Highton very well indeed. He’d been looking forward to seeing what that dynamic young doctor was like further down the track of her brilliant career.
Not that she’d been his type when he’d met her all those years ago but he’d been able to appreciate her attributes. The soft femininity that had been such a delightful contrast to the skill and intelligence she’d radiated as a young clinician. The sparkle of a woman who’d had the world and most of its men at her feet.
Now she was a female clinician who exuded power and control. There wasn’t even the slightest hint of softness.
Or emotion, other than anger.
Except…just for a moment there, when he’d told her that he’d met her before, Nico could swear he had seen real fear in her eyes. A vulnerability that had been so out of place with the external appearance of this woman that he’d thought he’d been imagining things.
What he certainly wasn’t imagining was the stark contrast between the woman he remembered admiring in the past and the one he’d just encountered.
What the hell had happened to Charlotte Highton?
And what was she trying to hide?
‘CHARLOTTE…THERE YOU ARE! Thank goodness…I’ve been seriously worried about what might have happened to you.’ The tall, grey-haired man was hurrying towards her. As he got closer, however, his step faltered and his eyes widened. ‘Oh, my goodness. What has happened to you?’
The hotel Bonvecchiata had a water landing for gondolas and motorboats so Charlotte had entered the foyer moments after leaping out of the police launch. She knew she looked a fright but there’d been no chance to duck into a restroom and at least tidy her hair and sponge some of the mud from her clothing. Richard Campbell, the co-ordinator of this select symposium and the man who’d invited her to open it, must have been pacing the foyer as he’d waited anxiously for her to arrive.
‘Long story, Richard. I’m very sorry, but I got caught up in an emergency. A man went into cardiac arrest and fell off some scaffolding right in front of me. I had to keep up the CPR until the ambulance got there.’
Charlotte was speaking quickly but her mind was working even faster. There were about fifty people who’d been invited to attend this symposium. Where were they? Sitting in the conference room already, drumming their fingers on the tabletops and muttering about the substandard organisation of this gathering?
Richard was an old friend. Charlotte felt terrible about letting him down like this by being late and he didn’t even know the worst of it yet. How was she going to tell him that she’d lost her presentation material?
He’d noticed her gaze sweep the foyer.
‘They’re serving coffee and cake in the restaurant for everybody. As soon as I knew you were running late I put back the start time for half an hour. There’s a couple of attendees that aren’t here yet as well.’
‘Oh…’ Charlotte nodded. She had been given a small breathing space. Now she had to decide if there was any way in the world she could rescue the situation. ‘Richard…about my opening address…’
The older man smiled. ‘Catchy title. “Miracles or Mutilation?” It’s caught everybody’s attention already, I have to say. But, Charlotte…’ Richard was frowning now, looking down at her shredded tights and grazed knees. ‘Are you going to be able to deliver it?’
Richard Campbell’s reputation was on the line here. There were people from all over the world who’d chosen to come to this satellite symposium—a breakaway group from the much larger conference that had finished in Rome yesterday—plus others who had chosen to come to this forum without attending the main conference. They were all leaders in the field of emergency medicine. Exceptionally busy people who would not be happy to have their precious time wasted.
Charlotte’s presentation had been researched meticulously. the medical illustrations department of her university hospital had spent hours preparing the graphics that represented the facts and figures, the trends and the controversies about cost-effectiveness. It didn’t matter how phenomenal her memory was, there was no way she could do justice to her presentation.
If she could get hold of someone at St Margaret’s they could find the presentation on her desk computer and email it to her, but that would take too much time. They only had a matter of hours to fit in the other presentations and discussions before the symposium dinner this evening. And someone needed to open the day’s programme.
How would it look it she backed out? Even with the best excuse in the world it would still dent her reputation as a young leader in this field, and Charlotte needed that reputation. It was who she was. The professional Charlotte Highton was strong enough to hide the real Charlotte. The inadequate, shameful one who wasn’t a real woman at all.
She was caught between a rock and a hard place here. If she explained that there was no way she could do this, she would tarnish her reputation with the taint of failure and that chink in her armour might never be mended. It might grow, in fact, and eventually split open and the whole world would know what she was hiding.
They might look at her the way Nico Moretti had. As if they knew she was a fraud.
Charlotte could feel her heart thumping rapidly and there was a sinking sensation in her stomach that threatened to spiral into nausea.
‘I’ve got a small problem,’ she confessed to Richard. ‘I’ve lost my presentation. My laptop ended up in the canal.’
‘Oh…Lord…’ Richard shaded his eyes with his hand. ‘Can you manage without it?’
Charlotte opened her mouth to tell him how unlikely that was, but before she could force the words out she was distracted by the sound of her name being called from somewhere near the reception desk.
‘Charlotte Jane Highton…’
The voice was as familiar to her as her own but Charlotte didn’t want to believe that there was yet another problem she had to deal with. She kept her gaze on Richard, who gave her a rueful smile.
‘Sorry. I hadn’t got around to telling you. Your grandmother’s here.’
Charlotte shook her head sharply. ‘No. She’s not supposed to arrive until tonight. After the symposium. We’re travelling back to London together tomorrow.’
But the voice was much closer now. It couldn’t be ignored.
‘Charlotte Jane…What on earth have you done to yourself, child? You look like you’ve been run over by a gondola.’
Charlotte closed her eyes. She might be thirty-one years old but her grandmother could make her feel like a child again in a heartbeat. Flame-haired and larger than life, Lady Geraldine Highton was never one to stand on ceremony.
‘Gran…what are you doing here?’
‘I’m supposed to be here. I booked a room for us tonight.’
‘Yes, but you were flying in this evening.’
‘I
