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‘Dylan, cut it out!’ the harsh warning came a fraction too late for Emily’s gathering insecurities.
Ballet? The hollow under her heart turned into a deep, dark chasm. Not the first choice of entertainment for most males, even sophisticated, rose-growing ones. Surely a man would have to be fairly serious about a woman to allow her to drag him to the ballet? The mind-picture that was forming was not reassuring: that of a glamorous, brilliant, tall, graceful, sylph-creature.
‘…but that makes her the perfect fit for a big man like you, huh? Bro—’
‘Shut up!’
Ethan’s voice cut him off with a surly growl, but Dylan ignored the second warning and resumed building to his big finish: ‘She graduated top of her class from business school and comes from an excellent family, you know—very rich and classy. Uncle Peter is on tenterhooks waiting for an announcement. He’s been dying for one of us to pop the question—’
‘Dylan!’ This time the harsh eruption succeeded in stopping his stream of revelations dead, probably because he judged he had done sufficient damage to annoy his brother without actually provoking a fight.
‘What?’ His innocent grin flashed maliciously white. ‘Have I told a lie? Are you not off to watch the men in tights tonight with Miss Moneybags?’
Ethan’s hand slid under Emily’s tensed elbow. ‘Emily—’
She pulled away her arm, showing him a haughty profile. ‘Excuse me, I have to go and get ready for lunch.’
‘For God’s sake, can’t you see what he’s up to? You’re not going with him—’
‘Of course I am,’ she declared with fierce dignity. ‘We have a date.’
‘Look, Carly got these tickets for the ballet ages ago…’
He realised he was digging himself in when she said sweetly: ‘Of course she did. She’d want to make sure you got the best seats. After all, second-best is never good enough for you, is it?’
She bet he never took Miss Moneybags for a quick roll under the rose bushes! No, that was for Miss Cheap-and-Convenient. Miss Rich-and-Classy was holding out for an announcement.
‘Emily—’ His voice snarled in frustration as Dylan chuckled and put a hand on Emily’s back, propellin
g her towards the house.
‘Sorry, big bro, gotta run if we’re going to make our reservation. You’ll have to save your explanations for later.’
‘Wait!’ Ethan stalked around to confront Emily. ‘Before you go, tell me—whatever happened to that bastard who skipped out on you and your grandfather?’ he growled.
‘Conrad?’ Emily could barely think past her humiliation. ‘I think he went back to Wellington,’ she said stiffly. ‘Why?’
‘You don’t know his whereabouts? Because if he felt he had any kind grudge against you—’
‘Oh, no—you mean the fire?’ she belatedly connected with his train of thought, and shook her head. ‘No, Conrad wouldn’t—’
‘Why? Because he was so handsome and charming?’ he said sarcastically.
‘No, because there’d be no profit to him,’ she said, equally sarcastic. ‘He knew we’d keep quiet about what he’d done because if we didn’t the word would get around about Grandpa. He knew he was safe, so why would he risk coming back?’ She turned to walk away with Dylan.
‘I’ll check him out, anyway,’ he said to her back.
He was as stubborn as he was perfidious.
‘You don’t have to—’
‘I said I’d check him out.’
‘Fine. Do what you want. You will anyway.’
She stomped away, and missed Dylan flipping his brother off before hastening to follow her.
Emily got almost all the way back to the studio before she realised Dylan was sauntering at her heels. She halted.
