least. Serena had been a mid-life aberration. It could never have come to anything. But he had not forgotten. He had given Serena’s daughter, Leona, her mirror image, every advantage. She was a lovely young woman in her own right. Now he was finding it unbearable for his son and Leona to be looking at him in the way that they were.
Rupert groaned aloud, then buried his face in his hands. He had always thought that he knew Alexa well, yet he had never known that she had discovered his secret infatuation. Not only that, Alexa had confided his secret to their son. Why not? Mother and son had always been very close.
The humiliation was not to be borne. Neither was it to be permitted. Rupert Blanchard reached out for a small trophy that sat on his desk, then crushed it in his bare hand.
CHAPTER SIX
AS THEY CAME out of the study and walked quickly towards the entrance hall, they saw Jinty poised in an attitude of listening at the bottom of the staircase. Obviously she was wondering what was going on, so she had taken the opportunity to eavesdrop. What they didn’t know was that Jinty was also taking a near primitive satisfaction in the fact that Tonya, her own sister, had missed out. Not that she had ever had a chance, but then Tonya had never really caught on to the hard realities of life.
“Is everything all right?” she asked, adopting an expression of concern. Impossible not to notice the look of strain on their faces.
“Not exactly,” Boyd said, his tone almost breezy. “Dad isn’t best pleased by our news.”
“Did you think he would be?” Jinty asked, throwing out her hands, palms up. “He was sure you’d go for Chloe.”
“Maybe not. But did he—or anyone else for that matter—really think I was going to go along with his plans?” Boyd gave a slight grimace. “If he’s so very fond of Chloe he should divorce you, then ask Chloe to marry him. There’s every chance she’ll say yes.”
Jinty wondered if he weren’t spot on. “Actually, I rather liked Chloe,” she said. “A thoroughly nice, malleable young woman, but clearly she’s no match for Leo, who has so many things going for her.” The merest flicker of malice. “Should I go to him?” Jinty looked from one to the other. “Be supportive?”
“Of what, Jinty?” Boyd asked, very direct. “You’re going to back us, then?”
“Why, certainly!” Jinty said without a blink. “Somehow I’ll make your father understand that Leo is your choice. Heavens, the whole time we’ve been married, Rupert has doted on Leo. Occasionally it has made me quite jealous. God knows it’s no secret that Rupert doesn’t love me. We rub along well together, that’s all. I do have the certainty I’ll be a rich woman for life but there’s little in it for me of the heart. Shall I go to him?”
“Only if you want your head bitten off,” Boyd replied. “Dad could do that quite easily. Incidentally, has he seen Drew Morse lately? I think he should have a check-up; his colour didn’t look too good. The thing is there’s no crossing Dad. He can’t deal with it.”
“Well, that’s nothing new to me,” Jinty said and briefly shut her eyes. “Rupert expects everyone to obey his every whim. Anyway, I must apologise for Tonya.”
“Oh, gosh, whatever for?” Boyd asked sardonically.
“Poor Tonya never mastered the social niceties, which is one reason why she’s still unmarried.”
“Perhaps she should enrol in a personal development course,” Boyd suggested.
Jinty blinked, then reassumed her practised smile. “Be that as it may, I do sincerely wish you and Leo the very best, Boyd. Rupert can’t dictate everyone’s life.”
“Certainly not mine,” Boyd clipped off. “Now I’m driving Leo back to Sydney. No way do I want her driving herself after an upset like that. Ask Eddie to drive her car to her apartment some time tomorrow. I’ll organise someone to drive him back.” He glanced down at the silent Leo, who was looking and feeling shell-shocked. “We’ll collect our luggage and be off. Where shall we leave Leo’s keys, Jinty?”
“On the console table, please,” Jinty said, gesturing. She was already starting to walk down the corridor that led to her husband’s inner sanctum. “I have my own fears for Rupert’s health,” she paused to confide. “He drinks far more than is good for him and I can’t get him off his infernal cigars.”
“Picked up the habit from his own father and his father before him,” Boyd said, still scanning Leona’s pale face. “Let’s collect the luggage.” He spoke to her quietly. “I can’t wait to get out of this place.”
“Where are we going?” They were driving into Sydney before Leona came out of her reverie—a long internal dialogue that had never stopped.
Boyd was staring straight ahead. He too had been very quiet on the trip, which seemed to have taken record time.
“My place,” he said briefly.
For once Leona didn’t argue.
Fifteen minutes later they slid into the underground car park of Boyd’s grand old apartment building, which had undergone mammoth restoration only a few years before. Boyd had the penthouse, which was actually two units that had been turned into a very spacious unified whole. She had never been to the penthouse on her own but she had been invited many times to his dinner parties.
In silence they took the lift to the top, Leona not even knowing what she was doing. She felt so dazed and astounded by both Boyd’s and Rupert’s disclosures that she had difficulty taking it all in. It seemed to her like something out of a blockbuster novel filled with family secrets, money, sex and complex people with passionate unfulfilled yearnings. Or did novels only mirror real life? She had always known that Alexa’s marriage had been unhappy, but never in a million years would she have suspected that Rupert had fallen blindly in love, however briefly, with her own mother, Serena. Yet Boyd had known and he had never said a word.
Until tonight.
No wonder he felt so connected.
To her.
They were inside. Leona waited. She didn’t move.
“You’re in shock, aren’t you?” Boyd asked, closing thumb and finger around her chin, lifting it. He stared down into her face in concern.
“You know I am.” She turned her eyes away from his searching regard, staring at without really seeing a large, light-filled Australian bush landscape that hung above the modern console in the entrance hall.
“I don’t blame you.” He dropped his hand, then took her gently by the arm. “Do you feel like something to eat? We could eat here or we could go out. I know an excellent Italian restaurant within walking distance.”
She allowed him to lead her into the living room, with its double height coffered ceiling and contemporary architect-designed furniture. The total effect was one of supremely elegant individualism. Masculine, most certainly, modernistic, but welcoming to women. She knew Boyd had bought the place because of its history. This was one of Sydney’s grand old dowager buildings with stunning night-time views of the city skyline. As well there were those soaring ceilings and the classic architectural elements which included marvellous fluted columns that divided the open-plan living-dining area.
