The English Lord's Secret Son Read online

  Jules began to nod his understanding, then broke off as further uncertainties set in. “There’s something I don’t understand,” he said.

  It was issued like a real challenge, Wyndham thought. The boy was displaying his intelligence and his finely tuned perceptions, exceptional for one so young.

  “No matter, Jules.” Wyndham began to turn away. “Your mother will explain it to you.”

  “Explain what? Wouldn’t it be better if you did?” Jules started to follow the man as he walked down the short flight of stone steps.

  Wyndham turned. “No, your mother will do it. Go back inside, Jules,” he said with quiet but unmistakeable authority. He lifted a hand to Stella, who was standing like a pillar of salt. “I’ll phone Catrina when I get back to the hotel,” he said.

  My God, I have to warn her, Stella thought.

  “Goodbye now, Jules,” he called.

  “Goodbye, sir.” The man’s smile washed over Jules again. It was like sunlight. It restored Jules’ sense of comfort and well-being.

  “Will I see you again?” he called with a betraying eagerness in his voice. This was a real live lord. Wait until he told Noah! Not that either of them would want to be one. They were Australian.

  Wyndham raised a hand. “Sure to, Jules,” he said.

  Try explaining this away, Catrina. Try it, just try it.

  The words reeled away like a mantra in his head.

  * * *

  Once Stella shut the door, Jules wouldn’t leave it alone. “You’re his kinswoman. That’s a relative, isn’t it, Nan?”

  Jules was into discovery. Next he’d be onto Ancestry.com. “Yes, darling,” Stella said, desperate to get to the phone. “The funny thing is I never laid eyes on him until today.”

  “Why’s that?” Jules grabbed at her hand. “Why have you never gone back to England for a visit? Aunty Annabel used to visit you, didn’t she? I think I remember her.”

  “You probably do, although you were only five.”

  “What happened to her?” Jules asked.

  “Aunt Annabel died young, dear, because she never looked after herself. She mixed with the wrong people.”

  “That’s sad. I hope her dying was peaceful?” Jules said from the depths of his tender heart.

  “Very peaceful, darling,” Stella assured him. “Now, what would you like for afternoon tea? Something light. I have roast chicken and all the trimmings for dinner.”

  Jules gave her the strangest look. “Don’t you want to talk about it, Nan?”

  She paused to look down at him. “What’s it, darling?”

  “I was listening from the top of the stairs. You sounded like you were a bit afraid of him. Were you?”

  “Certainly not!” Stella pronounced firmly. “I suppose I was a bit overwhelmed. He is a lord, you know. The fifth Baron Wyndham.”

  “Aunt Annabel was a lady. Does that mean you were one too before you came to Australia? We don’t have lords and ladies here, thank goodness. I think we should all be the same.”

  Stella’s smile was grim. “You could be right. I was a very modest Miss Stella Radclyffe, as was Annabel.” In fact both had had the title of The Honourable, but she didn’t bother telling him that. “My sister, Annabel, married a hugely successful businessman, Sir Nigel Warren, who was knighted by the Queen. Therefore she had the title Lady Warren.”

  “I see. But it is better when everyone is the same,” Jules pronounced, “yet part of me was impressed. I thought Lord Wyndham was really cool. He looks a bit like some painting I’ve seen in a book. Sort of haughty, but I think, kind. I can’t wait for Mummy to get home. Should you ring her and tell her?”

  Stella almost sighed aloud in relief. “What a good idea. You go upstairs and get changed and I’ll ring your mother.”

  And that was what Stella did.

  Catrina listened in silence, then said, “God help us all! He knows, doesn’t he?”

  “Of course he knows,” Stella said with a severity that was palpable even over the phone. “I’d abandon any attempt to pull the wool over his eyes.”

  “Isn’t it eyes what this is all about? Living proof,” Cate said, halfway between gravity and black humour.

  “Is it ever!” Stella rasped. “Jules liked him,” she said, as though that were a betrayal.

  “Of course he did!” Cate responded. “What’s the big surprise? They’re blood. I have to go, Stella. Thanks for warning me. Ashe won’t let this lie. I kept the existence of his son from him for seven years. I suppose he had the right to know,” she admitted unexpectedly.

  “You remember what he did to you,” Stella reminded her with some wrath. “Just don’t panic. Be strong.”

  “You’re the strong one, Stell.”

  “I’m not.” Well, she was, but in all modesty it was her habit to dismiss it.

  “You certainly are when it comes to pulling your weight. I want you to know I think you do a great job with Jules.” Catrina put down the phone. The sky outside her floor-to-ceiling office window was a deep blue.

  But a storm was coming.

  * * *

  Murphy Stiller, wearing another one of her power suits, barged into her office without knocking. “Finished the Mangan proposal yet?” Her ill humour was evident.

  “Not only finished, I’ve run it all by Hugh,” Cate said blithely. “Anything else I can help you with, Murphy?”

  No reply. The usual glare.

  “I mean, it’s not as though we’re buddies.” A note of derision had entered her voice.

  “Hardly.” Murphy gave her a smile of sheer malevolence. “I don’t care much for you.”

  “Not a lot of people care for you, Murphy,” Cate pointed out. “Probably not even your mother.” Cate once had been drawn into a long, informative chat with Murphy’s large and formidable mother.

  “Let’s keep my mother out of this.” Murphy bit down hard on her lip. “My mother is a tyrant. She’s also a desperately unhappy woman.”

  “If so, I’m sorry to hear it.” Mrs Stiller, like her daughter, Murphy, was a born bully with the devil in her. Blood would out.

  “Well, I couldn’t care less,” Murphy cried, unrepentant. “She dotes on my brother, Alex, but she thinks I’ve never measured up.”

  Instantly Cate felt pity. Fancy growing up with Mrs Stiller for a mother. “I’m sure she doesn’t. You’re a highly successful woman.”

  Murphy didn’t thank her for the comment. “So how did you and Lord Wyndham get along?” Her near-black eyes were full of innuendo. “Kept him happy, did you?”

  “Get your head into gear,” Cate said shortly. “How come you felt it necessary to tell him I had a son?”

  Murphy had the grace to flush. “Tell you, did he?”

  Cate kept her expression neutral. “It was of little interest to him, but I’m getting a bit tired of your interference in my private affairs, Murphy. You’ve done it many times. The next time I’ll go to Hugh.”

  “And complain?” Murphy’s loud challenge would have blown another woman to smithereens.

  “You bet,” Cate said. “I know you love your job, Murphy. Think about it.”

  Murphy Stiller’s olive cheeks took on a hot flush. “Think you could get me fired? So poor old Hugh has the hots for you, does that make you think you’re invincible?”

  “Is anybody?” Cate asked. “I’m sick of these references to Hugh’s attraction to me. Hugh is a hundred per cent loyal to his wife. So lay off, Murphy. Now I don’t have time to talk, so you’ll have to excuse me. Would you mind shutting the door when you go?”

  Murphy did her stuff. She gave the door one almighty slam.

  * * *

  Thirty minutes later Cate was trying hard to focus on a mining lease, when the phone rang.

  She knew who it was before she lifted the phone.

  “Wyndham.”

  “What can I do for you, Wyndham?” She spoke with cool detachment. She could have been a great actress. No trouble at all. “Is something wrong?
”

  “Now I know the reason why you’ve been so worried.” His tone was so much like a whiplash it brought the blood to her skin. “Make any excuse you like, but I expect to see you at my hotel in under a half hour.”

  “Impossible,” she said. “I’ve work to do.”

  The steely tone was calculated to get anyone moving. “Thirty minutes,” he said. “Don’t show up, I’m coming after you. I can promise you it won’t be pleasant. Far better we have our conversation here.”

  It reminded Cate of the many TV crime shows she had watched, where a suspect was offered the option of spilling the beans right where they stood, or going down to the police station.

  She let the phone fall. She had to head off for his hotel.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  HE LET HER IN. Fury was burning like a slow fuse. When it hit the target it would burst into a conflagration.

  His target was her. Yet she threw her arms extravagantly into the air as if she didn’t have a care in the world

  It was the signal for him to turn on her, his body so taut Cate was made fully aware of the power in him. “I’ve never known anyone like you,” he said, in a hard, unforgiving voice.

  “So you used to say.” Her comment was foolishly facetious, adding fuel to the fire.

  “Don’t make me angrier than I already am,” he warned. “Your mother rang you, of course?”

  “My adopted mother,” Cate found herself saying, taking an armchair. “She’s a jolly old Radclyffe, you know. You’re related.”

  “That jolly old Radclyffe who just happened to have been born at Radclyffe Hall washed her hands of her own family. She’s your real mother, your biological mother. She had to have a reason for running off to Australia. Pregnant no doubt, which doesn’t make sense as she was a married woman.”

  “Stella had her reasons. She did adopt me. I have the papers.”

  He stared at her as though convinced she was a pathological liar. “I don’t believe you.”

  Her own temper flared. “Harsh words aren’t they? Especially coming from someone like you.”

  “Is that the best you can do?” he exclaimed, dropping into the chair opposite her. Even then his eyes were involuntarily drinking her in, he thought in disgust. “Your boy, Jules, is my son.”

  “What if I swear he isn’t?’

  “You could swear like the worst inmate in your worst jail. Jules is my son. You were pregnant when you left England.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  He ignored that, his eyes ablaze.

  “Okay, I was,” she admitted. It would be too easy for him to prove paternity. That was if he wanted to. Her only hope was he would simply go away. “I wasn’t really sure until a couple of months later. I should tell you it came as a huge shock. When the doctor told me I screamed so loud it’s a wonder you didn’t hear me deep in the Cotswolds.”

  He bent forward as though he couldn’t bear to look at her. “This is it, is it?” he asked with contempt. “You’re going to confront the gravest matter with your silly jokes.”

  “No joke, I assure you,” she said so sharply he lifted his dark head. “Giving birth is no fun.”

  “God, Catrina,” he breathed. “Have you even for a moment regretted not letting me know? I have rights. Have you forgotten about that, about common decency? I would have done everything in my power to help you.”

  She lit up with anger. “How exactly? Have money put into my bank account?”

  His black brows knitted. “I would have come on the first plane.”

  She turned her head away. “That’s as big a lie as it gets. You cut me out of your life, Ashe. You and your horrible mother.”

  That got to him. Horrible mother? He felt like shaking her. “What does my mother have to answer for?” he rasped. “She was as shocked as I was by your defection. She stood by me. I couldn’t have asked for stronger support.”

  Cate, too, was nearly jumping out of her skin. “Your mother was a monster,” she cried.

  He looked utterly shocked, so shocked she floundered. “She was.” She registered she had lost it.

  “My mother is dead,” he said. His expression was fixed yet incredibly alert like a big cat about to pounce.

  “What?” she gasped.

  “Hard of hearing, are you? My mother is dead. She was very badly injured in a riding accident. She died a few days later in hospital.”

  Cate felt her skin blanch. “What can I say? I’m sorry? I am sorry, but your mother was hateful to me.”

  He gave an incredulous laugh. “Catrina, I’m finding this very hard to believe. If my mother was hateful to you I can only say she hid it extremely well.”

  “From you,” Cate retorted. “I grant you she was pleasant enough right up until our last confrontation. Then she made it abundantly clear where she really stood. She told me it was time for me to get myself back off to Australia. Disappear from your life. I simply wasn’t good enough. Marina only just made it. Perhaps she’d been aiming for one of the royal princesses?”

  He felt as if his head were spinning. “What in the name of God are you talking about? You expect me to believe my own mother behaved in that way?”

  “I don’t care what you believe,” she said flatly.

  He lurched to his feet. “Catrina, try to see this my way, I beg you. Apart from anything else, my mother isn’t around to refute these charges. All I know is, she was so upset she could barely show me your pathetic note.”

  An icy sensation enveloped Cate. “How could she show you a note when I never left one?” she shouted. “Why would I, for God’s sake? Like a coward—I never thought you were that—you scuttled off to London while your mother did your dirty work.”

  “Hey, hey, hey,” he warned. “Go no further.”

  He looked furious, even disoriented, his eyes a stunning flame-blue. She decided it was time to beat a retreat, even though she knew he would never lay a hand on her.

  “Don’t you dare leave.” His voice was a deep, dark purr low in his chest.

  She took a panicky breath. “You can’t touch me. I’ll have you up on a charge.” She made the empty threat.

  “You’ll have us both up,” he said. “Come back and sit down, Catrina. I don’t assault women, even women without a conscience, like you. What I’d really like to know is, how can such a lovely creature be so downright cruel?”

  Her legs were so unsteady beneath her she had to resume her seat. “You were the one who screwed me up, Ashe. I loved you with all my heart.”

  He towered over her. “I won’t listen to you.”

  “You listened to your mother. Don’t you want to hear what I have to say?”

  “Not right now,” he said very tightly. “I don’t think I could handle it. I just want you to admit one thing. Your child is my son.”

  “Hell with it!” she cried. “Yes, yes, yes!”

  “That’s all I need to know. My son, my precious, precious son!”

  It was coming...it was coming...the Storm. Important she be ready. No one on earth would take Jules from her. “So what do you intend to do about it?” She threw out the challenge. “Have him over to England for the holidays? Let him mix with your kids?”

  His eyes flashed lightning. “What makes you think I have kids?”

  “Well, don’t you?” She leapt to her feet again, unable to sit still. “Or is Marina barren? It can’t be you. You got me pregnant in no time at all.”

  “You can never fix this, Cate,” he said.

  The first time he had ever used the shortened version of her name. It shook her badly. “That’s irrelevant now. I want you to stay away from me, Ashe. Stay away from my son. I’ll tell him about you in time. Not yet. Not until he’s old enough to understand. I’d like to leave now.”

  “That’s what you do, though, isn’t it—run? What you can’t deal with, you run from. Were you nervous about my taking up the peerage? What it might entail for you?”

  She gave a laugh that was more than a little on the w
ild side. “Don’t be so stupid.”

  “What was it, then?” he demanded. “Tell me. Tell me the truth and I’ll let you go.”

  She was horrendously upset but she had to fight. Only how could she continue to attack his mother? Mothers were sacred. Sons always defended their mothers. That was the way of it. She knew how protective seven-year-old Jules was of her. “I did tell you, Ashe, but you wouldn’t believe me,” she said with more restraint. “I know your mother adored you. I know how much you loved her, your sisters, your family. You were the perfect son. She had lost her husband. She had to hold on to her son. To do that, she had to rule your life. Your mother didn’t have a real problem with me until it became known you were heir to the baronetcy. She thought I was just a summer flirtation, a fling. Soon enough I would go back home. End of story. End of concern. You would marry Marina and live happily ever after.”

  “Except I didn’t marry Marina,” he exclaimed, trying to cope with what she was saying.

  “What?” Her voice rose steeply despite her determination to keep calm. She stared at him with stunned eyes.

  His tone was soft and deadly. “I didn’t marry Marina. She married one of my closest friends. You met him. Simon Bolton.”

  Simon, of course. She shook her head, not able to conceal her amazement. “But she was deeply in love with you. I wasn’t such a fool I didn’t know that.”

  “Sadly I wasn’t in love with her,” he said with more than a trace of regret. “I was in love with some sort of a...” he hesitated, searching for the right word “...sociopath.”

  “To whom you were deeply attracted,” she pointed out furiously. “Don’t worry, there are a lot of sociopaths about,” she said. “Mostly men. Women marry charming, generous, caring men only to find out a short time later their dark, abusive side. Only the other day, before the happy couple got to the wedding reception he bashed her up. You see, we’re never really