‘To be utterly blunt, darling, you look awful,’ Lucinda grimly continued. ‘Everyone is worried about you. Julian called me from the airport, he was so concerned when he read about this latest development in this morning’s paper, and even Lord Beverley is thoroughly shocked and appalled at the way Sheikh Raschid is using you.’
‘Raschid isn’t using me,’ Evie denied. ‘He loves me.’
‘Love!’ her mother derided in the same way she had derided the word to Raschid’s face a few minutes ago. ‘The man doesn’t know the meaning of the word or he wouldn’t be planning to betray you like this!’
‘In this case, it isn’t me who’s been betrayed,’ Evie said. ‘His father placed that announcement without Raschid’s approval.’
‘Is that what he told you?’ Her mother’s scepticism was clear.
But Evie lifted her chin to look right into her mother’s disbelieving eyes when she said, ‘It’s the truth. Raschid wouldn’t lie—especially to me.’
‘Oh, good grief!’ Lucinda Delahaye exclaimed. ‘I can’t believe you can be so gullible!’
‘It has nothing to do with gullibility,’ Evie countered. ‘But it has everything to do with trust. I trust Raschid to be truthful with me.’
‘All right, let us suppose that he does speak the truth,’ her mother clipped, deciding to change tack when she saw that stubborn tilt to her daughter’s chin that she knew so well. ‘What does he intend to do about it?’
Ah, Evie thought, the big question, and she lowered her eyes because she had no clear answer to it.
‘Lord Beverley informs me there is no way Raschid can pull out of this marriage now it has been made public,’ her mother pushed on. ‘Which means that you are out in the cold no matter what Raschid would prefer. His future bride’s family will insist upon it as any family would having followed your relationship over the last two years.’
‘Do you honestly think I would want to continue our relationship if he did marry someone else?’ Evie questioned coolly.
Lucinda didn’t answer, but the look on her face certainly said it all for her, and it came as a horrible shock to realise that even her own mother believed she was prepared to sink that low for her love of Raschid.
‘Well, I wouldn’t,’ she snapped, turning away to rid herself of the glass because all of a sudden her stomach was acting up again. But this time it had nothing to do with overwrought hormones.
‘Then prove it,’ her mother said. ‘Put a stop to this now before you lose what is left of your pride! We can go down to Westhaven together,’ she suggested, pouncing on the flicker of pain she had caught in Evie’s eyes before she turned her back to her. ‘Hide away there until all of this blows over!’
‘I can’t,’ Evie whispered, lifting a hand to cover her aching eyes. ‘I can’t leave him until I know for sure that there is no future for us.’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Evie!’ her mother cried out in angry frustration. Stepping forward, she grabbed hold of Evie’s arm so she could spin her round to face her. ‘When are you going to—?’
‘Aagh!’ Evie’s strangled shriek of agony slicing through the air utterly silenced her mother.
Where he came from, Evie had no conception, but suddenly Asim was standing right there beside them, and was taking hold of her mother’s wrist in a grip that grimly prised her fingers from Evie’s arm.
‘What on earth…?’ Lucinda choked in shocked incredulity.
‘Your daughter has an injury to the arm you hold,’ Asim answered as he let go of her mother.
‘An injury?’ Lucinda gasped. ‘What kind of injury? What have you people been doing to her?’
‘It was an accident.’ Raschid’s tight voice entered the tension. ‘Evie scalded herself this morning.’
‘You scalded yourself?’ her mother repeated, aiming the stunned question at Evie.
But Evie couldn’t answer. She was too busy cradling her arm where the burning pain was making her feel weak and dizzy. Her face had gone white and her body was trembling with aftershocks of an unbelievable agony.
‘Sit down, for goodness’ sake!’ Raschid raked angrily at her. And before she knew it Evie was being unceremoniously dumped into the nearest chair. ‘Asim!’ He turned that anger on the servant next. ‘Do something!’
With his usual calm, Asim was already squatting down beside Evie and gently taking hold of her arm while Evie just sat, eyes closed, face drained, and shook violently.
‘What does he know about burns?’ Lucinda put in shrilly.
‘More than most,’ Raschid gratingly replied.
‘But she needs to see a damned doctor!’ Lucinda declared in protest as she stood by watching in pulsing horror while Asim began to gently unwrap Evie’s injured arm.
In a paper-dry tone that scraped over everyone, Raschid drawled, ‘She is seeing one right now.’
It was shocking enough news to bring Evie’s eyes open to stare at the servant in dumb disbelief. Asim caught the look and smiled briefly. ‘I have been Sheikh Raschid’s personal physician since the day he was born,’ he quietly explained.
‘Well, you old fraud,’ she breathed. ‘You’ve let me believe you were nothing more than chief cook and bottle-washer here for the last two years!’
‘As you know,’ he replied dryly, ‘he is rarely ill.’
‘Ouch!’ she gasped when he touched a particularly tender spot on her arm.
Looking down, she saw that the skin had blistered. Over her head, she heard Raschid mutter something. Her mother, it seemed, had been struck totally speechless.
‘A burns specialist, Asim?’ Raschid demanded harshly.
‘No, sir,’ the other man replied. ‘But I will need my bag,’ he said, getting up. ‘If you will excuse me for a moment.’
Walking away, he left an atmosphere behind him that would have split atoms. Raschid stood to one side of Evie, her mother on the other. And Evie herself kept her face lowered because she just didn’t feel up to dealing with either of them right now.
‘I’m sorry, Evie.’ Her mother’s voice sounded unsteady. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt you.’
‘I know,’ she replied. ‘To be honest, I had forgotten about it myself until you touched it.’
‘But it looks so dreadful!’
Evie just smiled bleakly to herself because there was no way she could tell her mother that the blisters which were now broken and weeping were where her fingers had gripped.
‘Was this what you meant when you said she wasn’t well?’
The question was aimed at Raschid, but Evie answered. ‘Yes,’ she said firmly.
‘No,’ Raschid coolly contradicted her. ‘Evie was feeling unwell because she is pregnant…’
On a sigh that came from the weary depths of her body, Evie sank more deeply into the soft-cushioned chair and closed her eyes again as the new silence that followed that announcement began to explode all around her. And for the space of the next thirty teeth-gritting seconds no one moved, no one spoke, while they waited for her mother’s inevitable reaction.
Yet, when it did come, it wasn’t what Evie was expecting. She was expecting anger, disgust, even biting condemnation aimed at both of them. What she got was a groan that had her mother sinking heavily into the nearest chair.
‘Oh, Evie…’