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‘No, I haven’t—and I think we should go downstairs now.’
The brunette’s tone was distinctly unfriendly now. She walked towards the stairs, and the blonde followed her, leaving Campion alone and shaking.
What she had heard confirmed every worst fear, including those she had forced herself to suppress. Guy had made love to her not because he wanted her, not because he desired her, even in passing…but because of her book. Oh, God, why hadn’t she followed her own instincts? They had told her clearly enough that a man like Guy French could never have found her attractive, but she had chosen to ignore them. She had chosen to go and make a fool of herself.
She buried her burning face in her hands. The thought of people discussing her relationship with Guy the way she had just heard it being discussed made her stomach heave.
She only just made it to her bedroom.
* * *
She was re-applying her make-up when Lucy knocked and walked in, looking concerned.
‘So you’re here.’
‘Yes. I wasn’t feeling very well. Lucy, would you mind if I don’t come down? I…’ To her chagrin, tears flodded her eyes.
‘Campion, what is it?’
Instantly Lucy was at her side, her arms going round her, her face concerned.
‘I don’t know. I’m just not feeling well. Perhaps I ought to go back to London…I don’t want to spoil your Christmas.’
‘You’re not going anywhere, especially if you aren’t well. First thing tomorrow, I’m going to get Dr Jamieson to come and have a look at you…’
‘No. No, that won’t be necessary. Perhaps I will come down.’
‘I shouldn’t have invited Guy, should I?’ Luch said quietly, guessing what was wrong. ‘His sister Meg is one of our neighbours. She’s married to Tait Drummond, so I knew you wouldn’t recognise the name, and I thought it might be a good way of getting the two of you together…’
Guy’s sister…the brunette who had looked so familiar!
‘I shouldn’t have interfered.’ Lucy looked upset.
‘You meant well. Has he gone?’
‘Yes.’ Lucy crossed her fingers behind her back. ‘Look, if you don’t feel well, why don’t you go and sit in the library for a while until the kids have gone? I’ll get Mrs Timmins to bring you something to eat.’
Campion looked wryly at her. The library was her favourite room in the house, a wonderful, book-lined retreat.
‘All right. I’ll follow you down.’
* * *
Campion was half-way across the hall when she heard him call her name. Lucy had lied to her, after all.
She wanted to run, but how could she, with four dozen children milling around, and their mothers looking on with interested eyes? He touched her arm and her skin burned. She couldn’t bear to look at him. Where was the blonde? Where was his sister?
‘So you are here.’
‘Lucy is my friend,’ she told him without turning her head. ‘I always spend Christmas with them. Remember, I told you?’
‘Yes, yes you did, didn’t you? You don’t look well,’ he added abruptly.
‘I’m just a little tired. Excuse me, would you? I…’ She started to move away and winced as his fingers gripped her arm.
‘My God, is that all you can say to me? Campion, I…’
How could he do this to her? She could have cried out at the agony he was inflicting. Why was he continuing with this farcical display of concern? Of caring? Obviously, he didn’t know what she had overheard. Perhaps he was already looking ahead, to her next book. She literally shook with rage and anguish at the thought of his duplicity.
