AMY arrived on the veranda, half an hour later, dressed for breakfast and ready for a showdown.
The questions about Bella’s father had to be answered.
Today. Preferably, this morning. She had no idea why Seth had remained silent and mysterious about Bella’s conception, but she was determined to have everything out in the open.
Perhaps he’d guessed what was on her mind. Despite his smooth smile, she could sense an extra tension in him. Good, she thought. It wouldn’t hurt for him to stew for a while; a little discomfort might make him more cooperative.
Guiltily conscious that she was thinking like an interrogator, Amy turned her attention to breakfast, which was another of Ming’s masterpieces.
While Amy helped Bella to dip toast soldiers into her softly boiled egg, she talked to Seth as any guest might, about the fruit trees scattered about the garden, and the hens in the coop at the back of the house.
‘Perhaps Bella and I could collect the eggs,’ she suggested. ‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you, poppet?’
‘You’re very welcome to collect them,’ Seth told her. ‘I’ll warn Ming that the job’s covered for the next few days.’
Playing his part as host, Seth talked politely and carefully about the scenic spots around the property. Amy was equally polite as she tried to pay attention, but she found it hard when her brain was boiling with seriously important questions.
As soon as Bella finished her breakfast Amy grabbed her chance. ‘Seth, do you think Ming could keep Bella entertained, while we have half an hour to ourselves?’
He gave an unsmiling nod and stood. ‘Ming’s a good sport. I’ll speak to him. I’m sure he’ll oblige.’
In no time, Ming appeared, dark eyes sparkling as he flashed Amy a wide grin. ‘Does Bella like to blow bubbles?’
She couldn’t help laughing. ‘Do kangaroos hop? Bella, would you like to blow bubbles?’
The little girl squealed, and as easily as that she was whisked away to the kitchen.
And Amy was alone with Seth.
‘More tea?’ he asked, smiling enigmatically as he lifted the teapot.
‘Thanks.’
She had to concentrate hard, keeping her hand steady as Seth filled her teacup and his, then set the pot down. He regarded her steadily. ‘You said we need to talk.’
‘Yes, I did.’ Amy took her time adding milk to her tea while she marshalled her thoughts. She had to get this right, had to get to the truth without making Seth angry.
Over the rim of his teacup, he watched her. ‘Am I right in guessing you have questions?’
‘Quite a few questions, actually,’ she said. ‘And I hope you’ll give me straight answers.’
His expression remained impassive. ‘Fire away.’
This was it. Time to hold her nose and jump in. ‘Are you Bella’s father?’
Seth looked her straight in the eyes. ‘No, Amy. I’m not.’
Oh, boy. She felt as if she’d dived into a pool only to discover too late that it was the shallow end. Even though she’d guessed this possibility, it was still a shock to have it confirmed. ‘You—you know that for sure?’
‘Absolutely. I didn’t sleep with Rachel. In fact, I had very little to do with her while she was here.’
I didn’t sleep with Rachel.
Amy sat very still, trying to ignore the warm wave of relief that rippled through her. It was totally inappropriate to be pleased simply because this gorgeous man hadn’t made love to her best friend.
She had to forget the way her body went into meltdown at his slightest touch. Her focus was Bella—Bella’s parentage. Bella’s future.
Bella was the only reason these questions were important. If Amy was going to take care of Bella for the next eighteen years or so, she wanted everything about Bella’s family background out in the open. No murky secrets or skeletons in the cupboard.
‘Rachel told me that Bella’s father was Seth Reardon, so I assumed you were—’
‘The culprit?’
‘Yes.’ With one finger, she traced the teacup’s handle. ‘But if it’s not you I suppose Bella’s father was—the other Seth.’
He nodded slowly. ‘Your friend and my uncle were lovers. Neither my uncle nor I knew of Bella’s existence, but if Rachel named Seth Reardon as her father, I can only assume Bella’s their child.’
So there was the truth at last—or as close to the truth as she was ever going to get.
Amy folded her arms and hugged them against her, needing a little head space to adjust to this news. Rachel’s lover was not this Seth Reardon, but a wonderfully attractive, older man. A man who, like Rachel, was no longer alive.
‘Poor little Bella,’ she said.
‘She’s fine, Amy.’
‘But she has no mother or father.’
‘She has you. You’re a terrific mother. You’re doing a fantastic job.’
She shrugged uneasily—disappointed that she couldn’t feel happier now that she’d achieved her goal. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you let me think you were Bella’s father?’
Seth switched his gaze to a distant spot in the garden. ‘Would you like to go for a walk?’
A walk? He wanted to take a walk now?
‘Are you trying to lead me up the garden path, Seth?’
He gave a soft laugh. ‘No, but I can explain things better outside.’
She shrugged uncertainly. ‘All right.’ She supposed he mightn’t want Ming to overhear them.
As they went down the short flight of timber steps the air was warm and humid and laden with the scent of frangipani. They followed a flagstone path past a bed of lush green plants with astonishing bright orange flowers shaped like lobster claws, and Amy stole a glance at Seth’s frowning face.
She wasn’t going to be put off. Now that she’d adjusted, she was getting increasingly angry that he’d let her think the wrong thing for so long. ‘Were you ever going to tell me about your uncle?’ she asked.
‘I was planning to tell you the whole story.’
‘When?’ she snapped, annoyed by his coolness. ‘When Bella turns twenty-one?’
