibrona, and then Tristan

Construction decide they don't want it after all. What then?' 'Of

course they want it,' he said. 'Why else would they have come to

us?' He made it sound unanswerable, but Laura had an uneasy

feeling that it was not. She said quietly, 'Uncle Martin—I only

wish I knew,' and left the room, closing the door quietly behind

her. From the windowseat in her room, she watched the cars begin

to arrive for the party. She had no choice. She'd rung Alan's

cottage twice in the intervening period, but had received no

answer. So—she would wait up here until she saw his car, and

persuade him to slip away quietly, without getting involved.

She'd done a lot of hard thinking while she was waiting, but none

of the conclusions she'd reached were very happy ones. Uncle

Martin was a worried man, and had been for sometime, and like

other worried men he was prone to clutch at straws. But that

didn't mean that Jason had walked back into their lives with a

lifeline. He, she thought soberly, had no reason to love

Caswells, or wish to do them any favours. She had tried many

times to blot out of her mind the agonising bitterness of that

last scene between them. No-one should pay too much credence to

things said or done in savage anger, she told herself. But that

didn't alter the fact that one of the last things Jason had said

to her was that he would make Martin Caswell pay for his role in

the breach between them. She tried to reassure herself that it

had simply been said in the heat of the moment. Tried to tell

herself that however cynically immoral his behaviour, Jason was

not a vengeful man. Or was he? What did she know of him, after

all? What had she ever known? she asked herself despairingly. In

the early days of their relationship, she'd probed, trying to

establish details about his childhood, upbringing, education,

family—all the things which had contributed to make the man

she'd fallen in love with. But he'd always blocked her questions

abruptly, telling her the past didn't matter—that it was only

the present and the future which counted. In fact, she'd assumed

he had no family—that his reluctance to discuss his former life

stemmed from the fact that he'd been brought up in a children's

home, or similar institution. The discovery that his parents were

both living had only been the first of the shocks which had torn

their married life apart., And now, he was back and in a position

of power. A position where he could hurt Caswell as easily as he

could extend a helping hand. It would be fatally easy for him to

encourage her uncle's company to rush Fibrona into production,

then back out at the last moment. Easy and potential financial

devastation for Caswells. If he wanted revenge for the

humiliation that the discovery of his double fife, and the

subsequent divorce must have caused him, then the weapons for

that revenge were at his fingertips. He was a man who kept his

secrets well, she thought bitterly. This time, his motives and

intentions would all be locked in his mind, safe from any form of

investigation. All she had to go on was a gut reaction that

nothing was as simple as it seemed. And Uncle Martin was a hard-

headed man. Did he really suspect nothing? Whatever miracle

qualities the chemists might claim for Fibrona, she couldn't

believe they were sufficient to have brought Jason Wingard back

into their lives. And she was no longer naive enough to think it

could just be coincidence either. People were arriving all the

time. Celia had been busy. She seemed to have invited half the

neighbourhood as well as the members of the Caswell board, and

the Tristan executives. She could hear the faint hum of voices

from downstairs each time the drawing room door opened, and

Celia's laugh floating above them all, as sparkling as

springwater. Laura had watched her go downstairs. Celia had

looked dazzling, all the stops pulled out, in a dress of midnight

blue taffeta, with a huge stiffened collar framing and

accentuating her blonde hair. She tried to tell herself that

for .once Jason might have met his match in Celia, but she didn't

believe it in her heart. Whether or not Celia deserved it, she

felt anxious for her. She'd even considered seeking Jason