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'Nearly there,' he announced, as they came through another gate and down on to a lane. And suddenly, like the flash of lightning that had just split the sky above them, Cally realised exactly where she was heading. And why she couldn't go a step further.
Her footsteps faltered as she tried desperately to think of an excuse, and the patient Baz tossed his head in surprise.
'And there's my daughter, waiting at the gate now,' Geoffrey Miller announced with a smile. He waved his stick jovially. 'We're safe and sound, Vanessa,' he called. 'And look, I've brought a visitor.'
And, with a roar of thunder, the heavens opened.
CHAPTER NINE
She would have given anything to fling herself on Baz's back and ride away, leaping hedges, ditches and five-barred gates to escape from this hideous situation.
It was small consolation to observe that Vanessa Layton, the woman she'd last seen held close in Nick's arms, seemed equally dismayed.
Cally felt her colour rise. She said, 'I think it would be better if I made for home. I don't want to intrude.'
'In this rain? Utter nonsense,' Geoffrey Miller told her severely. 'You'll catch pneumonia.1 He addressed his daughter. 'There'll be room for the horse in the lean-to at the side, won't there, darling.'
Vanessa Layton appeared to come out of her trance. 'Yes-— yes, of course.' She had a quiet, musical voice, currently a little strained. Seen at closer quarters, her face held traces of a sadness which by no means detracted from her beauty. 'If you'll show Lady Tempest where everything is, I'll get some water.'
'Tempest?' he queried. 'Isn't that the name of your landlord, Vanessa?' He gave Cally a puzzled look. 'I thought you said Maitland.'
Cally's flush deepened. 'That's my maiden name,' she admitted. 'I'm not very used to being married yet.'
And thought she saw Vanessa Layton's mouth tighten as she turned away.
The lean-to was more commonly used as a log store, but it was dry and Baz seemed content with it.
'I'm going to find a dressing for your hand, and make some tea,' Mr Miller said cheerfully. 'Come to the house when you're ready.'
How could she ever be ready for a situation like this? Cally wondered, swallowing, as she loosened Baz’s girths. As she did so, she saw Vanessa Layton approaching, carrying a striped golf umbrella, with the promised pail of water in her other hand.
Cally unconsciously straightened her shoulders. She said, 'I'm sorry about this. Please believe it wasn't intentional.'
The other woman shrugged, placing the pail where Baz could reach it. 'Dad has explained. But I suppose it was inevitable that we would meet eventually.' Her voice was cold. 'I've rung the Hall and told them you were caught by the storm,' she added reluctantly. 'They're sending a car for you, and the groom is bringing over the horsebox.'
'Thank you—that's very kind.' Also surreal, thought Cally.
'Don't mention it,' Vanessa Layton said curtly. 'I'm sure you don't want to spend any more time here than you have to.'
Cally lifted her chin. 'No,' she said. 'I don't.'
There was a brief nod, then the older woman said swiftly, almost jerkily, 'But there is something I have to ask you-—a favour. As you heard, Dad believes Nick and myself are just— landlord and tenant. He has no idea there's another relationship, and he—he can't know. He must never know. So—please—I beg you—don't say anything about it to him.'
'Why?' Cally clenched her hands in the pockets of her jeans, anger rising within her. She didn't want to find herself in any kind of collusion with Nick's mistress. She owed her nothing, she thought. Nothing. 'Would it damage your perfect daughter image in his eyes?'
Vanessa Layton said quietly, 'It would totally destroy him.'
There was a taut silence.
A voice inside Cally's head was screaming And what about me? I've been destroyed too—or doesn't that count?
And then she remembered the kind, concerned, uncomprehending face, and sighed, swiftly and restlessly. Yes, she thought. Geoffrey Miller clearly believed in his daughter as the selfless, devoted wife to her dying husband. Why should his illusions be shattered, as hers had been, by discovering that when she wasn’t playing Florence Nightingale, she was involved in a sordid affair with a married man?
'Don't worry,' she tossed back at her antagonist, her tone edged with contempt. 'Your secret is safe with me.' But possibly not with Adele, she added silently. However, that was not her problem. And she saw no reason to mention it. 'Actually, I don't find it important enough to mention,' she added stonily.
'Thank you.' Vanessa Layton's own tone was short. 'The tea should be ready by now, if you'd like to come indoors. But be careful on the cobbles. They get slippery in the rain.' She paused. 'And you certainly don't want to risk a fall, not at this particular time. In fact, you probably shouldn't be riding.'
