Three Graces (26 page)

There was a deafening round of applause as Marissa Dahling appeared and took a seat behind a small desk laid with several stacks of her books, a small microphone and a bottle of water and a glass.

Carys took a sideways glance at Violet whose tiny eyes were almost popping out of her head.

‘Marissa Dahling!’ she whispered.

Carys nodded. She must be in her late forties, Carys thought. Strikingly beautiful, with alabaster skin and sunshine yellow hair swept up into an elegant chignon, she wore a gold choker from which a heart dangled and her fingers dripped with diamonds. Success sat well with Marissa Dahling.

She introduced herself not as a bestselling author but as a wife and a mother. ‘And a relentless observer of human weakness.’

There was a ripple of nervous laughter from the audience who were, perhaps, worried that she might look into the very heart of them and pluck out their mystery.

She talked about her family, her travels, and her passions which included horse riding in the Grand Canyon and buying local honey from wherever she visited, believing it kept her ‘young, loving and full of energy‘.

Aunt Violet nudged Carys. ‘We must get some straight away. I want to look just like her.’

Carys smiled.

And then Marissa Dahling read an extract from her latest novel,
City of Broken Hearts
: another thrilling tale of love, lust, and betrayal. Aunt Violet was hooked, her face a perfect picture of concentration as she lost herself in the opening chapter.

‘We must have that book!’ she whispered to Carys when the reading ended and everyone applauded.

‘I’ll find us a copy.’

Questions and answers followed and Carys felt Aunt Violet giving her arm a gentle squeeze.

‘Carys, dear,’ she whispered. ‘Will you ask a question for me?’

Carys raised her eyebrows. ‘Really?’

Aunt Violet nodded.

‘Well, I-’ what could Carys say? She’d pledged to give Aunt Violet the best night out ever and if that meant overcoming her nerves by raising her hand and asking a question, so be it.

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘What do you want me to ask?’

‘Will you ask her if her heroines are based on her and if she herself has met so many wonderful lovers?’

Carys’s face flushed scarlet. She couldn’t ask
that
! Surely Aunt Violet was teasing. She turned to look at her but she looked completely in earnest.

‘Go on, dear. Before she gets up.’

Carys bit her lip nervously, her mind whirring. How was she going to phrase this? Could she really do it? She’d always been so shy when it came to this sort of thing. Even at school, she’d rather have risked the wrath of the teacher by asking her neighbour for help than putting her hand in the air. And she was in the front row too - where everybody could see her!

But, if it made Aunt Violet happy …

She put her hand in the air.

‘Yes, lady in the gorgeous golden shawl I’ve been admiring all evening.’

There was a titter of laughter round the room and Carys blushed again. ‘I - er - was wondering if you base your heroines on - erm - yourself and if the men in your stories - if they were - if you’d met them - in real life.’

Marissa Dahling smiled and her beautiful eyes twinkled in naughty delight. ‘And your name is?’

‘Oh,’ Carys said, not having expected to be questioned herself. ‘Carys,’ she said in as small a voice as possible.

‘Well, Carys,’ Marissa said, seeming to boom her name into the microphone so that everybody knew who’d dared to ask such a naughty question, ‘I like to think that my heroines have my zest for life - my energy and vitality. I suppose they are all a little like me. And my heroes? Well, let’s just say that I’ve met one or two in my time!’

Everybody laughed and there was a short round of applause before questions were wrapped up and Marissa agreed to sign books for anyone who’d bought them. Immediately, there was an almighty rush for the tills as people grabbed armfuls of books and then stood in line to get them signed.

Carys and Aunt Violet found a copy of
City of Broken Hearts
and looked over the stacks of her backlist. The Donna Carrera trilogy:
Sunsets and Starlight
,
Heaven’s for Fools
, and
Hearts for Hire
, looked particularly tempting with their simple white covers with embossed motifs.

‘I didn’t realise she’d written so many,’ someone said.

‘This is her twenty-first,’ a shop assistant said with a huge smile. ‘We’re selling any three titles for the price of two tonight and Ms Dahling will be pleased to sign any bought here this evening and any from your own collection.’

Carys heard Aunt Violet rustling in her handbag and turned to see her producing an enormous woollen purse which looked as if it hadn’t seen the light of day for a decade or two. She walked over to the display and picked up the complete Donna Carrera trilogy and, together with
City of Broken Hearts
, took them to the till to be paid for.

A moment later, she joined Carys again. ‘Go on, Carys. Get my books signed for me,’ Aunt Violet smiled.

‘Of course!’ Carys said. ‘There’s quite a queue, though, it might take a while. Will you be all right waiting here?’

‘There’s a nice seat over here,’ one of the shop assistants said, leading Aunt Violet to a quiet corner.

Carys got in line behind a teenage girl who was holding a heap of Marissa Dahling paperbacks, their spines cracked and their covers curling from hours of pleasurable reading. One looked as if it had even taken a tumble into a bathtub. She caught Carys’s eye and smiled.

‘I’m so excited,’ she said. ‘I’ve read all her books, have you?’

‘Well, no, but I probably will now.’

‘She’s amazing!’ the girl enthused. ‘I’ve messed up two relationships now because I’d rather stay in with a Marissa Dahling book than go out on a date.’

Carys grinned and then peeped through the queue to the table where Ms Dahling was sitting and signing. Did she know how much her fans adored her?

And then, before she knew it, it was her turn.

‘Ah!’ Marissa said, with a bright smile. ‘Carys, isn’t it?’

Carys nodded. ‘Hello.’

‘What a lovely name. Shall I make the dedications to you?’

‘Oh, no, actually, it’s for my aunt: Violet.’

‘Another lovely name,’ Marissa said. ‘I may name one of my future heroines after you or your aunt.’

Carys could feel herself blushing again as she willed herself to say something. ‘I’ve been reading your books to my aunt,’ she said. ‘We love them.’

Marissa looked up after putting a final flourish on her fourth signature. ‘Thank you.’

‘I’m sorry if I embarrassed you with my question.’

‘No, not at all. I enjoyed answering it. I’m sure it was the question everybody wanted to ask but they didn’t have your courage.’

Carys smiled. She liked Marissa. ‘Thank you so much,’ she said, taking the books handed to her. ‘I’ll look forward to reading these.’

‘Did you get them all signed? What was she like? Was she nice?’ Aunt Violet asked, leaping off her seat like a jack-in-the-box as Carys approached.

Carys opened one of the books and Aunt Violet inspected the artistic dedication and signature in beautiful black ink.

‘Goodness! To me!’

Carys nodded. ‘All four.’

‘I can’t thank you enough,’ Aunt Violet said, linking Carys’s arm as they left the shop. ‘It’s been a perfect evening.’

‘And it’s not over yet,’ Carys said. ‘You haven’t forgotten we’re having a spot of supper at The Garden Room?’

‘My goodness!’ was all Aunt Violet could say.

By the time Carys had seen Aunt Violet safely home later that evening and returned to Amberley, she was very pleasantly exhausted. A perfect evening indeed. She felt that nothing in the world could spoil her mood.

But she hadn’t banked on what was laying in wait for her the next morning.

Carys wasn’t a violent person by any means but she had the feeling that if she ever saw Natasha Bryant again, she would floor her! It was the day after the book signing and Carys was just penning a response to an enquiry about whether somebody could have their wedding photographs taken in the grounds of Amberley without actually getting married there when Mrs Travis came into her office.

‘I’m sorry to disturb you, Lady C, but I thought you might like to see this.’

‘What is it?’ Carys asked, looking up from her desk.

‘It’s the local paper. Mr Reeves brought it to me. I don’t think Lord C’s seen it yet.’

Carys’s eyebrows rose. This sounded ominous. Mr Reeves was Amberley’s butler and the unofficial clippings master of anything to do with Amberley as he read all the local newspapers.

‘Well,’ Carys said, taking the paper, ‘at least I’m not on the front page.’

Mrs Travis pursed her lips. ‘No,’ she said. ‘It’s on page five.’

Carys frowned at her sombre voice and quickly flicked through the pages. ‘
Oh!
’ she yelped in shock. ‘How?’ It was all she could muster.

‘It was that book signing you went to,’ Mrs Travis said, stating the obvious.

‘But I didn’t see anyone-’ Carys was going to say that she didn’t see anyone taking photos but then she remembered being half-aware of flashes going off every now and then. But they’d been fans, surely? Anyway, how had the papers known she’d been there?

And then she remembered. That question! She’d had her name boomed out across the audience. Well, there weren’t too many people called Carys, were there? And if that appalling Natasha woman had been there -

Yes! Sure enough, in bold, rather smug-looking letters, Carys thought, was written,
Story by Natasha Bryant
. Of course she’d been there. Marissa Dahling’s visit to Carminster was a big event.

‘What an absolute bitch!’ Carys said and then covered her mouth in shame. ‘Sorry, Mrs Travis.’

‘Not at all,’ she said stoically. ‘I always thought that one was a bit of a trollop!’

For a moment, Carys felt like laughing, but it didn’t last and her eyes returned to the story and the photograph of her standing with Marissa Dahling. And on to the headline: Duchess Seeks Advice from the Queen of Romance.

When bestselling author, Marissa Dahling, gave a reading at Bellwood’s Books last night, she didn’t expect to be cross-questioned about her love-life by the Duchess of Cuthland. The duchess, who recently confessed to marital problems, seemed keen to know if Ms Dahling’s heroes were based on her own experience with men. Ms Dahling is, of course, famous for her sexy novels filled with passionate affairs and handsome men and beautiful, jet-setting women.

‘This is completely outrageous! I can’t believe they’ve printed such rubbish.’

‘I tell you, my lady, it’s gone downhill something dreadful since that Natasha was taken on board.’

Carys shook her head in utter dismay. This was the second time Natasha Bryant had made her look like a fool.

‘What are we going to do?’ she asked. ‘How are we going to hide this from Richard? He always looks through the papers.’

‘Yes, my lady,
looks
,’ Mrs Travis said cryptically.

‘What do you mean? He’s bound to notice this. Look! My picture’s the size of a postcard and is on a facing page, for goodness’ sake!’

Mrs Travis looked pensive for a moment as if she was working something out in her own mind first. ‘He rarely reads it so why couldn’t we take out this offending page and replace it with the one from yesterday. I’m sure he won’t notice.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Well, we can hope. And, as long as nobody else tells him about it-’

‘It’s worth the risk. I don’t want him seeing this. It’ll probably mean divorce! Do you still have yesterday’s paper?’

‘We keep all the papers, my lady, for at least a month.’

‘That’s great. Then this might just work.’

Mrs Travis nodded. She looked as pale and anxious as Carys was feeling.

As she left the room, Carys, who’d handed the newspaper back minus the offending pages, sat down at her desk feeling completely drained. She’d been duped -
twice!
She read through the shoddy story which was trying to pass itself off as journalism and then folded it neatly before hiding it in the third drawer down on the left-hand side of her desk. That, she believed was the least ostentatious of drawers. If you were snooping for something in somebody’s desk, the third drawer on the left-hand side would not be your first port of call, would it? One would, she believed, go for the top drawers first. Then the second drawer would be inspected then, perhaps, the bottom drawer. No, she thought, the third drawer, right at the back underneath some leaflets she’d collected, would be the safest hiding place.

Once she’d tucked it away, she drummed her fingers on the perfect polished desktop, wondering if she should ring Natasha up and have it out with her. But where would that get her? It would do no good whatsoever and it would give Natasha the pleasure of knowing she had riled her. No, she’d have to let it go, even though it made her heart pound with fury.

One thing was certain, though: from now on, she would have to remain vigilant at
all
times.

‘You’re looking rather pale,’ a voice said, startling Carys some two hours after she’d hidden the latest newspaper disgrace in her most secret of drawers.

She looked up to see Georgiana’s beautiful blue mist descending into her favourite armchair.

‘Georgiana! Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick. I was beginning to think I’d made you up and that you didn’t really exist at all.’

‘Oh, I’ve been around,’ she said enigmatically.

Carys instantly forgot her previous anxiety at Georgiana’s absence. It was so good to see her again and have someone to talk to.

‘You won’t believe what’s been going on here.’

Georgiana raised a hand in the air. ‘You do not need to explain, Carys, dearest. I have been watching from afar and I think the whole thing is simply appalling.’

‘You mean, you know about Natasha’s story in the paper?’

Georgiana nodded. ‘I do.’

‘You never cease to amaze me,’ Carys said. ‘So, what do you think we should do?’