Mills & Boon is proud to present a fabulous

collection of fantastic novels by

bestselling, much loved author

ANNE MATHER

Anne has a stellar record of achievement within the

publishing industry, having written over one hundred

and sixty books, with worldwide sales of more than

forty-eight MILLION copies in multiple languages.

This amazing collection of classic stories offers a chance

for readers to recapture the pleasure Anne’s powerful,

passionate writing has given.

We are sure you will love them all!

I’ve always wanted to write—which is not to say I’ve always wanted to be a professional writer. On the contrary, for years I only wrote for my own pleasure and it wasn’t until my husband suggested sending one of my stories to a publisher that we put several publishers’ names into a hat and pulled one out. The rest, as they say, is history. And now, one hundred and sixty-two books later, I’m literally—excuse the pun—staggered by what’s happened.

I had written all through my infant and junior years and on into my teens, the stories changing from children’s adventures to torrid gypsy passions. My mother used to gather these manuscripts up from time to time, when my bedroom became too untidy, and dispose of them! In those days, I used not to finish any of the stories and Caroline, my first published novel, was the first I’d ever completed. I was newly married then and my daughter was just a baby, and it was quite a job juggling my household chores and scribbling away in exercise books every chance I got. Not very professional, as you can imagine, but that’s the way it was.

These days, I have a bit more time to devote to my work, but that first love of writing has never changed. I can’t imagine not having a current book on the typewriter—yes, it’s my husband who transcribes everything on to the computer. He’s my partner in both life and work and I depend on his good sense more than I care to admit.

We have two grown-up children, a son and a daughter, and two almost grown-up grandchildren, Abi and Ben. My e-mail address is mystic-am@msn.com and I’d be happy to hear from any of my wonderful readers.

Impetuous Masquerade
Anne Mather

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Table of Contents

Cover

About the Author

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

‘RHIA, I’ve got to see you!’

Her sister’s voice was taut with anxiety, and Rhia sighed resignedly at the prospect of yet another awkward situation Valentina wanted her help to escape from.

‘Not tonight, Val,’ she said firmly, hooking the phone between her ear and one slim shoulder as she endeavoured to go on separating the sheets of carbon from the report she had just finished typing. ‘I’ve got to stay back to take the minutes of the board meeting, and Simon’s picking me up about seven-thirty.’

‘Simon!’ Valentina’s young voice was scathing. ‘You can put him off. You know you can see him any old time!’

Rhia controlled the impulse to make some equally scathing retort, and continued pleasantly: ‘Nevertheless, the arrangement has been made, and I’d prefer it to stand.’

‘But you don’t understand!’ Valentina’s voice rose in her frustration. ‘Rhia, something awful’s happened. And—and I don’t know what I’m going to do!’

Rhia put down the carefully typed sheets and took hold of the receiver. ‘Look here, Val, you’re not a child, you know. You’re eighteen, quite old enough to handle your own problems. Just because I’m older than you are——’

‘But I rely on you, Rhia!’

Valentina’s tone broke on what sounded suspiciously like a sob, and Rhia felt the unwilling sense of responsibility her young sister invariably aroused in her. It was no use railing that it wasn’t fair; that there were only three years between her and Valentina, and that at eighteen she had had to shoulder the responsibilities of a family. Old habits die hard, and ever since their mother had been killed during an uprising in the Central African state where their father had been working, Rhia had taken her place—in Valentina’s eyes, at least. The two girls had been at boarding school at the time, and Valentina had taken the news badly. At fifteen, she had felt the bottom had dropped out of her world, and Rhia had naturally staunched her own grief to comfort her sister.

Their father had flown home to be with his daughters, but it soon became apparent that he was irked by family affairs. When Rhia agreed to abandon her hopes of going to university and found herself an office job while she took secretarial training at night school, Mr Mallory accepted another appointment in South Africa, and left Rhia in charge of the small flat he had rented in Hammersmith.

Valentina, of course, was expected to continue with her schooling, but at sixteen she had begged Rhia to let her come home, and because her father offered no objections, Rhia had had to agree.

That had been the biggest mistake she had ever made, Rhia acknowledged now. Valentina had proved impossible to control, and ignoring pleas from her sister to find regular employment had skipped from one casual job to another. She had worked in cafés and betting shops, in disco joints and wine bars, and spent a good portion of her time hanging about with a group of teenagers, whose main claim to fame seemed to be their outrageous clothes and hair-styles. Rhia had lost count of the number of times she had been called upon to mediate when some irate employer had called demanding to know her sister’s whereabouts, and she had eventually been forced to write to their father and ask him to take Valentina in hand.

The upshot of this had been that Valentina had agreed to try her hand at nursing, and six months ago she had enrolled as a student nurse at one of the local teaching hospitals. She seemed to like it, and Rhia had breathed a sigh of relief, praying that Val would learn to be more responsible. After all, she was eighteen, old enough to be regarded as an adult. She had even found herself a boy-friend, and although Rhia had never met him, she was reassured to learn that he was a student at the London School of Economics. Apparently, his name was Glyn Frazer and he was a Canadian, and although Rhia had her doubts as to how long such a relationship could last, she was glad that Valentina seemed to be settling down at last.

Yet now here she was, phoning her sister at nine-thirty in the morning, evidently in some distress over some new disaster. Rhia used the word ‘disaster’ advisedly; all Valentina’s problems seemed to assume such unnatural proportions.

‘So why do you want to see me, Val?’ she enquired now. ‘If it’s so important, tell me now. I’ll see what I can do.’

‘I can’t—that is, I can’t talk over the phone,’ insisted Valentina desperately. ‘Rhia, you’ve got to make time. I’m on duty again at eight o’clock.’

Rhia expelled her breath resignedly. So at least Val hadn’t lost her job, she reflected thankfully. Whatever it was, it was outside the hospital, and surely anything else could not be so important.

‘Val——’

‘Rhia, please——’

‘Oh, very well.’ Rhia gave in, as she generally did, she conceded to herself ruefully, and drew her dark brows together. ‘How about lunch? I could manage to get over to St Mary’s for about one o’clock, if that’s any use to you.’

‘Oh, yes. Yes!’ Valentina was fervent.

‘But don’t you have to rest?’ Even now, Rhia was still mildly suspicious. ‘I mean—if you’re on nights——’

‘Last night was my night off,’ explained Valentina hastily. ‘See you soon,’ and she rang off before Rhia could think of any more questions.

Nevertheless, that didn’t prevent her sister from spending the rest of the morning brooding over why Valentina should want to see her, and why there was such urgency about it. She couldn’t think of any reason why the younger girl should be so distressed, and as with all such probings, Rhia’s sense of foreboding grew. She couldn’t help remembering how irresponsible Valentina had been prior to taking the job at St Mary’s, and how often she had been called upon to lend her money or pay her bills or simply bail her out of some particularly difficult situation. Something had gone wrong, that much was obvious. Rhia only hoped it was nothing more than another unpaid debt.

The company for whom Rhia worked had their offices in Kensington, which meant she was within walking distance of the apartment. It was an added bonus to a job she had grown to like, and since she had become secretary to one of the company’s directors, the increase in salary had enabled her to cope with the increase in its rent. Valentina’s contribution to the apartment’s upkeep had ceased entirely, since she spent most of the week in her accommodation at the nurses’ home, and since St Mary’s was south of the Thames, there was no question of her commuting.

When Rhia left the office at lunchtime it was raining, and the seasonable downpour had filled all the buses. Deciding she might as well use the tube, she squelched her way along the High Street, and squashed on to the train that would take her to the Embankment.

It was late when she arrived at Balham, and she still had a ten-minute walk to the hospital. She guessed Valentina would be awaiting her at the gates, where they had met on the few occasions Rhia had visited the hospital, and she saw her sister’s dejected figure as soon as she turned into Morton Street.

The rain had eased a little, but it was still drizzling, and Rhia’s showerproof jacket was soaked. As, too, was her hair, she realised impatiently, wondering for the umpteenth time why she didn’t simply have it cut. It was far too long and cumbersome for a girl in her position, and it spent its days either plaited into braids, or, as today, coiled in a damp chignon at her nape.

‘Rhia!’

Valentina had seen her and came hurrying down the street towards her, a pathetic figure in her jeans and yellow anorak. Considering the difference in their ages, they were remarkably alike, thought Rhia, as the other girl approached. Both tall and fair-haired, though it was true that Valentina was the slimmer and her hair was short.

‘Thanks for coming,’ the younger girl said now, tucking her arm through Rhia’s, her pale face eloquent of the fact that this was not something Rhia could iron out in the space of a few minutes. ‘Let’s go to the pub. We can get a meat pie or a sandwich there.’

Rhia’s hesitation was scarcely noticeable, and she fell into step beside her sister without a word. She would have preferred that they had a cup of tea and a sandwich in Val’s room at the nurses’ home, where surely they could have had a more private conversation.

‘What a day!’ Valentina commented as they walked the few yards to the Crown and Anchor. ‘I was afraid you wouldn’t come. God, what a mess I’ve got myself into!’ and her voice broke again.

Rhia was concerned, but a group of people emerging from the door of the public house prevented any rejoinder, and not until they had been served with a cheese roll each and a dry Martini with soda did she get the chance to make any comment.

They managed to find a quiet corner, away from the noisy atmosphere of the bar, and although there was nowhere to sit down, Rhia insisted that it would do. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Whatever’s happened? You look like you haven’t slept for a week.’

Valentina drew a steady breath and took a gulp of her Martini and soda. ‘I feel like I haven’t,’ she confessed fervently. ‘Oh, Rhia, it’s just awful! Glyn’s been badly hurt!’

For a moment, an uncharitable feeling of relief swept over Rhia. So it was Glyn who was in trouble, not Val, she thought, with weak reassurance. No matter how bad it was, Val was not involved, and for that Rhia was grateful.

‘What happened?’ she asked now, able to give her sister her full sympathy now that she knew, or could guess, how Valentina was feeling. ‘How did it happen? How badly hurt is he?’

Valentina caught her breath. ‘He—he’s still unconscious. He hasn’t come round.’

Rhia frowned. ‘You mean there was an accident? Val darling, I know you’re very upset, but you’ve got to try and be a little more coherent.’

Valentina swallowed. ‘There—there was a crash, yes.’

‘A car crash?’

Valentina nodded, and Rhia’s tongue emerged to circle her dry lips. It would be futile to admit that she had worried on more than one occasion about her sister, since Val had told her Glyn had acquired a fast sports car. It had seemed such a fragile defence against any other vehicle, and she had had to steel her emotions when Val spoke of its speed and acceleration. But at least Val had not been hurt.

‘Where is he?’ she asked, and Valentina blinked.

‘Where is he?’ she echoed. ‘Why, in—in the hospital, of course. Where else would he be?’

‘But what hospital?’ persisted Rhia patiently. ‘Not St Mary’s, I’m sure.’

‘Oh, no.’ Valentina put an abstracted hand to her temple. ‘He—he’s in Jude’s. They took him there, after the accident.’ She shook her head. ‘He looked terrible. I—I thought at first that—that he was dead.’

Rhia put out a hand and squeezed her sister’s arm affectionately. ‘Poor Val, no wonder you’re in such a state. But how is he? I mean—do the doctors expect him to recover?’

‘He’s got to recover,’ exclaimed Valentina fiercely. ‘He’s just got to. I—I don’t know what I’ll do if he doesn’t!’

‘Hey …’ Rhia had never seen her sister so agitated, ‘don’t get so upset. He’ll recover, I’m sure he will. They can do such marvellous things these days.’

‘Yes.’ But Valentina didn’t sound very convinced, and Rhia sought about for something else to say.

‘When did it happen?’ she asked. ‘The accident, I mean. Why didn’t you ring me, as soon as you heard?’

‘Heard?’ Valentina looked blank.

‘Heard about the accident,’ Rhia prompted gently. ‘When did you get to know? Last night, I suppose. Have Glyn’s family been informed? I expect they must have——’

Valentina interrupted her, her eyes wild and anxious, her words falling over themselves as she struggled to get them out. ‘Oh, you don’t understand, Rhia. I know I’m explaining myself badly, but surely you’ve realised: I didn’t hear about the accident. I was there! I was with him! I was part of it. It—it was all my fault!’

Later, Rhia acknowledged that perhaps she had been a little dense in not realising that Valentina’s grief stemmed from more than the mild infatuation she had had for Glyn Frazer. She should have known that her sister’s sympathies were unlikely to be strained to this extent by anyone other than herself. It was a harsh analysis perhaps, but the truth was that Valentina had seldom shown consideration for anyone, and latterly Rhia had sensed a cooling of the relationship between her sister and her boy-friend.

Now, however, she could only stare at Valentina, scarcely comprehending the import of what she was saying, and the younger girl’s face convulsed as she struggled with her frustration.

‘Don’t you understand, Rhia?’ she cried, glancing behind her to ensure her impassioned outburst was not overheard. ‘The accident happened last night—my night off. And—and I was driving!’

‘You!’ Rhia gasped. ‘But, Val, you don’t hold a driving licence!’

Valentina cast her eyes briefly towards the ceiling. ‘Isn’t that what I’m trying to tell you? Oh, Rhia, what am I going to do? Glyn—Glyn may die, and—and I’ll be to blame!’

Rhia wished she was sitting down now. Her legs felt decidedly unsteady, and she thrust the remains of her half-eaten roll into a nearby ashtray as nausea swept up her throat.

‘Well?’ Valentina’s eyes were tear-filled and intent. ‘Can’t you say anything? Can’t you at least tell me you understand? Dear God, Rhia, if you don’t help me, no one will, and—and I’m so—I’m so scared!’

Rhia put down her glass and rubbed her unsteady hands together. Then, shaking her head, she said weakly: ‘You’ve got to give me time, Val. I haven’t taken this in yet. Right now—right now, I just don’t know what to say.’

Valentina’s lips twisted. ‘How do you think I feel? I haven’t slept, I haven’t even been to bed!’ She sniffed. ‘I walked the streets for hours. I was exhausted, but I didn’t want to go back.’

‘Wait a minute.’ Rhia halted her. ‘What do you mean, you walked the streets for hours? I thought you said Glyn was taken to hospital, after the accident.’

‘He was. I rang for the ambulance myself.’

Rhia could feel a throbbing beginning somewhere behind her temple. ‘And they didn’t ask you to accompany them? The police—I assume there were police involved—they didn’t ask for a statement?’

Valentina bent her head. ‘I—it wasn’t like that. When we had the crash, there was no one else around. Oh, I don’t know how it happened. One minute I was driving happily along this side street, and the next this cat ran across the road in front of us. Glyn said: ‘Brake’, but somehow my foot hit the accelerator, and the tyres squealed and we—we hit a lamp-post.’

‘Oh, Valentina!’

‘I know. It was awful. Glyn’s head must have hit the windscreen. He—he was covered in blood. I—I just panicked.’ Her voice broke, and then, controlling herself again, she went on: ‘I knew I had to get out of there. If—if anyone saw me, if anyone identified me——’

‘Wait a minute.’ Rhia stared at her. ‘You said you phoned for the ambulance yourself.’

‘Yes. Yes, I did. There was a phone box quite nearby. I made the call—then I ran away.’

‘Val!’ Rhia was horrified.

‘I know, I know.’ Valentina threaded shaking fingers through her damp curls. ‘But what could I have done? I’ve told you, Glyn looked so awful! I couldn’t stick around and risk the chance of being arrested!’

Rhia swallowed the rest of her Martini, trying hard to think sensibly. Then, putting the glass aside, she tried to speak calmly. ‘Val, the police are going to know someone else was driving that car——’ And as Valentina began to shake her head vigorously, she went on: ‘And, let’s face it, you are the most likely suspect. You were Glyn’s girl-friend. He had probably told his friends that he was meeting you——’

‘No, no!’ Valentina interrupted her frantically. ‘It was late. We were on our way back to the hospital. We’d taken this roundabout route so I could drive. Glyn could have dropped me; he could have been on his way back to his flat.’

‘But he hadn’t!’ exclaimed Rhia forcefully. ‘Val, face facts——’

‘No one knows that.’

Rhia shook her head. ‘You’re not being realistic. Glyn wasn’t even in the driving seat!’

Valentina bent her head. ‘They wouldn’t know that.’

‘What do you mean?’ Rhia felt sick.

‘I’ve told you, Glyn hit the windscreen. It—it was shattered. I managed to pull his legs across——’

‘Oh, God!’ Rhia gazed at her sister in growing contempt. ‘I thought you said you panicked.’

‘I did. I did.’ Valentina’s chest was heaving. ‘Rhia, you don’t know what I felt like, sitting there, in the dark, knowing Glyn could be dead!’

Rhia expelled her breath weakly. ‘You realise you could be guilty of manslaughter, don’t you?’ she cried. ‘Oh, Val, how could you? How could you?’

Valentina thrust her hands into the pockets of her anorak, and looked about her a little sullenly now. ‘It’s all right for you to talk,’ she muttered. ‘You don’t ever have these kind of problems. Your life is so—so dull! My God, Rhia, there are times when I wonder if you’ve ever even made it with anyone! Not Simon, I’m sure. Supercilious prig!’

‘Val!’ Rhia’s hand on her arm silenced her sister, but she still looked mutinous. ‘You’re not going to gain my sympathy by insulting Simon Travis. He’s been a good friend to me, and—and I’m very fond of him. I’m just wondering how he’d react to all this.’

‘You won’t tell him?’ For a moment, Valentina’s face was anxious, but then, recognising the impatience in her sister’s eyes, she relaxed again. ‘Fond,’ she muttered, as if by speaking about Rhia’s relationships, she could eliminate her own. ‘What a god-awful word to use about the man in your life!’

Rhia ignored this, concentrating on what Valentina had just told her. At least her sister had not been joking. This was more serious than any scrape Val had got herself into before. And the awful thing was, Rhia didn’t honestly know how to advise her. Oh, it was a simple enough choice between what was right and what was wrong; but as the minutes passed and logic took the place of emotion, Rhia acknowledged her own uncertainty in the face of subsequent events. What good would it do to make Val confess? Would it help Glyn’s recovery? The answer was evidently, no, and while allowing her sister to escape the justice of her culpability was wrong, if Glyn recovered, her conviction could injure both of them.

Rhia knew she was acting as devil’s advocate, that nothing could alter the fact that Val had driven Glyn’s car both illegally and carelessly; and that, if he died, she was responsible. But if he didn’t die, if he lived, what possible good could be gained from exposing her sister to the process of law? Valentina was irresponsible and reckless, but surely the experience alone would serve as sufficient punishment, and teach her never to do such a crazy thing again.

‘Do you want another drink?’

Valentina was watching her from beneath lowered lids, and Rhia shook her head. ‘No, thanks,’ she said, steadying herself for what she had to say. ‘I’ve got to be leaving soon.’

Valentina nodded, then she clutched her sister’s sleeve. ‘Rhia?’

‘How do you know Glyn’s still unconscious? Did you phone the hospital?’

‘No.’ Valentina gave a negative reply. ‘They phoned me.’

‘They phoned you?’ Rhia’s brows arched. ‘But——’

Valentina hunched her shoulders. ‘It was my handbag. I—I left my handbag in the car.’

‘Val!’

Valentina sniffed. ‘That’s why I had to see you, don’t you see? I—I want you to tell them that I spent the night at the flat.’

Rhia gulped. ‘But—why?’ She looked blank. ‘What good will that do?’

‘Glyn’s flat isn’t far from the hospital. Like I said before, he could have dropped me and been on his way back to his flat.’

‘Dropped you—at the flat?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why? Why not at the hospital?’

Valentina sighed impatiently. ‘Rhia, I’ve got to have an alibi, don’t you see? I told you what happened. I—I walked the streets for hours. I didn’t go back to the hostel until this morning. That’s when I discovered they’d been—trying to find me.’

Now Rhia understood everything. Valentina hadn’t wanted to confide in her. On the contrary, had she not made the mistake of leaving her handbag in the car, she, Rhia, might never have learned of Val’s part in the affair. But now she was cornered and, as usual, she expected Rhia to provide a solution.

‘So what did you say?’ Rhia asked now, her voice cooler than before.

‘I told them I’d been with you,’ cried Valentina fiercely. ‘What else could I say?’

Rhia was angry. ‘So all this is just academic. You’re not really asking for my help, you’re telling me I’ve got to give it.’

‘Rhia, it’s not like that.’

‘Then what is it like?’

‘Rhia, you have no idea how I felt. I had to think of something, some reason why I hadn’t spent the night at the nurses’ home. I couldn’t tell them the truth, could I?’

Rhia was appalled. ‘There are times, Val——’

‘I know, I know.’ Valentina was sulky. ‘For heaven’s sake, it’s only a little thing.’

‘A little thing?’ Rhia clenched her fists. ‘If Glyn dies, you’ll have made me an accessory to manslaughter!’

‘He won’t die——’

‘I hope not.’ Rhia took a deep breath. ‘Because if he does, Val, I have no intention of standing by and letting you get away scot-free!’

Back at her desk that afternoon, Rhia found it incredibly difficult to concentrate. Her mind buzzed with the things Valentina had told her. She could hardly believe her sister could have got herself into such a mess, and the implications were all bad. At times like this, she wondered how she and Val could have the same parents and yet be so different. It made her doubt her own assessment of her sister, and she realised that since Val left school, a gulf had opened between them that she could never bridge.

Her immediate boss, George Wyatt, was not particularly sympathetic to his secretary’s loss of concentration. He was a man in late middle age, with all the accompanying afflictions of the successful business-man: a short temper, an expanding girth, and an ulcer. Generally, he and Rhia worked together very well, she competent and independent, well able to handle clients alone, if necessary, and adept at anticipating her employer’s every whim. She attended to his engagements, pacified his wife on occasion, and handed him his tablets when his ulcer was playing up; but this afternoon she was self-absorbed and absentminded, and Mr Wyatt lost no time in giving her the edge of his impatience.

‘Rhia, are you deliberately trying to annoy me?’ he demanded, pointing to the tray on his desk. ‘I’ve asked you twice to hand me the Macdonald file, and you’ve simple ignored me!’

‘I’m sorry, Mr Wyatt.’ Rhia was flushed and apologetic. ‘I’m afraid—I—er—I’ve got a bit of a headache, that’s all.’

‘I wish that was all I had,’ retorted George Wyatt shortly. ‘This pain in my gut is tearing me to pieces, but do I complain?’

Frequently, Rhia was tempted to reply, but she merely gave a conciliatory shake of her head and tried to apply herself to his dictation. But it wasn’t easy, and later in the afternoon, checking the results of her shorthand, she hoped Mr Wyatt would not remember word for word exactly what he had said.

The board meeting was blessedly brief, and Rhia breathed a sigh of relief when she emerged from the building to find Simon’s car waiting in the staff parking area. The rain had ceased, and it was a mild April evening, the slowly illuminating lights of the city adding a sparkle to the darkening streets.

‘You’re early,’ Simon greeted her, as she slid into the seat beside him, and deposited an affectionate kiss at the corner of her mouth.

‘So are you,’ she agreed, returning his salutation warmly. ‘Thank goodness it’s Friday. I’m exhausted!’

‘You do look a little pale,’ Simon nodded, studying her features, despite the shadows of the car. ‘What’s wrong? Has Wyatt been rather tetchy again? I heard that his son was arrested for drunken driving the other evening.’

‘Did you?’ Rhia turned her face away, and moved her shoulders offhandedly. ‘Let’s go, shall we? I’m—starving!’

In truth, food was the last thing she needed, but Simon’s innocent remark had been too close for comfort. For the first time, she wondered if Valentina and Glyn had been drinking, and whether this was the reason Valentina had chosen to keep out of reach until morning.

‘By the way,’ Simon had noticed nothing amiss, ‘I’ve got tickets for the Bartok concert on Sunday. I know you said you weren’t terribly keen, but you’ll enjoy it, I know you will.’

‘Will I?’ Rhia gave him a swift appraising look. Right now, the idea of Bartok was like the idea of food—nauseating!

‘What’s the matter?’ At last Simon had detected some change in her attitude. ‘You seem—tense. Is anything wrong?’

‘No.’ Rhia forced a light laugh. ‘You know how it is. The weekend comes and you just feel like doing nothing.’

Simon frowned. ‘You’re not annoyed about Wednesday, are you? I just couldn’t get away. Those tiles in the kitchen have been impossible to match, and what with the rehearsals for the school play——’

‘Oh, no, honestly,’ Rhia hastened to reassure him. Simon took his work as a teacher very seriously, and it wasn’t his fault that his mother demanded so much of his free time. She was old, after all, and widowed, and Rhia sometimes wondered what she would do if Simon ever decided to move out. Perhaps she expected, if he got married, his wife would be prepared to move in, but Rhia knew she could never share a house with Simon’s mother. Mrs Travis was too set in her ways, too demanding, and certainly too attached to her son to allow any other woman to usurp her place in his affections.

‘You know what Mother’s like,’ Simon went on now, starting the car. ‘She hates the place to be in a mess, and the kitchen has taken longer than I expected.’

‘You have had to go to work as well,’ Rhia pointed out reasonably, glad to deflect him from her problems. ‘I think your mother forgets that.’

‘I know.’ Simon pulled out into the stream of traffic with a rueful grimace. ‘But it’s done now, and in future, we’ll be able to spend our free evenings together.’

‘Yes.’

But Rhia did not feel enthusiastic, and she had to make a determined effort to hide her misgivings as Simon rattled on about his day, and the play, and where they were going to eat that evening.

Chinese food was normally Rhia’s favourite, but this evening she only picked at her meal, pushing the chow mein round her plate in an effort to make it look less. Even so, she knew Simon had noticed, and when they were driving back to her flat, he cast her a doubtful glance.

‘You’re sure it’s not something I’ve done, Rhia?’ he ventured, taking one hand from the steering wheel to cover hers where they lay in her lap. ‘I mean, if it is, say so. I don’t like to think you’re keeping anything from me. We’re usually so close—very close.’ He squeezed her hands significantly. ‘In fact, I think it’s time we started thinking about the future—our future.’

Rhia extricated herself rather awkwardly and patted his hand. ‘Not tonight, Simon, mmm?’ she murmured, hoping he’d take the hint. ‘I really am very tired. I think I’ll stay in bed until lunchtime tomorrow.’

Simon took his dismissal with his usual good humour. ‘Okay,’ he said, bringing the car to a halt at the entrance to the apartment building. ‘I won’t press you now. But don’t expect the same privilege tomorrow.’

Rhia managed a faint smile. ‘Thanks, Simon.’

‘You’re not going to invite me in?’

‘Not tonight, no.’

Simon nodded, and after a moment’s hesitation, leant across and kissed her. ‘Come on, then. I’ll see you to your door,’ he murmured, his lips brushing her cheek as he drew away, and Rhia touched his face tenderly before sliding out of the car.

‘There’s no need for you to come up with me, really,’ she exclaimed, as he locked the car. ‘It’s only half past ten. There are always people about.’

‘Nevertheless, I’d rather assure myself that you were safely home,’ Simon insisted, slipping his hand into hers. ‘Brr! It’s turning chilly. Let’s get inside.’

The block of flats was not new, and graffiti covered the walls of the entrance hall, and adorned the sides of the iron lifts that clanked their way to the upper floors. They were not attractive surroundings, Rhia had to admit, but the flats themselves were not too bad. The one Rhia’s father had leased had two bedrooms and a living area, as well as kitchen and bathroom, and the usual offices. When her father was at home, Rhia and her sister shared a bedroom, but while he was away Valentina had moved the things she kept at the apartment into his bedroom.

‘Here we are.’ The lift had deposited them at the sixth floor, and Rhia indicated her door only a few yards away along the uncarpeted corridor. ‘Don’t bother getting out, Simon, there’s no need. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘Okay.’ Simon sounded a little disappointed, as if he had half expected her to change her mind and invite him in for coffee, but Rhia needed to be alone. ‘See you tomorrow,’ he agreed, tightening his grip on her fingers before letting them go. ‘I love you.’

Rhia was glad the lift doors closed before she could make any response. Aside from her anxieties about Valentina, she was not sure enough of her feelings for Simon to commit herself so completely. She liked him, she liked him very much, but love—love was something she had learned to live without.

She had loved her parents deeply, but they had found their children more of an encumbrance than anything, and boarding school had robbed her of their secure, if indifferent, presence. Then, when her mother died and she had thought her father might need her, he had proved otherwise, going off to South Africa with hardly a second thought for either her or Valentina. And now, Valentina was proving that Rhia didn’t know her either, and the idea of giving some man a similar kind of hold over her was not something she anticipated.

With a slightly dejected shrug of her shoulders, she trudged along the corridor to her door, fumbling in her bag for her key, paying little attention to anything else.

‘Miss Mallory?’

The brusque, yet attractive, tones set her nerves jangling, and she spun round tautly, automatically clenching her fingers round the strap of her bag, ready to use it as a weapon if necessary. She had heard nothing, she had thought the corridor was deserted, and looking up at the tall stranger standing right behind her now, she realised the vulnerability Simon was always speaking of. But the man had spoken her name, so he could not be a villain, could he? Why warn her of his presence, if he intended to attack her?

Certainly he did not look like a thief, but criminals were often plausible people. Where had she read that, or heard that? On television, probably. They were always warning women to be wary of any stranger, who might threaten their lives or their property, and this man was definitely a stranger. Her lips parted. Just because he was tall and dark-skinned and attractive there was no reason to doubt his duplicity, and her knees trembled violently as she struggled to remain calm.

‘What do you want?’

The involuntary question was a futile effort to gain time, but the corridor remained obstinately empty. The lift she had heard coming whined away past her floor, and she was alone and helpless, and hopelessly demoralised.

‘Relax, Miss Mallory. I’m not a thief or a rapist,’ the man assured her, in a crisp masculine drawl that had a decidedly un-English accent. ‘I’m sorry if I frightened you, but I thought you’d heard my footsteps. This corridor isn’t exactly soundproof, is it?’

‘Well, I didn’t.’ Rhia was trying desperately to regain her composure. ‘And—and one doesn’t expect visitors at—at eleven o’clock at night.’

‘I know. I’m sorry about that, too. But my time scale isn’t the same as yours, and right now, I’m not too concerned about your reactions to my visit. I need to talk with you, Miss Mallory. Now. So do you invite me in, or do I state what I have to say out here?’

‘Wait a minute …’ Rhia clutched her bag like a lifeline. He was going too fast, much too fast. Who was he? What was he doing here? And what right did he think he had to demand speech with her?

‘My name is Frazer,’ he said now, anticipating her next question. ‘Jared Frazer.’ His lean mouth twisted in an expression of harsh satisfaction at her involuntary withdrawal. ‘I see the name means something to you. It should.’ He paused. ‘I’m Glyn’s uncle. And I’d be interested to hear your explanation as to how come you’re so unconcerned that my nephew may be dying because of you!’

CHAPTER TWO

‘THAT’s not true!’

Rhia’s denial was automatic, her pale cheeks flaming with hot colour as she faced his cold implacability.

‘Then why aren’t you at the hospital?’ he demanded, raking her with a scathing glance. ‘The least you could do is pretend you cared a damn for his life!’

‘I—I do. At least, I care as—as much as anyone would care——’

‘Anyone?’

‘Yes, anyone.’ Rhia glanced helplessly behind her. ‘Oh, I—I think you’d better come in. You—you’ve made a mistake, Mr Frazer. I’m not who you think I am. Valentina is my sister. I’m Rhia.’

‘Rhia?’

As she struggled to get her key into the lock, she heard him repeat her name with harsh incredulity. Then, as the key turned and the door swung open, she gasped in dismay as his hand at her back impelled her into the small hallway beyond. Panic flared once again, but it was short-lived as he groped for the light switch and slammed the door behind them.

‘You lying little bitch!’ he swore violently, iron-hard fingers around her upper arm pressing her against the wall. ‘You’d better think of something else and quick, Valentina. I met your sister Rhia when I came here earlier this afternoon!’

Any thought of defending her sister died in Rhia at that moment. ‘Then—then you were misled,’ she choked, almost spitting the words at him. ‘I—I am Rhia Mallory, Mr Frazer. And I can prove it. Now will you please let go of my arm? You’re hurting me!’

She was aware that in the struggle, the neat coil of her hair had become loosened and untidy strands of honey-coloured silk were tumbling down about her ears, framing the pale indignation of her face. Violet eyes, wide with resentment, glared into the enigmatic darkness of his, and she shook her head in fury as he continued to hold her prisoner.

‘Say that again,’ he commanded, and she was so close to him she could feel the warm draught of his breath as he spoke. It was fresh and just faintly scented with alcohol, as if he, as well as her sister, had taken time out from visiting the hospital.

‘I—I said, I’m Rhia Mallory,’ she repeated unsteadily. ‘I don’t know who you saw this afternoon, but it certainly wasn’t me.’

‘She said she was Rhia Mallory,’ he insisted, and Rhia could feel his frustration through the taut fingers gripping her arm. ‘She said you weren’t home, and that I’d better come back later. She didn’t say when, so I came back—at six, and again at eight o’clock this evening. This is my fourth visit, Miss Mallory, and this time I don’t intend to leave until I know the truth!’

Rhia was trembling very badly, but somehow she managed to sustain his angry glare. ‘I don’t care what she told you, Mr Frazer,’ she retorted tremulously. ‘I imagine she had her own reasons for telling you what she did. The fact remains, I am Rhia, not Valentina, and I wish you would stop behaving as if I’d committed some kind of crime!’

‘And haven’t you?’

‘No, damn you!’ Rhia caught her breath on a sob, the pain he was inflicting to her arm causing the blood to drain from it. ‘For God’s sake, let me go, can’t you? You’re taller, broader, and infinitely stronger than I am. Surely you’re not afraid I might overpower you!’

The man regarded her malevolently for a long moment, and then, with a faint trace of admiration twisting his dark features, he opened his fingers and stepped back, allowing her to massage her injured arm with jerky movements. ‘You’re very cool, Miss Mallory,’ he commented harshly. ‘I should have expected it. But after meeting your sister, I’m afraid I was disarmed.’

Disarmed! Rhia couldn’t imagine anyone who displayed a greater lack of such a weakness. But evidently Valentina had spoken to him, and succeeded in deceiving him. But why? What did she hope to gain by it? Surely she realised that by antagonising this man, she could only be making things more difficult for herself.

‘You’d better come in.’

Pushing past him, Rhia led the way into the living room. For a moment, he resisted her attempt to pass him, but then, with a wry inclination of his head he allowed her to continue, and Rhia turned on the lamps with a feeling of mild incredulity. This couldn’t be happening to her, she thought disbelievingly. But it was, and her unwelcome visitor’s bulk uncomfortably reduced the generous proportions of the familiar room.

Glancing behind her to ensure herself of his whereabouts, Rhia emptied the contents of her handbag on to the dropleaf table in the window. Then, after finding what she was looking for, she held out several articles for his inspection: her banker’s card, her cheque book, and not least, her driving licence.

‘I think these will clarify the situation,’ she declared, her voice breaking in spite of the iron determination she was putting on herself. ‘And if any further evidence is required, I’m sure Simon—that is, the young man I was out with this evening—I’m sure he would willingly——’

She couldn’t go on. It had all been too much for her. With a feeling of ignominy, she felt the hot tears over-spilling her eyes, sliding down her cheeks in weak betrayal, and she quickly turned her back on him as she scrubbed her knuckles over her eyes.

If she had expected her tears to persuade him, she was wrong. As she stood there, struggling to control herself, she heard him flicking over the documents she had given him, in no apparent hurry to offer his apologies.

‘Yes,’ he said at last, ‘I’m sure these are genuine. But why shouldn’t I suspect their deliverer? If I was going to pretend to be someone else, I’d make pretty damn sure I had documentation, too.’

‘Oh, you’re impossible!’ Rhia spun round helplessly, her breakdown made all the more humiliating by reddened eyes and a drip at the end of her nose. ‘Why won’t you believe me? Why would I lie?’

‘Why would your sister lie?’

Rhia bent her head, rubbing her nose disconsolately. ‘You tell me.’

There was silence for a few pregnant seconds, and then Jared Frazer moved, walking past her to the table and depositing the articles she had given him with the rest of her belongings. Rhia flinched away from him as he passed her, but he didn’t touch her. After he had accomplished his mission, he returned to his position by the door, and when she looked up he was regarding her with something less than hostility in his brooding gaze.

In spite of their differences, Rhia could not deny that he was a disturbing man, disturbing both in his manner and his appearance. The hooded eyes with their heavy lids, that had raked her trembling defiance previously, were only part of his dark attraction. Set above a narrow intelligent face, with high cheekbones and a prominent nose, they only hinted at the sensuality that was evident in every line of his thin-lipped mouth. She had never seen Glyn, but if he was anything like his uncle she could quite see why Valentina had found him so attractive. Even the dark lounge suit he was wearing fitted his lean muscular body with unerring elegance, accentuating the narrowness of his hips and the powerful strength of his legs.

Yet, meeting his eyes, Rhia knew an uneasy sense of foreboding. It was strange, but now that the hardness of aggression was being erased from his features, she felt more—not less—anxiety. Why had he come here? What did he want? And why hadn’t Glyn’s parents made the trip?

‘Okay,’ he said, straightening from the indolent stance he had adopted, pushing back the lick of straight black hair that had tumbled across his forehead. ‘Suppose I accept what you say: I guess that means it was Valentina I spoke to earlier.’

Rhia moved her head in a positive gesture.

‘So—where is she?’

Rhia caught her lower lip between her teeth. ‘At—at work, I suppose.’

‘I assume you mean the hospital where she’s a student nurse?’

‘Naturally.’

‘No.’ He shook his head, folding his arms across the broad expanse of his chest, and Rhia’s anxiety kindled into a hard core of apprehension.

‘What do you mean, no?’

‘Where do you think I’ve been this evening? Apart from a bar.’

Rhia frowned. ‘But she must be there. She told me she was on duty at eight o’clock.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘You’ve seen her?’

‘Well—yes.’ Rhia coloured. ‘But it was at lunchtime. That—that was when I learned about what had happened——’ She broke off uncertainly. ‘How—how is Glyn?’

‘Still in a coma,’ said Jared Frazer flatly. ‘The doctors say it may be hours or days before he comes out of it. There’s nothing anybody can do until they know whether he’s suffered any brain damage.’

‘Oh, no!’ Rhia felt sick.

‘Oh, yes.’ Jared Frazer was relentless. ‘And I mean to find out how my nephew, who was a tolerably good driver, should have had the misfortune to wrap his automobile round a concrete post for no reason.’

Rhia moved her head. ‘What—what did they tell you?’

‘Who? The doctors, or the police?’

‘The—police.’

‘They’re not happy with their investigations either,’ he replied, his eyes intimidatingly intent. ‘They think someone else may have been with him. Your sister, perhaps. They know she was with him earlier in the evening.’

Rhia could not meet his eyes. ‘I—I wish I could help you.’

‘So do I,’ he averred grimly. ‘It would help to find your sister. Are you sure you have no idea where she might be?’

‘No.’ Rhia could be positive about that at least. ‘I—at lunchtime when I left her I understood she was going back to the hospital to see Glyn. I can’t imagine where else she would go.’

Jared Frazer pulled a wry face. ‘You forget—she was here, wasn’t she? I spoke to her at—oh, I guess it must have been about two-thirty.’

‘Yes.’ Rhia tried to think. ‘But you’ve been to St Mary’s since then and she’s not there.’

‘That’s right.’

Rhia linked her unsteady fingers together. ‘Then I don’t know where she is, Mr Frazer. I—I wish I did.’

‘Which leaves us with the original question, why should Valentina pretend to be you?’

Rhia nodded. ‘I—I suppose—when she realised who you were——’

‘——she panicked!’

‘Panicked?’ Rhia endeavoured not to betray her alarm. ‘No, I—perhaps she was scared.’

‘Scared!’ He was scathing. ‘And why should she be scared, if she had nothing to hide?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. Why are you catechising me?’ Rhia’s nerves were rapidly getting the better of her. First Valentina’s confession, then the shock of meeting him at her door, and now this! She wasn’t a criminal, but she was being made to feel like one, and the knowledge of what her sister had told her made everything that was happening like some awful nightmare.

Scraping her hand across her damp cheeks, she moved her shoulders in a dismissing gesture. ‘I think you’d better go, Mr Frazer,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry I can’t help you, but I’m sure Valentina will explain everything when she turns up.’

‘When she turns up?’ He glared at her. ‘And when might that be? Is she in the habit of disappearing for nights on end? Aren’t you worried about her?’

‘Worried!’ Rhia gasped. ‘Of course I’m worried. And—and in answer to your question, no—no, Val is not in the habit of sleeping rough, if that’s what you’re implying! But she’s obviously not here, and I don’t see what more I can tell you.’

Jared Frazer regarded her broodingly. ‘Very well,’ he said at last, after subjecting her to another penetrating appraisal, ‘I’ll go. I intend to spend the night at the hospital, just in case there’s any change in Glyn’s condition. If you do locate your sister, I’d be grateful if you’d contact me there. Otherwise, I’ve booked a room at the Westbury.’

‘At—at the Westbury,’ Rhia nodded. ‘I’ll remember.’

Jared Frazer hesitated only a moment longer, and then turned abruptly towards the door, preceding her along the narrow entrance hall with long powerful strides.

He pulled the door open into the corridor, then halted, glancing down at Rhia closely behind him. ‘You’ll be all right?’ he asked, unexpectedly gentle after his earlier animosity, and Rhia caught her breath.

‘I—yes,’ she stammered awkwardly, and his lean mouth twisted into a wry smile.

‘I’m sorry if I was brutal,’ he offered, and she shrank back in alarm when he lifted his hand. But all he did was brush one errant tear from her cheek, his brown fingers light and cool against her overheated skin.

‘I—will—will Glyn’s parents be coming to England?’ Rhia asked hastily, overwhelmingly conscious of the unwelcome intimacy promoted by that disturbing gesture, and to her relief he moved out into the corridor.

‘Glyn’s father was my elder brother,’ he remarked, with resumed curtness, as if he was loath to explain himself to her. ‘He’s dead. I came on behalf of Glyn’s mother, my sister-in-law. Since my brother died, I’ve accepted the role of Glyn’s guardian.’

‘Oh! Oh, I see.’ Rhia cleared her throat. ‘Well, goodnight, Mr Frazer.’

‘Goodnight, Miss Mallory,’ he returned politely, and she closed the door heavily as he walked away towards the lift.

With the safety chain in place, Rhia moved reluctantly down the hall again and into the living room. She was still trembling and for the moment she seemed incapable of coherent thought. Hardly thinking what she was doing, she gathered the contents of her handbag together and stuffed them all back inside, fastening the press-stud securely before looking round the living room.

It was not an unattractive apartment, with its patterned broadloom and neat three-piece suite, but she couldn’t help speculating what Jared Frazer had thought of it, and wondered rather irrelevantly what his home was like. Probably ultra-smart and ultra-modern, she decided, wishing she knew more about Glyn’s background. But Valentina’s overtures on the subject had been short and apathetic, and Rhia had not been sufficiently interested to question her further. Besides, she had never expected the information to have any relevancy, and only now did she realise that apart from his name, and the college he attended here in London, she knew next to nothing about him.

With a sigh, she put up a hand to her hair, discovering to her dismay that it was almost completely loosened from its pins. What must Jared Frazer have thought of her? she reflected irritably. Remembering the elegance of American and Canadian women she had seen on television and in magazines, she decided that he had probably mistaken her for a slob. What with red eyes and a runny nose, and her hair looking as if it hadn’t seen a brush in days, he had every reason to despise her; and even the brace skirt, which had looked so attractive this morning, was now creased beyond reason after the soaking it had taken at lunchtime.

Shaking her head, she turned out the living room lamps and went into her bedroom. In the light from an apricot-shaded bulb, she surveyed the damage. As she had expected, she did look a mess, her mascara smudged and uneven, and little, if any, make-up left on her face. Oh well, she thought bitterly, she had more important things to think about than her appearance. Where on earth was Valentina, and how could she hope to gain anything by hiding away?

Stripping off her clothes, Rhia went into the bathroom and erased the offending mascara, cleansing her face thoroughly and cleaning her teeth. Then, with her skin soft and glowing, she put on her cotton nightgown and sat down to brush her hair at the mirror before tumbling into bed. Her hair fell in a silken curtain almost to her waist, thick and smooth and lustrous, and completely straight. Only when she bound it in braids did it assume a kinky texture, but generally she preferred it as it was now, a skein of beaten gold. It was her best feature, she decided, ignoring the violet beauty of her eyes, and the generous width of her mouth. And Valentina had always made her feel overweight, comparing Rhia’s more voluptuous curves to her own sylph-like figure. Where was Valentina? she asked herself again as she climbed into bed, but her emotional exhaustion soon eliminated even this thought from her mind.

It was light when she awakened, and a reluctant glance at the alarm clock informed her it was after nine o’clock. Not late, by Saturday standards, but anxiety, and her conscience, made her reach for her dressing gown.

It was chilly in the apartment, and she turned on the central heating before drawing back the curtains and going to plug in the kettle. Then, gathering the daily newspaper from the letter box, she made her way back down the hall.

On impulse, she opened her father’s bedroom door, the room Valentina used while he was away. It was the smaller of the two bedrooms, their father insisting that as they were to share and have single beds, the two girls should have the larger room. While her sister was in residence, the room generally looked a mess, with discarded clothes left on the bed and Valentina’s make-up adorning the dressing table, and after her visit yesterday, Rhia was quite prepared to find the place in disorder. But it wasn’t. It was reasonably tidy, and what was more, the dressing table tray was empty of any cosmetics.

With a feeling of apprehension Rhia entered the room, running her fingers over the surface of the chest of drawers where Valentina kept the nightwear and lingerie she used when she was at the apartment. Hardly aware that she was holding her breath, Rhia pulled open the drawers, one by one, her fingers quickening when she discovered they were empty. Only a discarded pair of tights still resided in the bottom of one of the drawers. Otherwise, all her sister’s belongings had gone.

Expelling her breath on a gasp, Rhia hurried to the wardrobe, wrenching open the doors and standing back aghast when she found that here, too, her sister’s clothes had gone, leaving only her father’s spare suits and jackets hanging there.

Turning, Rhia surveyed the room blankly. So that was why Valentina had come to the apartment; that was what she had been doing when Jared Frazer interrupted her. No wonder she had panicked and lied. She must have been planning to leave all along.

But leave for where? Rhia’s brain simply couldn’t come up with a single idea. Surely she must have left a note, something, anything, to reassure her sister that she would be coming back. But although she searched the flat from hallway to bathroom, there was nothing to indicate where Valentina had gone.

The kettle had boiled and gone cold again while Rhia was conducting her search, and she switched it on again weakly, realising how suspicious her sister’s disappearance would appear. The police were bound to want to see her, to ask questions, and if Valentina wasn’t around, they might question her.

Might! Rhia’s lips twisted bitterly. If Jared Frazer had anything to do with it, there’d be no possibility of improbability. He was not going to take this lying down, and who knew? Perhaps they would put out a bulletin for Valentina’s arrest.

Rhia shook her head. Yesterday afternoon she had thought the situation couldn’t get any worse, but it had. This man Frazer had arrived, practically breathing fire, and Valentina had disappeared. Dear God, what was she going to do?

It was while she was drinking her tea that she decided she would have to talk to Simon. She had to talk to someone and there was no one else she could confide in. Simon would listen, she thought, with some relief, Simon would understand. But she couldn’t wait until their date that afternoon. She had to talk to him now.

Tucking her legs under her, Rhia curled up on the couch and picked up the telephone, dialling Simon’s number with fingers that persistently hit the wrong digits. She had to dial the number three times before she made the connection, and then, when the receiver was lifted, it was Mrs Travis, not Simon, who came on the line.

‘Oh, Mrs Travis, is Simon there?’ Rhia asked urgently, clutching the plastic handset tightly. ‘I—er—I’d like to speak to him. It is rather—important.’

‘I’m afraid he’s not up yet, Rhia,’ Mrs Travis replied firmly. ‘He’s had such a busy week. I’m sure the poor boy was exhausted.’

‘Well, do you think you could get him up, Mrs Travis?’ Rhia persisted anxiously. ‘I—I wouldn’t trouble you normally, but this is urgent.’

‘What is it? Perhaps I can help.’ Mrs Travis was evidently unprepared to wake up her son and bring him to the phone unless it was absolutely necessary, and Rhia sighed.

‘No. No, I have to speak to Simon,’ she insisted, hearing the older woman’s cluck of impatience. ‘Honestly, Mrs Travis, I wish you would just ask Simon to speak to me.’

‘Oh—very well.’ Mrs Travis gave in. ‘But I trust it’s something important, and not simply a ruse to get him to come round there. He’s promised to set out some seedlings for me this morning, and I want him to do them while it’s fine.’

Rhia didn’t answer her. She couldn’t, and with another sound of irritation, Mrs Travis went away.

It seemed ages before Simon eventually came to the phone. Rhia herself grew impatient, and she sat, drumming her fingernails against the vinyl arm of the couch, inwardly praying that he could help her.

‘Rhia?’ At last, Simon’s unenthusiastic voice broke into her prayers. ‘Mother says you insisted on speaking to me. What is it? Aren’t you feeling well?’

‘I’m—all right.’ In truth, Rhia felt far from well, but it was not something an aspirin could cure. ‘Simon, I have to talk to you. Could you come round to the flat—right away? I don’t know what I’m going to do!’

Her voice broke on the final words, and Simon responded with a little more warmth. ‘Look, Rhia, what is it, love? Can’t you tell me now? You’ve got my undivided attention.’

‘I can’t discuss it over the phone,’ Rhia insisted huskily. ‘You’ve got to come round here, Simon. I’m sorry, I know your mother won’t like it, but I’ve got to see you.’

‘But I am seeing you—this afternoon,’ Simon pointed out reasonably. ‘Can’t—whatever it is wait until then?’

‘No.’

‘Rhia——’

‘Don’t you dare tell me you’ve got some gardening to do!’ Rhia almost screamed the words. ‘Don’t you understand, Simon? This—this is a matter of—of life and death! What do I have to say to make you believe me?’

‘All right, all right.’ Simon spoke hastily, trying to calm her down. ‘Now, don’t get in a panic. I’ll come. I’ll get there just as soon as I possibly can. Just—take it easy.’

‘Take it easy!’ Rhia choked back a sob. ‘All right. But—be as quick as you can, will you?’

After Simon had rung off, Rhia went to get dressed. There was no point in hanging about in her dressing gown. And besides, the police could arrive at any moment. With her clothes on, she would feel infinitely more capable of facing them.

She put on jeans and a mauve silk shirt, and secured her hair at her nape with a leather thong. But she left it loose, having no patience for coiling it up into a neat roll today, and discarded the idea of make-up because her hands were too unsteady.

She was dressed and ready in half an hour, with her bed made and a pot of coffee perking on the ring. But it was fully another hour before Simon turned up, and she looked at her watch pointedly as she let him into the apartment.

‘I know, I know.’ Simon moved his Harris-tweed-clad shoulders half indignantly. ‘But I’d promised Mother to put in some cabbages and cauliflowers——’

‘Cabbages and cauliflowers!’ Rhia almost choked over the words, but she said nothing more until they were both standing in the living room.

She couldn’t help comparing Simon’s broad-shouldered stockiness to the lean-limbed frame of the man who had stood there the night before. There was no similarity between them, and Simon’s reddish-brown thatch bore no resemblance to Jared Frazer’s night-dark head of hair. They were different in so many ways, and she wondered what Simon would say if she told him how savagely Glyn’s uncle had treated her.

‘Well?’ Simon thrust his hands into the hip pockets of his twill trousers. ‘I’m here. What was so urgent it couldn’t wait until three o’clock?’

‘It’s almost that now,’ muttered Rhia childishly, and Simon sighed.

‘It’s half past eleven,’ he corrected her dryly. ‘Hmm, is that coffee I can smell? I could do with a cup.’

‘Haven’t you had any breakfast?’ demanded Rhia sarcastically. ‘I’m sure your mother wouldn’t send you out without the requisite number of calories.’

‘I have had some toast and marmalade,’ Simon admitted, somewhat defensively. ‘Rhia, what is all this about? I knew something was wrong last night, but you wouldn’t discuss it then.’

Rhia went into the small kitchen and poured two cups of coffee, curiously reluctant now he was here to actually broach what she had to say. How would Simon take it? Would he threaten to go to the police? How well did she really know him, when they were not even lovers?

‘It’s Val,’ she said at last, carrying the coffee back into the living room and handing him a cup. Simon had made himself comfortable on the couch, but now he put the paper he had been scanning aside and gave her his full attention. ‘She’s disappeared.’

‘Disappeared!’ At least her words had the ability to cause Simon to halt in the process of raising his cup to his lips. ‘What do you mean—she’s disappeared? Has she been abducted—run away? What?’

‘Not abducted,’ declared Rhia definitely, perching on the edge of the chair opposite. ‘She’s taken all her things—at least, all the things she kept here, at the apartment. I don’t think a kidnapper would wait around for her to pack.

Simon stared at her. ‘And—you knew this last night?’

‘No. No, of course not.’

‘So what was upsetting you last night?’

Rhia sighed heavily. Then, in as few words as possible, she explained her meeting with Valentina the previous lunchtime, omitting only the fact that her sister had been driving the car.

‘My God!’ Simon was evidently stunned. ‘And you think she’s run away because she’s afraid she’ll be implicated?’

‘Something like that.’

‘But—what the hell! It wasn’t her fault. I can’t understand why she would feel the need to cut and run. It doesn’t make sense.’

Rhia bit her lip. ‘Perhaps—perhaps there’s more to it,’ she ventured.

‘But what?’ Simon was endearingly obtuse. ‘It seems to me she’d have done far better to admit that she was with him when the accident happened. The police are bound to find out. They always do.’

‘Do they?’ Rhia looked at him anxiously.

‘Of course they do. And in any case, it’s a silly thing to do, running away. It encourages people to think the worst, to imagine you’ve got something to hide.’

‘Perhaps she has.’ Rhia hesitated. ‘Perhaps—perhaps she was driving. How—how about that?’

‘Don’t be silly,’ Simon sniffed. ‘Val can’t drive, you know that.’

‘But—what if she was?’ probed Rhia cautiously. ‘I mean, young people do crazy things.’

‘If I thought that, I’d have no sympathy for her,’ retorted Simon grimly, shattering once and for all Rhia’s hopes of confiding everything. ‘No, no. Val may have been reckless, a bit of a tearaway when she was younger, but she wouldn’t do a thing like that. Good heavens, that would mean she was guilty of manslaughter, if the chap dies.’

Rhia buried her nose in her coffee cup. She felt near to desperation herself, and now that Simon had proved so virtuous, where could she turn?

The sound of the doorbell ringing brought her head up however, and what little colour she had drained out of her face. Who was that? she wondered in dismay. The police! Having discovered Valentina was not at the hospital where she worked, had they come looking for her?

‘Aren’t you going to answer that?’ Simon was looking at her in surprise. ‘You did hear the doorbell, didn’t you? Perhaps it’s Val. Perhaps she’s forgotten her key. Perhaps your fears were unfounded.’

Rhia had distinct doubts that this could be so, but she could not ignore the caller, whoever it was. If she didn’t answer the door, Simon would; he was already half out of his seat, as if growing impatient of her hesitation.

Putting down her coffee cup, Rhia smoothed her damp palms down over the seat of her jeans and walked determinedly along the hall. As she went, she mentally rehearsed what she was going to say, deciding with resignation that she could not pretend she didn’t know what it was all about. Valentina had disappeared, she would tell them that. What they chose to make of it was not her concern.

When she opened the door, however, it was not the blue uniform of a police constable that confronted her, but the grey suede waistcoat of a three-piece suit. And the man who was wearing it with such indolent assurance was the man who had briefly terrorised her the night before.

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