slid into the luxurious leather seat. Fact: Cathy was more important than anything else right now.
Within minutes they were on the road. Etta looked into the shadowy darkness as the powerful car ate up the miles. Wind turbines loomed in the dark, turned by the Cornish winds, fields and farmhouses flashed past, and occasionally she glanced at Gabriel Derwent. His blond hair gleamed in the moonlight, and his focus was on the road, each movement easy and competent.
He glanced at her too, then returned his attention to the deserted road. ‘I get the feeling you’re not comfortable. Are you worried about your daughter?’
‘Yes. But I know she’s safe. You’ll have to let me pay you for this. I’ve dragged you away from an incredible dinner and moonlit dancing. I feel bad.’
‘I told you. No need. Do you want to talk about it? The situation with Tommy and your daughter?’
Did she? For an odd moment a pull to do just that touched her. More madness—this man was a stranger, and not even her closest friends knew about that dark period of her life. ‘There’s nothing to say that you haven’t deduced. You heard Tommy. He is Cathy’s dad and he has decided he wants to see her. I don’t want him anywhere near her.’
A small frown creased his forehead. Presumably he was wondering how she could ever have been such a fool as to have anything to do with a lowlife like Tommy.
‘Has he ever been part of her life?’
‘No.’ Etta shook her head. ‘I don’t want to sound rude, but I don’t want to talk about it.’
For years she had shut down the memories of Tommy and she had no wish to revisit them now—to expose her youthful stupidity, folly and weakness to this man. A man who clearly didn’t know the definition of the word weak. Even now her insides felt coated with a fuzz of shame at her own behaviour, so best to keep the door firmly closed and padlocked with a host of security outside.
‘This is my problem and I am dealing with it.’
‘By running away on a cruise?’
Despite the softness of his deep voice, the words sent a flare of anger through her. ‘I am not running away.’ Was she?
‘I’m sorry if that sounded harsh, and I know I don’t know the details. I get you don’t want to discuss them. But if there is one lesson I’ve learnt in life it’s that running away is seldom the best option.’
No doubt it was easy not to run away when you were the Earl of Wycliffe. Etta bit the words back—the man was doing her a massive favour here. ‘Thanks for the advice. As I said, it’s my problem and I’m dealing with it.’
With that Etta leant back and turned her head to focus on the landscape. Conversation over. To her relief Gabriel Derwent let it rest. Even if she sensed that next to her he was still mulling over the situation.
But he remained silent until they approached the outskirts of London, where he simply asked for directions, and soon enough they pulled up outside Steph’s house.
‘Thank you again. I truly appreciate this and I owe you a big favour.’ The idea was an irritant that she suspected would stay with her until she worked out how to repay the debt. ‘In the meantime, I wish you a safe journey home and I apologise again for wrecking your night.’
‘I’ll see you to the door.’
‘No! Really... Steph is waiting up and I’d rather go in quietly.’ She pushed open the door hurriedly. ‘Goodbye, Gabriel.’
Without looking back she scurried up the stairs and pulled out the spare key Steph had given her. Right now she just wanted to go and see Cathy and watch her daughter breathe peacefully. Yet at the door she turned for one last glimpse at Gabriel Derwent’s shadowy profile.
* * *
‘How did you sleep?’
Etta looked up from the pine kitchen table and smiled at her best friend. ‘Fine.’
‘Fibber,’ Steph said. ‘You must have been terrified when Tommy appeared.’
‘It was scary, but...’ But from the second Gabriel Derwent had appeared she had felt safe.
She had to get a grip—life had taught her that the only person to rely on was herself. She’d escaped Tommy once—she’d do it again.
‘I’ll be fine.’ Etta gripped her mug of coffee and tried hard to believe her words even as she heard the hollowness of each syllable. ‘How was Cathy last night?’
‘Quiet. She didn’t mention Tommy to me, though I’m sure she has talked to Martha about it. She did say she doesn’t want to go on the cruise.’
Etta sighed. Her usually cheerful, well-behaved daughter had changed since Tommy’s arrival on the scene, and Etta couldn’t blame her—she herself would do anything to meet her own birth dad. Or mum.
She hadn’t even known of their existence until she’d reached fifteen and discovered the fact that she’d been adopted. Worked out that her whole life had been an illusion, a lie. That was why she had vowed never to lie to Cathy, believed that honesty was the best way forward. So as Cathy had grown up Etta had told her who her dad was in an age-appropriate way. She had never wanted Cathy to feel she’d been lied to—hadn’t wanted her daughter to build up a fantasy picture of her father. Equally, when Tommy had turned up with his demand to see his daughter, Etta had told Cathy the truth—but she hadn’t anticipated her daughter’s reaction.
Cathy, caught in a web of confused emotions, wanted her father to be a wonderful man. Wanted to meet him, to bond with him, and the idea sent waves of terror through Etta’s veins. No one knew better than she the spell Tommy could exert when he wanted to—she could imagine his spin, the story of his reformation, his interpretation of his past character as misunderstood rebel without a cause.
She gusted out a sigh as she looked at Steph. ‘I know she doesn’t want to go.’ But the cruise had to happen, because Etta would not—could not—sit back and watch her daughter repeat her own mistakes. ‘But we’re going anyway.’ She rose to her feet. ‘Thanks a million for last night, hun. There’s no need for you to stay. I know you need to get Martha to her singing lesson.’
‘Stay here as long as you like.’
Twenty minutes later the click of the front door indicated their departure and Etta approached the bedroom where Cathy was staying.
Her daughter sat cross-legged on the bed, her long dark hair pulled back in a ponytail set high on her head. ‘Mum—please, please, please don’t make me go on this cruise. If Dad wants to see me badly enough to follow you to Cornwall then surely it’s worth a try.’
Etta sensed her daughter’s frustration and it tore her apart. ‘Sweetheart, your father is not a safe person to be around.’
‘Maybe he’s changed.’
Before Etta could answer, the doorbell pealed and fear jumped up her throat. Keep calm. No way could it be Tommy.
Cathy leapt off the bed, clearly desperate for the very thing that held Etta petrified to the spot.
‘Cathy—wait!’
