it is not all bad. I have spoken to the other party.’
‘Who is the other party?’ Penny asked hoarsely, finally managing to speak.
‘Well, that is the good news. He is an Italian gentleman, a Mr Solo Maffeiano.’
At the mention of Solo, the little colour left in Penny’s face drained away, her stomach heaved. Solo Maffeiano owned half her home. No, no, no, she screamed silently. Life could not be so cruel. But as Mr Simpson’s voice droned on she was forced to accept it could.
‘He tells me you know each other, and he is quite agreeable to talk over the options available. You sell to him or you put the place on the open market and share the proceeds. Either way, Penelope, you will be all right.’ Mr Simpson actually smiled.
Penny shivered, nausea clawing at her stomach, and she could not respond.
‘You can buy a smaller place, much more sensible for you and James. The inheritance tax can be paid, and you will still have enough to live on plus the money to set up a trust fund for your brother’s education.’ Mr Simpson beamed and looked at Penny and he realised his client was far from happy. She looked terrified, as though the weight of the world had just fallen on her shoulders.
He stood up from behind his desk and walked around to Penny, putting a fatherly hand on her drooping shoulder. ‘I realise it has come as a shock to you, my dear. But, believe me, selling is the sensible solution, the only solution.’
Penny shook her head, and dragged herself up on shaking legs. ‘There must be something I can do,’ she pleaded, ‘Rather than involve Mr Maff… eiano.’ She choked on his name. To have to sell her home was horrific, but not half as bad as the thought she might have to see Solo again. He had hurt her so much in the past she couldn’t bear to face him. ‘If I must sell the house, please, you arrange it for me, Mr Simpson.’
‘Don’t worry, Penelope, it is all in hand. I have taken the liberty of setting up a meeting for you tomorrow at noon at Maffeiano’s London office.’
‘Please could you go for me? Whatever you arrange I’ll accept, but keep me out of it.’
‘I’m afraid I can’t do that. Mr Maffeiano has insisted on dealing with you personally. But it will work out fine, I’m sure.’ Mr Simpson pressed a card with the address on it into her hand. ‘Now, why don’t you run along and do some shopping, cheer yourself up?’
Mr Simpson looked pleased, while Penny looked sick when she had finally left the lawyer’s office. She could not believe what had happened; it was her worst nightmare realised. She was dreading having to meet Solo again, but she had no choice.
She could vividly remember the horrendous scene when Solo had caught her in the arms of Simon. Incredulous anger had been followed by a tirade of what had sounded like curses in Italian and then, as if a switch had been thrown in his brain, he’d stepped back, coldly remote and in complete control.
Acting for all she was worth, Penny had told Solo she was sorry if she had given him the wrong impression, but Simon had always been her boyfriend, and she had only dated Solo because Simon had been away.
Even now she still shivered when she remembered the look of icy contempt Solo had slashed at her, before in the next moment Simon had played his part.
‘Penny and I have been a couple for ages, and I know her well. When her stepmother asked her to be nice to you she was too soft-hearted to say no—she doesn’t like to hurt people. You do understand, sir,’ and the sir had simply accentuated the age difference.
‘Yes, I understand perfectly,’ Solo had drawled. His handsome face devoid of all expression, and his grey eyes cold and hard as the Arctic waste, had frozen her to the spot. ‘Congratulations, Penny, I do believe Veronica has finally met her match.’ And swinging on his heel, he had stalked off.
After the fatal day when she had lied to Solo and he had left, life had never been quite the same at Haversham Park. Her father had told her Solo had called but had had to leave in a hurry. Her father had continued saying he was sure Solo would be in touch as he was very fond of her.
Penny had responded, lying through her teeth, ‘Maybe, but he is far too old for me, and I’m going to university with Jane. We are really looking forward to meeting other young people, laying the groundwork for a good career.’
Her father had looked shocked, and then worried, before sighing and saying, ‘You’re very young; I should have expected it.’
Three weeks later when Penny had left for university and there had been no contact with Solo, Veronica had realised something was wrong, and accused Penny of destroying the best chance her father had ever had of making a fortune.
‘It was obvious Solo fancied you. You should have given him more encouragement. What girl needs an education when they can hook a millionaire like Solo Maffeiano? You’re an idiot.’ Which had summed up Veronica’s slant on life, Penny had thought dryly.
‘For heaven’s sake, cheer up, woman,’ Jane’s voice cut into her troubled thoughts. ‘Sell the mouldering old pile and get a life like me.’
For the next couple of hours Penny did try. But the thought of the meeting tomorrow prevented Penny relaxing and she was glad when the evening was finally over and they returned to Jane’s house.
At five minutes to noon Penny walked into the building that housed the London offices of the Maffeiano Corporation. She glanced across the marble-floored foyer to where a smart brunette sat at a long, curved desk, bearing the word ‘Reception’ on a gold plaque.
Taking a deep breath, Penny pulled the jacket of her black suit down to her hips and walked to the desk. ‘Excuse me, I have an appointment with Mr Maffeiano.’
The receptionist’s gaze slid over Penny’s slender figure dressed in the neat black suit, with the white blouse beneath, the blonde hair scraped back in a bun, and the pale face. ‘You have an appointment with Mr Maffeiano?’
Bristling, Penny affirmed with a nod, ‘Yes.’ So she didn’t look like his usual model woman, so what! At college she’d had no trouble fighting off a succession of young men more interested in her looks than her brain. Then during nine months as a mother to James she had developed a firm belief in her own intellectual talents, and ability to cope with any eventuality. This was business, strictly business, and she could handle it.
‘I’ll call his secretary. Take a seat.’ The girl gestured to a seating arrangement surrounding a table holding magazines.
Penny was glad to sit down because her legs were suddenly weak. If the girl did but know Penny did not want to be here, only the decision had been taken out of her hands. She had not slept a wink last night, the enormity of what had happened was almost destroying her.
Over and over again she asked herself why her father would have done such thing, but could not find an answer. The only certainty was that she had lost the family home. The only decision left was where the house would go—to Solo or to a stranger—and that was not up to her, but to Solo. She dreaded the prospect of meeting him again.
‘Miss Haversham.’ A grey-haired lady in her fifties approached Penny. ‘Will you come this way, please?’
‘Thank you.’ Penny tried a smile and followed the lady down a long, carpeted corridor.
The
