were of no great importance when inwardly she was feeling sick and vulnerable. It had only been over lunch on Wednesday that Bryn had suggested bringing forward their trip.
‘Yesterday, I think,’ Carina said, rolling her eyes upwards, as though yesterday’s date was written on the ceiling. ‘Yes, it had to be yesterday. I’d go with you, but Daramba has never held the same fascination for me as it has for you and Bryn. The break should do you good. I’m off to Sydney tomorrow myself. The Cartwrights are having another one of their gala parties. All the glitterati will be there. I have the most incredible dress! You’d love it! Not that you could pull it off. It’s so darn sexy. Softly, softly does it with you, doesn’t it, luvvy? I, on the other hand, like to shake people up.’
‘No one better at it in the country,’ Francesca assured her. ‘Have you spoken to your mother?’ She tacked that on as though it were an afterthought. In reality she was trying to divine whether her cousin was on the level. People expressed themselves in so many ways. Speech, of course, but also body language—the way they moved, their hands, eyes. Wasn’t there a theory that the eyes moved left or right according to whether one was telling the truth or not? The trouble was she couldn’t remember which side indicated the lie.
‘Next one on my list,’ Carina told her with a saddened little smile. ‘It’s taken me over-long to rebuild my bridges. What say we do lunch early next week? I think it would be good for the press to see us out and about together.’
‘Next week is all pencilled in, I’m afraid, Carrie,’ Francesca said. It was true enough. ‘Maybe the following week?’
‘I’ll have to think. Let that secretary do some of your work,’ Carina suggested crossly. ‘It won’t hurt her. What’s her name again?’
‘Valerie Scott. Surely you’ve met her any number of times before? You were always calling in on Grandfather.’
‘Unlike you,’ Carina abruptly fired up, fixing Francesca with a steely eye. ‘I’ve met her, of course, but some people you just meet and forget. It’s people like me that make a lifelong impact. That hair has to go, and she could lose some weight. No wonder she lost hubby. Did you see the size of her backside?’
‘You’re too figure-conscious, Carrie,’ Francesca sighed. ‘Valerie is a very attractive woman.’
‘One can never be too figure-conscious.’ Carina shuddered, retrieving her tote. ‘I hate that matronly upholstered look. I’m almost tempted to tell her.’
‘Please don’t,’ Francesca begged as Carina rose to her feet. ‘Sure I can’t offer you a cup of coffee?’
‘No time!’ Carina gave a clatter of her heavily weighted down arm. ‘I’m having dinner tonight with someone you know.’
‘Oh, who’s that?’ Francesca looked up casually, but her hands were gripping the edge of her desk hard, the knuckles showing white. If Carina said Bryn, their trip would be off.
‘Greg Norbett.’
Francesca’s fingers unlocked as the ferocious tension disappeared. ‘Greg? Isn’t he still married?’ she asked, as calmly as she could. ‘Gosh, it’s only been a couple of years.’ They had both attended Greg’s wedding to a lovely girl.
‘It’s at the separation stage.’ Carina spoke carelessly, as though it were only a hop, step and a jump to divorce. ‘You need to be married at least a year before you get a divorce. Otherwise it’s just tacky. What was it he saw in you?’ she joshed, her blue eyes full of cousinly teasing.
‘Why don’t you ask him?’ Francesca said. Greg Norbett had actually proposed to her after a fundraising party. A surprise because she’d never encouraged a relationship with him. What a good thing she hadn’t been attempted to accept Greg’s proposal, given his limited attention span. She felt very sad about his wife. It wasn’t very sporting, Carina sleeping with other women’s husbands. In some respects Carina rated a moral zero.
Francesca came around her desk to accompany her cousin to the door, though it was more like a flat-out sprint, keeping up with Carina’s pace.
‘Have a great weekend, Francey!’ Carina turned to say. ‘I mean that!’ She bent slightly—she was tall, especially in those stiletto heels—to give Francesca an air peck. ‘Bryn likes to look out for you. He’s been at it for most of your life.’ It was said in a tone that in someone else would have been gentle amusement, but somehow from Carina sounded snide. ‘Can I give you a word of advice?’ She swept on before Francesca could say yay or nay. ‘I’m much more savvy in the ways of the world than you are.’
‘No argument there,’ Francesca said.
‘Enjoy yourself,’ Carina told her magnanimously. ‘But whatever you do, don’t trust Bryn. He’s a master manipulator.’
‘I suppose we all are from time to time.’
Carina’s brows rose. ‘Be that as it may, Francesca, I trusted Bryn Macallan to my cost. He was the love of my life. He took my virginity.’
It was possible, but the new Francesca wasn’t sure she believed her. ‘Sure you hadn’t abandoned it before that?’
Carina levelled her with an affronted frown. ‘Have your little joke. I expected you to fly to Bryn’s defence, but you know yourself, Francey, I’m a far better judge of character than you are. I know Bryn’s a sizzlingly exciting man. Zillions of women can only get to dream about a guy like Bryn, but I had him for the longest possible time. I was the one to clock up the hours. And where did it get me? Absolutely nowhere. No engagement, no wedding, like I’d been promised. Worst of all, no damned respect. D’you know what I think?’
‘Please tell me.’ Francesca remained outwardly calm.
‘He has turned his attention to you.’ Carina whipped that out like a master stroke. ‘Bryn doesn’t need me any more. He doesn’t need any more money. It’s power he’s after. That’s what he’s all about. That’s what he does. Just like Gramps. We women are only pawns. It has never been any different, right down the centuries. We get used. I certainly was, and I don’t want it to happen to you. I really do care about you, Francey. This is family now. You know what they say?’
‘Blood’s thicker than water?’ Francesca hazarded a guess. She already knew that wasn’t always the case. ‘So, what do you suggest I do?’
‘Don’t ever let him into your bed,’ Carina warned her, regarding Francesca like a Mother Superior with a wavering novice. ‘He’ll try it, but don’t worry. Just make sure it doesn’t happen. He’ll be everything you ever wanted or wished for, but there will be a price to pay. He’ll have you, body and soul. God knows, I’ve had to fight hard to free myself of the madness.’
Francesca knew she wasn’t exaggerating. ‘Has the madness gone?’ she asked gently. Tender at heart, she was profoundly sorry for her pain. Carina was her cousin, after all. They had spent much of their lives together.
Carina backed up to the door, looking disturbingly near tears, which further upset Francesca. Carina never cried. Not even at their grandfather’s funeral, when one would have thought she could have squeezed out a few. ‘It gets less and less every day,’ she said, blinking her eyes valiantly. ‘There are plenty of other distractions. Like poor Greg. He’s such a bore! His poor little wife should sue him for
