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He laughed at that. It was a genuine, warm sound in the sweetly fragrant air. ‘I take it I’m the fox?’
‘What do you think?’ She grated drily, meeting his blue eyes with a look that told him most definitely that he was.
Yet underneath her stiff, instinctive antagonism to his approaches in business she had to admit in that instant to finding something very appealing about the roguish gleam m Tate Ainsley’s eye…The idea was fleeting and ludicrous, and she instantly dismissed it with severe anger. What was the matter with her? she wondered furiously. Hadn’t she learnt her lesson where men like Tate Ainsley were concerned?
She was extremely relieved when Tate pulled the car to a halt outside the house, putting an end to their conversation. As soon as the car engine stopped, the front door of the house opened and her father came out onto the wooden veranda, closely followed by Vivian. Hurriedly Helena reached for the doorhandle and stepped out to run towards him.
‘Helena, thank heavens you are home.’ Lawrence Beaumont came down the steps, and she was embraced in strong arms and held tightly.
She closed her eyes and clung to him. ‘It’s good to be home, Pop. I can’t tell you how good.’
It was a few moments before she had gathered her emotions together enough to pull away and look at her father calmly. He didn’t seem any different. A little tired, perhaps, and there was a drawn look about his face that hadn’t been there before.
Lawrence was now in his early sixties, but he still had a rugged attractiveness. His sandy-blond hair was still thick, and his body powerfully built.
‘You’ve hardly changed.’ Helena smiled through a glimmer of tears.
‘Well, that’s more than we can say about you,’ Vivian put in as she came down to join them.
Helena turned with a smile and reached to kiss her stepmother.
‘You look fabulous,’ Vivian said truthfully as they broke apart.
‘So do you.’ Helena’s eyes moved wistfully over the other woman. Vivian was wearing a speedwellblue summer dress that emphasised her superb figure. Her skin was pale and she had smouldering red lips and dark eyes. Her hair was a soft, natural blonde.
Vivian was just thirty-three years of age—it was six years since she had given up her modelling career to marry Helena’s father, but her looks certainly hadn’t diminished. If anything she was more beautiful now than she had been before.
‘Thanks for collecting Helena.’ Lawrence went to give Tate a hand with her luggage, but he waved him away.
‘I can manage,’ he said, smiling. ‘Your daughter travels light.’
‘I hope that’s not an indication of how long you’ll be staying?’ Lawrence asked, turning anxious eyes onto Helena.
‘Give me a chance to unpack before I start talking about leaving,’ Helena prevaricated with a smile.
Her father nodded, and together they moved into the house.
Overhead fans made a soft whirring sound and sent a delicious waft of air over Helena’s heated skin as she stepped into the wide hallway. The doors through to the lounge were open, and her eyes moved over the soft gold furnishings with delight. Everything was exactly as it had been when she had left.
The house was furnished almost exclusively with antiques, and stepping through the doorway was like stepping back in time to the colonial era. The floors were polished wood, and they creaked underfoot like a ship’s galley. Crystal lights made a soft tinkling sound in the gentle breeze from the fans.
‘Leave Helena’s luggage by the staircase, Tate,’ Lawrence said briskly as he moved into the lounge. ‘Come through and join us for a drink of champagne.’
‘Champagne?’ Helena watched as her father marched to where an ice-bucket and glasses had been left ready and waiting for them. Champagne hardly fitted in with the picture her brother had painted of financial troubles.
‘Tate very kindly brought it over earlier, ready for your homecoming.’
‘I see.’ Helena didn’t really see at all. Why on earth should Tate bring champagne over to welcome her home?
She glanced across and met his deep blue gaze. He was watching her, a strange, almost hooded expression in his eyes. Whatever his reasons, Helena thought in that instant, she doubted they had anything to do with generosity.
She watched as her father poured out five sparkling glasses of the frothy liquid. ‘Is Paul joining us?’ she asked hopefully.
There was a moment’s awkward silence. ‘I’ve told your brother not to come here until he gets a civil tongue in his head,’ Lawrence said in a gruff tone
Helena’s heart sank. The argument between Paul and her father had obviously been even worse than she had thought. She had hoped that they might have patched things up for her homecoming.
‘The other glass is for Mary,’ Vivian put in swiftly. ‘She’s been so excited about your return; she’s been dashing around all day, fussing and flapping to make everything perfect.’
‘She’s done everything bar kill the fatted calf,’ Tate added, a hint of dry amusement in his tone.
Was that a dig implying that she was the errant stray daughter, finally back to the fold? Helena glanced over at him, wondering again at his motivations.
‘Ah, here’s Mary now,’ Vivian said with a smile as the door swung open and a plump black woman came rushing into the room.
‘Oh, Miss Helena, you’re home!’ Mary’s voice was filled with excitement. ‘I didn’t hear the car…and I’ve been listening out for it for what seems like hours.’
‘Mary, it’s so good to see you.’ Helena smiled and went to embrace the woman who had been more than just a housekeeper at Beaumont House over the years.
When Helena’s mother had died Mary had been a close friend to Helena. She had comforted the griefstricken nine-year-old and had taken over the running of the house, becoming a mother substitute to both her and Paul when Lawrence Beaumont had been unable to cope with his own feelings of grief, let alone his children.
‘Let me look at you.’ Mary’s round face beamed with good nature as she stepped back from her. ‘My Lord, you look as pretty as a picture.’
‘Doesn’t she just?’ Much to Helena’s embarrassment, Tate was the one to agree with this statement. He lifted the champagne glasses and handed one each to Helena and Mary. ‘I’d like to propose a toast,’ he said, holding Helena’s gaze with steady blue eyes. ‘Welcome home, Helena. May your visit be a long and memorable one.’
Helena had a feeling it was going to be more than just memorable. She had a very strong feeling that it was going to be unforgettable.
‘Hear, hear.’ Lawrence topped the glasses up once they had taken a few sips of the golden liquid.
The sound of the telephone ringing made Mary put down her glass and hurry from the room.
‘Will you stay and have some dinner with us Tate?’ Lawrence asked.
Helena noted that her father’s voice wasn’t just polite—he sounded as if he genuinely would have welcomed the other man’s company.
Tate glanced at his watch. ‘I’d love to, but I’ve got an important meeting in an hour. I really should be leaving now.’
About time, Helena thought grimly. It should be Paul joining them for dinner, not Tate Ainsley. What on earth was her father thinking of?
Lawrence nodded, obviously disappointed. Then he turned his attention towards his daughter. ‘So, Helena,’ he said bluntly, ‘put me out of my misery. Have you come home to tell us you’re getting married?’
Helena tried very hard not to blush. So Tate had been right! He seemed to be very much privy to her father’s personal thoughts, she observed with concern.
‘No, Pop,’ she said with a shake of her head. ‘I’ve come back to see you—there’s nothing more to it than that.’
‘Thank heavens for that,’ Lawrence said fervently. ‘Not that I don’t want you to get married—on the contrary, I think it’s high time you tied the knot and gave me some grandchildren to bounce on my knee—but I don’t want you marrying somebody miles away in London…I want you to marry someone closer to home.’ Her father’s voice was heavy with implication.
Helena felt sure that her face was crimson as she met Tate’s coolly amused glance.
She pulled her eyes away from him, angered by his air of arrogant amusement. ‘Sorry to disappoint you, Pop,’ she finally managed to say in a tightly controlled voice, ‘but I’m married to my work. I’m a career girl.’
Lawrence shook his head, looking totally disgusted with such a statement.
She was extremely relieved when they were interrupted by Mary corning back into the room. ‘Phone for you, Miss Helena,’ she said cheerfully. ‘It’s your brother.’
‘You can take it in my office,’ Lawrence said grimly, his very tone of voice conveying how displeased he was with Paul.
Helena put down her champagne and hurried towards the hall. She was extremely anxious to talk to Paul. Perhaps now he could shed some light on the exact situation here.
Her father’s study was a room Helena had always felt comfortable in. The walls were lined with books and Lawrence’s huge desk looked out over splendid gardens which were ablaze with tropical colour. She perched on the edge of the desk, but her eyes were barely taking in the view outside—all her thoughts were centred on Paul at the other end of the line.
‘Sorry I didn’t make the airport. Vivian rang me this morning and said that Pop wanted Tate to pick you up.’ His voice was low, and he sounded utterly depressed.
‘What’s going on, Paul?’ Helena asked gently. ‘Pop seems to be very angry with you…more than I ever could have imagined.’
‘Well, I told you.’ Paul’s voice was aggrieved now. ‘It’s that Ainsley fellow, poisoning his mind. I suppose he’s still there?’
‘Drinking some champagne that he brought over,’ Helena informed him wryly.
‘Hell, the man has nerve. Over a million down the drain, and he’s got Pop—’
‘A million what…dollars?’ Helena’s heart missed a beat. ‘I don’t follow this at all, Paul.’
‘If you want it bluntly, Tate has talked Pop into investing all that money into buying shares in an emerald mine.’
‘An emerald mine?’ Helena wondered if her brother was kidding for a second. It was like some kind of joke.
‘Ridiculous, isn’t it?’ Paul grated heavily. ‘The biggest laugh is that Pop invested the money ages ago and he hasn’t had a bean—or should I say a gem?— in return for it yet. But still he refuses to believe he’s being duped…the man is totally convinced that it’s a great business opportunity.’
‘But where did he get all that money to invest?’ Helena asked, totally bemused. She knew for a fact that her father hadn’t got that kind of cash to play with.
‘He’s sold nearly everything—all his other business investments, and that prime piece of land by Bounty Bay.’
Helena felt suddenly heartsick. That land had belonged to her mother’s family…it had been in the family for generations and was of great sentimental value.
‘Who did he sell to?’ Almost before she asked the question she knew the answer.
‘Who do you think?’ Paul spat out venomously. ‘Tate Ainsley, of course. He’s wanted that land for years, and he got it for a song compared to what it was worth. I could have got twice as much money from another buyer who told me he was very interested.’
Through the open window Helena could see Tate and Vivian walking towards his car. Tate was laughing at something the other woman was saying. He looked tremendously handsome—the sun was glinting off his jet-black hair and he had a laid-back, devil-may-care look about him.
So, well he might laugh, Helena thought contemptuously. Obviously he thought he had the Beaumont household exactly where he wanted it.
Her mouth set in a firmly determined line. No wonder Tate was working so hard to keep in her father’s good books—no wonder he was bringing over champagne and acting as if he cared about Lawrence’s health. He was probably hoping that if he hung on a little longer he would acquire Beaumont House for a knock-down price, the way he had acquired everything else.
‘He hasn’t been turning his particular brand of charm on you, has he, Helena?’ her brother asked anxiously. ‘You aren’t fooled by him, are you?’
‘Of course not,’ she told him in a strong voice. ‘I’ve got Tate’s measure now, and I can assure you that he’s not going to get away with fooling anyone for very much longer.’
CHAPTER TWO
HELENA couldn’t sleep that night. Thoughts of Tate Ainsley and worries about her father whirled incessantly in her mind. As soon as the first rays of sunlight slanted through her bedroom window she got up and went downstairs to make herself an early-morning cup of tea.
She was moving silently across the hallway when a sound from her father’s study stopped her in midtrack. Surely her father wasn’t working at this hour? With a frown she went to investigate.
Lawrence Beaumont was seated behind his desk, wading his way through a pile of paperwork.
‘Pop, you’re supposed to be taking things easy!’ she said with dismay.
‘Good morning.’ He looked up and smiled at her, completely undeterred. ‘I am taking things easy. You know the old adage—“early to bed, early to rise”…?’
Lawrence had retired to his study soon after dinner last night, and it had been midnight when she had heard him coming up to bed. However, she refrained from saying so. Instead she erred on the side of diplomacy and said, ‘You’re working too hard.’
‘And you’ve been talking to Vivian.’
She had been talking to Vivian last night. Her stepmother was extremely concerned that Lawrence wouldn’t slow down.
‘Who has been talking to your doctor.’
‘Lot of nonsense.’ Lawrence waved his hand scornfully.
Helena came further into the room, closing the door behind her. She was wearing a tennis skirt and a short white T-shirt. ‘You and Viv having a game this morning?’ Lawrence asked conversationally. Helena knew it was his attempt to change the subject.
She nodded. ‘In about half an hour—before the sun gets too hot.’ She looked at him more pointedly. ‘It was going to be an early-morning ride, but Vivian tells me you’ve sold the horses.’
Lawrence looked a little uncomfortable. ‘Yes, well…Tate made me a good offer.’
Helena very much doubted that. She sighed and sank down in the chair opposite to him. ‘Why didn’t you tell me, Pop? All the times I have phoned, and you’ve never said a word.’
Lawrence looked at her blankly.
‘Your financial problems.’ Helena’s voice was gentle now. ‘You should have told me. I can help.’
‘Everything is under control,’ Lawrence muttered quickly ‘No need for you to worry. No need at all.’
‘But, Pop, Paul says—’
‘Has Paul been filling your head with nonsense?’ Lawrence’s tone grew suddenly angry, and his face started to redden.
Conscious of his health, Helena tried to defuse the situation and calm him down. ‘He just suggested that you had a few problems, that’s all.’
‘Knowing Paul, I’m sure he didn’t stop there.’ Her father leaned across the desk. ‘I hope you haven’t repeated anything he has said? It would break Vivian’s heart to hear the scurrilous comments that boy has made.’
‘No, of course not.’ Helena shook her head. She had no intention of upsetting Vivian—she knew how much the woman loved her brother. She had, however, tried to ask her stepmother about the financial difficulties they were in, but it had soon become clear that Vivian didn’t know anything about the business.
‘Look, Pop.’ She dropped her voice to a reasonable tone. ‘Paul just said you were having a few difficulties, and I thought that I could go through your books and help you out. After all, I am—’
‘Thanks for the offer, Helena, but everything is under control.’
‘But I can—’
‘Helena, I don’t want to hear another word.’ Lawrence’s tone was ominous. He leaned back in his chair and glanced at his watch. ‘Tate is sending his secretary over this morning anyway. So I’ve got all the help I need.’
Apprehension darted through her at those words. Why was Tate going to that trouble? Was his secretary his spy in the camp? ‘I suppose Tate will be coming over as well?’ she asked carefully, then couldn’t help adding, ‘You never used to trust him.’
‘That was before I really knew him.’ Lawrence met her eyes firmly. ‘Tate Ainsley is a fine man.’
Unless she could prove otherwise, there was nothing more to be said. Helena stared at her father, feeling helpless and frustrated. There were a million things she would have liked to say at that juncture, but she didn’t dare for fear of raising his blood pressure. It was obvious that he wasn’t going to let her help him. He was just so damned stubborn.
But what could she do? She couldn’t let Tate Ainsley win—she couldn’t just stand by and watch him ruin everything her father had worked so hard for.
‘What time are you expecting him?’ she asked coolly. Her choice was clear. She couldn’t risk upsetting her father…but Tate was an entirely different matter.
Helena didn’t linger after her tennis match with Vivian. She headed straight around the side of the house, intending to shower and change and be back in her father’s office before Tate arrived. She came to an abrupt halt at the sight of Tate’s car parked on the drive.
He was standing on the front steps, deep in conversation with a young woman who was dressed very stylishly in a buttercup-yellow suit, her long blonde hair arranged fashionably around a perfectly made-up face. Helena recognised the girl immediately.
Antonia Summers had been in her class at school. She hadn’t been a very popular girl, and Helena remembered vaguely that she had been an incredibly jealous type. Of course, that had been a long time ago, and the girl had probably changed a lot since then. Helena also remembered that Antonia had once had an almighty crush on Tate.
They both looked over towards her as she moved forward. ‘Good morning, Helena.’ Tate’s eyes swept over her, encompassing her short white skirt and the cropped T-shirt with one sweep of his eyes.
Helena cursed the fact that she was so scantily clad. She hadn’t even done her hair this morning; it was scraped back out of the way in a ponytail.
‘I think you know Antonia, my secretary, don’t you?’ he continued smoothly.
So the girl was now working for Tate…what a small old world, Helena thought drily. She smiled politely and said hello.
‘Been playing tennis?’ Tate asked nonchalantly.
Helena nodded. It took all her inner strength just to be civil to this man. ‘I was going to go riding,’ she muttered with rancour, ‘except that Pop has given away the horses.’
‘I’ve bought them,’ Tate corrected her with equanimity. ‘But don’t worry, they are being very well looked after.’
Helena was about to make a sarcastic reply to that but she was interrupted by Antonia.
‘I just can’t believe you are home,’ she interceded with a smile. ‘Does Deborah know?’
For a moment Helena’s heart missed a beat at this mention of the girl who had once been her closest friend. There had been a time shortly after Helena had left Barbados when she hadn’t been able to think about Debby without feeling tearful.
‘Probably.’ With difficulty Helena kept her voice steady. ‘You know how news travels out here. Everyone knows everything almost before it happens’
‘Well, I saw her only last week, and she didn’t mention you,’ Antonia continued blithely. ‘She’s still seeing David Cass, you know. There were rumours a while ago that they might get married.’
‘Really?’ Helena tried to put a brisk indifference into her voice, but it was very hard when she could feel a cold hand stealing around her heart, squeezing it unmercifully hard.
She couldn’t believe that Debby would consider marrying Cass—the thought was repellent to her. For a second her composure slipped, and there was a fleeting look of anguish on her gentle features.
She glanced back at Tate. He was watching her with a look of deep contemplation in his blue eyes. Had he noticed her consternation? The notion that he had made her tilt her head up in a defiant gesture. She was damned if she was going to let anyone see how hurt she was over Debby Johnstone and Cass. That particular nightmare was over, she told herself forcefully.
‘Well, I hate to interrupt this girls’ reunion,’ Tate drawled laconically, ‘but might I suggest that we go inside? I have a few business matters I want to discuss with your father, Helena, before I leave.’
For a second Helena was so relieved that the subject had been turned away from Cass that she didn’t even care why Tate was here. It was only as she turned to lead the way into the house that her priorities reasserted themselves. What manner of business was Tate here to discuss anyway? Her mouth set in a grim line as reluctantly she knocked on her father’s study door.
‘Ah, Tate!’ Her father stood up immediately the other man entered, his face wreathed in smiles. ‘Nice to see you—and you, Antonia.’
Helena stepped in and closed the door behind her firmly. Invited or not, she intended to stay and hear exactly what was going on.
‘I didn’t think I would need you today, Antonia, but…’ Lawrence swept a hand ruefully towards the other desk at the far side of the room, which had an in-tray stacked high with correspondence. ‘As you can see, it was a forlorn hope.’
‘Don’t worry, Mr Beaumont. I’ll make short work of it,’ Antonia assured him as she stepped across to take her seat.
‘Meanwhile—’ Tate tapped the folder that he was carrying ‘—I’d like to discuss those business proposals we spoke of last week.’
‘Wonderful.’ Lawrence sat back down behind his own desk and waved Tate towards the chair opposite. ‘Helena, be a dear and get us all some coffee, will you?’ he said, glancing briefly at his daughter. ‘Mary has gone into Bridgetown for some shopping.’
Helena’s face fell. She wanted to hear the nature of the business Tate had come to discuss, not make coffee.
Tate looked across at her, and his mouth slanted in a lop-sided grin as he took in the angry gleam in her eyes. ‘Black with no sugar, thanks, Helena.’
Helena would have liked to tell him to get his own damned coffee, but courtesy and respect for her father forbade such a thing. With a dry nod, she turned to leave. She really had no other alternative.
Never had a pot of coffee been made so quickly. Helena fairly ran around the large kitchen, throwing everything on a tray. She returned to the study a few minutes later and entered the room without knocking on the door.
She was just in time to hear Tate requesting her father’s signature on some document that he had placed before him. Horror welled up inside Helena as she watched her father calmly pick up his pen to comply without question.
Helena put the tray down on the desk with rather more force than she had intended, and the china cups and saucers rattled noisily in the silence. She had to say something—she couldn’t just watch while her father signed a document that might be another dreadful mistake.
‘Shouldn’t you have professional advice before you sign anything, Pop?’ she said, quietly but firmly.
Lawrence looked up, his pen poised over the paper, an expression of annoyance clear on his lined face. ‘I think I’m capable of making my own decisions, Helena,’ he said swiftly.
It was galling to be spoken to so curtly. She had, after all, been specially trained to advise businesses in difficulty.
‘I rather thought I could be of help to you in here,’ she said with gentle emphasis.
‘I’ve told you, Helena, I’ve got all the help I need’ Lawrence smiled at her, totally ignoring the pleading look in his daughter’s eyes. ‘You go off and enjoy yourself.’
Conscious of Tate watching her, she forced herself to smile. ‘Very well,’ she acceded reluctantly. ‘I’ll see you later.’
She was quite literally fuming when she walked out of the room. How could her father be so blind as to trust Tate Ainsley with such implicit faith? And what were the documents that he was signing? All sorts of dreadful possibilities flew through her mind. Her father could be signing away Beaumont House, for all she knew.