Letter to Reader Title Page CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT Copyright

Dear Reader,

Weddings are wonderful; private and yet, at the same time, shared by and with family and friends.

My wedding to Peter passed in a haze of warmth and happiness. It was a blissfully sunny September day, with photographs taken afterward in a delightful flower-filled garden.

This year we celebrate our Pearl anniversary, enjoying thirty years together—enhanced to begin with by our first new arrival: a heart-stealing puppy by the name of Tess.

Wishing you as much happiness.

Yours sincerely,

Welcome to Whirlwind Weddings!

Whirlwind Weddings is a heart-stirring miniseries about

matrimony, featuring strong, irresistible heroes, feisty

heroines and four marriages, made not so much in heaven

as in a hurry!

This series was the idea of three very special authors who

are close friends: Heather Allison, Ruth Jean Dale and

Day Leclaire. They’re joined by ever-popular British author

Jessica Steele. When the authors came up with the idea for

Whirlwind Weddings, we gave them just one stipulation:

their heroes and heroines had to meet and

marry within a week! Mission impossible?

Well, a lot can happen in seven days....

If you enjoyed Whirlwind Weddings,

do write and let us know!

The Editors, Harlequin Romance

Harlequin Enterprises Ltd.

225 Duncan Mill Road

Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9

Who says you can’t hurry love?

Married In A Moment
Jessica Steele

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

ELLENA stared at the television screen in stunned horror, her brain numbed by what the newscaster had just announced—an avalanche in the Austrian Alps. An avalanche in the very area where Justine was spending a ski-ing holiday with her boyfriend Kit!

Ellena didn’t seem able to think as the newscaster carried on solemnly about tons of snow, rocks and boulders, and no chance of anyone surviving such circumstance! Having done with that piece of news, he went on to the next item.

Though still disbelieving, she was starting to recover sufficiently from her initial shock to tell herself that she was panicking unnecessarily. Only that morning she had received an ‘our hotel’-type of picture postcard from her sister... But—that must have been posted days ago!

Hurriedly Ellena found the card, feverishly scanning it and looking to see if by any chance there was a printed hotel telephone number. There was! In next to no time she was busy dialling. If she could just speak to Justine...

The line was engaged. For a half-hour the line was engaged. Ellena accepted that she was not the only anxious relative wanting to get through, though the waiting was unsustainable.

Perhaps Justine was trying to get through to her. She would know that Ellena would be anxious. She put her phone down. It did not ring.

All lines were probably swamped anyway. Perhaps Kit had managed to get through to his family. He had two brothers; the middle one, Russell, and his wife, Pamela, were looking after their baby while Justine and Kit were away.

Ellena was enormously thankful that she’d insisted on having Russell’s address in Hertfordshire and phone number before Justine left. Ellena had never met any of Kit’s family, but—interfering though it might be, or perhaps because she was so used to looking out for Justine—she had already phoned once to see if baby Violette was settled without her mother. Pamela, Russell’s wife, had been more than a shade frosty, she recalled. But Ellena cared not for Pamela Langford’s frostiness just now and, finding the number, she dialled.

‘Hello. Russell. Ellena Spencer—J-Justine’s sister.’ Striving to keep calm, she announced herself—and hesitated, suddenly realising that if he had not had a telephone call from Kit, nor had he been watching the news, she was going to have to break the news to him herself.

But, ‘Bad do,’ he replied, and she knew that he was aware of the avalanche.

‘You haven’t heard anything from Kit? He hasn’t phoned or anything?’ she questioned urgently.

‘We had a card from him this morning, but that’s all.’

‘Oh,’ Ellena cried faintly, starting to feel a shade frantic. ‘I’ve tried to phone the hotel, but I can’t get through.’

‘Try not to worry. Pamela says you’ll hear soon enough if Kit and your sister are involved.’ Russell attempted to soothe her, and she wondered how they could be so passive. Not worry...! ‘According to the news report we were watching, that area was out of bounds—there shouldn’t have been anyone in that area.’

Oh, heavens! Ellena was two years older than Justine and had done her best to take care of her when their parents had been killed in a mountaineering accident five years ago. Ellena knew from experience that anything labelled ‘out of bounds’ was a magnet for Justine. There shouldn’t have been anyone in the avalanche area! When had that ever stopped Justine?

‘I think I’ll keep trying to get through to the hotel,’ she stated, starting to feel torn. If she went to her office and sent a fax there’d be no one at her flat to take any incoming call. ‘If Kit rings you, would you...?’

‘Look, if you’re seriously worried, why not ring Gideon? He’ll know how to get through.’

Gideon Langford was the eldest of the three brothers. By all accounts he was successful in everything he did, a high-flyer making the engineering firm started by his father into the vast empire it was today. Popular with the opposite sex—but light on his toes, apparently, when it came to marriage talk.

All the same, it defeated her to know how he could get through to the hotel if she couldn’t. But she was beginning to feel quite desperate. Desperate enough to try anything. ‘Have you got his number?’ she asked.

Ellena tried the hotel again first, but when she again couldn’t get through she dialled the number Russell had given her. It was engaged, as it was on her second and third attempt. On her fourth attempt, however, it rang out, and was answered.

‘Langford!’ an all-male voice answered abruptly. So abruptly, Ellena just knew that her call was most unwelcome.

‘I’m sorry to bother you—’ then no more formality; she was almost past caring whom she bothered ‘—my name’s Ellena Spencer—I’m Justine’s sister.’

‘Justine?’ he demanded clarification.

‘Justine and Kit, your brother,’ she inserted, too het up to feel foolish, because he’d know Kit was his brother, for goodness’ sake! ‘They’re on a ski-ing holiday together and—’

‘You’ve heard the news?’ Gideon cut in tersely, clearly a man who had little time to waste.

‘About the avalanche. Yes,’ she said. ‘I’ve been trying to get through to the hotel, but—’

‘They’re missing!’ he stated shortly.

‘Missing?’ she gasped. How Gideon Langford had come by that information totally irrelevant as she clutched hard onto the phone receiver.

‘My brother and his companion left their hotel first thing this morning—they haven’t been seen since.’

‘Oh, no!’ she whispered, tears springing to her eyes. ‘They might have gone anywhere,’ she choked, clutching at straws. ‘Russell said that the area of the avalanche was out of bounds.’

Gideon Langford took in that she had been in touch with his other brother without commenting on it. ‘Did he also tell you Kit would merely see that as another rule to be broken?’ he snarled harshly.

‘J-Justine and Kit are—well met,’ Ellena answered, her voice starting to fracture, the realisation hitting her that Gideon Langford’s harshness might stem from the fact he was keeping a lid on his own emotions about his youngest brother. ‘Is that all you know?’ she questioned.

‘I’ll find out more when I get there.’

‘You’re going to Austria to—?’

‘I’ll have a plane standing by in a couple of hours,’ he butted in grimly. Then he paused for a moment and, still in the same grim tone, asked, ‘Do you want to come?’ He didn’t sound very enthusiastic.

‘Yes,’ she answered without hesitation—it didn’t require any thinking about.

‘Where are you?’

‘My flat near Croydon.’

‘Your address?’ he demanded, barely before she had finished speaking. She gave it to him. ‘I’ll send a car. Be ready in an hour,’ he instructed, and rang off.

An hour ago she’d been watching the television. Now she was on her way to Austria! At any other time she might have taken exception to Gideon Langford’s bossiness. But not now. At this moment she was only grateful that he was taking charge. She felt a desperate need to be near Justine. Anything was better than sitting at home worrying.

As instructed, she was ready an hour later when a chauffeur-driven limousine arrived to take her to the airport.

And it was at the airport, in a private waiting area, that she caught her first glimpse of the man who ran that mammoth concern, Langford Engineering—Kit’s brother! Gideon Langford was tall, about ten years older than Kit, well over six feet, dark-haired and, as they shook hands, she felt pinned by a direct look from his unwavering slate-grey eyes.

She felt herself being checked over, starting with her straight blonde hair, now held back in a neat chignon. Then his eyes took in her creamy skin, her slightly hollowed cheeks and photogenic high cheekbones that sometimes caused her to seem aloof. She wasn’t particularly aloof, she didn’t think. It was just that she usually had some problem on her mind—most often something to do with Justine.

‘I don’t suppose you’ve heard any further news?’ she enquired, as he let go of her hand.

He shook his head. ‘We’ll just keep hoping,’ he said shortly, and that was about the sum total of their conversation until someone came to show them to the private jet.

They had little to say to each other throughout the journey, either. While she knew Gideon Langford was busy with his own thoughts, Ellena lapsed into thinking of her years with Justine since their parents’ deaths. They had been killed on a mountainside—she couldn’t bear it if Justine, too, perished... No, no, she wouldn’t think that way; she just wouldn’t.

She had been just seventeen; Justine fifteen—and on the point of being expelled from school for some misdemeanour. Which of her misdemeanours it had been exactly was lost under the weight of all the others when word had reached them of their parents’ accident.

They had both been much loved by their lively, bubbly parents, but Ellena had had to do some instant growing up. Prior to the accident, she had been hopeful that her father, as he had before, might have been able to persuade Justine’s school from taking such drastic action as expulsion. But, he didn’t come back and, while they were both devastated at losing their parents, it was Justine who had adored her father—he who, it had to be said, had indulged her endlessly and had refused to see anything wrong in a few high spirits and who had been inconsolable for months.

During this time Ellena had realised that her plans to go to university to study accountancy were not going to happen. Although in the light of the tragedy the school had relented, and allowed a much subdued Justine to stay with them, Ellena had felt there was no way she could leave her.

Hiding her own heartache, she’d set about the practicalities of living without their parents. Out of necessity she’d checked into their financial security.

Their finances weren’t brilliant, but they weren’t too bad either, she’d discovered. Both she and Justine were aware of an investment which their father had made for them both in the years of their birth. They would each receive a quite substantial amount—but not until their twentieth birthdays.

Meantime, their parents’ house was heavily mortgaged and there were a few debts outstanding; they had all lived well, but there was nothing left over for a rainy day.

Ellena had left school straight away and, excelling at maths, obtained a job with a firm of accountants. She was reasonably well paid for her junior position, but it was nowhere near enough to pay the mortgage.

‘The house has got to go. Do you mind very much?’ she’d told Justine gently.

‘Without Mummy and Daddy here—I don’t care at all,’ Justine had replied listlessly.

‘We’ll find a lovely flat to rent,’ Ellena had decided with a brightness she was far from feeling.

‘If that’s what you want...’

It wasn’t, but facts had to be faced. So the house had been sold—with just enough money left over to settle all bills and, Ellena hoped, pay rent—if they were careful for the next three years—until her twentieth birthday when she could claim the money from her father’s investment.

Justine had not cared for the first four apartments they’d looked at, but had started to perk up when Ellena, trying not to despair, found a flat at the more expensive end of the market.

‘The rent’s a bit more than I’d calculated.’ Ellena had thought it wouldn’t hurt to let Justine know there would have to be a few economies.

‘I’ll leave school and get a job too,’ Justine had declared.

‘I think we can manage while you finish your education,’ Ellena had smiled, and, because Justine was just Justine, she’d given her a loving hug. Justine had clung to her.

It had been a wrench for Ellena to leave the rambling old house she had been brought up in, but, with more than enough furniture to spare, she and Justine had moved into their new home and started to try to rebuild their lives.

On the plus side, Justine had begun behaving herself at school, and, joy of joys, Andrea Keyte, the head of A. Keyte and Company, the accountancy firm Ellena worked for, had called her into her office one wonderful morning. Mrs Keyte, then a divorced lady of thirty-seven, had interviewed her personally for the job, so knew all about her present qualifications, and that she had hoped to study accountancy. Mrs Keyte had, she’d said that wonderful morning, observed how much Ellena enjoyed her work and how easily she seemed to grasp complicated issues. How, she’d enquired, would Ellena feel about being articled to her?

‘You mean—train to be an accountant—to gain my qualifications here?’ Ellena gasped, suddenly starting to see light, unexpected, wonderful light, after the darkness of recent months.

Apparently, that was exactly what Mrs Keyte—who was later to invite Ellena to call her Andrea—did mean. ‘It will mean a lot of hard work,’ she cautioned. ‘Study in the evenings when you’d probably much rather be out with your boyfriend.’

Ellena didn’t have a boyfriend. What time did she have? Before her parents’ deaths she’d spent evenings and weekends either swotting over homework from school, or on some mad adventure with them. Since their deaths, Justine had taken precedence.

‘I can do it,’ she said eagerly. ‘I know I can do it.’

‘It will take all of five years for you to be ready to take your finals,’ Andrea had warned.

‘I want to do it; I really do.’ Ellena, fearful that her employer might change her mind, promised this earnestly.

‘Then you shall.’

And she had. It had not been easy. Left alone to cope with the work and the studying, Ellena knew she would have coped with only minor panics. But, in avowing, ‘I know I can do it’, she had not taken Justine—or rather Justine finally coming to terms with the loss of their parents—into consideration.

By the time Justine’s sixteenth birthday had approached, it seemed she was close to being expelled from school again.

‘I’d better find time to go and see if your headmaster will overlook your truancy one last time,’ Ellena stated when, having arrived home from the office with a load of studying to do, Justine owned up to not having been to school for a while.

‘I shouldn’t, if I were you,’ Justine grinned, ‘I’ve no intention of going back—even if they’d have me.’

‘Justine!’

‘Don’t go on, there’s a love. I’ve been awfully good today.’

Ellena did not trust the word ‘good’. ‘“Good”, as in...?’

‘As in, I’ve been and got myself a job in a boutique. I start tomorrow.’

‘You’re not sixteen yet!’ Ellena gasped.

‘I told them I was. And I will be, by the time they find out I wasn’t.’ She laughed. She was infectious. Ellena remembered she had laughed too.

Dear, dear Justine, she couldn’t be dead! Ellena choked on a sob of sound, and caught Gideon Langford’s sharp glance on her from across the aisle. She hastily turned to look, unseeing, out of the aircraft window at the night sky.

He looked pretty bleak too, she realised, and strangely felt she wanted to help his suffering in any way she could. She realised her sensitivities at this dreadful time must be bouncing about all over the place, and strove again to calm her emotions. She had no idea what lay before them—it could be the best or the worst of news—so she must gather what strength she could.

Determinedly she pushed the weakening worst thoughts from her. Concentrate on the good things, she instructed herself. That time Justine... Her thoughts were at once back with Justine: Justine laughing, Justine crying; Justine bringing her first boyfriend home, the great unwashed group of her friends who had—to the dismay of their neighbours—almost camped on their doorstep; Justine starting new jobs, lasting a day, a week—miracle of miracles one job had even lasted three months! Justine’s taste in boyfriends improving—her boyfriends starting to look as though they bathed and changed their clothes regularly.

By the time Ellena was twenty, and their finances were at last buoyant, however, she’d had enough of chasing halfway around London on what transport she could find, looking for Justine when she didn’t come home at night. Ellena had found time to have driving lessons, and bought a car. She’d had many qualms about letting Justine have driving lessons as well—she was hard enough to keep tabs on. But, as ever, her soft heart had won over her sensible head, and Justine learned to drive too—and Ellena bought her a car also. Then Justine fell in love—and the man she fell in love with seemed equally fluffy-minded.

Kit Langford wasn’t too keen on work either, by the sound of it. ‘What does he do?’ Ellena had asked.

‘Do?’ Justine seemed to have no idea what she meant. ‘Oh, you mean work! Oh, he’s not working at the moment; he’s having too good a time spending the money he came into on his twenty-first birthday from his father’s estate.’

Ellena was sorry that Kit was without a father too. But she couldn’t help but feel responsible for her younger sister. ‘Does he live at home with his mother?’ she asked.

‘His mother remarried a year after his father died—she’s living somewhere hot—the Bahamas, I think.’

‘So where does he live?’

‘He’s got a flat; his brother bought it for him when he booted him out of his house.’

‘His brother...’

‘Well, it was rather a riotous party, and Gideon was away. But we did try and clear up all the mess.’

Justine had no need to go on. Ellena saw the picture quite clearly. She had herself come home from a late evening office function one time to find all hell had been let loose in her absence—music blaring and all sorts of people, no two with hair the same colour—pinks and greens all competing. Justine had decided to have a party. It had taken all of a week to restore the flat to good order, and a month to be on speaking terms with the neighbours again.

When Justine had fallen in love with Kit, though, no one else seemed to exist for her but him. Gradually Ellena had learned a little more about Kit’s family. They were well to do, by all accounts, though Justine had never met either of his brothers. Kit saw his eldest brother occasionally, and there were frequent phone calls between the two, but Gideon Langford had a busy life on all fronts. Kit, who seemed as besotted with Justine as she was with him, wanted to spend all his time with her.

They had been going out with each other for quite some while when, as happy as you please, Justine had come home, holding a bottle of champagne aloft.

Ellena had broken off from her studies. ‘We’re celebrating?’ she teased, joy in her heart that, by the look of it, her little sister had just become engaged.

She should, she’d later realised, have known not to prejudge anything where Justine was concerned. For, grinning madly, and obviously delighted, ‘We’re pregnant!’ she announced.

Ellena was studying hard for her finals just then, though, had she thought that being pregnant might calm Justine down to lead a quieter life, she discovered she was much mistaken—Justine’s relationship with Kit entered a stormy phase. And while Ellena had been mentally adjusting to the fact that her sister might soon be leaving to set up home with Kit—of that there had been no sign.

Justine still met Kit occasionally, but, more often than not, would come home needing to be soothed. When Ellena wasn’t calming Justine’s agitation, she was coping with her being unwell—and wondering what to do for the best. Her tenancy agreement stated definitely, no children. By the look of it, they would have to find somewhere else to live.

Then everything seemed to be happening at once. Ellena took her final accountancy exam—and with joy and not a little astonishment learned she had passed with an exceptionally good mark. But, even while she was relaying this news, Justine went into labour.

‘I want Kit!’ she’d cried.

Ellena contacted him and was warmed by his caring. He must have broken all records—he was at the hospital only minutes after Justine and Ellena—she didn’t know which of the three of them was the more panic-stricken.

Kit stayed with Justine when the time arrived, and Ellena paced the waiting area fearing she was going to break down in tears and disgrace herself at any moment now if she didn’t hear something soon.

Then Kit, his grey look gone, grinning from ear to ear, was coming to find her. ‘What do you think of Violette Ellena?’ he asked—and, uncaring that she might disgrace herself, Ellena waited only for him to add that mother and daughter were doing fine before she burst into tears.

She had thought Kit seemed to grow up a little then. In any event he wouldn’t hear of anything, other than Justine and their daughter moving in with him. In the short time Justine was in hospital he turned his spare bedroom into a baby’s room, complete with crib and fluffy toys.

Justine was the happiest Ellena had ever seen her. She was but a few weeks away from her twentieth birthday. ‘You feel all right about moving in with Kit?’ Ellena felt she had to ask. ‘You needn’t. If you’re worried about our tenancy agreement, we can look for...’

‘I’m very all right about it,’ Justine answered, and it was clear that such a small thing as having a landlord come down on them like a ton of coals for breaching their tenancy agreement had never for one moment bothered her. ‘I want to live with Kit.’

‘In that case, since you’ll have enough to do looking after the baby, I’ll pack your clothes and—’

‘No need to bother with that, Ellena-Ellen,’ Justine interrupted sweetly, using a pet name for her sister she always used whenever everything in her world was rosy. ‘It’ll take a little while for me to get my shape back, I expect, so I’ll have to manage with a couple of these tents you bought me! But, as soon as my inheritance comes through, I intend to dump my old wardrobe and buy new clothes.’

In Ellena’s view, Justine had some lovely garments in her wardrobe and it would be a sin to throw them out. But Justine had just been a very brave girl, and had presented her with a most beautiful little niece. Justine could do no wrong. Even when, as the weeks went by, she spent money like it was going out of style.

Kit had a single bed fitted into the minute box-room in his flat. It came in useful when, more and more frequently of late, they asked Ellena to come and baby-sit her niece.

Ellena had babysat the adorable scrap a week ago last Saturday evening. But it was on Sunday morning, as she was preparing to return to her own home, that she learned that Justine was as irresponsible now as she ever had been.

Ellena said goodbye to Kit, cooed a ‘bye-bye’ to the wonderful little girl who had so soon won her heart, and was about to make her farewells to her sister when Justine said she’d come out to her car with her.

Oh, dear, knowing her of old, Ellena suspected Justine had something to say which she feared she might not like to hear. She’d had an hour in which to say something—yet she was leaving it until Ellena was on her way out!

‘We’re going away tomorrow,’ Justine announced as they walked to the parking area. ‘We’ll—er—probably be away for a month or so.’

Given that it was January, and had seemed a long winter, a month somewhere warm might do them all the world of good. ‘Where are you going?’ she asked, her thoughts on Violette and how they would have to guard her. ‘You don’t think you should wait until the baby’s a little older?’ she queried. She didn’t want to put a damper on their plans but, apart from the time factor, and what would be involved in getting any vaccinations done—wasn’t Violette a little young for such treatment?

‘Oh, we’re not taking her with us!’ Justine answered blithely. While Ellena was starting to be concerned that there was no way she could look after baby Violette for ‘probably a month or so’ and at the same time do her job, Justine was going on: ‘Kit’s heard of this wonderful place in the Austrian Alps. We’re going ski-ing. And don’t worry, Kit’s brother’s going to mind the baby while...’

‘His brother! Gideon? The one who, according to reports, works all day and parties all night?’ Ellena exclaimed aghast.

‘No, not him! Kit’s other brother.’

Ellena was only marginally relieved. ‘Russell, the married one?’

‘Mmm, Russell,’ Justine confirmed. ‘Kit hasn’t seen him in ages, and he’s a bit of a dream—while his wife, Pamela, she’s a bit of a shrew, with a nose for money like no one you’ve ever met! When I mentioned I’d be prepared to pay handsomely—and for the cost of a temporary nanny—she couldn’t offer her services fast enough.’

Apparently Kit had used up all the money left to him by his father. But Ellena didn’t think she liked the sound of this arrangement at all. Perhaps she could employ a temporary nanny herself to take care of the baby during the day and look after her herself at night. But complications stirred before she could so much as voice her thoughts. Apart from the fact that children were not allowed where she lived—crying babies with massive lung power in particular—since qualifying as an accountant she was starting to take responsibility for her own clients; hers was no longer a nine-to-five job.

‘But—but—what about clothes?’ She was putting obstacles in the way on purpose, she knew she was, but somehow she couldn’t bear the thought of them going away and leaving the baby with strangers.

‘Oh, heck, Ellena, I’ve put on an inch or two since Violette arrived; my old salopettes were never going to fit me anyway. Besides, what are credit cards for?’

By the sound of it Justine, who was still replenishing her wardrobe, intended to purchase all she required at her holiday destination.

Ellena knew she was on a losing argument, even as she suggested, ‘Don’t you think Violette’s a little young to be left with strangers? She’s only...’

‘Oh, Ellena!’ Justine exclaimed impatiently. ‘I knew you’d be like this, which is why I didn’t tell you straight away when Kit and I decided to take off. Besides, Violette has met Russell and Pamela—we went there one day last week when we were wondering who best to leave her with. Ideally it would be you, but you’re going up in the world with your job and, having wrecked your social life over the years—I know I’ve been sheer murder for you sometimes,’ she put in, her flare of temper dying as she became love-able, charming Justine again, ‘I just didn’t want to be responsible for wrecking your career so soon after you’ve qualified.’

‘Oh, Justine!’ Ellena said helplessly.

‘Austria’s not the moon,’ Justine smiled winningly.

That had been the last time she had seen her. How glad she was now that she had asked for Pamela and Russell Langford’s address and phone number, that she and Justine had said goodbye on friendly terms. She had managed to wish her a happy holiday, Ellena recalled—and without realising it, took a shaky breath.

‘We’re about to land,’ the stern-faced man sitting across the aisle cut into her darkening thoughts.

‘Thank you,’ she mumbled, made hastily aware that she was in an aircraft and that in the next hour or so she could be hearing news that she did not want to hear.

Icy cold air hit them as the plane door opened. Ellena was glad of her thick trousers, sweater and sheepskin coat. Glad, too, of Gideon Langford’s assistance because, for all he didn’t seem to say much, and what he did say was curt and to the point, it was he who made what explanations were necessary. He took over, asking questions—though there was no more news now than there had been then.

She had brought only the barest minimum in the way of luggage, and without humour wondered if perhaps she was more like her younger sister than she realised.

But then Ellena discounted this, realising that, unlike Justine, her reasons were practical. Gideon Langford had said, ‘I’ll have a plane standing by’, so she’d known it might only be a small aircraft with little room for a heavy and bulky suitcase.

Gideon saw to the small airport formalities and she followed him out to a waiting car. The cold no longer bothered her. It was late, dark and her nerves were stretched. She got into the car with no idea where they were going—she just wanted to find Justine.

Kit’s brother was highly efficient, she discovered, for after they had been driving some while the driver pulled up outside a smart hotel. It was not the same one that had been pictured on Justine’s postcard.

The driver got out and opened the door for her. She found herself standing beside Gideon Langford while he relieved the driver of their small amount of luggage.

‘What are we doing?’ she asked, her wits seeming to be numb.

‘I’ve booked a couple of rooms here,’ he replied. He had taken care of her accommodation too, apparently, and he was already turning to go into the hotel.

‘I want to go to...’ She wanted to say Justine’s name, but was caught out by an emotional moment and could not. ‘The other hotel.’

‘So do I—we’ll check in first,’ he decreed, and Ellena realised, as she followed him into the smart hotel and he summoned someone in authority, that Gideon Langford, once he’d had an update on the situation, had always intended to go and check out the other hotel whether she went with him or not.

Ellena stood by him aware that he, or someone in his employ, must have phoned ahead so they’d have somewhere to stay. The local police had been informed that their plane had arrived, apparently, and they, with the hotel manager, adjourned to a private room—but only to hear that there were no new developments, that everything was as bleak as had been forecast. A well-rehearsed plan had been put into operation, with rescue teams combing the area—they had reported back that there was absolutely no chance of anyone caught in that avalanche surviving.

Ellena strove valiantly for control. She could not believe it, would not believe it. Nor, apparently, would Gideon Langford. Stiffly he thanked everyone for their efforts and, flicking a glance to where Ellena stood dry-eyed and taut with control, said. ‘And now, Miss Spencer and I would like to see where our relatives were staying.’

She hated that word ‘were’, the past tense, even if logic said loudly and clearly that since Justine and Kit were not around to occupy their hotel accommodation, ‘were’ very clearly fitted.

They left their luggage to be taken up to their rooms, and drove away from their hotel in the same car in which they had arrived. This time, though, with a police escort. The reason was explained—and also why they were booked into a different hotel—when they got to the place where Kit and Justine had been staying. Regardless of the lateness of the hour and the risk of frostbite, some of the press, having been blocked at the small airport, were keen to have an interview with the missing man’s brother.

Ellena had been aware that Gideon Langford was well known. How well known was borne out by the fact that he knew some of the newsmen by their first names. ‘You know as much as I do, John,’ he answered one reporter, while at the same time ushering Ellena inside the hotel.

‘Who’s the lady?’ someone else asked—they did not get a reply.

The hotel manager showed them up to the room which Kit and Justine had used. ‘I have not had the room disturbed,’ the Austrian assured them, and, receiving their polite thanks, sensitively went out, closing the door behind him.

Only then, alone with Gideon Langford, did it dawn on Ellena, having been in his company for some hours now, how little conversation had passed between them.

Nor did she feel like talking then. She stared round the twin-bedded compact room, imagined she could hear Justine and Kit’s laughter, the way they had been laughing that last Saturday—abruptly she blanked her mind off, and became aware of Gideon Langford opening drawers and poking about in wardrobes.

‘There are a few clothes here—but. no suitcases,’ he stated matter-of-factly.

Ellena went over to the open wardrobe and, standing next to him, observed a couple of ancient anoraks which she recognised as belonging to Kit and Justine.

‘M-my sister was going to buy new,’ she informed him chokily. ‘She was—is—oh, dammit...’ Her voice broke; she turned from him, determined to gain control. Justine wasn’t dead, she wasn’t, and she wasn’t going to cry. ‘Justine is going to buy a whole new wardrobe,’ she made herself continue.

She guessed Gideon was having a hard time with his emotions as well, when he retorted shortly, ‘Kit didn’t have any money!’

Even so, that annoyed her. It gave her the stiffening she needed, anyhow, as she retorted straight back: ‘Then perhaps it’s just as well Justine had her own money—she probably paid for this trip.’ Immediately the acid words were out she felt contrite. She flicked a glance at him, saw he didn’t seem to view her as his favourite person, and at once she apologised, ‘I’m sorry, Mr Langford, I’m trying so hard not to go to pieces. I d-didn’t mean to give you the rough end of it.’

Whether he accepted her apology she had no idea, for he just stood and stared at her from those steady slate-grey eyes. But she rather guessed she had been forgiven when, turning from her, he grunted, ‘Gideon.’

She felt she should curtsy, then wondered if stress had made her light-headed. But she forgot everything save Justine when she spied in one of the open drawers a sweater she had lent her one time.

‘No. definitely no suitcases,’ Gideon announced, sounding positive.

‘If you’re thinking that they may have packed up and left—and you can’t wish it any more than I—I have to tell you, Justine in the main is so happy-go-lucky. She planned to buy anything she needed here—she’s just as likely to have arrived without luggage.’

‘Or followed Kit’s example and packed anything she might have thought of in a plastic carrier,’ he documented, adding, ‘As you remarked, a pair well met.’

They stayed another few minutes in the room but there were no more clues to be picked up; only a few toiletries were left in the bathroom. Ellena could feel her emotions on the brink of spilling over, and had not Gideon suggested they leave she would have made the suggestion herself.

They had chance of a private word with the hotelier, who promised he would contact them instantly, should his guests return. Then, again running the gauntlet of a couple of hardy pressmen, they returned to their own hotel.

Gideon Langford had a room opposite hers and, having escorted her up in the lift, he went into her room with her. ‘Will you be all right here?’ he enquired courteously.

‘Yes, thank you,’ she replied politely.

He didn’t leave straight away, but stayed to suggest, ‘You’ll want to phone your parents.’

‘My parents are dead,’ she answered tonelessly.

‘You’re on your own?’

‘No,’ she denied. No way was she ready to accept that Justine wasn’t coming back.

‘You live with someone?’ he asked sharply, and she just knew he meant some man.

‘I live alone,’ she responded curtly.

‘Goodnight!’ Gideon Langford turned away from her, obviously fed up.

‘I’m sorry,’ she found herself apologising. ‘I’m—on edge.’

He halted at the door and turned round, relenting, ‘We both are.’ And then proceeded to instruct, ‘Try and get some rest. Have anything you need brought to your room. With a few pressmen around, you’d better stay where you are until I come for you.’ He made to leave, thought for a moment, and then said, ‘I may be out some time tomorrow. I’ll contact you as soon as I get back.’

‘Where are you going?’

He hesitated, but then did her the courtesy of being honest with her. ‘Out to the avalanche site.’

‘I’m coming with you,’ she said at once, no please or thank you.

‘I don’t think—’

‘I’m coming!’ she butted in. If he thought she was going to stay here while he went there—where Justine and Kit might be—he could think again!

He shrugged, ‘Suit yourself,’ and left her.

Ellena supposed she must have slept at some time—it didn’t feel like it. She was up at six, showered and dressed and waiting for Gideon Langford’s call.

It wasn’t long in coming. He would see her in half an hour’s time. Meanwhile, he had some breakfast sent up to her room. Ellena wasn’t hungry, but drank some strong hot coffee and belatedly remembered work she was supposed to be doing that day.

She put through a call to Andrea in England and explained why, and where she was. ‘I’m not sure when I’ll be back,’ she warned.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Andrea answered warmly. ‘Take as long as you need, Ellena,’ she suggested gently. ‘We’ll all be hoping for you.’

Gideon Langford, when he knocked on her door, was not in talkative mood. ‘There’s no news?’ she asked urgently.

He shook his head. ‘Ready?’

Wordlessly she went with him out of the hotel and to the waiting car, and said not another word in the hour-long drive to where the disaster had occurred.

There were some officials waiting for them, but when, after walking some way, they stood back and pointed and explained about the mass of snow, and the boulders and rocks it had brought down in its wake, Ellena could see for herself that anyone foolhardy enough to chance ski-ing in that area would not have stood a chance.

She felt what little colour she had in her face drain away, felt gut-wrenching pain and wanted to scream, and to go on screaming. She turned away, collided into someone. It was Gideon. His arms came around her. He held her. They held each other, two human beings in need of solace. She guessed that, like her, he had always looked out for his younger sibling and it had been a role taken on willingly. She wanted the holding to go on.

Ellena broke from him, her mind in a turmoil. Somehow she got back to the car; somehow Gideon was there too. The car was moving, she staring unseeing out of one window on one side, he staring unseeing out of the window on the other side.

They had been driving on the return journey for some while. Ellena was still feeling stunned, shaken, and still not ready to believe it, to believe that she had lost her sister, that poor little Violette had lost her parents, when suddenly it hit her that the. poor little scrap might have been orphaned.

‘Oh, no!’ escaped her on an anguished cry of sound, and as Gideon Langford turned from his non-contemplation of the view, she whispered, ‘What about the baby!’

‘Baby?’ he echoed, and sounded so startled that Ellena came to, realising she was not alone. ‘What baby?’ he questioned tautly.

She moved from her own non-contemplation of the view to look at him. And it was her turn to be startled. For clearly Gideon Langford had no idea that Kit had a baby daughter. A daughter of four months old.

Astonished, she realised that Gideon Langford had no idea at all that he was an uncle!

CHAPTER TWO

‘YOU didn’t know?’ Ellena gasped.

‘Baby?’ he clipped, clearly wanting to know more, and quickly.

There was no way to dress it up, nor, a shock though it might be to him, try to hide it. ‘Justine and Kit have a four-month-old daughter,’ she replied, and saw a muscle jerk in his strong, good-looking face. Saw him take what she had said on board—and realised that a dozen and one pertinent questions were on their way. But then she saw him flick a glance at their driver, who understood a little English—and Gideon turned from her to renew his non-contemplation of the view from the vehicle’s side window. He had obviously swallowed down those questions but Ellena did not doubt that she would be on the receiving end of them the moment there were no other ears around to overhear what they were saying. Gideon Langford, was well known but, indisputably, he valued his family privacy—and there were pressmen about.

A cold, stiff silence stretched between them and lasted until they arrived at their hotel. Gideon Langford asked for the keys to their rooms. He hung onto them as they went up in the lift and inserted the key into the door of her room. He pushed the door open. She preceded him into her room, knowing that he would follow.

Ellena went over to the window, again looking out but registering nothing very much. She heard the sound of the door behind her being closed. She turned. She was not mistaken, she saw: Gideon Langford had not merely opened the door and left her to it, he was right there with her. Those questions weren’t going to wait any longer—he wanted answers.

Why she should feel hostile to his questioning she had no idea, a self-defence mechanism perhaps? But when he began, ‘This child...’ for short, pithy starters, she discovered an aggressiveness in her that rushed out to meet anything he had to say head-on.

‘Kit and Justine’s baby, you mean?’ she challenged before he could get further.

Her aggressiveness glanced off him, barely touching him, though she didn’t miss the way his eyes narrowed slightly at her tone. ‘You’re saying my brother is the father of your sister’s child?’

‘Of course he is!’ she erupted.

‘You’re sure of it?’

How dared he? ‘Listen, you,’ she attacked hotly, ‘Justine may have been a bit wild, a bit of a rebel, and their relationship may have had its—its stormy moments, but there’s been no other man for her but Kit, since the moment she met and fell in love with him!’

‘But they’re not married?’

‘Grief—he’s your brother—don’t you know anything about him?’

‘I know a whole lot about him, including the fact that there was no woman on the scene when I last visited him six months ago.’

‘Your bi-annual visit, was it?’ she threw in tartly, though she almost apologised for that remark when he flicked her an acid look. Then she wondered why the hell should she? Who did he think he was, trying to deny Kit was the baby’s father? ‘Justine lived at home with me until the baby was born—Kit collected them from the hospital and there didn’t seem to be any question that he would take them back to his flat.’

‘They live together?’

‘Happily,’ Ellena declared frostily.

‘Happily unmarried?’

‘I don’t think getting married occurred to either of them,’ she replied honestly.

‘That sounds like Kit,’ Gideon muttered, and asked abruptly, ‘Where is it now—this infant?’

She felt annoyed. ‘Violette,’ she informed him stiffly. ‘Her name’s Violette.’

‘Violette?’ he echoed—much in the same vein as if she’d told him they’d called the child Rover.

‘They chose the name, not me!’ she snapped, and wondered if the stress was getting more than she could take, because her sense of humour seemed to be twitching for a smiling release at his reaction to the baby’s name. She did not smile, however, but informed him, ‘Your brother Russell and his wife are looking after Violette white—’

‘Your sister left a four-month-old baby with that hard-nosed, money-grubbing bitch!’ he interrupted on a snarl.

Ellena blinked in surprise—all too evidently Gideon Langford had little time for his sister-in-law. She recalled that Justine had called Pamela a bit of a shrew; the one and only time she had spoken with her herself, she hadn’t taken to her, either.

‘Your brother left the baby too!’ she defended. ‘Anyway, as well as paying Pamela, Justine also engaged a temporary nanny.’

‘Huh!’ he grunted, and Ellena started to actively dislike him. ‘I phoned Russell just before I left—he didn’t say anything about looking after Kit’s infant!’

‘That’s hardly my fault!’ she flew, her emotions all over the place, her temper seeming to be on a very short fuse. ‘Since you’re a family who only visit every six months, it’s a wonder to me you tell each other anything.’

The chill factor went down another ten degrees as Gideon Langford favoured her with an icy look for her trouble. ‘You know nothing!’ he rapped curtly.

‘I know...’ she went to explode. But then was suddenly so overcome by the events that had taken place that she came to a full stop, words failing her. She swallowed hard, emotion threatening to overwhelm her.

She turned swiftly about, her grief private, not to be shared. She looked down at the windowsill, concentrated hard on it, striving with all she had for control.

So hard was she battling not to break down that she momentarily forgot she wasn’t alone in the room. A reminder of Gideon Langford’s presence arrived, though, when, just as if he knew of her every thought and feeling, he moved behind her and took hold of her.

She felt his firm grip on her upper arms and began to like him again, even though all the evidence pointed to the reverse. ‘Hang on, Ellena,’ he instructed low in her right ear, using her first name, making them more friends than the enemies they’d been a minute ago. ‘They’re not dead. I won’t believe they’re dead.’

She swallowed hard, but did not turn around. ‘I can’t believe it either,’ she said huskily.

For a minute more Gideon held her in that steadying grip. Then he was saying, ‘We have to think of leaving.’

‘I don’t want to leave—I can’t,’ she answered.

‘Yes, you can,’ he countered. ‘I’ll instruct everyone you can think of to contact me the moment they have the barest hint of news.’

She tried to be sensible. ‘You’ve business to get back to, I expect.’

‘It seems incidental,’ he replied—and Ellena knew that she really did like him. He had a multi-million pound conglomerate to run, but it meant nothing to him when his youngest brother was missing.

She realised, common sense giving her a nudge, that they could achieve nothing by staying. ‘When do you want to leave?’ she asked, and felt him give her arms a small squeeze of encouragement.

‘As soon as you’re ready,’ he answered, letting go his hold and moving away.

Ellena turned and looked at him. The icy look he had served her with before had gone, and, for all he was unsmiling, he seemed less harsh than he had been. ‘I’ll just get my things together, settle up here, and...’

‘I’ll settle,’ he stated, and, when she looked likely to proudly protest, ‘You’re family,’ he said, and went, not knowing how warmed she felt. For, apart from Justine and Violette, she had no other family.

It took her next to no time to gather her belongings together. But in that short period Gideon Langford had settled their account with the hotel and organised their flight.

They were on their way back to the small airport when she realised he’d found time to speak with other people too. ‘The minister from the local church was kind enough to call,’ he informed her quietly as they reached their destination. ‘He wondered if we would like him to carry out a service for Kit and Justine.’

‘You thanked him, but said no I hope,’ she answered jerkily.

She realised that she and Gideon Langford must be pretty well near on the same wavelength when he replied, ‘I did. It sounded too final.’ He, by the sound of it, was not ready to admit to that finality yet—and neither was she.

In contrast to the silence that had existed between them on the journey out, they had been in the air around ten minutes when Gideon Langford looked across the small aisle at her and enquired, ‘You mentioned your sister has money of her own; does that mean that neither of you has to work?’

‘Justine never did get the hang of working,’ Ellena replied truthfully. ‘Though the way she’s spending, she’ll be lucky if her money lasts her longer than a couple of years.’

‘It was an inheritance?’

‘Money our parents invested for both of us to have when we reached twenty.’

‘You’re—how old?’

Ellena stared at him from frank blue eyes. Nothing like asking! He’d be demanding how much the investment was next. ‘Twenty-two,’ she answered. ‘I received my money two years ago.’

‘But you’ve still some of it left?’

Was there a purpose behind his questioning—it escaped her if there was. ‘Some of it went—cars for Justine and me, clothes, and... But, yes, there’s still a little left,’ she owned.

‘From your remarks about your sister not getting the hang of working—and that’s not criticism,’ he slipped in, causing her to realise she must have bridled a touch without knowing it, ‘Kit is very much the same,’ he soothed any ruffled feathers. ‘But, to get back, I take it that you do know the meaning of the word “work”?’

‘I enjoy my job so much I hardly think of it as work,’ she owned.

‘What sort of work would that be?’

He had a certain kind of charm, she realised. Sufficient, anyway, to have her put her present worries to the back of her mind for a short while. ‘I’m an accountant,’ she answered, and, because that sounded, a little like showing off, ‘Though I’ve only recently qualified.’

‘Who are you with?’ he wanted to know.

‘A. Keyte and Company,’ she replied, and, realising it was a very small business compared with the enormous accountancy firm he must deal with, she added, ‘It’s only a tiny company, but I love it there.’ Agonising thoughts and worries were soon back as she relayed, ‘I rang Andrea this morning. She said to take as much time as I...’ Her voice tapered- off. Ellena looked away from him as she fought for and gained control of her emotions. ‘Anyhow, much as I enjoy working for her, I may have to look elsewhere.’

‘You have some problem?’

She glanced across at him again. He had seemed so much on her wavelength about almost everything, it surprised her that he wasn’t this time. ‘Well, I’ll obviously try to make some arrangements that will mean I don’t have to leave my present employer, but if all else fails, I shall have to try and find a firm that has crèche facilities. V—’

‘You’re thinking of taking that baby to live with you?’ He seemed astounded at the very idea!

But that he should be astounded at something which, to her mind, was a foregone conclusion, annoyed her. ‘Naturally, I’m taking her,’ she stated forcefully. Adding, for good measure, ‘That baby is my niece!’

Only to be left staring at him open-mouthed when, ‘And mine!’ he stated quietly, purposefully.

Ellena closed her mouth, but was still staring at him incredulously, still not believing the deliberate intent behind his quietly spoken words. She just could not take in that he seemed to be saying that he wanted charge of Violette. Then her feeling of shock gave way to a feeling of fury—fury born of panic. Over her dead body! ‘You can’t possibly want her!’ she erupted furiously. ‘You’ve had nothing to do with her. I’ve seen her most every weekend!’ she staked her claim. ‘In the week, too, if her parents needed a babysitter,’ she tacked on for extra strength. ‘Why,’ she hurried on, barely pausing for breath, ‘you didn’t even know of Violette’s existence until I told you about—’

‘So now I do know,’ he cut in calmly. ‘And I have as much right as you to...’

‘No, you haven’t!’ she denied. ‘You don’t know her, you don’t love her, you...’

‘You live in a flat near Croydon.’ When had she told him that? She was too het up to remember. ‘I have a house in open country.’

Who said her flat wasn’t in open country? It was a wasted argument, she realised. ‘You led me on!’ she accused him furiously.

‘How the devil did I do that?’ he challenged harshly.

‘You know!’ she hurled back. ‘Finding out that while I have some funds they’re peanuts in relation to your wealth. Finding out that I have to work, so I won’t be able to be with Violette all the time. You’re despicable! You’re...’

‘You’re off your head!’ he countered. ‘It hadn’t so much as occurred to me that you’d want guardianship of that infant when I indulged in a little—polite conversation—to help the flight along.’

‘Polite conversation, my aunt Fanny!’ she tossed at him rudely, not believing it for a minute. ‘Well, you may make a claim for her, Mr Langford, but I’m having her!’ No way was she going to let the poor mite live with this brute!

‘I’ll see you in court,’ he drawled—and that infuriated her. Just because he had more money, a house in the country, he thought he could ride roughshod over other people. She loved the baby but he didn’t even know her!

‘You won’t stand a chance!’ Surely love came before money?

‘How do you figure that?’

She hadn’t yet. But, thus challenged, she slammed at him, ‘I’ve an unsullied reputation, for one thing!’

His look said, How boring. ‘You mean with the opposite sex?’ he drawled, and she wished she’d kept her mouth closed. But that How boring expression niggled her, forcing her on.

‘Which is more than can be said for you!’ she attacked sniffily.

‘It’s true, I’ve had my moments,’ he admitted mockingly. ‘But are you saying that you’ve never had any member of the opposite sex—er—staying over?’

‘That’s got nothing to do with you!’ she retorted hotly, starting to feel a shade warm around the ears.

‘It has, if you intend to stand up in court and swear to it,’ he derided.

He was infuriating. True, her experience of men was limited, though she was certain that there couldn’t be many around like him! ‘I’m prepared to do that if I have to,’ she told him snappily.

‘Ye gods!’ he exclaimed, seeming to find it incredible that she’d reached twenty-two without being tempted.

And that annoyed her. ‘From what I hear, you were chief practitioner of the love ’em and leave ‘em ethic.’

He shrugged. ‘Charm has its own reward,’ he owned modestly. But, apparently done with ribbing her, ‘Straight up—are you a virgin?’ he wanted to know.

It wasn’t just her ears that felt warm. She was certain her cheeks positively glowed. ‘It’s nothing to be ashamed of!’ she snapped.

‘Did I say it was?’

He hadn’t. But she didn’t want this conversation, though she wasn’t sure if it hadn’t been her who had started it. ‘We’re getting away from the point,’ she said heatedly.

‘Which is?’

Give her strength! ‘The point is, you, with your lifestyle. Well, you’re hardly the type to be responsible for the upbringing of a young girl, are you?’

‘If she’s only four months old, I’d guess she isn’t even walking yet!’

‘She’ll grow!’ Ellena retorted, glaring at him, feeling panickily that she was somehow getting the worst of this.

She was positive of it when, having tired of the argument, it seemed, he decreed, ‘Perhaps we’ll leave it for some judge to decide.’

Ellena did not answer. Suddenly it dawned on her that she and Gideon were talking as if Justine and Kit weren’t coming back—and they were. They were! Whether the same thought had just struck Gideon she couldn’t have said, but she thought she caught a glimpse of a bleak look come to his expression a moment before he turned his head away.

Ellena turned her face to her window too. Conversation between them, polite or otherwise, was done with, and she spent the rest of the flight on trying to keep thoughts that Justine might be dead out of her mind. Instead she endeavoured to concentrate on what must be done to ensure that Violette had a safe, warm and loving upbringing.

From the sound of it, Gideon Langford was fully prepared to go to court to battle for custody of the baby. With his money, he was going to be able to afford to employ the very best of lawyers.

What she must do, she realised, was to get herself in a position to combat everything he threw at her. Had a house in the country, did he? Well, albeit that hers would probably be pokey by comparison, she’d get a house in the country too.

She’d probably got enough money left to put down a deposit on something small. And she was earning more now, so a mortgage of not too vast proportions was within her means. She’d got enough furniture to furnish somewhere modest and—and...

Her thoughts fractured and her mind hurried on to taking the baby’s cot and all necessities from Kit’s flat. She gained control and decided she would only borrow them for the short term, until Kit and Justine came for Violette.

Ellena fought another battle for control—and managed to win. She was making all these plans unnecessarily. Justine and Kit would be back soon. As likely as they were to take themselves off ski-ing in a prohibited area, they were equally as likely—leaving bits and pieces of clothing behind—to up sticks and move on somewhere else, if the mood took them. The very worrying thing about that, though, was that whatever else Justine was or was not, she was scrupulously honest. No way would she dream of doing a flit without paying her hotel bill, Ellena just knew it. It just wasn’t in her sister’s make-up—and yet, that hotel bill had not been paid.

Telling herself that everybody was allowed one lapse, and that, what with having just had a baby and everything, Justine’s hormones were probably still all over the place—sufficiently, anyhow, for her to act in a way she wouldn’t normally—Ellena suddenly had one very bright positive thought, that was startling in its simplicity.

Possession, it was said, was nine-tenths of the law. So what was to stop her from going to Russell and Pamela Langford’s home and taking possession of Violette? To hear Justine tell it, and Gideon Langford too, for that matter, Pamela Langford was only interested in money.

No problem. If Justine had not settled with her and the temporary nanny in advance, then she could easily do so. Did she have any proof with her that she was who she said she was? Of course, she had her passport with her. And both Pamela and Russell Langford, from the two times she had telephoned, would know the name Ellena Spencer. Though, come to think of it, she would have to call at her flat first to pick up Russell Langford’s address and her car.

The plane started to descend. Ellena couldn’t wait to be on her way. Andrea had said, ‘Take as much time as you need...’ There was a lot to do. First things first, though; she was making tracks for Hertfordshire...

Gideon Langford’s organisation was highly efficient, she discovered, after they had landed. Someone—the pilot or whoever—must have notified someone of their estimated time of arrival. In any event, there were two chauffeur-driven cars waiting for them.

‘George will drive you to your home,’ Gideon Langford explained, plainly heading in another direction himself, no doubt to some high-powered business meeting.

‘Thank you,’ she answered politely.

‘I’ll be in touch.’

You mean your lawyers will! But civility cost nothing and, even if Gideon had sprouted horns, give the devil his due, thus far she had reason to be grateful to him. She extended a hand. ‘Thank you for everything,’ she said sincerely.

They shook hands. ‘Goodbye,’ he said.

She turned away. She had urgent business to attend to. She doubted the next time she saw him—in court—that they would be so civil with each other.

In the limousine she gave thought to what must be done. She didn’t want this fight, this tug of war. Please God, Justine and Kit would be back before the fight got started.

She vaguely remembered something in the newspapers only recently, about a magistrate or judge sitting in emergency session of the family division of the court when someone needed an instant decision on what was best for a child. Ellena had only her own love-filled childhood to go on. But surely it was better for a child to be brought up where love was?

Worriedly, she instinctively knew where love was not, and that was with Pamela and Russell Langford. It was possible that in future—if he could spare time away from his other non-work activities—that Gideon might get to know and love his niece. Though she doubted he would see much of her. It went without saying that he would hire a nanny... All this wasn’t going to happen, though. Bearing in mind that Violette’s parents would come home—she must believe that; she must—Ellena sincerely felt she would be letting Justine down if she allowed anyone to have guardianship of the baby but herself.

At her flat Ellena thanked George very much. ‘It’s not heavy,’ she smiled when it seemed he would carry her bag indoors for her.

Once she was in her flat, Ellena raced around finding the address she needed, and was again on her way. She could, she realised, have left Violette with Pamela and Russell Langford for the duration Justine had contracted with them. But fear that Gideon Langford would take pre-emptive action spurred her on. Should it come to a court hearing, she wanted it established that Violette—a healthy, happy Violette—lived with her.

Ellena stopped briefly on her way to buy a baby car seat and a few other essential purchases for Violette, and was soon speeding on again. She did wonder if she should ring the Langfords to let them know she was coming. She decided against it. Gideon might ring Russell at any time to tell him the latest concerning Austria. She didn’t want Russell revealing that she’d phoned. She didn’t want Gideon knowing anything until after her visit.

She arrived at the address she was seeking, a very smart house in its own grounds, with hope in her heart that her own neighbours would bear with her when she brought a baby home to her flat. There was a very sleek and expensive car on the drive of the Langfords’ home which hinted that, for all they were accepting payment for looking after Russell’s niece, they weren’t too badly off.

Ellena rang the doorbell, with her thoughts on the early possibility of maybe renting somewhere where children were allowed; only on a short lease while she got somewhere more permanent arranged.

The door was opened almost at once. ‘Good...’ she began as part of her greeting, but the rest didn’t get said. The sleek and expensive car didn’t belong to Russell Langford, she swiftly realised. It belonged to his brother, Gideon! Gideon Langford, having changed the chauffeur-driven vehicle for his own car, had got there before her!

‘Traffic’s a nightmare at this time of day, isn’t it?’ he murmured blandly.

It wasn’t funny! The fact that he had beaten her to it wasn’t funny at all so why did she find his remark amusing? Not that she’d let him see, of course.

‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded.

He looked ready to put her in her place for trying to demand anything. But, to her surprise, instead he clipped out the words, ‘Just leaving!’

He was still there, though, when a man, not so tall as Gideon by a couple of inches, and fair haired, with the same features as Kit, came along the hall with a sharp-looking auburn-haired woman in tow. The woman looked hostile before they even started. ‘Yes?’ she challenged irritably.

Ellena opened her mouth but, to her surprise, heard Gideon Langford say pleasantly; ‘Ellena, I don’t think you know my brother, Russell, and his wife, do you?’ Smoothly, he introduced them, and, while Ellena was seriously wishing that he would just clear off, he stayed to hear her business.

Russell Langford invited her into the sitting room—of the baby and her temporary nanny there was no sign. Gideon returned to the sitting room with them. Ellena tossed him an Afraid-of-missing-something? kind of look. He smiled back, though it was an insincere smile.

‘G-Gideon will have told you the news concerning Austria,’ she began.

‘Bad do,’ Russell replied, the way he had when she had telephoned him. Was it only last night? It seemed weeks ago!

‘The thing is that while I c-can’t believe...’ she took a shaky breath ‘...that we’ll never see Justine and Kit again,’ she gained control to continue, ‘I feel, with your permission, of course, that they would want me to look after Violette until they get back.’

‘Now isn’t that strange? That’s more or less exactly what Gideon said!’ Pamela Langford answered for her husband waspishly.

Ellena guessed she should have expected, from what he’d said on the plane, that Gideon would not drag his heels in taking some action. What was unexpected, though, was that Pamela Langford would look at her with such blatant hostility. Then it was that Ellena recalled Gideon saying something about Pamela being a money-grubbing bitch, and, although she was wishing that Gideon would just get to his car and go, there seemed nothing for it but to conduct her business in front of him.

‘I’m sorry,’ she apologised as pleasantly as she was able. ‘I know there are some—er—money matters outstanding.’ She knew nothing of the sort, but realised that if Justine hadn’t paid Pamela in advance, then outstanding the matter of money must be. ‘Naturally I’ll settle what Justine owes y—’

‘That child was left in our charge!’ Pamela Langford cut in loudly, coldly. ‘And in our charge is where she’ll stay!’

Oh, heavens! Ellena felt tremendously taken aback. She hadn’t expected this sort of reception! ‘I appreciate that you want to do what’s right,’ she began, forcing herself to be placatory—she had not the smallest intention of leaving her niece with this cold, unfeeling woman. ‘But...’

‘But nothing. The child stays here,’ Pamela Langford cut in sourly. Ellena looked from her to Russell—he was looking anywhere but at her or his brother—no use appealing to him! Not that she wanted to set husband and wife against each other. And, given he wanted the same as she wanted, she couldn’t expect any help from Gideon. Which was just as well, because, while silently absorbing everything that was taking place, Gideon Langford was not offering her any help. ‘I’ll show you out,’ Pamela stated frostily.

‘I’d like to see Violette if I may.’ Ellena refused to budge.

‘She’s upstairs asleep. I’m not going to have her disturbed again; it will take hours for her nanny to shut her up.’

Ellena was aware that Violette’s needs were nothing in this alien household, and felt a desperate need to check that the little mite was being properly cared for. ‘I won’t disturb her,’ she stated, still refusing to budge.

‘That’s right, you won’t,’ Pamela Langford answered nastily.

Ellena felt frustrated beyond bearing by the woman’s attitude. She couldn’t leave without seeing the baby, she couldn’t. Then, just as she was about to insist that she must see her, Gideon Langford chipped in, to tell her quietly, ‘I’ve seen the baby, Ellena; she seems well looked after and healthy.’

Ellena turned to him swiftly, not knowing why she trusted him when she didn’t feel she-could trust his sister-in-law. ‘She’s all right?’ she asked urgently. ‘She looks happy?’

He gave her a slightly sardonic smile as though to say, What do I know about four-month-old babies? ‘She wasn’t crying,’ he said.

Ellena turned back to Pamela Langford. ‘Perhaps you’d tell me when it would be convenient for me to spend some time with my niece.’

‘We’ll arrange visiting rights through the courts,’ was the vinegary reply—and as the import of those words took root, Ellena didn’t trust herself to answer.

She went to the door. Pamela Langford, as though she didn’t trust her not to dart up the stairs, went with her. Ellena was forced to accept then that she was not going to see Violette that day, and took what solace she could from the fact that Gideon had seen the baby and, albeit that his knowledge of infants was limited, he thought she seemed well looked after and healthy.

She half expected him to follow her out. After all he had been about to leave when she’d arrived. But he was obviously staying behind to have a word more with his brother.

Ellena drove home in a very upset frame of mind. Over the last few hours she had received one shock after another. Last night she had learned that Justine and Kit were missing; earlier today she had learned that Gideon was prepared to go to court over the guardianship of their child. And now, here was Pamela Langford—a woman she had found it impossible to warm to—talking of court action! What chance, Ellena wondered, did she have of loving and nurturing Violette until Justine and Kit came home?

After another fretful night, Ellena awoke on Friday morning with the same thoughts going around in her head. She was in two minds about going to her office. But realising that, if she didn’t change her job—and her plans of yesterday seemed to be getting further and further away from her—she was going to need time off work for court appearances; no way was she going to give up Violette without a fight. Ellena decided she had better go to work.

‘We didn’t expect to see you!’ Andrea Keyte exclaimed when she walked in.

‘I may need time off later,’ Ellena replied without thinking.

‘Want to talk about it?’

Andrea had been a wonderful friend and very forbearing with regard to previous crises Ellena had had over Justine. And normally Ellena might have confided in her this time. Only now, depending how things went, there was a possibility that in the interest of Violette’s daycare, she might have to resign. Andrea had enough to worry about running her business, without Ellena giving out hints at this early stage that she might, or might not, be leaving.

‘Thanks, but not just now.’

Ellena went to her own office, suddenly realising that if she hired a nanny herself, that would solve the problem of Violette’s daycare. She wouldn’t have to leave. She took out some work, though her thoughts became desperate that she might not need a nanny if Pamela Langford or her brother-in-law, Gideon, were granted guardianship, and her concentration wasn’t all it should be. What she needed, Ellena realised, was some legal advice.

She was just contemplating ringing the solicitor who had always handled her parents’ affairs, and who had handled the legalities of selling their house for her and Justine, when the protector of the firm’s switchboard rang.

‘I’ve a man named Langford on the phone for you, are you available?’ Lucy asked.

Langford? Which one? With hope in her heart that it was Russell, calling to tell her that he and his wife were prepared to let the baby go, she requested, ‘Put him through, Lucy,’ hearing the click as she did so. ‘Russell?’ Ellena asked.

‘Gideon,’ came the reply—and her thoughts went racing in another direction.

‘You’ve heard something—from Austria?’ she questioned urgently, half in fear of bad news, half in hope of good news.

‘Afraid not,’ he answered instantly.

‘Oh,’ she said dully. But he hadn’t taken time out of his day merely to chat. ‘What can I do for you?’ she asked, knowing in advance that she wasn’t going to lift a finger to help if he was still insistent on claiming guardianship of Violette.

‘I’d like to see you,’ he stated.

Why her heart should give a little flip just then, she had no idea. He wasn’t asking her for a date, for goodness’ sake! Not that she’d go out with him if he was. ‘I’ve a full appointments book today.’ She countered that peculiar little heartbeat—why should she want to see him? Grief!

‘I meant outside of business hours. I’d like to call round at your flat this evening. Unless, of course, you’d prefer we shared dinner while we...’

‘My flat will be fine,’ she said hurriedly, too late realising that in her haste to show him she had no wish to have dinner with him, she had taken another option she didn’t want either. ‘Presumably this is in connection with the baby?’ she queried, just to let him know that she wasn’t interested in entertaining him socially.

‘Of course,’ he replied, just as if the notion of seeing her socially had never for a minuscule moment so much as occurred to him. ‘Seven-thirty?’

‘Seven-thirty,’ she agreed. Simultaneously their phones went down.

Ellena seemed to take a queue of phone calls after that, some of them needing action, so it was lunchtime by the time she got round to ringing her solicitor. ‘Mr Ollerenshaw has left for the day on other business,’ his secretary informed her. ‘He’ll be out of the office until Monday—can anyone else help?’

Ellena declined, but made an appointment to see Mr Ollerenshaw on Monday. She liked the fatherly man and, as well as having a first-class legal head on his shoulders, she remembered him as being warm and kind. She’d wait and see what Gideon Langford had to say that evening, and perhaps would have more to check with Mr Ollerenshaw on Monday.

She was late getting home. That wasn’t unusual on a Friday. She liked to clear her desk, and, having had Thursday off work, there had been yesterday’s work to catch up on. She just had time to make herself a sandwich and ponder on whether she should make Gideon one too. She raised her eyes skywards—was she going mad? This man was coming to try and talk her into forfeiting any claim she intended to make for Violette. If he hadn’t had dinner—let him starve!

Ellena did consider changing from her smart all-wool light navy suit and into trousers and shirt. She decided against it. She had an idea that to take away her business suit for something less formal might give him the edge, make her oddly vulnerable somehow. Oh, rot, she was letting her fear that the Langford family would take Violette from her get to her.

Gideon Langford arrived a minute after the appointed time. ‘You found the address all right, then,’ she commented. He was in her home and good manners decreed she was polite to him to start with—even if he’d be leaving with a flea in his ear! ‘Coffee?’ she enquired, her good manners working overtime. She had never thought her sitting room tiny, but he seemed to fill it.

‘Thanks,’ he accepted, and wandered out to her kitchen and watched her while she made the coffee.

In her view, depending on what he had to say, he might not be around long enough to drink it, but—painful though it was to remember—he need not have offered her a lift to Austria in his private jet on Wednesday.

She made herself a coffee as well and carried a tray to the sitting room. ‘Take a seat,’ she invited and, sitting down herself, looked at him opposite her, his long legs stretched out some way. ‘Have you seen Violette today?’ she asked by way of an opening as he drank some of his coffee.

‘No,’ he replied, and asked sharply, ‘Have you?’

She shook her head, and saw no harm in revealing, ‘I’m taking legal advice on Monday.’

‘An excellent idea,’ Gideon answered to her surprise. ‘Though I may be able to save you the trouble.’