A Second Chance For The Millionaire: Rescued by the Brooding Tycoon / Who Wants To Marry a Millionaire? / The Billionaire's Fair Lady. Nicola MarshЧитать онлайн книгу.
rel="nofollow" href="#ulink_8e5b9c36-f2ca-5591-8134-dcaf1465dede">CHAPTER EIGHT
AS THEY walked out afterwards Amos fell into step beside Jackson, speaking in a low voice. ‘What do you know about her?’
‘Only that she’s delightful, and a very good influence on Darius.’
‘And just what does that mean?’
‘I’ve been watching them together.’ Jackson fell silent.
‘And?’ Amos demanded. ‘And?’
‘He was laughing.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘It’s true. Darius was laughing.’
‘I’ve seen that too,’ Marcel put in. ‘And you know what makes him laugh? She makes fun of him.’
‘She makes fun of him? And he likes it? Rubbish.’
‘They share jokes,’ Jackson agreed. ‘I’ve seen them and heard some of the things they say. Daft remarks tossed back and forth, things that wouldn’t make any sense to other people, but they understand each other, and they laugh together. I’ve never seen that in Darius before. She’s transformed him.’
Amos didn’t answer this, but he strode on ahead and waited for Darius to appear. He nodded briefly at Harriet and jerked his head for his son to follow him.
‘What is it, Father?’ Darius asked.
‘We need to talk.’
‘Right now? They’re just starting the reception.’
‘It won’t take long.’
He walked away without stopping until they’d both entered a little side room and closed the door. Then Amos turned on him.
‘I gather things are getting worse.’
Darius hesitated a moment before saying, ‘Financially, they’re not going well but in other ways—’
Amos brushed this disclaimer aside. ‘I was speaking financially.’
‘Of course,’ Darius murmured.
‘You can’t raise the loans you need, and when you put property up for sale it won’t raise the asking price.’
‘May I ask how you know these details?’ Darius said grimly.
‘You don’t imagine there are any secrets, do you?’
‘Not from you.’
‘You ought to be here in London, working things out. Instead, you waste time on that island that can hardly be worth—well, what is it worth?’
‘You mean in money terms?’ Darius asked in a strange voice.
‘Don’t play games with me. Of course I mean money. How much could you raise from it?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘But you’ve been living there for weeks; you must have investigated.’
‘In a sort of way,’ he said carefully. ‘But it’s too soon to form conclusions. I don’t want to rush things.’
‘I suppose that’s the influence of the young woman you brought with you. I hope you’re not taking her too seriously.’
‘As seriously as a man takes a woman who saved his life.’
‘Don’t make too much of that. It means nothing to her. It’s just her job.’
‘But it’s not,’ Darius said fiercely. ‘She isn’t employed by the Lifeboat Institution, she’s a volunteer. She has an ordinary job, but night and day she’s ready to drop everything for the people who need her, even if their cries for help come at awkward moments. She doesn’t think of herself, she thinks of them.’
‘All right, all right, spare me the speech,’ Amos said in a bored voice. ‘I get the point. Naturally, I expressed my gratitude and of course you’ve shown your own gratitude by bringing her here. I hope she enjoys herself. But let it end there. She’s no real use to you. She doesn’t have a penny and she won’t understand your way of life.’
‘And how do you know what she has and hasn’t?’ Darius demanded harshly. ‘Have you been having her watched, because if you’ve dared—’
‘No need to be melodramatic. I’ve merely made a few enquiries. She seems a decent sort, lives a quiet life.’
‘As you’d expect from a widow grieving for the husband she loved, and who loved her.’
Amos’s smile was coldly self-satisfied. ‘Ah, so you don’t know. I wondered.’
‘Know about what? What the hell are you talking about?’
‘Did she ever take you to see her husband’s grave?’
‘Of course not. Naturally, she prefers to keep it private.’
‘Have you known her visit that grave at all?’
‘How could I know?’
‘How could you indeed since she takes such care to hide the truth? But you’ll find the answer here.’ He thrust a sheet of paper in Darius’s hand. ‘Read it and find out just how cunningly she’s been keeping her secrets. Then see how much of a heroine she looks.’
Darius took the paper and read its contents. Then he grew very still, trying to control his mounting outrage.
His eyes were hard as he looked up at his father, then down again at the paper in his hand. ‘Los Angeles,’ he murmured.
‘Brad Connor died in a car crash in Los Angeles, and he’s buried out there,’ Amos said.
‘And you read something into that? He was in the tourist industry, so he probably travelled a lot.’
‘He wasn’t there to work; he was living with the woman he planned to marry as soon as his divorce came through.’
‘You can’t know that,’ Darius declared. But he knew as he spoke that Amos could find out anything he liked. It had always been one of the things that inspired admiration for his business abilities, but now Darius could feel only a horror that he’d never known before.
‘Of course I know,’ Amos snapped. ‘I know everything that’s been happening to you on that island.’
‘You’ve dared to plant spies?’
‘I’ve taken steps to assess the situation. That’s always been my way and you know it. You should be grateful. Do you think I’d stand back and see you run into danger without doing anything?’
‘I’m not in any danger.’
‘You’re in danger of becoming sentimental, and that’s one thing you can’t afford. I’d hoped by now you’d be seeing things more sensibly but, since you’re not, let me spell it out. This young woman has deceived you, presenting a picture of her life that’s far from the truth.’
‘She has not deceived me,’ Darius snapped. ‘She’s kept things to herself, but why shouldn’t she? Her personal tragedy is none of my business. If she can’t bear to talk about it, that’s up to her.’
His eyes were full of fury and for the first time it dawned on Amos that he’d miscalculated. His son was every bit as enraged as he’d wanted him to be, but his anger was directed not against Harriet, but against the man who sought to damage her. Amos decided that it was time to change tack. Reasoning might work better.
‘I understand that,’ he said, ‘but it doesn’t change the fact that she’s holding things back while pretending to be open. You don’t know her as well as you thought you did. What other secrets is she concealing?’
‘Whatever they are, she’ll confide in