Deadly Desires at Honeychurch Hall Page 18

  My heart turned right over. David was hurrying toward us with his big smile.

  Mum scowled. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  “You’re looking better than when we last met, Iris,” said David politely.

  “Thank you.” Mum’s voice was cold.

  My stomach was filled with butterflies. I’d forgotten how handsome David was dressed in his smart Italian shoes, blazer, and pressed trousers. His hair seemed to have more streaks of gray and it suited him. Why do men get more attractive with age and women just sag?

  David gave Mum a brilliant smile. “It must be a relief to have those pins out.”

  “How would you know?”

  “I can only guess.” He smiled again. “Although I did break my little finger once. It really hurt.”

  “Good.”

  I knew David was trying to be nice but he was wasting his breath. “Well, it’s nice to see you—”

  “Can I have a quick word?”

  Mum opened her mouth to protest but I jumped in quickly, “Of course. Just for a minute.”

  “Yes. Just for a minute,” Mum echoed. “But remember what I told you, Katherine.”

  Mum walked three yards away and stood watching.

  “Still the same old Iris.” David grinned. “I wondered if you had been getting my letters and messages?”

  “Yes, thank you, and the flowers are lovely.” I knew my voice sounded stilted but I was determined not to let David get under my skin.

  “I see you are still punishing me.” He sounded amused. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m surprised to see you here, that’s all.”

  “Why? I knew you’d be here. It’s not often a Steiff skittle set comes up for sale.” David smiled again. “I took a look. It’s rare and in very good condition and they all have buttons in their ears.”

  “I know. I’ve already viewed them.”

  “The last set sold in 2011 and fetched eight thousand pounds,” David went on. “Your new business must be doing well.”

  “How is your father-in-law?” I said, changing the subject. “That is why you are in Devon, isn’t it? Visiting family?”

  David’s face fell. “Not exactly.” He looked over at Mum who continued to stare at us.

  “Mother!” I called out. “Can you go and see what the lot number is in the main marquee?”

  Mum rolled her eyes and hurried off.

  “Thank God.” David took my arm and gently led me behind the refreshment tent. “I’ve missed you, Kat and I know you’ve missed me.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Have dinner with me,” he said. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  “Please don’t do this, David.”

  “Okay. I’ll tell you anyway. Hugh passed away three weeks ago,” he said. “I’ve been helping clear the house, sort out family papers, deal with solicitors, and all that kind of thing.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “You know how fond I was of Hugh,” said David. “He was more like a father to me, than my own. That’s why—”

  “How are the children taking it?” I said.

  “Sam and Chloe seem okay but Trudy—”

  “I don’t want to talk about her, thank you.”

  David unexpectedly took my hand. It came as rather a shock. He had never been one for public displays of affection.

  “Don’t you see? My divorce will be final any minute. I told you to be patient. I told you it was always about protecting Hugh. I just didn’t want to cause him any more suffering when I knew he was dying.”

  A couple walked by. David abruptly dropped my hand. I fought down a mixture of conflicting emotions. Hope. Love. Anger. Confusion.

  “I don’t know. I just don’t know,” I said. “It’s been—”

  “Of course. You must think about it. I understand.” David reached out and stroked my face. I winced.

  “You’re bruised,” he whispered. “What happened? Did Iris beat you?”

  “No,” I said, stifling a smile. “I fell off a horse.”

  “You must be the most accident-prone person I know.” He leaned over and gently kissed my bruise—again, taking me by surprise. Was it possible to change, after all? I thought of Harry and his boarding school and how little boys are taught to toughen up.

  “Did you cry when you first went to boarding school?” I asked.

  “What?” David seemed thrown by the question. “Yes. Of course I did. We all did. I was only seven! Why?”

  “Harry is struggling, too.”

  “Who on earth is Harry?”

  “Harry!” I said sharply. “You know, the little boy who is obsessed with Biggles. I told you all about him.”

  David ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t want to talk about Harry. I want to talk about you. I’ve done a lot of soul searching. I don’t care about Fakes & Treasures. I’m happy about your new antiques shop. If you want to stay in Devon, we’ll stay down here. If you want to go to London, we’ll live there. My work takes me anywhere in the world. I’ll do whatever you want, Kat. Just give me another chance.”

  “I told you, I don’t know.”

  “I don’t expect your mother to ever truly accept me but perhaps she’ll come round eventually when she realizes I’m never going to tell a soul.”

  For a moment I wasn’t sure what David was talking about but then I remembered.

  Of course! David knew everything about Krystalle Storm and that my mother had been adopted into a traveling boxing emporium as a child. At the time, it had never occurred to me that he and I would actually break up. I’d been so sure our future would be together.

  David also knew about the fake robbery, masterminded by the old earl, Edith’s husband, that had taken place two decades ago at Honeychurch Hall. Even though David did not have proof about the insurance scam, it wouldn’t be difficult for him to find out.

  In short, David knew too much.

  I felt a surge of panic. “David, you wouldn’t say anything, would you?”

  He looked at me. “About what?”

  “About my mother? About her books? The robbery? Vera and the grotto! Everything!”

  David’s expression hardened. “You think that little of me after all we’ve been through?”

  “I just want you to give me your word.”

  David looked around him and then, suddenly, took my arm and pulled me toward him. Before I could resist his lips were on mine and he kissed me hard. I found myself responding, stunned at David doing something so out of character.

  I broke away first, slightly out of breath but incredibly confused. Good grief, had I been reading too much Krystalle Storm? Or more to the point, had he? This was the David I remembered when we first met, but not the David of these past few years.

  He stood back and his eyes raked over my body. I found myself blushing.

  “You see,” he gloated. “You still feel the same way. I know you do. Things will be different now. I promise. Oh—!” David exclaimed. “Iris! There you are.”

  Mum was peering around the corner of the tent and had the grace to look sheepish. “I didn’t want you to miss the Steiff skittles,” she said lamely.

  I wondered how long she had been listening.

  “Some people never change,” said David ruefully.

  “If you’re hoping she’ll come back to you, David,” Mum said as she hurried over. “It’s too late.”

  “Let me handle this, Mother,” I exclaimed.

  Mum opened her bag and pulled out a copy of the Daily Post folded to page three. She thrust it into David’s hands. “I’m not sure if you’ve seen today’s newspaper, but this is Kat’s new man. So as I said, it’s too late.”

  A smug smile crossed David’s features. “I assume you’re talking about Valentine Prince-Avery.”

  “You know him?” I was surprised. But of course David would know him. The antiques circuit was very small and collectors always knew other collectors.
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  “With a name like that he could be in one of your books, Iris,” said David without a trace of humor. “But he’d have to be the villain of the piece, I’m afraid. He’s a fake. I know. Because I checked.”

  “You checked.” I was furious. “It’s none of your business.”

  “How did you find out?” Mum demanded.

  David shrugged. “I have my ways.”

  “It’s over, David,” said Mum. “Don’t you understand?”

  “Mum—stop—”

  “In fact, Valentine’s meeting Kat here this afternoon so perhaps you can both fight a duel.” My mother knew full well that Valentine wasn’t coming and that there was no romance between us anyway.

  “Pistols at dawn,” joked David.

  But Mum seemed to have the proverbial bit between her teeth. “Valentine is besotted with Kat,” she declared. “He’s not just a collector, he’s some bigwig at the ministry. He’s a very important man. He’s very close friends with the prime minister.”

  “Mum, please!” This, of course, was a blatant lie.

  “Is he now?” David smiled again but I knew the reference to the ministry would bother him. He was fiercely competitive and had to be the best at everything. David often acted as a consultant for various investigations and I knew he still harbored dreams of being appointed the Minister for Culture.

  “It turns out that your Mr. Prince-Avery hasn’t worked for the Department for Transport for quite some time,” David went on.

  “Don’t take any notice of him,” said Mum. “He’s just jealous.”

  “He was fired in 2012.”

  “I know.” The newspaper article hadn’t stated that fact but I had assumed, following the car accident, it would have been the case.

  David looked taken aback. “But do you know what really happened?”

  “No. And I don’t care.”

  “You’re just making it up!” said Mum with scorn.

  “I’m not.”

  “Enough!” I shouted. “I don’t want to listen to the pair of you bickering anymore.” I strode off toward the car park. People turned to stare and I knew David and I had been recognized but I didn’t care.

  “Kat!” David shouted. “Wait! I’m sorry!”

  He caught up with me as I entered the stable yard.

  “Really. I’m sorry,” he said again. “Hear me out, please.”

  He took my arm and steered me into an empty stall. Even though the herringbone floor had been swept clean, I could still smell horses and for a moment wished I was twelve years old again when life seemed so simple.

  “You’ve changed,” he said. “You’re different.”

  I didn’t answer.

  “I’ve blown it, haven’t I?” said David quietly. “I’m such a fool. If only Hugh—”

  “Don’t start that again—”

  “When I saw that photograph of you and Prince-Avery together coming out of … well … I just couldn’t stand it. Kat, you didn’t—you couldn’t…?”

  David left the obvious question dangling in the air. “You seriously expect me to answer that?”

  “It’s true. I’m jealous. And I don’t know what to do.” For the first time I saw defeat in David’s eyes. “I can’t force you to come back but if you want me, you know where to find me.”

  “Just let me be, please.”

  “But be careful, Kat,” said David. “Prince-Avery is dangerous.”

  With one last look, he left me alone in the stall. I felt incredibly sad. He was right. I had changed. But it had nothing to do with Valentine. I’d finally had enough.

  I left the stable and set off down a path that ran around the building. Although I could still hear various announcements being read on the public address system, it was far enough away from the auction. I needed to be alone.

  I came upon an enclosure fenced off with chicken wire and post and rail fencing. It was quite a large area peppered with hedgerows and ancient oaks. A wooden information board stood next to a stile stating it was a conservation area. The board had beautiful illustrations of all the wildlife that lived inside its boundaries. There was a list of endangered species that included the grey-long-eared bat and, to my surprise and delight, the muscardinus avellanarius … the hazel dormouse.

  In an instant, I’d completely forgotten all about David. I felt a surge of excitement. As a listed endangered species, their existence on Honeychurch land could really help our campaign.

  I couldn’t wait to tell my mother and hurried back to find her.

  “There you are!” she exclaimed. “I feared you’d eloped.”

  “There’s no danger of that,” I said. “I have an idea.”

  As we walked back to the main marquee I told Mum all about the dormice.

  “Benedict wanted to find an environmental angle!” she enthused. “Clever you!”

  I paid far too much for the Steiff skittle set circa 1908. With a kingpin in his red felt jacket and gold crown and eight other bears standing eleven inches high on turned wooden bases holding poles, they really were adorable. I knew they’d make a great centerpiece for my new shop—wherever it would be.

  Valentine’s “George” did not do so well. Much to the embarrassment of the auctioneer, the automaton failed to show off his smoking skills and didn’t even reach his reserve.

  My mother bought a raggedy mink coat for a bargain and wore it back to the car. “It belonged to Princess Alice, Countess of Athlone,” said Mum. “She was the last remaining grandchild of Queen Victoria. Did you know she was ninety-seven years, three hundred and thirteen days old when she died and had lived through six reigns?”

  “As did her coat, I suspect. Why on earth would you want to buy something like that?”

  “I thought I’d branch out into clothing,” said Mum. “Anyway, Frank always wanted me to wear mink.”

  “Mind you don’t get paint thrown at you,” I said. “There are still a lot of anti-fur activists around here.”

  “I don’t care,” said Mum, stroking the fur. “I now know what it feels like to be a princess.”

  We set off for home. “Well? Do I have to be worried about you going back to Dylan?”

  “No,” I said. And meant it.

  “All that talk about buying a house together in Devon,” said Mum.

  “We didn’t talk about buying a house in Devon today,” I exclaimed. “Wait a moment … I don’t believe it! Did you read one of his letters to me?”

  “It was completely by accident,” said Mum. “I went into your bedroom to look for my favorite pen—didn’t I lend you my favorite pen? Anyway a gust of wind shot through the open window and … one of his letters just landed in my hand.”

  “From inside my bedside table drawer?”

  “Exactly! Isn’t that odd?”

  “Those are private,” I cried. “You would never get me going into your personal things.” And then I remembered, I had done just that up in the loft.

  “I must say Dylan can be quite ardent when he puts his mind to it,” said Mum. “Who would have thought he had it in him? At least he’s sparked some ideas for my book. I thought I’d rewrite Lady Amelia and Shelby’s first kiss and set it in the stable. Originally, they bumped into each other in the woods.”

  “I know, I typed it.”

  “But in the stable, it raises the danger. What if he’s seen? What if they’re caught?”

  “How clichéd,” I said.

  Mum pulled a stack of Post-its from out of her pocket. “Listen to this. ‘What are you doing, Shelby?’” said Mum, mimicking her heroine’s breathy voice. “Lady Amelia’s eyes widened with surprise as the young gamekeeper slipped into the empty stable and closed the door behind them. ‘I must speak with ye, m’lady.’” Mum affected a deep country brogue. “Shelby’s breathing was heavy and his eyes glittered with lust. ‘Oh, draw no further, sire!’ Lady Amelia cried as she shrank into the corner. She began to tremble and, feeling his gaze upon her, slowly raised her eyes to meet his. In an instant
, he was beside her, sweeping her into his passionate embrace; his lips crushed hers as she tried to fight him. She felt his hard body pressed against her own. Her head spun as she found herself drowning in a pool of lust until she finally broke free. Shelby stood back. His eyes raked her body. ‘You see,’ he gloated. ‘You feel the way I do. Things will be different now.’”

  I felt my own face grow hot. “You saw David and me in the stable!”

  “How could I have done that?” Mum said, feigning innocence. “I can’t see through walls.”

  “You’re incorrigible!”

  “I know.”

  Back home, Mum’s good humor evaporated the moment we opened the front door and were faced with a wall of displaced furniture.

  “I told you so,” said Mum.

  “Hello?” Alfred’s head popped out of the sitting room doorway. His face was speckled in primrose-yellow paint. “Nice mink, Iris. Very posh.”

  “How are you getting on?” I asked.

  “Just need a few more hours.” Alfred beamed. “Any chance of a cup of tea? It’s gone four.”

  “You know where the kettle is,” said Mum coldly. “I’m going upstairs to work and I don’t want to be interrupted.”

  “Sorry, we had a cup of tea at the auction,” I said. “But as Mum says, you know where it is—if you can actually get into the kitchen.”

  “Oh, you had a visitor,” said Alfred. “A Benedict Snoop.”

  “Scroope, you mean.”

  “Snoop suits him better,” said Alfred. “I caught him trying to climb over the sofa.”

  “Did he leave a message?”

  “Just said he thought he’d left his mobile in the kitchen. He hadn’t. I looked.”

  “I thought you repaired the front door lock,” I said.

  “Yeah well, the doorjamb’s rotten.” Alfred shrugged. “Don’t tell your mum, though. She’ll say I botched it.”

  And I suspected Mum would be right.

  My bedroom was just as cluttered as the hall. I was collecting a lot of stock for my new shop. I thought again about the gatehouses and my nonexistent life in London. Maybe Edith had a point. Could I do it though? Was I ready to take such a big step?

  I sank onto the bed. What a tumultuous day.

  “Kat!” shouted Uncle Alfred from downstairs. “Someone to see you.”