didn't argue with him any further, but got in behind the wheel to open his door for him, turning on the ignition to follow the limousines. ‘I've met your son several times—at Jocelyn's,’ she explained lightly. ‘Is there—really any possibility of someone wanting to harm him?’ She gave Rafe Charlwood a sideways glance as she drive.
‘Yes,’ he rasped. ‘And today would give them the ideal opportunity to make such a move, during the confusion of the funeral.’
He sounded very calm, considering it was his son he was discussing as being a possible kidnap victim. God, she thought, this man really was inhuman, every action and word only confirming it.
The security around the house was indeed tight; the electronic gates were also guarded by a man, and the man who greeted them at the door of the house also seemed to check on everyone who entered.
‘Not that way,’ Rafe instructed curtly as Brooke would have followed the rest of the family into the main lounge. Charlwood was tastefully and elegantly furnished, a great and lasting compliment to Edwardian architecture, the house being surrounded by the immediate grounds of twenty acres, although Brooke knew the actual estate stretched for thousands of acres, containing several small-holdings. All the Charlwood family lacked for this to be a stately home was the title, already having the picture gallery of portraits of famous ancestors, the priceless antiques and furnishings passed down from generation to generation, even managing to have that vital asset so many titled families didn't possess nowadays—money. ‘Mr Gardner has decided to read the will in the library,’ Rafe explained at her questioning look.
The library. Just the word conjured up the massive book-lined room; many of the titles there were first editions, although this was just another wealth the Charlwood family took for granted.
A strange silence fell over the room as Brooke entered at Rafe's side, and her eyes widened as she saw that only Rosemary and Patrick were seated in the room with the man sitting behind the mahogany desk who Brooke assumed to be Mr Gardner. Were they the only four beneficiaries? It would seem so.
Rafe Charlwood's hand remained beneath her elbow as he took her across the room to introduce her to Reginald Gardner.
‘Miss Adamson,’ the elderly lawyer greeted distantly. ‘Now that we are all here,’ he cleared his throat noisily, ‘I would like to proceed with the reading of the will. There are—certain things I have to explain pertaining to its contents.’ He seemed a little uncomfortable with the fact.
‘I won't keep you much longer, Reginald,’ Rafe Charlwood told him coolly, guiding Brooke over to the two waiting chairs. ‘I believe you know my brother Patrick and his wife Rosemary,’ he introduced casually as he saw her seated before lowering his weight into the armchair next to hers.
‘Vaguely,’ Rosemary snapped, her green eyes flashing her dislike, her short hair as black as the dress she wore with such style.
‘I certainly do.’ Patrick flirted with her, his blue eyes having an irrepressible humour even on such an occasion, his over-long hair a sandy blond, his easygoing nature no match for his wife's sharp tongue.
‘Mr Charlwood, Mrs Charlwood,’ Brooke greeted them both with cool indifference.
The lawyer cleared his throat once again, obviously deciding it was time they got on with the business in hand. ‘Miss Charlwood was a very good friend of mine,’ he began. ‘I shall miss her a great deal.’
‘I'm sure we all will,’ Rafe snapped impatiently.
‘Yes, yes.’ The man placed horn-rimmed glasses on the end of his long nose. ‘The will is quite a lengthy one, so I will just read out the relevant facts.’ He shuffled some papers about in his briefcase, taking out the relevant ones and placing them tidily on the desk-top before looking up at them. ‘Not all the benefactors are in this room,’ he informed them nervously. ‘But I have done this for a reason——’
‘I hope it's a good one,’ Rafe Charlwood bit out tautly.
‘Indeed,’ the older man was beginning to look flustered. ‘The people not here today receive only nominal bequests, and the nature of the rest of the will is rather—private, to the family,’ he chose his words with care.
Brooke sensed Rafe Charlwood stiffen at her side, seeing the look that passed between him and Patrick before his narrow-eyed gaze was turned on her. She felt the colour move slowly up into her cheeks—almost as if she were actually guilty of something!
‘In that case you'd better proceed,’ the head of the Charlwood family instructed haughtily.
Reginald Gardner shot Rafe a nervous look and shuffled the papers about even more. ‘I—Yes, well, I—I'll omit all the legal bumf and get straight to the point, shall I?’
‘I think that would be best,’ the other man drawled icily.
Brooke's hands clenched together tensely in her lap as the lawyer began to talk, having a feeling, by the way the lawyer had decided on secrecy for the reading of the will to the family, that by the end of this meeting she was going to be even more unpopular with them than when she had arrived. What had Jocelyn done?
She listened as Reginald Gardner told them that all Jocelyn's money went back to the family, relieved that Jocelyn had kept her word about that. And yet she could feel her tension rising with each modulated word the man spoke, sensing that the ‘private matter to the family’ was going to be a bombshell, and she was going to be at the centre of it. She could tell the Charlwoods expected it too; Rosemary and Patrick were looking anxious, although Rafe's expression remained bland, as if he was prepared for whatever came next.
Reginald Gardner was starting to look flustered again, and Brooke felt her palms actually become damp. Oh, Jocelyn, what have you done? she cried silently.
‘Now we come to Miss Charlwood's last bequest.’ The lawyer shot Rafe another anxious look. ‘I'm afraid it isn't straightforward, and——’
‘For God's sake get on with it!’ Rosemary snapped. ‘All that's left are the shares Jocelyn had in the company.’
‘And the cottage,’ the lawyer reminded her softly.
‘The cottage?’ Rosemary frowned. ‘But surely that reverts to the estate?’
‘Not necessarily,’ the lawyer shook his head. ‘Mr Charlwood, your father,’ he looked at the other two men in the room, ‘and as such Jocelyn's brother, deeded both the cottage and its surrounding gardens to your aunt after the two of you were grown up and so no longer needed her at the main house.’
‘But surely it was only for her lifetime?’ Patrick spoke for the first time.
Reginald Gardner shook his head. ‘There was no mention of that in the deeds.’
‘But surely it was intended,’ Rosemary persisted sharply.
‘Intent does not make it so,’ the lawyer told her stiffly. ‘I drew up the deeds to the cottage, and neither by word or deed did Mr Charlwood imply that that was to be the case.’
‘Read the rest of the will, Reginald,’ Rafe Charlwood told him harshly, his features looking as if etched from granite. ‘We can argue the legalities of this later.’
‘Oh, it's legal,’ the other man said indignantly.
