Scarlet Lady (19 page)

He jumped, then turned and scowled, deep clefts gouged between his greying brows. 'Who the hell are you?' he demanded irritably.

'Virginia McKenzie. Virginia Temple. Daughter of Sarah Temple. Born in Sunnyside Nursing Home twenty- five years ago.'

She stood there while he gaped at her. Once he'd been handsome. Now he seemed weary of life, the lines of pain etched deeply on his face. But a light had come into his watery brown eyes and suddenly he was smiling.

'Virginia?' he quavered.

'Yes,' she said gently. 'You sent for me.'

'You are tall. Elegant. Blonde... Mary!' he groaned, covering his face with his hands.

Ginny flew to his side, forgetting the kind of man she'd been told he was, only knowing that he was deeply unhappy. Kneeling in front of him, she drew his hands away and held them in sympathy. 'What's upset you?' she asked in soft compassion.

Vincente studied her face intently. 'It doesn't matter now,' he said gruffly. 'You're here. And you are Mary's daughter. God forgive me for what I did! I've paid for my anger over and over!'

'Your...anger?' she said, thinking of his assault on his wife.

'Your mother and I quarrelled, Virginia,' he said in a low mutter. 'About Pascal. He's Susannah's son, you see.'

'Susannah's?' cried Ginny in astonishment. 'But... she's not old enough, surely—?'

'She was sixteen when he was born.' Vincente paused, staring into space, and his face showed the despair that he must have felt then. 'My cousin Louis seduced her,' he said grimly. 'Louis and I had always been rivals—he was engaged to your mother before me. When Mary fell for me and broke off the engagement, Louis turned to my sister for consolation.'

'And seduced her in revenge?' Ginny asked hesitantly.

Vincente looked into the distance as if searching his memory. 'I think they genuinely loved one another,' he admitted.

'I don't understand why you had to pretend Susannah's child was yours,' she probed.

Vincente sighed. 'To protect Susannah from the scandal. We decided to bring the child up as our own. We'd wanted a child for a long time. An heir to Beau Rivage.'

'I see.' Ginny knew only too well how important an heir was where dynastic families were concerned.

'Mary pretended she was pregnant. She stayed in the house to make the pretence easier. When Pascal was born, everyone believed he was our son.' He frowned. 'Unfortunately, Mary's enforced time indoors meant that it became increasingly hard for her to face going out and she developed a fear of open spaces.'

Ginny nodded, remembering that Leo had told her that Mary had suffered from agoraphobia—which had supposedly been caused by Vincente's ill-treatment. However, she believed Vincente's story about Mary gradually growing afraid of leaving the house till the problem had reached mammoth proportions. It made sense. She wondered if there was any connection with her mother's obsession with cleanliness. Perhaps she'd never know.

'How did Susannah feel about surrendering her baby?' she asked quietly.

'I never asked.' Vincente looked ashamed. 'We thought it was for the best,' he added, as if anxious not to appear callous. 'And we made sure she didn't get emotionally involved. A few years later, Mary said that Pascal should know who his mother was. I thought it was better not to rock the boat. We argued... Pascal was only six... He came in and found us yelling at each other. Pascal thought I was attacking her. I'm a monster in everyone's eyes,' he added gloomily.

Vincente's alleged brutality seemed unfounded. But something else had to be cleared up. The question burned on her lips. She had to have it answered. 'The rumour is,' said Ginny, taking a deep breath, 'that you flaunted your mistresses in front of your wife and that she ran away because you brought one into the house.'

The old man spread his hands in a gesture of helpless defeat. 'I know,' he said wearily. 'I admit I turned to other women. Mary wouldn't let me near her very often, you see—and I was a hot-blooded man in those days. I tried to be discreet, but this is a small island and news travels fast. People were only too delighted to tell Mary of my infidelity and I regret the pain I put her through.

'But the woman I brought into the house was not my mistress at all. She was supposed to be a companion for my wife because she wouldn't go out. I told her that but she refused to believe it. How can I ever prove that half the things said about me were lies?'

Ginny's face was soft with pity. 'You can't,' she said. 'Unless you find your wife. Wouldn't that help?'

'Yes!' cried Vincente, and she dearly wanted to believe his story because it would be a weight off her mind. He smiled weakly, his eyes devouring her from top to toe. 'You are so like her!'

He reached out his arms and drew Ginny to him, sobbing his heart out. Her own eyes grew moist and soon she was crying too. Vincente was friendless but he was a human being in distress and she probably carried his blood in her body. Overwhelmed by emotion, Ginny cradled him and rocked him till he'd regained control of himself.

'Do you really think I'm your daughter?' she asked tentatively. 'Really?'

Nicotine-stained fingers stroked her face with an extraordinary gentleness and awe. 'I know you are!' he declared. 'We must be sure, of course—do a DNA check... I
knew
Mandy wasn't the one. But the detective agency assured me—'

'Wait a minute,' she said, halting him in mid-flow.
'Mandy?
What do you mean?'

Vincente smiled and was overtaken by a fit of coughing. It was a while before he recovered and in that time Ginny shot a quick glance to the doorway. Leo was watching from the shadows, his face cold and full of hate. Ginny felt sick. Her worst fears had become a reality. Leo had a burning mission. Revenge—perhaps for something Vincente hadn't even done.

'Sorry,' croaked Vincente. 'Lungs. I'm dying, Virginia. That's why I wanted to find my child.'

'Oh, Vincente!' she cried, wide-eyed in dismay.

Her sympathy made him sigh. 'No one's spoken so caringly to me for a long time,' he said, choking with emotion. 'When I was led to believe that Mandy was my daughter, I hoped she would come to love me. Then I discovered she'd married Pascal. That almost broke my heart. I knew she'd side with him.' He saw Ginny's bewilderment and patted her hand. 'Mandy came from England in answer to my advert,' he explained. 'The detective agency I'd retained assured me she was Mary's daughter.'

'I see.' So Mandy had been the other woman who'd contacted the solicitor in London! 'Mandy and I
both
responded to your advert?'

'Yes. I've been searching for my daughter for a long time,' Vincente explained. 'I was so happy when Mandy arrived. She seemed so sweet and had all the right documents. Mary Brandon was given as her mother's name on her birth certificate.'

Ginny's eyebrows lifted. 'I don't understand—'

'Perhaps, Ginny,' came Leo's deep voice from behind them, 'Mary swapped her identity with Mandy's mother to make sure that Vincente never traced his real daughter.'

'Leo. My.. .husband,' said Ginny quickly, seeing Vincente's start of surprise. She was mulling over the suggestion, wondering if the idea had come from Leo's father. If it had, she thought it might possibly be true. Stuart Brandon knew a lot more than he'd let on, she decided. And one day she'd learn the whole story.

Vincente smiled, easing himself to his feet and extending his hand eagerly. 'My pleasure, Mr McKenzie. My very great pleasure. And perhaps you're right. In fact I have proof that Mandy isn't related to me so you must be, mustn't you?'

Ginny waited with bated breath. Leo would either stay true to his principles and denounce Vincente as a man unworthy of his regard or pretend that nothing was wrong. And she didn't know which of those she wanted him to do.

Leo hesitated for a fraction of a second before shaking Vincente's hand. 'How do you do?' he said formally. Because of his restraint, Ginny knew with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that Leo was compromising his integrity in order to get his hands on Beau Rivage and to avenge Mary.

'You were saying,' said Leo idly, 'that you have proof that Mandy's claim is invalid?'

Vincente gripped Ginny's hand tightly. 'It's why I was so upset. I'd just had a telephone call from Pascal to say that the DNA tests prove Mandy doesn't have a drop of my blood in her. I was devastated by the news. I was feeling very sorry for myself.'

'How—how does Mandy feel about not being your daughter?' she asked tactfully.

'Pascal says she's delighted. So's he,' growled Vincente.

'They hate you,' she stated unhappily. 'He obviously thinks you treated your wife badly and he is ashamed of the women who keep coming here.'

Vincente snorted. 'Everyone thinks they're my mistresses,' he said wryly. 'Truth is, I haven't the energy any more. Haven't had it for years. I've been paying these young women well because I need companionship, I need someone to look after me and entertain me and they might as well be pretty. I'm lonely, you see.'

He sighed. 'Trouble is, they either expect marriage and a share in my fortune or can't stand the isolation. So they go running to Pascal and he pays them off and sends them home—if he hasn't bribed them to go already. Reputations aren't always deserved,' he said huskily.

'I know,' agreed Ginny with heartfelt fervour. 'I'll put Mandy and Pascal straight,' she promised.

'They'll still think badly of me,' Vincente said, almost inaudibly. 'Pascal believes I carelessly threw away a cigar and started the fire that killed his wife and child. He turned the whole community against me and he's loathed the sight of me ever since.' He took Ginny's face in his rough, planter's hands, and said earnestly, 'I didn't, Virginia. I wasn't anywhere near the house. It was someone else. You have to believe
me—you have to!'
he finished hoarsely.

Her pained eyes studied his. There was such anguish in his expression that she felt sure that he was telling the truth. 'I believe you.'

Vincente shuddered with relief. 'Thank God!' he said simply. 'If you hated and despised me too, I'd feel like killing myself. A few moments ago I thought I'd die without ever seeing my only child,' he added with a sentimental smile, stroking her silky hair in wonder. 'And then she walks in, just when I'm thinking that life's not worth living—'

'No!' she cried urgently. 'You mustn't think like that!'

'It's not true any more! We should celebrate,' said Vincente, his eyes shining with happiness. 'Champagne. It's in the cellar... Damn! I forgot my maid's left me— and the glasses are in the kitchen—'

'Are you all alone?' Ginny asked, shocked.

'Not any more,' Vincente answered softly.

'I'll get the champagne,' offered Leo, nothing in his voice betraying how he felt. Ginny shrugged off the chill that was wending its way down her spine. 'Ginny will find the glasses. Shall we celebrate outside?'

Vincente nodded, kissed Ginny warmly and directed them to the cellar and the kitchen. On emerging from the cellar Leo found her still searching for three glasses that weren't chipped.

'This place will be yours one day.'

She froze at Leo's flat tones, her hand on a cupboard door. Then she opened it and began to take down three Venetian flutes, obviously of great age and value. Washing them carefully and drying them on a glass cloth she'd fotind gave her time to compose her voice.

'I'm grateful to you for being so polite to him,' she said quietly. 'It must be an effort, considering.'

'How can you act as if you love him already?' he asked in soft reproach.

She whirled round, her eyes big and lustrous in the dark room. He was leaning against the doorjamb, his eyes dark and brooding. 'He's old and he's ill and he's genuinely sorry for what he's done. And he's not all bad. He's been misjudged. I think that's a shame and I want to reunite him with Pascal—even though they're not related.

'People make mistakes, Leo,' she said, her voice quivering with passion. 'I made a mistake. I know what he's going through, what remorse he's feeling. I think if you realise where you went wrong and badly want to make amends that you should have a second chance.'

They looked at one another for a breathless moment. And then he nodded curtly. 'Yes,' he said in a strangled rasp. 'You're right.'

'I want to live here, Leo,' she said flatly. 'I want to bring some joy into Vincente's life. He's dying and he's my father and he needs me.'

'I need you,' growled Leo.

'Oh? A woman who'll bring notoriety to the Brandons?' she asked bitterly. 'I think your motives are suspect. I believe you and your father are in some conspiracy to ensure that Beau Rivage becomes Brandon property.

'Would you give up Castlestowe for me? Do you love me so much that you'd throw away the land you've worked on all your life? Would you give up the social scene, the esteem with which everyone regards you and stay here with me?' The words were wobbling. She took a deep breath and steadied herself against the wooden draining-board. 'I think not, Leo,' she said, her heartbreaking. Again. Because he'd leave her now. 'It means too much to you. I think not.'

And, unable to bear to think of losing him, she took the flutes in her hand and ran out to the veranda before she burst into tears.

They talked for the rest of the morning. Well, she and Vincente talked, telling each other about themselves. Leo sat silent, watching her as if mesmerised. And as if he was thinking out his future.

Eventually he offered to make lunch and surprised her by producing a sweet potato and pepper omelette with a plate of fruit to follow. In the afternoon Vincente went to sleep in his room, happily exhausted by the excitement.

Ginny and Leo followed Vincente's suggestion that they take two ponies and explore part of the estate. It suited her. She didn't want to talk to Leo or to hear his lies. Now that she'd given her ultimatum, he wouldn't marry her. Obviously he'd be leaving before dusk and the hours with him were precious and sweet.

Deliberately she lagged behind him when they galloped along the beautiful, deserted beach. What they'd seen had dismayed her. It would take a fortune to restore the plantation. Up in the valley, mill wheels, old slave quarters and sugar distilleries lay in ruins among frangipani trees and profusely flowering orchids. A sleeping paradise, occupied by one lonely and unhappy man.