‘Don’t you?’ Her mother seemed to perceive that she suddenly had the upper hand. ‘Remind me, Cassie: what was the last part you played?’
Eve now found herself in the unlikely position of feeling sorry for her and, with unexpected compassion she said, ‘You had a role in the remake of Pride and Prejudice, didn’t you, Cassie? I think you played one of the Bennett sisters.’
‘You know I didn’t play one of the Bennett sisters,’ hissed Cassie, giving Eve a filthy look, but her mother only smiled.
‘Mrs Bennett, perhaps?’ she suggested, enjoying the moment. ‘You’d be unlikely to be cast as an ingénue, if that’s the term they use these days.’
‘So, did you and Mr Romero spend much time in Paris, Cassie?’ Eve asked quickly, realising her grandmother wasn’t about to back off, and this time Cassie seemed grateful for her intervention.
‘Just a few days,’ she said. ‘But Jake promised to look me up the next time he was in London,’ she added, giving him a forgiving look. ‘And that was six months ago, wasn’t it, darling?’
‘Something like that.’ Eve noticed that Romero didn’t respond to Cassie’s frequent endearments. But she was taken aback when he turned to her. ‘And my name’s Jake. Or Jacob, if you prefer.’
‘Yes.’ Aware that all eyes were on her now, Eve was forced to be polite. ‘Yes, right.’ Then, dragging her gaze away from his disturbing face, she managed to smile at her grandmother. ‘Um—I’ll go and see how Mrs Blackwood is getting on. Is there anything I can get you?’
‘Yes, you can get me another drink,’ said Cassie at once, holding out her glass as Eve got to her feet. ‘I’ll have whisky, if there is any.’ She glanced at her mother. ‘Your choice of wine isn’t to my taste.’
‘Nor are your manners to mine, Cassie,’ retorted Ellie, and Eve wished now that she hadn’t offered to go and see how the housekeeper was coping. There was an ominous atmosphere building in the room, and she dreaded what her grandmother might say next.
‘I’m not a child, Mother.’ Everyone must have noticed that the honeyed ‘Mummy’ had given way to the chillier term. ‘And I don’t like red wine, as it happens. But you knew that.’
‘I’d forgotten,’ declared her mother blandly. ‘Your visits here are so infrequent, Cassie. I can’t be expected to remember everything.’
Cassie’s lips tightened, and Eve guessed she was biting her tongue. She must know better than anyone that it would be unwise to antagonise her mother when there was a guest in the house. Particularly when that guest was someone she wanted to impress.
In the hope of avoiding any further argument, Eve set Cassie’s empty glass on the tray. Then, keeping her back to the room, she managed to sneak the whisky bottle off the tray and into the cupboard below. Swinging round on her heels, she said, somewhat breathlessly, ‘I’m sorry. There doesn’t appear to be any whisky here, Cassie. I expect there’s a new bottle in the kitchen. Why don’t you come and get it?’
The face Cassie turned to her was hardly friendly. Eve was sure the words, Why don’t you get it? were hovering on her lips. But politeness—or common sense—won out, and with a muttered, ‘Excuse me,’ to Romero, she pushed herself to her feet and flounced across the room to join Eve at the door.
She waited until the door was firmly closed behind them and they’d put the width of the hall between them and the library before speaking again. But when she did, her words were hard and accusatory.
‘What do you think you’re playing at?’ she demanded. ‘I saw the bottle of whisky on the tray when Mrs Blackwood was pouring us all a glass of the poor excuse for claret my mother insists on serving. Don’t think I didn’t see you spirit it away into the cabinet. I’d be surprised if anybody missed it.’
Eve’s lips twisted. ‘I should have known that nothing I did would please you,’ she said flatly. ‘And here I was thinking I was saving your sorry ass!’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Are you for real?’ Eve stared at her. ‘Don’t you realise your mother is just waiting for a chance to explode this myth you’ve created about yourself? You’re a fool if you think she’s forgotten—anything.’
‘With your connivance, no doubt.’
Eve shrugged. ‘If you want to think that, I can’t stop you.’
‘Well, what else am I supposed to think?’ Cassie balled one fist and pressed it into the palm of her other hand. Then, less aggressively, she said, ‘She wouldn’t say anything.’ A beat. ‘Would she?’
‘If you persist in baiting her, I don’t know what she might say,’ replied Eve honestly.
‘But she’s baiting me!’ Cassie made a sound of frustration. ‘Am I expected to take whatever she wants to give without defending myself at all?’
Eve moved towards the passage leading to the kitchen. ‘I can’t answer that. I suppose it rather depends on how much you want your—guest—to know about you.’
Cassie’s mouth tightened. ‘Are you threatening me?’
‘No!’ The look Eve cast over her shoulder was incredulous. ‘Why should I threaten you? I don’t care what you do, do I? How you conduct your life means nothing to me.’
Cassie scoffed. ‘Little Miss Prim,’ she said contemptuously. ‘I wonder if my mother has any idea of the kind of life you were living before she arrived like a fairy godmother to whisk you away.’
‘She knows,’ said Eve, and without waiting to see if Cassie was going to follow her she pushed open the door into the reassuring light and warmth of the kitchen.
‘Does she?’ Cassie came after her, evidently deciding that if she couldn’t torment her mother, she would torment Eve instead. ‘Well, don’t talk to me as if you’re Goody Two Shoes! We both know you’d do anything to get a man like Jake to support you.’
Eve gasped. She was used to Cassie speaking as if Mrs Blackwood was just a cipher, but this time she’d gone too far. ‘You’re wrong,’ she snapped. ‘I’ve never prostituted myself to get any man, Cassie. And unless you’re prepared for me to expose all your dirty washing, I suggest you back off!’
IT WAS still dark—and cold—when Jake got out of bed. The heating hadn’t kicked in yet, and he padded across to the windows to look out on a grey world, with only the silvery trace of a rime frost to soften the outline of the trees in the paddock.
He’d slept alone, much to Cassandra’s annoyance. He knew one of the reasons she’d invited him here was because she wanted their relationship to advance to another stage. But he wasn’t interested in that, and the fact that her mother had arranged for them to have separate bedrooms showed that she didn’t approve of them conducting any illicit dealings under her roof.
She’d even phoned him on his mobile, evidently deciding it was too cold to brave the chilly corridors of the house when she couldn’t be sure how he’d respond. Cassandra didn’t like taking no for an answer.
A flicker of light in the yard below caught his attention. His room overlooked the back of the house, and as he watched he saw a figure detach itself from the building and head off towards the cluster of barns and outbuildings that were just visible in the gloom.
Eve.
Her tall, slim figure was unmistakable. Dressed in jeans and a bulky sweater, the thick braid of dark hair swinging over her shoulder, she moved with an unconscious grace that stirred an unwilling awareness inside him. Which