‘And when Dad died,’ Lola ventured, ‘did you never think about tracking Peter down then?’
‘To live happily ever after, I suppose?’ Her mother gave her a small smile. ‘I felt a little too old and too tired to believe in fairy tales by that stage in my life. Sometimes it’s better to have a dream and to hold onto it in your heart, Lola, rather than see it being crushed by the pressures of life.’
‘But when you heard about the inheritance from me why didn’t you tell me the story then? Why keep it secret all this time?’
Mrs Hennessy sighed. ‘I was too frightened. And too afraid of what your reaction might be if I told you the whole story. Afraid that you might judge me and find me wanting—afraid that you might be ashamed of your somewhat unconventional parentage.’ Her mother reached a hand out. ‘Are you angry with me for having kept it from you, darling?’
Lola took the outstretched hand and grasped it firmly. ‘How could I be angry with you, Mum? I love you, and you did your best. What more could anyone ask?’
Mrs Hennessy smiled. ‘And speaking of love,’ she said softly, ‘is there anything you want to tell me, darling?’
Lola brought her fingertips up to cover her mouth, so that her words were muffled and indistinct, but her mother understood them well enough.
‘Can you love someone even though you haven’t known them very long, Mum? Can you want someone with a blinding passion even though sometimes they make you so mad you want to hit them? Is it possible to want a man’s baby even when you know it would be the worst thing in the world which could happen to you at this time?’
‘Yes, yes, and yes,’ answered her mother, although she blanched a little at the mention of babies. ‘I gather we are now talking about Geraint?’ she added drily.
Lola nodded, her eyes wide and confused. ‘But his motives for getting to know me were so wrong, Mum! He was out seeking revenge.’
Mrs Hennessy shook her blonde head. ‘It doesn’t matter what his motives were when he didn’t know you, Lola—what matters is what his motives became once he did know you! How he behaved towards you. Was he honourable and true?’
And Lola recognised that, yes, he had been honourable and true—there was no doubt about that. ‘Oh, Mum, I feel so muddled!’
‘Then go to him. Ask him what he feels, what he truly feels.’
‘I’m scared. . .’
‘And Geraint?’ quizzed her mother. ‘Don’t you think that he could be scared too?’
Lola laughed aloud. ‘Geraint? Scared? I don’t think so!’
‘I might be scared, if I thought you might refuse to many me, Lola,’ came a deep voice from behind them, and Lola whirled round to see Geraint holding a wriggling Simon in his arms. The baby was wearing a pair of yellow trousers which clashed horribly with his purple sweatshirt. ‘He was sick after you left, so I’ve changed him. These were the only clothes I could find,’ he added, and pulled an expressive face.
Lola blinked. Geraint—changing babies? And was her hearing growing defective, or had she just heard him asking her to marry him?
June Hennessy got to her feet, walked quickly across the room and held her arms open to the baby, whereupon Simon gurgled and fastened onto her like a limpet.
‘What a friendly baby!’ Mrs Hennessy observed automatically. ‘Now, you two go away,’ she instructed her daughter and Geraint firmly. ‘Away! And don’t come back until you’ve sorted things out one way or another.’
Lola was stricken with a peculiar sense of embarrassment, and could look at neither her mother nor Geraint. In fact, she was pleased when Geraint took her firmly by the arm and propelled her out of the house as if the place were about to be detonated by a bomb.
He did not speak until they were next door again, and he had turned on the gas fire in the small study. Then he sat back on his heels so that the flickering flames cast enigmatic shadows on his finely boned face.
‘Can you ever forgive me?’ he asked quietly.
‘For what?’ Lola swallowed. ‘For forcing me to confront truths which have lain buried for too long? For making my mother rethink her philosophy and tell me something which perhaps I should have learnt about years ago? Those are things for which I should be thanking you, Geraint, not blaming you.’
‘For ever doubting you,’ came his quiet response.
‘Because you wanted to believe the worst of me?’ She shook her dark head. ‘Who could blame you for that, or blame Catrin, for that matter?’
But he shook his head. ‘No. That’s the stupid thing. Catrin never apportioned any blame, Lola—certainly not to you.’
‘But I thought—’
‘Any suspicions came from me, and me alone. Catrin is an independent woman of the nineties, with her own career and her own life. Peter was just a part of that, I realise that now—and she neither asked for nor wanted anything more. He left her some jewellery and paintings, yes, and Catrin was content with that.’
‘Then why?’ asked Lola, gazing at him with a mystified expression.
‘Why seek you out with revenge in mind?’ He moved his shoulders restlessly. ‘That was just me and my arrogant, masculine pride—although at the time I preferred to see it as me protecting Catrin. In a way, I think I felt that I was helping her—as she had helped me all those long, hard years ago, when she brought me up.
‘I needed to know why my sister’s lover had passed her over to leave the most valuable part of his estate to an unknown young woman. I was seething with the injustice of it all! I don’t know what I wanted to do to you, Lola, but the moment I saw you I knew—’
‘Knew what?’ she prompted, her heart thumping like mad.
‘That any vague ideas I’d had of revenge were hopeless, because as soon as I looked into your shining, honest eyes I knew that all I wanted to do was love you.’
‘Was that all?’ She gave a soft, secret smile.
He shook his head. ‘No, that wasn’t all! I discovered that I wanted to marry you, too. To settle down and give you lots of children. All the things I had never wanted before, and had never imagined myself wanting. And then I realised that the reason I had never wanted them before was because I had never met the right woman.’ He lowered his voice. ‘Until now.’
Lola’s eyes shone with unshed tears as she realised that he was giving voice to words she had never thought she would hear. ‘Oh, Geraint,’ she whispered.
‘My parents’ marriage was at the mercy of economics,’ he told her gruffly. ‘Poverty is no basis for a lifetime of contentment. I think that’s what gave me the will to succeed—I was determined never to have to submit to the constraints of not having enough money to support a wife and children.’
Lola blinked, mystified. ‘But you’re rich—and you have the air of a man who has been rich for a long time. There must have been women who have tempted you into marriage before now.’
He shook his dark head. ‘Never!’ he contradicted her simply. ‘Because, conversely, I needed a woman who would love me even if I had nothing.’ His grey eyes were unwavering. ‘Would you love me if I had nothing to give you but my heart, Lola Hennessy?’
Just for a moment she treasured that look he gave her, his narrowed eyes betraying a fleeting trace of vulnerability. But then he must have seen the love shining brightly in her eyes, for he grinned and stood up, then took her into his arms and held her very, very tight.
‘You