Lawrence had retired to his study soon after dinner last night, and it had been midnight when she had heard him coming up to bed. However, she refrained from saying so. Instead she erred on the side of diplomacy and said, ‘You’re working too hard.’
‘And you’ve been talking to Vivian.’
She had been talking to Vivian last night. Her stepmother was extremely concerned that Lawrence wouldn’t slow down.
‘Who has been talking to your doctor.’
‘Lot of nonsense.’ Lawrence waved his hand scornfully.
Helena came further into the room, closing the door behind her. She was wearing a tennis skirt and a short white T-shirt. ‘You and Viv having a game this morning?’ Lawrence asked conversationally. Helena knew it was his attempt to change the subject.
She nodded. ‘In about half an hour—before the sun gets too hot.’ She looked at him more pointedly. ‘It was going to be an early-morning ride, but Vivian tells me you’ve sold the horses.’
Lawrence looked a little uncomfortable. ‘Yes, well…Tate made me a good offer.’
Helena very much doubted that. She sighed and sank down in the chair opposite to him. ‘Why didn’t you tell me, Pop? All the times I have phoned, and you’ve never said a word.’
Lawrence looked at her blankly.
‘Your financial problems.’ Helena’s voice was gentle now. ‘You should have told me. I can help.’
‘Everything is under control,’ Lawrence muttered quickly ‘No need for you to worry. No need at all.’
‘But, Pop, Paul says—’
‘Has Paul been filling your head with nonsense?’ Lawrence’s tone grew suddenly angry, and his face started to redden.
Conscious of his health, Helena tried to defuse the situation and calm him down. ‘He just suggested that you had a few problems, that’s all.’
‘Knowing Paul, I’m sure he didn’t stop there.’ Her father leaned across the desk. ‘I hope you haven’t repeated anything he has said? It would break Vivian’s heart to hear the scurrilous comments that boy has made.’
‘No, of course not.’ Helena shook her head. She had no intention of upsetting Vivian—she knew how much the woman loved her brother. She had, however, tried to ask her stepmother about the financial difficulties they were in, but it had soon become clear that Vivian didn’t know anything about the business.
‘Look, Pop.’ She dropped her voice to a reasonable tone. ‘Paul just said you were having a few difficulties, and I thought that I could go through your books and help you out. After all, I am—’
‘Thanks for the offer, Helena, but everything is under control.’
‘But I can—’
‘Helena, I don’t want to hear another word.’ Lawrence’s tone was ominous. He leaned back in his chair and glanced at his watch. ‘Tate is sending his secretary over this morning anyway. So I’ve got all the help I need.’
Apprehension darted through her at those words. Why was Tate going to that trouble? Was his secretary his spy in the camp? ‘I suppose Tate will be coming over as well?’ she asked carefully, then couldn’t help adding, ‘You never used to trust him.’
‘That was before I really knew him.’ Lawrence met her eyes firmly. ‘Tate Ainsley is a fine man.’
Unless she could prove otherwise, there was nothing more to be said. Helena stared at her father, feeling helpless and frustrated. There were a million things she would have liked to say at that juncture, but she didn’t dare for fear of raising his blood pressure. It was obvious that he wasn’t going to let her help him. He was just so damned stubborn.
But what could she do? She couldn’t let Tate Ainsley win—she couldn’t just stand by and watch him ruin everything her father had worked so hard for.
‘What time are you expecting him?’ she asked coolly. Her choice was clear. She couldn’t risk upsetting her father…but Tate was an entirely different matter.
Helena didn’t linger after her tennis match with Vivian. She headed straight around the side of the house, intending to shower and change and be back in her father’s office before Tate arrived. She came to an abrupt halt at the sight of Tate’s car parked on the drive.
He was standing on the front steps, deep in conversation with a young woman who was dressed very stylishly in a buttercup-yellow suit, her long blonde hair arranged fashionably around a perfectly made-up face. Helena recognised the girl immediately.
Antonia Summers had been in her class at school. She hadn’t been a very popular girl, and Helena remembered vaguely that she had been an incredibly jealous type. Of course, that had been a long time ago, and the girl had probably changed a lot since then. Helena also remembered that Antonia had once had an almighty crush on Tate.
They both looked over towards her as she moved forward. ‘Good morning, Helena.’ Tate’s eyes swept over her, encompassing her short white skirt and the cropped T-shirt with one sweep of his eyes.
Helena cursed the fact that she was so scantily clad. She hadn’t even done her hair this morning; it was scraped back out of the way in a ponytail.
‘I think you know Antonia, my secretary, don’t you?’ he continued smoothly.
So the girl was now working for Tate…what a small old world, Helena thought drily. She smiled politely and said hello.
‘Been playing tennis?’ Tate asked nonchalantly.
Helena nodded. It took all her inner strength just to be civil to this man. ‘I was going to go riding,’ she muttered with rancour, ‘except that Pop has given away the horses.’
‘I’ve bought them,’ Tate corrected her with equanimity. ‘But don’t worry, they are being very well looked after.’
Helena was about to make a sarcastic reply to that but she was interrupted by Antonia.
‘I just can’t believe you are home,’ she interceded with a smile. ‘Does Deborah know?’
For a moment Helena’s heart missed a beat at this mention of the girl who had once been her closest friend. There had been a time shortly after Helena had left Barbados when she hadn’t been able to think about Debby without feeling tearful.
‘Probably.’ With difficulty Helena kept her voice steady. ‘You know how news travels out here. Everyone knows everything almost before it happens’
‘Well, I saw her only last week, and she didn’t mention you,’ Antonia continued blithely. ‘She’s still seeing David Cass, you know. There were rumours a while ago that they might get married.’
‘Really?’ Helena tried to put a brisk indifference into her voice, but it was very hard when she could feel a cold hand stealing around her heart, squeezing it unmercifully hard.
She couldn’t believe that Debby would consider marrying Cass—the thought was repellent to her. For a second her composure slipped, and there was a fleeting look of anguish on her gentle features.
She glanced back at Tate. He was watching her with a look of deep contemplation in his blue eyes. Had he noticed her consternation? The notion that he had made her tilt her head up in a defiant gesture. She was damned if she was going to let anyone see how hurt she was over Debby Johnstone and Cass. That particular nightmare was over, she told herself forcefully.
‘Well, I hate to interrupt this girls’ reunion,’ Tate drawled laconically, ‘but might I suggest that we go inside? I have a few business matters I want to discuss with your father, Helena, before I leave.’
For