was no one else here to eat it, anyway. At least, there hadn’t been...
‘Did you hear what I said?’
‘I heard you!’ She winced as the sound of her own voice made the thumping in her head even louder. ‘I heard you,’ she repeated softly, her voice almost a whisper now. But it still sounded too loud for her sensitive ears!
‘Well?’
He wasn’t going to leave it at that. She should have known that he wouldn’t. But all she really wanted to do, now that her head had at least stopped spinning, was to crawl into bed and sleep for twenty-four hours.
Fat chance!
‘Lilli!’ The impatience deepened in his voice.
At last she raised her head from where it had been resting in her hands as she stared down into her coffee cup, pushing back the dark thickness of her hair to look up at him with studied determination.
‘My God, Lilli!’ her father gasped disbelievingly. ‘You look terrible!’
‘Thank you!’ Her smile was merely a caricature of one, even her facial muscles seeming to hurt.
She knew exactly how she looked, had recoiled from her own reflection in the mirror earlier this morning. Her eyes were a dull green, bruises from lack of sleep visible beneath them, her face chalk-white. Her tangled hair she had managed to smooth into some sort of order with her fingers, but the overall impression, she knew, was not good. It wasn’t helped by the fact that she still had on the revealing red dress she had worn to the party the night before. A fact Grimes, the family butler, had definitely noted when she’d arrived back here by taxi an hour ago!
But if her father thought she looked bad now he should have seen her a couple of hours ago, when she’d first woken up; then she hadn’t even been wearing the red dress! And the rich baritone voice of Patrick Devlin had been coming from the bathroom as he’d sung while he took a shower...!
Her father dropped down heavily into the chair opposite her. ‘What were you thinking of, Lilli?’ He looked at her searchingly. ‘Or were you just not thinking at all?’ he added with regret.
He knew; she could tell by the expression in his eyes that he did. Of course he knew; Geraldine would have told him!
Because her father had been the man at Geraldine Simms’ side last night, the gorgeous man that Sally had referred to so interestedly, the man Geraldine had been draped over so intimately, her ‘ageing lover’, as Patrick had called him.
‘Were you?’ Lilli challenged insultingly. ‘Yes, I saw you last night,’ she scorned as a guarded look came over her father’s handsome face. ‘With Geraldine Simms,’ she continued accusingly, so angry she didn’t care about the pounding in her head at that moment. ‘But I suppose you call her Gerry.’ Her top lip curled back contemptuously. ‘All her intimate friends do!’
He drew in a harshly controlling breath. ‘And is that why you did what you did?’ he asked flatly. ‘Went off with a man you had only just met? A man you obviously spent the night with,’ he added as he looked pointedly at her dress.
‘And what about you?’ Lilli accused emotionally. ‘I don’t need to ask where you spent the night. Or with whom!’ She was furiously angry, but at the same time tears of pain glistened in her eyes.
Her father reached out to touch her hand, but she drew back as if she had been burnt ‘You don’t understand, Lilli,’ he told her in a hurt voice. ‘You—’
‘Oh, I understand only too well.’ She stood up so suddenly, her chair fell over behind her with a loud clatter, but neither of them took any notice of it as their green eyes locked. ‘You spent last night in the bed of a woman everyone knows to be a man-eating flirt, a woman who has been involved with numerous men since her brief marriage—and equally quick divorce!—five years ago. And with my mother, your wife, barely cold in her grave!’ She glared across the table at him, her breathing shallow and erratic in her agitation, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.
For that was what hurt the most about all this. After a long illness, her mother had died three months ago—and now her father was intimately involved with one of the biggest flirts in London!
It was an insult to her mother’s memory. It was—it was—God, the pain last night of seeing her father with another woman—with that woman in particular!—had been almost more than she could bear.
Her father looked as if she had physically hit him, his face as pale as her own, the likeness between them even more noticeable during those seconds. Lilli had always been so proud of her father, had adored him as a child, admired him as an adult, had always loved the fact that she looked so much like him, her hair as dark as his.
Now she wished she looked like anyone else but him—because at this particular moment she hated him!
‘You’re right, Father, I don’t understand,’ she told him coldly as she rose and walked away from him. ‘But then, I don’t think I particularly want to.’
‘Lilli, did you spend the night with Patrick Devlin?’
She stopped at the door, her back still towards him. Then, swallowing hard, she turned to face him, her head held back defiantly. ‘Yes, I did,’ she told him starkly.
He frowned. ‘You went to bed with him?’
Lilli stared at her parent woodenly. She had woken up in a hotel bedroom this morning, wearing only her lace panties, with Patrick Devlin singing in the adjoining bathroom as he took a shower, the other side of the double bed showing signs of someone having slept there, the pillow indented, the sheet tangled; so it was probably a fair assumption that she had been to bed with him!
But the real truth of the matter was she didn’t actually remember, couldn’t recall anything of the night before from the moment she had closed her eyes in the car—and even some of the events before that were a bit hazy!
Her mouth tightened stubbornly. ‘What if I did? I’m over twenty-one.’ Just! ‘And a free agent.’ Definitely that, since the end of her engagement. She had barely been out of the house during the last six months—which was the reason the champagne and wine she’d drunk last night had hit her so strongly, she was sure. At least, that was what she had told herself this morning when she’d finally managed to open her eyes and face the day. ‘Who was I hurting?’ she added challengingly.
Her father gave a weary sigh, shaking his head. ‘Well, I believe the intention was to hurt me. But the person you’ve hurt the most is yourself. Lilli, do you have any idea who Patrick Devlin is?’
Why should she? As her father had already said, she had only met the man last night. And her nonsensical conversation with Patrick in the kitchen had told her nothing about him, except that he had a sense of humour. But then, she had told him nothing about herself either, was ‘Just Lilli’ as far as he was concerned. She never expected to see or hear from him again!
‘I only wanted to go to bed with him, not hear his life story!’ she scorned dismissively.
Her father drew a harsh breath. ‘Perhaps if you had done the latter, and not the former, this conversation wouldn’t be taking place. In fact, I’m sure it wouldn’t,’ he rasped abruptly. ‘You really don’t have any idea who he is?’
‘Why
