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‘I’ve reassured Celestine that as a member of the family I will be taking care of any problems from now on and that I hope she will be a regular visitor to our home.’
Tawny sat down beside him to soothe the old lady’s worries and with Navarre’s support Celestine’s distress gradually faded away. Soon after that her grandmother admitted that she was tired and Tawny saw her up to the room she was to use until her departure the next morning.
‘Navarre is … très sympathique,’ her grandmother pronounced with approval. ‘He is kind and understanding. You will be very happy with him.’
Having helped her grandmother unpack her overnight bag and locate all the facilities, Tawny hurried back downstairs to find Navarre waiting for her at the foot. ‘Why didn’t you tell me what you needed the money for months ago?’ he demanded in a driven undertone, his incredulity at her silence on that score unhidden.
‘It was nothing to do with you. She’s my granny.’
‘And now she’s mine as well and you will change no more beds on her behalf!’ Navarre asserted fierily.
‘It’s not a problem. I never had a burning desire to be a maid but it was easy work to find and it allowed me to do my illustration projects in the evenings.’
He tilted up her chin. His gaze was stern. ‘Couldn’t you have trusted me enough to tell me the truth for yourself?’ he pressed. ‘I assumed your loyalty could be bought—I thought less of you for being willing to take that money from me in payment.’
‘Only because you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be poor and in need of cash,’ Tawny told him tartly. ‘Poverty has no pride. When I was a child, my grandparents were very good to me. I’d do just about anything to keep Celestine safe, secure and happy.’
‘And I honour you for it and for all your hard work for her benefit, ma petite. You also took on that responsibility without any expectation of ever receiving her gratitude, for you tried to hide your contributions to her income. I’m hugely impressed,’ Navarre admitted, his stunning gaze warm with pride and approval on her blushing face. ‘But why didn’t you approach your sisters for help?’
‘Celestine isn’t related to them in any way. I wouldn’t dream of bothering them for money,’ Tawny argued in consternation.
‘I suspect Bee would have liked to help—’
‘Maybe so, Navarre,’ his bride responded. ‘But I’ve always believed in standing on my own two feet.’
An hour later when Tawny was chatting to her mother and her partner, Susan commented on how effective her daughter’s dress was at concealing her swelling stomach. Amused, Tawny splayed her hand to her abdomen, momentarily moulding the fabric to the definite bulge of her pregnancy. ‘My bump’s still there beneath the fancy trappings!’ she joked.
A few feet away, she glimpsed Tia Castelli staring at her fixedly, big blue eyes wide, her flawless face oddly frozen and expressionless before, just as quickly, the actress spun round and vanished into the crush of guests. As Tawny frowned in incomprehension Bee signalled her by pointing at her watch: it was time for Tawny to change out of her finery, and she followed her sibling upstairs because she and Navarre were leaving for France in little more than an hour. Twenty minutes later, Tawny descended a rear staircase a couple of steps in Bee’s wake. She was wearing a very flattering blue skirt with floral silk tee and a long flirty jacket teamed with impossibly high heels.
Bee stopped dead so suddenly at the foot of the stairs that Tawny almost tripped over her. ‘Let’s go back up … I forgot something!’ she exclaimed in a peculiar whisper.
But Tawny was not that easily distracted and Bee, unfortunately, was not a very good actress when she was surprised and upset by something. Correctly guessing that her sister had seen something she did not want her to see, Tawny ignored Bee’s attempt to catch her arm and prevent her from stepping into the corridor at the bottom of the stairs. Tawny moved past and caught a good view of the scene that Bee had sought to protect her from. Tia Castelli was sobbing on Navarre’s chest as if her heart were breaking and he was looking down at the tiny blonde with that highly revealing mixture of concern and tenderness that only existed in the most intimate of relationships. Certainly one look at the manner in which her bridegroom was comforting Tia was sufficient to freeze Tawny in her tracks and cut through her heart like a knife. It was a little vignette of her worst nightmares for, while she had from the outset accepted that Navarre did not love her, she had never been prepared for the reality that he might love another woman instead.
Abruptly registering that they had acquired an audience, Navarre stepped back and Tia flipped round to make a whirlwind recovery, eyes damp but enquiring, famous face merely anxious. ‘I had a stupid row with Luke, I’m afraid, and Navarre swept me off to save me from making a fool of myself about it in public.’
It was a wry and deft explanation voiced as convincingly as only a skilled actress could make it. It sounded honest and it might even have been true, Tawny reckoned numbly, but she just didn’t believe it. What she had seen was something more, something full of stronger, darker emotions on both sides. Tia’s distress had been genuine even though it was hidden now, the blonde’s perfect face tear-stained but composed in a light apologetic smile.
‘I understand,’ Tawny said flatly, for she had too much pride and common sense to challenge either of them when she had no evidence of wrongdoing. But in the space of a moment fleeting suspicion had turned into very real apprehension and insecurity.
‘You look charming, chèrie,’ Navarre murmured smoothly, scanning her shuttered face with astute cool. He would give nothing away for free. No information, no secrets, no apologies. He would not put himself on the defensive. She knew that. She had married a master tactician, a guy to whom manipulation was a challenging game, which his intelligence and courage ensured he would always excel at playing.
Pale though she was, Tawny smiled as if she had not a worry in the world either. She hoped he would not notice that the smile didn’t reach her eyes. She suspected that he was probably more relieved that she did not speak Italian and therefore was quite unable to translate the flood of words Tia had been sobbing at the moment they were disturbed. But at that instant Tawny also realised that someone had been present who could speak Tia’s native tongue and she glanced at her linguistically talented sister Bee, who was noticeably pale as well, and resolved to question her as to what she had overheard before they parted.
When they returned to the ballroom, there was no sign of Tia or Luke and Tawny was not surprised by that strategic retreat. Promising Navarre she would be back within minutes, Tawny set off to find her sister again. She was even less surprised to find Bee talking to Zara, both their faces tense and troubled.
‘OK … I’m the unlucky woman who just married a guy and caught a famous film star hanging round his neck like an albatross!’ Tawny mocked. ‘Bee, tell me what Tia was saying.’
Her sisters exchanged a conspiratorial glance.
‘No, it’s not fair to keep it from me. I have a right to know what you heard.’
Bee parted her lips with obvious reluctance. ‘Tia was upset about the baby. I don’t think she had realised that you were pregnant.’
‘She was pro
bably jealous. She’s never been able to have a child of her own,’ Zara commented.
‘But the normal person to share that grief with would be her own husband, not mine,’ Tawny completed with gentle emphasis. ‘Don’t worry about me. This isn’t a love match. I’ve always known that. This marriage may not work out … not if that woman owns a slice of Navarre. I couldn’t live with that, I couldn’t share him—’
