Guardian to the Heiress (10 page)

He reacted just as fast. “Would you run that past me again?”

“Amber Coleman, your close friend,” she stressed. “She rang me to arrange coffee and a chat.”

“Are you serious?” His tone deepened and darkened.

“You bet I am. She might be a pal of yours, but I don’t like her.”

“I’m well aware of that, Carol.”

“All the more reason for you not to hand out my number.”

“So that’s very clear to you, is it?” His dark baritone was edged with ice.

They had reached the ground floor. He kept alongside her until they were out of the building and in the busy street. There Damon drew her into the near arcade. “You’re saying Amber told you she got your number from me?”

“Made a point of it.” Carol was well past tiptoeing around the subject. She knew she was giving herself away showing how very upset she was but she couldn’t stop now.

“And you believed her?” he asked in brusque fashion.

Our very first argument.

“Well...” She gazed up at him with accusation. “That’s how it went down.”

“I see.” He paused for a moment, as though getting himself together. “Weren’t you the one who spoke about how important mutual trust is?” he challenged.

Carol wasn’t a redhead for nothing. She fired up. “Don’t you attempt to lecture me, Damon.”

What do you think you’re achieving, exactly?
The voice of reason cut in like a blade.

He glanced at her distressed face then said quietly, “Let’s walk. I’m very surprised Amber told you that.”

She obeyed him. She badly needed to repair her nerves. “Are you saying it’s a lie? She did it out of malice?”

“She was mistaken,” Damon clipped off.

“And that’s an answer?”

He took her arm. They were inside the famous Queen Victoria Building, built in 1898 to celebrate Queen Victoria’s Golden Jubilee. There was a figure of the Queen surrounded by royal jewellery and costumes as well as a life-size Chinese imperial bridal carriage made of solid jade. They were about to pass one of the prestige jewellery shops in the arcade, with a glittering display in the window. Damon turned her as though they intended to study the display. Neither of them did. They had far different things on their minds.

“No, Carol, that’s a
fact.
” Damon spoke with utter sincerity. “I did not give Amber your phone number. I would never give out your phone number without your permission.” And maybe not even then, he thought, but didn’t add.

“So who told her?”

“At this point, I don’t know. Amber is better than most at ferreting out information. I’ll put it to her.”

Carol bowed her head, abashed. “No, forget about it, Damon. I declined her offer anyway. She’s busy checking me out. But you
did
tell her all about the celebratory dinner you organised for me?” She decided it would be better to withhold further revelations like where she had bought her evening dress from. It was extremely important to her to have Damon on her side. Now she thought she might have muffed it, his dark eyes were so sombre.

“Can you
really
see me doing that?”

She braced herself. “I’m sorry, Damon, but it matters to me.”

“And it matters to me,” he clipped off.

“Sorry, sorry.” She hoped some sort of an apology would count. “I believe she wants me out of your life, Damon, for whatever reason. She wants me to stay out.”

“Possibly,” Damon admitted. He was well aware of Amber’s jealous nature and her propensity for playing games. “I’ll see to it she doesn’t trouble you again.”

“No, leave it, please, Damon,” she said in agitation. “It’s my fault. I’m too naive. I believed her. My apologies.”

His eyes hadn’t left her lovely upset face. “Accepted.” Jealousy was in the nature of things. He had seen Amber at two functions. He hadn’t partnered her on those occasions. He had gone with a female colleague, Rennie Marston, a good friend some five or six years older than himself with the grace, wit and intelligence Amber lacked. Amber wouldn’t have been jealous of Rennie. In Amber’s eyes Rennie would have been well and truly over the hill. But Carol Chancellor was a fresh-as-a-rosebud twenty-year-old. He thought he had kept all sexual interest in Carol well hidden. But Amber, sharp as a tack in that department, must have spotted it.

A flippant superior-styled voice came from behind them, surprising and dismaying them. “You know, the two of you look for all the world like a couple checking out engagement rings?”

Carol spun to face her cousin. She was in control again. “You’re watching way too much TV, Troy. We’re talking business.”

“Of course.” Troy bent his head. Clearly his intention was to kiss her only Carol, seeing the kiss coming, turned her face away. It wasn’t good to so dislike one’s cousin.

Troy was not to be put off. “Dad tells me you’re coming to Beaumont for Christmas,” he continued in the same flippant vein.

“Uncle Maurice
has
gone very social,” Carol remarked dryly.

“I tell you, it just gets better and better,” Troy declared. “We should have a glorious time.”

We?
Damon didn’t like this new development one little bit. It disturbed him. He had hoped there would be no secrets between them. Clearly, that wasn’t the case. Carol hadn’t said a word to him about spending Christmas at Beaumont. Not that she really needed to, but he had thought... Obviously he had presumed too much.

“Invite a friend if you like, Troy.” Carol spoke casually, but she had seen a course of action. Jumped at it. “I’ve already invited a girlfriend and
Damon
will be spending a few days with us, won’t you, Damon?” She smiled at him as she would a dear friend.

For an instant Troy looked more than angry. He looked slighted, even enraged.

“It’s difficult for Damon, but he has promised.” She pinned Damon’s eyes, knowing he would save her any embarrassment by backing her.

That on-the-spot invitation presented no difficulty for Damon. As it happened, he welcomed it to the point when he had to seriously consider Carol Chancellor’s importance in his life. He didn’t just like and respect her. He had been afraid he was falling in love with her. Probably too true. Nevertheless, he shot back a pristine white cuff to look at his watch. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. We should be heading off, Carol.”

“Heading off where?” Troy demanded to know. He just hated Damon Hunter, the crackerjack lawyer, and didn’t bother to hide it. Every feature of his good-looking face was stiff with what could only be interpreted as jealousy.

“Business, business, business,” Carol chanted.

“Money, money, money,” Troy snorted. “But hey, don’t let me stand between you and your ill-gotten gains.” He had thought that in paying attention to little Carol he might be rewarded. He’d had that reward in mind for some time; was savouring it, in fact. She seemed to get more beautiful every time he saw her. She was certainly very fashionably and expensively dressed. No student-type gear any more. He bitterly resented Hunter’s strong presence in her life. They were getting
way
too close.

“A legally watertight inheritance from your grandfather.” Damon put him straight. “And I’d advise you not to make any slanderous statements or make an enemy of your cousin. That goes for me, too, as Carol’s attorney.”

It was apparent even to Troy, who had been angry all his life, that he had strayed into dangerous waters. He backed down. “Don’t you think it understandable we’re unhappy about what the old man did?” he whined. “My mother is right. It was revenge, pure and simple.”

“Only revenge is neither pure nor simple,” Damon warned. “It would be a huge mistake for you to go looking for it. You know the saying: before you embark on your journey of revenge, dig two graves.”

“Bible, right?” Troy shot a glare at Damon.

“Confucius,” Carol corrected with a sparkle in her eyes. “I urge you, Troy, to accept our grandfather’s decision. I know you were brought up believing you’re entitled to every good thing in life. As far as that goes, our grandfather left us all an indecent
amount of money. I intend to use my share wisely.”

Troy responded with an apology. “I didn’t intend to upset you, Carol. I’m more than happy to see you back in my life. You always were a clever little thing. Now you’re very, very
special.
”

The long look Troy Chancellor gave his cousin was very definitely sexual.

That was most unfortunate, Damon thought, not to mention dangerous. Instinct told him Carol’s cousin, Troy, could turn into a potential problem.

* * *

Damon saw her into her next port of call, her favourite department store, David Jones, although the city’s central business district was a serious shopper’s dream. She had run out of a few items of make-up that needed replacing. She had found these days she had to look just
so.
“Sorry if I embarrassed you back there,” she said. “I don’t need Troy’s attention.”

“Well, you have to know you’ve got it,” Damon replied very dryly.

“That’s why I said you were coming to Beaumont for a few days. I can’t spend time trying to analyse Troy’s various hang-ups.”

“But you know he’s got them?”

“I think he was born with them,” Carol said as her memories of Troy the boy came creepy-crawling back.

“So I’m protection?”

“Something like that.” Carol flashed him a crystalline-blue glance. She would
welcome
his acceptance!

“Hmm...!” He looked away over her radiant head. “I wondered why you didn’t tell me you were spending Christmas with the Chancellors. I just can’t identify that lot as your family.”

“Nothing I can do about it.” Carol shrugged. “I was going to tell you, Damon. But something got in the way.”

“Someone, you mean?”

“Well...that. I would love you to come, Damon, but I know you will have plans.”

He had. At least one had included her. Now this! “No plan that I can’t put off,” he said lightly. “Or change to another time.”

“Does that mean you
will
come?”

Her open pleasure was infectious. “The answer is simple. I’m here for you, Carol. What days were you thinking?”

Her spirits soaring, she started to fill him in. “I’m planning on driving there Christmas Eve. Uncle Maurice issued the invitation. He sounded very much like he wants to make amends.”

There was a sudden glitter in Damon’s clever dark eyes. “Did you swallow it?”

Carol winced at the dry-as-ash tone. “How could I? He spoke like he was very kindly
inviting
me to what is now my own home. It’s going to be hard to evict Uncle Maurice and dear Dallas. Poppy’s will smashed all their expectations to smithereens. It’s going to take time for it all to sink in.”

For someone so young, she displayed a bemusing maturity.

“By the way, I invited my friend from uni, Amanda Gregson. You met her briefly.”

“The cheeky one?”

“That’s Amanda. She’s very bright, you know. I told you, she’s the one who constantly tells me to watch my back with the family. She’ll come down with me. I suppose you can’t possibly come for Christmas Day?”

“Now, what can you offer as an enticement?” He slanted her a deliberately uncomplicated smile.

“The best Christmas dinner you’ve ever had.” She made an on-the-spot promise, acutely aware she had blushed when there had been little or no innuendo in his tone. Why would there be? “You can bring a friend, if you like.”

“Okay, I’m in, but I’ll come alone. I’ll drive down late afternoon. I’m bound to have a few outstanding matters to settle first.”

“God bless you!” Carol couldn’t help herself. She spoke fervently. They were standing in a quiet spot against an exterior wall, but she had actually ceased to be aware of her surroundings with well-dressed shoppers hurrying to and fro. She was equally unaware they had been the intense focus of a good many people, two in particular. Apart from the fact they were so good-looking and such perfect foils, their faces had become known to the public.

“Why are you doing this, Carol?” Damon asked very seriously. “You know the lot of them are consumed with envy. Your uncle is not to be trusted.”

“Some part of me knows that for certain,” Carol said. “Some fragment of memory. I don’t know what it is. You think he would try to hurt me?”

Damon turned his elegant hands out. “Maurice Chancellor wouldn’t be fool enough to do such a thing.” Chancellor would make sure he could never be accused of anything. But a man with his resources inevitably had people to do things for him. “He would never be so stupid.” He had no intention of creating additional concerns for Carol, but that childhood memory of hers troubled him as much as it apparently troubled her. Was a five-year-old child’s memory at all reliable? Yes, he thought, going on his own recollection of his father.

“Perhaps not.” Carol sighed. “But I wouldn’t put it past him to have a dogsbody always on hand to do his dirty work for him,” she said, echoing his own thoughts. “The rich don’t soil their hands.”

She had well and truly figured her uncle out. “Don’t allow your mind to run along those lines, Carol.”

“Most families have family feuds, I guess,” she said poignantly.

Especially the rich.

“Why are you
really
going?” Damon felt she had a definite agenda.

“I want to search the house for more photographs Poppy might have had taken,” she answered readily. “I want to find everything I can of my father’s. You know, some people thought my mother deliberately left my father to drown.”

“People love to talk, Carol,” he said gently. “You can’t stop them.”

“Have you ever noticed how a lot of people born to privilege and every advantage in life die early?” She stared up into his eyes.

“A lot die
because
of it,” Damon, the lawyer, said. “Drugs, an offshoot getting mixed up with the wrong people, lifestyle, high-powered cars, neuroses when things don’t go exactly as they want. I know none of that applied to your father. It was an accident—accidents can and do happen frequently on boats.”

“Maybe all the cruel gossip ruined my mother,” Carol suggested, hanging on his answer.