# Keeping Luke's Secret

Carole Mortimer

Carole Mortimer is one of Mills & Boon’s best loved Modern Romance authors. With nearly 200 books published and a career spanning 35 years, Mills & Boon are thrilled to present her complete works available to download for the very first time! Rediscover old favourites – and find new ones! – in this fabulous collection…Secrets of the past…Unexpectedly, writer Leonie is asked to write the biography of renowned actress Rachel Richmond. Although she has published a biography before, Leonie has no idea why Rachel would choose her as the author. And her doubts about the job deepen when Rachel's son, Luke, seems determined to relentlessly intimidate her!Even though Luke’s attitude towards her is hostile, Leonie is intensely aware of his piercing green eyes and stunned by the tempestuous passion between them. But can they survive the secrets of the past?

## Keeping Luke’s Secret. Carole Mortimer


www.millsandboon.co.uk

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## Table of Contents

Cover

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

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Copyright

## CHAPTER ONE

‘DR LEONORA WINSTON, I presume?’

Leonie looked across the room to the now open doorway, having been shown into this sitting-room a couple of minutes ago by the maid who had admitted her to the house, her smile fading to a frown as she found herself being looked at with scathing dislike by the tall, dark-haired man standing there.

‘Tall, dark and handsome’ instantly came to her mind, although there, Leonie was sorry to say, the compliments stopped. He was also arrogant—from his scornful expression. Cold—pale green eyes were icy with contempt as he looked across at her. And the word pompous also sprang to mind.

But there were also two things wrong, as far as she was concerned, with this man’s deliberate misquote.

For one thing, her given name might be Leonora— Leo for her paternal grandfather, Nora for her paternal grandmother—but she was never known by that name, had been called Leonie for as long as she could remember.

Secondly, she was sure, when Stanley had made that original statement to Livingstone, that he had been pleased to see the other man. The man now standing in the doorway of this sunlit sitting-room was definitely not pleased to see Leonie.

In fact, the opposite!

It was there in the scornful tone with which he spoke to her. It was also apparent in the way he looked at her so contemptuously, with those eyes the pale green of a cat, down the long length of his arrogant nose. No, this man was anything but pleased to see her.

And she had no idea what she had done to elicit such enmity in a complete stranger…

She returned his gaze with cool grey eyes. ‘Mr Luke Richmond, I presume?’ One blonde brow rose as she returned his challenge, unwillingly to allow him to think he had her at any sort of disadvantage; she might not be acquainted with this man but she had recognised him for exactly who he was the moment she’d first looked at him.

Even white teeth snapped together with displeasure, the sculptured mouth tightening, those pale green eyes narrowing with obvious displeasure. ‘You may find this situation amusing, Dr Winston—’

‘Please call me Leonie,’ she interrupted smoothly, her frown returning. ‘And I believe you’ve mistaken my mood, Mr Richmond—I’m more puzzled by this so-called “situation” than I am amused!’

His mouth twisted derisively. ‘Because it was my mother you were expecting to see rather than me?’ he rasped, nodding dismissively in answer to his own question. ‘Don’t worry, you will see my mother—eventually; Rachel is notorious for being late,’ he added with obvious impatience for that habitual tardiness, moving forward to close the door behind him with studied decisiveness. ‘I wanted a chance to talk to you alone before the two of you met.’

Leonie stood in front of the bay window across the room, the sun warming her back—but even so, being shut in the room with this man was like being enveloped in a sudden blast of ice-cold air.

It wasn’t just those pale green eyes that made this man so daunting; he also stood well over six feet tall. His dark hair was styled deliberately short, shoulders wide and muscular in his black shirt, his torso lean, legs long in black denims. In fact, everything about this man—apart from those pale eyes—was darkly saturnine!

Don’t be ridiculous, Leonie, she instantly admonished herself; this man might not appear exactly friendly, but his mood might not actually have anything to do with her presence here, he might just be having a bad day. Or maybe this rudeness was just normal for him, and not to be taken personally!

She forced her features to relax into a smile. ‘There seems to have been some sort of mistake, Mr Richmond—’

‘Any mistake that’s been made, I can assure you, Dr Winston, is completely on your side,’ Luke Richmond cut in harshly. ‘I have no idea what subterfuge you may have used in order to get this appointment with my mother, but let me assure you—’

‘Mr Richmond—’

‘—it will do you absolutely no good whatsoever—’

‘Mr Richmond—’

‘—because my mother never gives interviews to journalists—’

‘I’m not a journalist!’ Leonie cut in with firm indignation.

‘—or biographers,’ Luke Richmond concluded with obvious satisfaction. ‘For obvious reasons,’ he added with harsh derision.

One of those ‘obvious reasons’, Leonie knew, was an unauthorised biography of the screen star, Rachel Richmond, that had appeared in the bookshops two years ago. It had been full of innuendo and speculation about the actress’s colourful life, none of it quite libellous, but unpleasant to read, nonetheless.

Another ‘obvious reason’, Leonie was also well aware, was this man himself…

Thirty-seven years old, obviously handsome, having won several Oscars for various screenplays he had written, Luke Richmond was very successful in his own right. A man, in fact—on the surface, at least!—that anyone would be proud to call their son.

Except that no man ever had…

Star of the screen and theatre for over fifty years, Rachel Richmond had never married, neither had she ever named the man who had fathered the baby son she’d given birth to thirty-seven years ago.

At the time, the mid-sixties, the fact that the actress had been an unmarried mother had threatened to abruptly end Rachel Richmond’s acting career, where morality in the screen icons had still been expected, if not demanded, by the multimillion-pound studios.

But Rachel Richmond had remained adamantly single, sweetly silent, instead choosing to take her baby son with her everywhere she’d gone, becoming overnight the epitome of the perfect mother, the whole world seeming to take her, and her baby, to their hearts.

Speculation as to the baby’s father had continued intermittently over the years, but in the face of the actress’s indomitable silence it had remained exactly that—speculation.

Looking at him now, Leonie wondered how Luke Richmond had coped with the speculation throughout his life concerning his paternity. Or if, in fact, it was speculation to him… Surely his mother, as Luke reached maturity, would have confided his paternity to him, at least?

If she had, he had remained as close-mouthed about it as his mother had always been!

Leonie drew in a determined breath. ‘I really think there has been some sort of confusion as to my presence here, Mr Richmond,’ she tried again. ‘You see—’

‘I believe I, at least, have made myself more than clear, Dr Winston,’ he cut in coldly. ‘I’m sure you’re a very capable biographer. In fact, I know you are,’ he added with a frown. ‘I read your book on Leo Winston,’ he explained at her puzzled look.

Leonie blinked in surprise; she wouldn’t have thought the subject of her book one that would interest this man. ‘It wasn’t a hard book to write,’ she answered ruefully. ‘He’s my grandfather,’ she explained wryly.

Luke Richmond gave a brief inclination of his head. ‘So I believe. But he was also one of the best-kept secrets of the English government during the years of the Second World War.’

‘Yes…’ Leonie confirmed slowly. He had read the book!

‘My mother read the book before passing it on to me; she thought your grandfather’s story might make a good screenplay,’ Luke Richmond drawled as Leonie still looked puzzled by his interest.

Knowing her grandfather, he would be horrified at the mere thought of such a thing!

‘My grandfather prefers to be known for his ability as a historian rather than anything else that he may or may not have done in his earlier years,’ she hastily assured the screenwriter.

‘A genuine twentieth-century Scarlet Pimpernel,’ Luke Richmond continued thoughtfully. ‘Although, on reflection, I decided the storyline was probably a bit hackneyed,’ he added with cool dismissal.

If he was meaning to be deliberately insulting, then he was succeeding. Which was precisely the reason Leonie refused to give him the satisfaction of responding to the insult!

‘“On reflection”?’ she prompted dryly, glancing distractedly down at her wrist-watch. This man was right about his mother’s tardiness; Rachel Richmond was now almost fifteen minutes late for their appointment.

He gave an abrupt inclination of his dark head. ‘Your grandfather convinced me it would be in no one’s interest—least of all his!—if I were to write his story for the big screen. Besides,’ Luke Richmond added with the slightest show of humour in those cold green eyes, ‘we couldn’t agree on the man who could play the part of your grandfather.’

Leonie frowned at this disclosure; until this moment she’d had no idea this man had ever met her grandfather, let alone progressed any further than that. Her grandfather had certainly never mentioned it…

‘I think my grandfather may have been being deliberately obstructive.’ She shrugged narrow shoulders ruefully.

The screenwriter looked at her coolly. ‘A family trait, perhaps?’ he drawled insultingly.

Leonie drew in a sharp breath. She really had no idea what she had done to alienate this man—probably nothing, she reasoned; the man seemed to have a natural antagonism!—but it was certainly time it stopped.

‘Mr Richmond—’

‘My dear Leonie—I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting!’ Rachel Richmond chose that moment to sweep into the room like a breath of fresh air, literally seeming to brighten up the room with her presence.

Rachel also, Leonie acknowledged admiringly, totally belied her seventy-odd years in a figure-hugging green dress, her blonde hair swept back from her beautiful unlined face in a casual shoulder-length style.

‘And Luke, too.’ The actress moved to kiss her son warmly on the cheek. ‘How wonderful!’ She turned back to Leonie. ‘Why, my dear, you’re perfectly lovely,’ she exclaimed warmly, reaching out to grasp both Leonie’s hands into her own slender ones.

After the son’s icy contempt, this woman’s obvious pleasure in meeting her took Leonie aback slightly. Although there was no doubting the other woman’s warmth was totally genuine; her green eyes sparkled with pleasure, the smile that had been charming theatre- and cinema-goers for over fifty years completely enfolding Leonie in its beaming ray.

Although describing her as ‘perfectly lovely’ was a slight exaggeration, Leonie felt. In her heeled shoes, she easily towered over the older woman by at least six inches, her appearance completely businesslike in a tailored grey suit and white blouse, her blonde hair kept conveniently short, washed in the shower every morning and simply left to dry in curling wisps. Her looks weren’t exactly impressive either: grey eyes, pert nose, curving lips, and a determinedly pointed chin.

In fact, she looked exactly what she was: a historian, like her grandfather.

‘Thank you,’ Leonie dryly accepted the compliment, very aware of Luke Richmond’s contemptuous smile even as she inwardly admitted to being slightly uncomfortable at the effusiveness of the actress’s greeting. In fact, she wasn’t sure she didn’t almost prefer Luke Richmond’s coldness. Almost…

‘I think you should release Dr Winston’s hands now, Rachel,’ Luke Richmond drawled derisively. ‘You’re obviously embarrassing her,’ he added with a mocking lift of those dark brows in Leonie’s direction.

She flushed resentfully. ‘Not at all,’ she told him hardly before turning back to his mother. The woman he appeared to address as Rachel… ‘Your son seems to be under the impression that I’m intruding—’

‘It isn’t just an impression,’ he cut in harshly, that brief, mocking humour fading as abruptly as it had appeared. ‘It’s a fact!’

‘Really, Luke.’ His mother turned to him in mild rebuke, finally releasing Leonie’s hands as she did so. ‘Leonie won’t understand your sense of humour yet, darling.’ She gave him an indulgent smile.

‘Sense of humour’! Did this man have a sense of humour? Only an indulgent mother, Leonie was sure, could possibly think so.

‘I think you’re wrong there, Rachel.’ Luke Richmond’s cold gaze didn’t waver from the paleness of Leonie’s face as he answered his mother. ‘I believe Dr Winston understands me only too well,’ he added challengingly.

Oh, she understood him, all right—he was just completely wrong in his obvious conclusions concerning her presence in his mother’s home.

She turned back to the older woman. ‘Miss Richmond—’

‘Please do call me Rachel,’ the actress instantly invited, still smiling warmly. ‘Luke, darling, did you ask Janet to organise some tea for us all?’ She arched blonde brows at her son.

His mouth tightened grimly. ‘No—’

‘Then do so, darling,’ his mother interrupted imperiously before turning back to smile at Leonie once again. ‘Leonie, I’m sure you would like a stroll in the garden while we wait for our tea.’ Without waiting for an answer she linked her arm with Leonie’s and led the way out the French windows into the sunlit garden. ‘I do so want you to tell me all about yourself, my dear,’ she encouraged interestedly. ‘I’ve never met a female historian before. It must be so exhilarating to excel in such a male-dominated subject. Exactly what…?’

Leonie was only half listening to the older woman as she chattered on, seemingly not really requiring an answer to her questions. At least, Leonie didn’t give her any. She was too distracted by the furious expression she had seen on Luke Richmond’s face as the two women walked outside into the garden. It was more than obvious to her that if he could have forcibly removed her from the house without upsetting his mother, then he would have done so.

‘It really is lovely to meet you, my dear.’ Rachel Richmond squeezed her arm in delight, green eyes glowing as she smiled. ‘I did so enjoy your last book.’

‘My first book,’ Leonie corrected dryly. ‘But also my last,’ she added ruefully. ‘You see—’

‘Oh, I do so hope not, Leonie—I may call you Leonie, I hope?’ Rachel Richmond prompted belatedly, a slight frown marring the actress’s otherwise smoothly creamy brow.

‘Of course,’ she accepted dismissively. ‘But, Miss Richmond—’

‘And you really must call me Rachel,’ the older woman invited again lightly. ‘Everybody does. Even Luke,’ she added affectionately.

A fact Leonie had already noted—and found strangely odd. And, in truth, she wasn’t sure she could use such a familiarity herself. This woman was an icon of the theatre and cinema, still able to command the interest of a crowd whenever she chose to make a public appearance, still able to draw a full audience night after night on the rare occasions she agreed to appear on the stage. As Leonie was finding, her personality was just as commanding in the flesh…

She frowned. ‘Rachel,’ she conceded awkwardly. ‘Your son seemed to think—’

‘You really mustn’t mind Luke.’ The other woman smiled indulgently. ‘He’s very protective of me. And he’s always been such a serious boy,’ she added affectionately.

‘Boy?’ At thirty-seven, Luke Richmond could hardly be called that!

Rachel laughed softly at Leonie’s stunned expression. ‘He’ll always be a boy to me.’ She smiled. ‘And, I do assure you, his bark is so much worse than his bite,’ she excused lightly.

Somehow Leonie seriously doubted that, had every reason to believe he would have forcibly ejected her from the house if his mother hadn’t appeared so precipitously.

And late…

‘Perhaps,’ she conceded disinterestedly.

After all, Luke Richmond’s arrogance was completely unimportant to her; he wasn’t a man she intended being in the company of any more than she had to. Which amounted to a simple goodbye when she left in a few minutes’ time, as far as she was concerned!

Leonie gave another glance at her wrist-watch. ‘It’s getting rather late, Miss Richmond—Rachel,’ she corrected as the older woman gave a little moue of rebuke for her continued formality. ‘I—’

’How long did it take you to drive down here?’ the actress asked interestedly.

‘Just over an hour,’ Leonie answered frowningly. ‘I’m afraid I do have another appointment in town this evening, so—’

‘It was so good of you to give up your Saturday afternoon in order to drive down here.’ Rachel nodded. ‘I get up to London all too seldom nowadays, I’m afraid,’ she confided ruefully.

‘Not at all,’ Leonie dismissed. ‘But I really will have to be going shortly, so—’

‘Don’t you just love the springtime?’ Rachel seemed not to have heard her last comment, looking around the garden with obvious pleasure in the early colourful blooms that already abounded in the numerous flower beds. ‘Everything is so new. Life replenished,’ she added wistfully.

As it happened, Leonie did like the spring, but more practically because it meant an end to the dark winter evenings and mornings, hating the fact that during the winter months she often arrived at her job at the university in the dark, and also left in the dark.

‘Yes,’ she answered dismissively. ‘Rachel, you telephoned me completely out of the blue last week and asked for this meeting; don’t you think it would be helpful if you were to tell me why?’ she added with a frown.

In fact, Leonie had been caught completely off guard when summoned to a telephone call at the university eight days ago, only to discover that the caller was the actress Rachel Richmond. She had been so thrown by the identity of the caller that she had agreed to this meeting while still in a daze.

Although it was obvious from the few insulting remarks Luke Richmond had thrown at her that he was under the impression that she had asked for this meeting.

A fact Leonie would have been only too happy to have corrected for him—if he had given her the opportunity. Which he most definitely hadn’t!

But despite having had plenty of time for thought since Rachel’s call Leonie was no nearer knowing the reason for this meeting. She had even enlisted Jeremy’s help, but he had simply teased her about ‘hobnobbing with the rich and famous’. Other than that he had been no help in finding a solution either.

Jeremy…

Leonie found herself smiling as she thought of her fellow lecturer, a computer whizkid, who managed to transmit his love for the technology to the students who flocked to join his degree course year after year.

An attraction of opposites, Leonie accepted with a rueful smile. Leonie, with her love and interest firmly fixed in the past, Jeremy, with his lightning-speed acceptance and understanding of an advanced technology that he was sure would dominate the future.

He was also the reason she didn’t want to be late back to town, the two of them having a dinner date for this evening…

Rachel unlinked her arm from Leonie’s as she turned to look at her, suddenly serious, the green eyes no longer glowing with warmth but darkly searching, looking more like her seventy-odd years now that she was no longer smiling. ‘But surely it’s obvious why I telephoned you, my dear?’ She frowned quizzically.

Leonie gave a rueful grimace, shaking her head in obvious puzzlement. ‘Not to me. All you would say on the telephone last week was that you wanted to talk to me,’ she reminded lightly.

‘But—’ Rachel shook her head. ‘You mean you have absolutely no idea why I invited you here?’ She sounded incredulous.

‘None at all,’ Leonie confirmed with a good-humoured grimace.

‘I see.’ Rachel frowned. ‘Oh, dear. Well, that makes things rather awkward, doesn’t it?’ she realised ruefully. ‘You see, I read your book on Leo Winston—’

‘So—so your son informed me.’ Somehow Leonie couldn’t bring herself to call that arrogantly cold man by his first name! ‘I believe he also read it.’ Her voice hardened as she remembered the disparaging comment he had made. ‘I’m pleased you liked it, of course, deeply flattered—’

‘My dear girl, I didn’t ask you all the way down here just to compliment you on your book,’ Rachel assured her chidingly. ‘I could quite easily have done that on the telephone. No, my dear Leonie, I asked you here because I want you to write my biography. An official biography this time,’ she added with a certain steeliness in her tone for the previous effort that had so recently appeared.

Leonie stared at the older woman.

She wanted her to—

Rachel couldn’t be serious!

## CHAPTER TWO

‘IS SHE serious?’ Jeremy gaped at Leonie across the width of the dinner table later that evening.

‘She says she is,’ Leonie confirmed slowly. ‘That she’s been looking for the right person to write the truth for years—’

‘And she’s decided that you’re it,’ Jeremy realised excitedly. ‘What a coup!’

Leonie nodded less certainly. ‘I did try to tell her that I’m not really a biographer…’ But her protests had been instantly dismissed, Rachel assuring her that she wanted Leonie, and Leonie alone, to write the biography that the public had been clamouring for for years, that after reading Leonie’s biography on Leo Winston she was sure Leonie would write Rachel’s own story with the same truth and warmth.

‘Of course you are,’ Jeremy instantly rebuked, grinning widely, the same height as Leonie if she wore flat heels, as she was this evening. He was boyishly handsome, his straight blond hair slightly overlong so that it fell endearingly over his eyes, those eyes the blue of a summer sky. ‘A damned good one too!’

‘Thank you, kind sir,’ Leonie accepted with a smile.

‘But this is—wow.’ He shook his head dazedly. ‘In view of Rachel Richmond’s well-publicised view of biographies, this was something we never even gave a thought when we were mulling over reasons she might want to meet you—I still can’t believe it!’ His grin widened.

Neither could Leonie. And despite the obvious compliment being paid to her, she wasn’t sure she wanted to do it, either!

It wasn’t the work involved that daunted her. In fact, she was sure she would very much enjoy the research involved. The reason for Leonie’s reluctance to become involved in such a venture could be summed up in two words—Luke Richmond!

She hadn’t seen Rachel’s son again before leaving the house earlier, Luke not having graced them with his presence while they’d drunk tea together, but Leonie had no doubts whatever what his reaction would be to being informed that Leonie was going to write his mother’s biography; he would believe Leonie had arranged to see his mother for the sole purpose of persuading the actress into letting her do it!

In view of that, Leonie had asked Rachel for a week to think the offer over…

‘You accepted, of course?’ Jeremy looked at her searchingly as he seemed to sense her confused thoughts. ‘Leonie, you have to have accepted!’ he continued incredulously when she made no answer. ‘This is the story the press have been after for almost forty years! I take it she will—finally!—be revealing the identity of the father of her love-child? Of course she will,’ he instantly answered his own question. ‘There would be no point in the biography if she were to leave out that particular detail.’

Yet another reason for Leonie to hesitate about accepting the actress’s offer! For reasons unknown, Luke Richmond already disliked her enough, without holding her responsible for publicly revealing his paternity. And she had no doubts that he would!

‘I didn’t ask her.’ Leonie shook her head. ‘But I expect so. It isn’t that, Jeremy.’ She frowned. ‘I just—it isn’t really my thing, now, is it?’ she reasoned to herself as much as to Jeremy. ‘You said it yourself last week—we’re talking about the rich and the famous. I’m a historian—’

‘You could be a very rich historian with your name on this particular book,’ Jeremy pointed out determinedly.

A famous rich historian. Something she was sure she didn’t want to be.

She enjoyed her life exactly the way it was, lecturing at the university, going off on historical pilgrimages during the long weeks of holiday, puttering around in her small one-bedroomed flat during term time, occasionally going down to Cornwall to visit her parents on weekends, her grandfather in Devon on others.

Although that hadn’t happened too often during the three months she had been going out with Jeremy, their Saturday evening dinner together having become a regular thing, as had a visit to the theatre or cinema one evening during the week…

‘It would seriously cut into my spare time,’ she pointed out heavily. ‘Rachel has already suggested that as I lecture during the week the best thing for me to do is go down to her house in Hampshire for the weekends while we work on the book. If I work on the book,’ she added decisively.

‘Of course you must work on the book,’ Jeremy instantly came back. ‘You’re already calling the woman Rachel, for goodness’ sake!’ he teased softly, even as he reached across the table and took Leonie’s hand in his. ‘You aren’t worried about us, are you, Leonie?’ He looked at her searchingly.

She couldn’t prevent the slight blush that coloured her cheeks at his use of the word ‘us’. Obviously they had only been seeing each other for a few months, and she had no idea how Jeremy felt about her, but she did know that she liked him very much, enjoyed his company immensely. She couldn’t see him remaining interested in her if all she had to offer him was one evening of her time during the week.

‘Hey, it wouldn’t be for ever,’ he chided her gently. ‘A couple of months at the most, I would have thought. I can put up with that if you can?’ he teased softly. ‘Or is it something else that’s bothering you?’ he prompted shrewdly.

For some reason she was loath to mention Rachel’s son, the odious Luke Richmond. Probably because her antipathy towards him was almost as strong as his was towards her. And while he might have some idea of his own reason for feeling that way, she had no explanation for the way she felt. Except she didn’t feel in the least comfortable with the man…

She hadn’t asked Rachel—that would have appeared too rude!—but she had no idea whether Luke Richmond resided at his mother’s home on a permanent basis, or whether he had just been visiting for the weekend. But if he did live there, Leonie knew she would find going there every weekend in order to write this book, with the resentful Luke very much in evidence, totally intolerable.

‘I’m not sure I want to do this, Jeremy,’ she said with feeling. ‘I—I have an uneasy feeling about it.’ A totally inexplicable, but nevertheless very real, sense of unease. In fact, the feeling was so strong that she had wanted to run out of the house earlier today and never look back. Incredible, but true.

’Is Rachel Richmond still as beautiful as she looks in photographs?’ Jeremy prompted interestedly.

Leonie smiled as she remembered Rachel’s genuine warmth and beauty. ‘Oh, yes,’ she answered unhesitantly. ‘Perhaps there’s something to be said for remaining unmarried,’ she added jokingly. ‘Rachel certainly doesn’t seem to have developed any worry lines over the years!’

Jeremy shook his head ruefully. ‘I doubt she’s lived completely without male company all these years,’ he said dryly.

‘No, there’s Lu— Her son,’ she hastily corrected the familiarity; after all, he wasn’t a man who invited it!

‘I wasn’t exactly referring to that sort of male company,’ Jeremy teased, laughing as she grimaced her realisation of what he did mean. ‘Anyway, Leonie, you have to admit, it has to be a very tempting offer? One that deserves thinking about?’

Oh, it was tempting, all right, if only because Leonie knew it would be a challenge. As for thinking about it—she had a feeling she was going to do little else until she spoke to Rachel again the following week…

’You look surprised to see me,’ Luke Richmond drawled coldly as he stood on her doorstep, totally blocking out the sun that was trying to shine into the doorway of her basement flat.

Of course she was surprised to see him! For one thing, she had no idea how he had found out her home address when all his mother had was her telephone number at the university. For another, she hadn’t been expecting him. He hadn’t given any indication at his mother’s home yesterday that he had any desire ever to set eyes on her again, either!

Besides, she wasn’t exactly dressed to receive company, her denims old and faded, the pink tee shirt having shrunk in the wash, added to which her feet were completely bare.

‘Well?’ he rasped at her lack of response to his statement.

‘Well, what, Mr Richmond?’ she returned tartly. This was her home, and her time, and she did not appreciate having her Sunday afternoon interrupted by this man in this arrogant way. Although from the little she had learnt of him yesterday, she had a feeling he didn’t know how to behave in any other way!

Dark brows rose mockingly over pale green eyes. ‘Aren’t you going to invite me in? Or is that a problem for you?’ he added derisively.

Leonie’s frown deepened. ‘In what way would it be a problem for me, Mr Richmond?’ she returned impatiently.

He shrugged broad shoulders beneath the black jacket and green shirt he wore with black trousers. ‘Perhaps it might prove—inconvenient for you, if you already have someone in residence?’ His eyes narrowed speculatively.

Deep grey eyes flashed her anger at his obvious derision. ‘I live alone, Mr Richmond,’ she snapped, pointedly holding the door open wider so that he could walk inside.

‘I’ve never yet known that as a viable reason for not having the occasional—weekend house-guest,’ he drawled mockingly, his physical presence making the hallway seem extremely narrow.

And Leonie extremely uncomfortable!

Consequently her reply was sharper than usual. ’Don’t judge everyone by your own standards, Mr Richmond,’ she snapped.

His only physical response to her obvious sarcasm was a slight rising of his dark brows. ‘Can you really see Rachel accepting my taking a procession of women into her home?’ he scorned.

Leonie frowned. ‘You live in Hampshire with your mother…?’ It was a question she had wanted an answer to since yesterday!

He shrugged. ‘Most of the time. Like you, I have an apartment in London; I just rarely use it.’

‘How nice to have that luxury,’ Leonie snapped scathingly; it took most of her wages to keep even this small apartment in London—and she was sure that this man’s London home was much more luxurious than this.

‘I think so,’ Luke drawled. ‘Do you have a problem with my living arrangements?’ His gaze had narrowed ominously.

‘Not in the least,’ Leonie dismissed uninterestedly. ‘Would you like to come through to the sitting-room?’ She pushed open the door to the right of where they stood, leading the way into her sparsely furnished sitting-room.

His mouth twisted derisively as he followed her. ‘I thought you would never ask,’ he murmured dryly.

Leonie shot him a reproving glance before turning to check that the sitting-room was at least tidy; she usually cleaned the apartment on a Sunday, but she hadn’t got as far as this room yet today. Everything looked as neat as usual, only yesterday’s newspaper on the coffee-table out of place.

It was a deliberately uncluttered room, completely bare of photographs, the chairs and tables cane, coloured scatter rugs on the highly polished light-coloured wood floor, a couple of Monet prints on the cream walls.

She bent down to pick up the newspaper, tucking it under her arm. ‘Can I get you a coffee? Or anything?’ she offered awkwardly.

‘Coffee will be fine; it’s a little early in the day for “anything”,’ Luke Richmond drawled, looking dubiously at one of the cane chairs. ‘Is that thing strong enough to take my weight, do you think?’ he murmured ruefully.

‘If it isn’t, I’m sure buying me a replacement won’t be a problem for you,’ Leonie snapped rudely, her cheeks flushing deeply red as he looked across at her, brows raised mockingly.

Get a grip, Leonie, she instantly rebuked herself. Okay, so the man was rude and condescending, but that was no reason to lower herself to his level!

‘I’ll go and make some coffee,’ she muttered before hurrying from the room, only breathing easily again once she reached the warm brightness of her cream and yellow kitchen.

What was Luke Richmond doing here?

As if she really needed to ask!

Obviously his mother had told him of her decision to offer Leonie the chance to write her biography—and Luke was here to see that Leonie turned down that offer. That alone was enough to make her want to accept it!

Which, in her opinion, was a totally childish reaction. She was twenty-nine years old, with a doctorate in History, was a well-respected university lecturer, and, even if she did say so herself, her biography on her grandfather the previous year had been well received.

But, then, that was the real problem for Luke Richmond, wasn’t it?

‘Here we are.’ She put the laden coffee tray on the table a few minutes later, dismissively registering the fact that he seemed to have risked one of the cane chairs—and that so far the ‘thing’ hadn’t collapsed on him! ‘Cream and sugar?’ she offered politely once the coffee was poured into the cups.

‘Neither, thanks.’ Luke Richmond accepted the cup she offered him.

She should have already known that this man would be completely uncompromising, even when it came to how he drank his coffee!

She added a liberal amount of cream and sugar to her own coffee before sitting down in the chair opposite his; she was one of those people lucky enough to be able to eat and drink anything without putting on weight.

‘So, Mr Richmond,’ she murmured after taking a sip of her own coffee, ‘what can I do for you?’

‘Well, you can call me Luke, for a start,’ he bit out tersely. ‘“Mr Richmond” makes me sound like Methuselah!’

It also kept him on a formal level—which was exactly where Leonie wanted to keep him!

His gaze was narrowed as he looked round the room. ‘This is rather nice,’ he finally murmured admiringly. ‘Who was your interior designer?’

‘Leonora Winston,’ she answered with a derisive twist of her lips. ‘Interior designer’, indeed!—was this man on the same planet as her? As if she could afford an interior designer!

But then, Luke had been born to a mother who was one of the highest-paid actresses in the world, must have lived with her in Hollywood for most of his childhood, and the house Leonie had visited in Hampshire yesterday, although extremely comfortable and beautifully decorated, was more like a mansion than a family home…

Luke looked at her with glacial green eyes. ‘It wasn’t my intention to be insulting,’ he rasped.

‘I know that,’ Leonie sighed, putting down her empty coffee-cup. ‘And no insult was taken. It must be difficult for you to understand—well, just difficult,’ she amended awkwardly as she realised she was the one being insulting now.

‘I can assure you I haven’t always lived with a silver spoon in my mouth,’ Luke said.

‘No?’ Leonie prompted interestedly.

‘No,’ he confirmed dryly, adding nothing further to the statement.

Deliberately so, Leonie was sure, intriguing her in spite of herself…

‘Mr Richmond—’

‘I thought we had agreed on Luke—Leonie,’ he added pointedly.

She drew in a sharp breath. ‘All right—Luke.’ She nodded impatiently. ‘Did you just come here to comment on my decor and drink coffee, or are you going to tell me the reason why you’re here?’ she prompted agitatedly.

Luke looked at her consideringly, somehow managing to look relaxed and comfortable despite the fragility of the chair he sat in. Leonie found herself shifting uncomfortably under the full impact of that piercing gaze.

’Does intimidation usually work?’ she finally snapped irritably.

‘“Intimidation”?’ he repeated slowly, seeming to savour the word before giving a shake of his head. ‘I’m merely looking at you, Leonie.’

It was the way he was looking at her that was so unnerving—just like a professor she had once worked with who had liked to study antiquities minutely under a microscope!

‘You’re a very beautiful woman.’

Now he had unnerved her! What did the way she looked—or didn’t look—have to do with anything?

‘Mr Richmond—’

‘Ah-ah—Luke,’ he corrected lightly, hard amusement in those pale eyes now.

Leonie stood up impatiently, glaring down at him. ‘Would you stop playing games with me and just get to the point?’ she bit out angrily.

This sort of word-game might work with impressionable—and no doubt ambitious!—actresses, but it left Leonie cold. She was much more used to being treated with a certain amount of awe by her students, respect from her colleagues, and warm affection from her family; this man gave every impression of a cat playing with a mouse. And she was the mouse!

He was still looking at her consideringly. ‘Why do you play down your looks?’ he prompted curiously.

She gasped. ‘I—’

‘Your hair, for instance,’ he continued just as if Leonie hadn’t spoken. ‘It’s the most glorious colour, would look wonderful cascading down your back, and yet you choose to cut it so short it’s almost boyish.’ His gaze was narrowed on her thoughtfully. ‘You also have absolutely flawless skin. As for those eyes…!’ He shook his head. ‘A little make-up to enhance those looks and—’

‘When you have quite finished, Mr Richmond!’ Leonie cut in indignantly, colour high in those ‘flawless’ cheeks. ‘I’m a university lecturer, not some bimbo you—’ She broke off as she saw what she already knew to be a tell-tale narrowing of his eyes, breathing in deeply to quell her own anger. ‘I prefer to look exactly what I am, Luke,’ she said more calmly. ‘Which is a historian.’

‘Like your grandfather.’ He nodded, sitting forward. ‘What are you trying to prove, Leonie?’ The words were launched at her with the speed of a whiplash.

Leonie grew suddenly still, the colour fading from her cheeks, her chin high as she looked at him challengingly. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she murmured warily. How had he guessed? How?

Luke looked at her wordlessly for several long moments, and then he grinned.

A grin that owed very little to humour, and much more to a rather large feline who had just spotted his prey—Leonie!

‘You really mustn’t mind me, Leonie.’ Luke relaxed back in the chair with a suddenness that made the cane creak. ‘My mother, along with most of the fashionable set in Hollywood thirty years ago, sent her child to all sorts of therapists in an effort to ensure that I wouldn’t grow up with any sort of—hang-ups about who I was.’ His mouth was twisted derisively. ‘In the end I became almost as practised as they were in pushing the right buttons to elicit a reaction.’ He shrugged.

Leonie couldn’t help but feel a certain sympathy for those therapists; she didn’t doubt that Luke Richmond had proved a most uncooperative subject! Or that he had deliberately been ‘pushing her buttons’.

‘Your mother should have saved her money,’ she dismissed dryly, inwardly thinking it would have been better spent on teaching this man some manners!

He gave a mocking inclination of his head. ‘That’s exactly what she finally did.’ He smiled humourlessly. ‘And you already know the reason I’m here, Leonie.’ With a suddenness that totally threw Leonie offguard, he finally answered the question she had asked him five minutes ago.

Which, she was sure, was exactly what he’d meant to do.

She closed her eyes, shaking her head. This man was a nightmare, an absolute, unpredictable nightmare!

‘Oh, but you do, Leonie.’ He misunderstood the reason for the shake of her head, his voice hardly accusing.

Leonie drew in a deep breath before looking at him, feeling a shiver down her spine as he calmly returned her gaze. But, she suddenly realised hollowly, she had no idea whether that shiver was one of apprehension—or one of total awareness of him as a man!

Don’t be ridiculous, Leonie, she instantly admonished herself. This man might be as handsome as the devil himself but that was all he had to recommend him. Luke Richmond was cold, rude and, she didn’t doubt, completely ruthless if the situation warranted it.

Did this particular situation warrant it…?

Leonie had no idea!

‘I’m sure we’re both well aware by now that your mother has approached me with the idea of my writing her—’

‘Approached you?’ Luke cut in forcefully, once again sitting forward in his chair. ‘Don’t you have that a little mixed up, Leonie?’ he challenged accusingly.

‘Actually, no,’ she answered with something approaching gentleness; obviously whatever conversation this man had had with his mother since Leonie’s visit yesterday, it hadn’t included Rachel telling her son that she had been the one to do the approaching! ‘I very much doubt you’re going to believe me, but—your mother was the one who contacted me, Luke,’ she told him huskily.

He stood up abruptly, his face slightly pale as he strode over to the window that looked out on the little handkerchief of garden that was Leonie’s. Although Leonie very much doubted that he actually saw the small bushes or the pebbled square that made up that tiny garden…

‘What the hell is she playing at? What on earth, after all this time, does she hope to achieve?’ he muttered.

To himself, Leonie surmised, deciding that no answer was necessary. After all, she had no idea of Rachel Richmond’s motives, either. The truth concerning Rachel’s past had remained a secret for so long now, Leonie could see no reason herself why Rachel would suddenly want to change that…

Luke turned back sharply, narrowed eyes that were pale, icy green. ‘Exactly what did my mother say to you yesterday?’ he demanded coldly.

Leonie frowned. ‘Only that she thought it time the innuendos stopped…’ She trailed off as Luke’s expression darkened ominously.

‘In favour of…?’ he rasped harshly.

She grimaced. ‘The truth, I suppose,’ she revealed reluctantly, knowing that had to be the last thing this man wanted made public.

His mouth tightened angrily. ‘We’ll see about that!’ he snapped before striding across the room, turning to look at Leonie even as he wrenched the door open. ‘I would advise you not to hold your breath concerning this biography, Leonie!’ he rasped savagely in parting, the front door closing with a slam seconds later as he let himself out.

Whew!

Leonie sank down further into her own armchair, feeling suddenly exhausted, as if she had just escaped the eye of a hurricane.

A hurricane, she didn’t doubt, that was now on its way to Rachel Richmond…

## CHAPTER THREE

‘YOU’LL have to excuse Luke, I’m afraid, Leonie,’ Rachel told her ruefully, the two women sitting in the older woman’s comfortable sitting-room six days later drinking coffee together. ‘He can be very protective.’

In this case Leonie wasn’t sure whom Luke was being protective of: himself or his mother. But at least Rachel seemed aware of Luke’s visit to Leonie the previous weekend…

‘He doesn’t appear—keen, on your biography being written.’ Leonie chose her words carefully, only too aware of how strongly against the idea Luke was. ‘I have to say, after thinking about it,’ Leonie continued evenly, ‘that I’m not—’

‘I know exactly what you’re going to say, Leonie,’ the actress gently interrupted her, placing her hand warmly on Leonie’s arm. ‘In the circumstances, I can’t exactly blame you.’ She gave a grimace. ‘But I can assure you I do have my reasons for doing what I’m doing,’ she added huskily.

Leonie couldn’t for the life of her imagine what they were. And she was equally sure that Luke didn’t appreciate what they were, either…

‘I’m sure you do.’ She nodded frowningly. ‘But I’ve thought over your—suggestion, and I don’t feel I could do you credit.’ She smiled. ‘I’m sure that someone else—’

‘No one else, Leonie.’ There was a steely edge to Rachel’s voice now, those green eyes bright as emeralds. ‘I happen to have settled on you.’

Leonie looked questioningly at the other woman. So far in their short acquaintance Rachel had been the height of graciousness, totally warm and extremely friendly. But obviously there was another side to this beautiful woman, a side that could be as forceful as her arrogant son…

Leonie sighed. ‘I’m fully aware of the compliment being paid me,’ she began firmly.

‘Not at all, Leonie,’ Rachel assured her smoothly.

‘But at the same time I feel it only fair to tell you—’ She broke off abruptly as the door was suddenly thrust open, Luke Richmond now standing in the doorway. Really, did the man never just come into a room—knock, even…?

She tensed expectantly, knowing from the furious look on that arrogant face that this situation hadn’t yet been settled between mother and son. In the circumstances, she doubted that it ever would be!

Couldn’t Rachel see what this suggested biography was doing to her son? Leonie couldn’t believe a woman as warm as Rachel could be that insensitive. So why was the other woman being so adamant?

One thing Leonie was all too sure of—she did not want to get caught in the firing line between mother and son!

‘Mr Richmond,’ she greeted lightly before either of the Richmonds could speak. ‘You’re just in time to hear me tell your mother—’

‘What a nice surprise, Luke,’ Rachel cut smoothly across Leonie’s reassuring words, standing to reach up and kiss her son warmly on the cheek. ‘I thought you were away this weekend.’

’Obviously,’ he drawled dryly, shooting Leonie a pointed glare. ‘This all looks rather cosy.’ He raised dark brows in the direction of the used coffee tray on the table.

‘The coffee is still fresh, I’ll ring for Janet and ask her to bring in another cup.’ His mother smiled, moving towards the bell beside the fireplace.

‘Really, Rachel, I’m sure Janet has enough to do.’ Luke rasped reprovingly.

Leonie looked at him curiously.

‘You’re very grouchy today, darling,’ his mother teased affectionately. ‘I’m sure Janet wouldn’t mind in the least.’

‘I mind,’ he bit out harshly. ‘Besides, I don’t want any coffee.’

‘Darling, why didn’t you just say that in the first place?’ Rachel sighed, resuming her seat, crossing one silky knee over the other.

The answer to that was all too obvious to Leonie; Luke just wanted to be difficult. In truth, she felt extremely uncomfortable at being a witness to this sharp exchange between son and mother.

She felt even more uncomfortable as she suddenly found herself the focus of those pale green eyes. ‘So we meet yet again, Dr Winston,’ Luke bit out dryly.

Making it obvious that, if there were any pleasure in this meeting, it certainly wasn’t on his side!

Well, she had news for him; it wasn’t on hers, either. She had decided through the week as, in fairness to Rachel, she’d weighed up the pros and cons of writing her biography that any pros she might be able to find were far outweighed by Luke Richmond’s complete aversion to the project. After all, as the other woman’s son, he would be one of Leonie’s main sources of research. A very uncooperative source!

She met his gaze unblinkingly. ‘So we do,’ she returned evenly. ‘In fact, you’re just in time to—’

‘You really have been very naughty, Luke,’ his mother admonished with light reproval. ‘In fact, I do believe you’ve succeeded in frightening poor Leonie off writing my biography.’

‘Really?’ Luke murmured with amusement, shooting Leonie a mocking glance before lowering his long length into one of the armchairs. ‘Good,’ he added with satisfaction.

Leonie had stiffened resentfully by this time, glaring across at the obviously self-satisfied Luke Richmond. ‘Frightened her off’, indeed! She didn’t like Luke Richmond, or his arrogance, but she most certainly was not frightened of him!

She turned to smile at Rachel. ‘I don’t believe I actually said that,’ she said dryly.

‘As good as,’ the other woman dismissed impatiently. ‘It really is too bad of you, Luke.’ She frowned across at her son, who looked totally unrepentant at the accusation. In fact, a cat that had just lapped up the cream better described his expression of self-satisfaction!

‘No, Rachel, you’re wrong,’ Leonie put in firmly. ‘I was merely pointing out the drawbacks of such a biography, not refusing to write it,’ she told the actress determinedly. ‘In fact, it might be rather fun, at that,’ she added dryly.

‘Fun!’ Luke echoed harshly, no longer relaxing back in his chair but sitting forward tensely as he glared across at Leonie. ‘This isn’t some damned game!’ he added furiously.

Leonie was well aware of that, but if Rachel was determined to do it anyway… ‘Tell me, Rachel—’ she turned to the older woman ‘—if I don’t agree to work with you on this, are you going to ask someone else to do it?’

The other woman met her gaze levelly for several long seconds, her gaze searching. ‘I do believe I am,’ she finally answered slowly.

‘That’s what I thought.’ Leonie nodded before looking across at Luke. ‘Which would you prefer, Luke—me, or some other biographer you don’t actually know?’

‘You already know the answer to that—neither option is acceptable to me!’ he ground out harshly.

‘But given a choice?’ she persisted.

‘But I’m not being given a choice, am I?’ he snapped, standing up impatiently. ‘You can go as far with this as you want to, Mother,’ he bit out harshly, ‘but I want nothing to do with it!’

Rachel winced. ‘There’s really no need to shout, Luke,’ she admonished gently.

His mouth had thinned into an angry line, fists clenched at his sides. ‘I’d like to do more than shout,’ he told her unnecessarily, the violence he was repressing easily discernible. ‘But you’ve already made it more than obvious that I would be wasting my time,’ he added disgustedly. ‘I think I will be away this weekend, after all!’ He turned to look at Leonie with glacial eyes. ‘I hope you know what you’re letting yourself in for!’ came his parting shot as he strode forcefully from the room, closing the door behind him with suppressed fury.

‘Oh, dear,’ Rachel sighed wearily. ‘I really do seem to have upset him this time. He never calls me "Mother” unless he’s really displeased with me,’ she confided at Leonie’s questioning look.

Was it any wonder Luke felt as he did? Surely Rachel must know what this proposed biography was doing to him, couldn’t have been left in any doubts, after this last exchange, how Luke felt about Rachel’s involvement in this biography?

A biography Leonie now seemed to have committed herself to writing…

How had that happened? She had come here today for the sole purpose of telling Rachel she couldn’t be involved. Had intended politely, but firmly, turning down the other woman’s offer. But somehow that didn’t seem to be what she had actually done…!

Leonie moistened her lips. ‘Rachel,’ she began slowly, ‘I don’t wish to appear rude, but—’ She broke off as the older woman began to laugh huskily. ‘Did I say something amusing?’ She gave a quizzical frown.

‘Not really.’ The actress sobered slightly, giving a reassuring squeeze of Leonie’s arm before moving to press the bell beside the fireplace. ‘I’ll order us some fresh coffee. In the meantime…’ she smiled ‘…you can ask me whether or not I deliberately engineered that situation just now so that you would find yourself in the position—obviously against your better judgement!—of being committed to writing my biography. That was what you were about to ask me, wasn’t it, Leonie?’ She arched teasing brows.

That was exactly what she had been about to ask! But now she knew she didn’t need to bother—it was all too obvious that was exactly what Rachel had done, making Leonie aware that she had better re-evaluate her previous opinion of Rachel.

Oh, she didn’t doubt that the other woman was as warm and friendly as she appeared. There was no doubting her natural beauty, even in her seventies, either. But that guileless expression that Leonie had taken for openness of character wasn’t all that it appeared to be; Rachel was more than capable of practising a deception, or manoeuvring a situation, to suit her own ends. In fact, there was more of a likeness between mother and son than she had previously realised!

Although that realisation didn’t change the outcome of what she had just done. Because there was no way, without giving Luke Richmond the satisfaction of believing she was indeed frightened of him, that she could back out of this commitment.

The fact that Rachel now looked very like her son had a few minutes ago, like the cat who had lapped up all the cream, did nothing to assuage Leonie’s feelings of unease…

’This is a nice surprise, darling,’ her grandfather told her warmly as she joined him in his Devonshire garden a short time later, busy in the greenhouse with the seedlings he had grown ready for late-spring planting. ‘I have all too little female company since your grandmother died last year,’ he added wistfully.

Leonie, despite returning his smile affectionately, felt a little guilty for her own lack of visits during the last few months, aware that it was over five weeks since she had last driven down to see him.

He looked as robust as usual, though, his brushed-back hair a thick iron-grey, his over-six-feet frame still as wiry as ever, the tweed jacket and brown trousers he had on for gardening having previously been what he’d worn during his university lecturing days, a post he had stepped down from over ten years ago to retire to his beloved Devon. Unfortunately, as he had said, her grandmother had died the previous year, leaving him very much on his own…

He frowned vaguely. ‘I hope I have something that I can give you for lunch…’

‘Cheese melted on toast will do me just fine,’ she assured him, tucking her arm into the crook of his as they went out into the garden to sit beneath the apple tree, where Leonie had placed the tray of tea things she had prepared on her way through the house. ‘You really should lock the cottage door,’ she told her grandfather ruefully as he looked at the laden tray. ‘Anyone could just walk in.’

‘I wouldn’t call you just anyone, my darling,’ he teased as he watched her pour the tea. ‘Besides, anyone could get in anyway, if they were determined enough, Leonie, locked door or no,’ he defended lightly as she shot him a reproving look.

He was right, of course. But that didn’t mean she didn’t worry about him down here in Devon all on his own. Although she knew he wouldn’t thank her for fussing.

A noted historian in his own right, he had continued to lecture until he was well into his sixties, had always been a voice of authority that was listened to, by his students and colleagues alike.

Luke Richmond had asked her what she was trying to prove by becoming a historian like her grandfather. She wasn’t trying to prove anything; she just respected and loved her grandfather very much. The fact that she had also known her choice of career would please him immensely had come into it, of course, but it wasn’t the whole story…

’So, to what do I owe the honour of this visit?’ he prompted once they both had a cup of tea. “’Just passing” won’t pass muster, I’m afraid,’ he added dryly.

Obviously not, but by driving to Rachel Richmond’s house in Hampshire earlier this morning she had already been almost halfway here; it had seemed only logical to make the rest of the drive to her grandfather’s home in Devon. Besides, for the past week she had wanted to ask him about something…

‘It’s so relaxing here.’ She sighed happily, resting back in her garden chair, birds singing in the trees, the wild flowers already in abundance in the well-cared-for cottage garden that was her grandfather’s pride and joy.

‘It is.’ He too looked around them with satisfaction. ‘How’s your young man?’ he prompted interestedly.

Leonie smiled at the description; at thirty-two Jeremy could hardly be called that. Although, probably to her grandfather, in his eightieth year, that did seem young!

‘Fine,’ she answered dismissively. ‘He’s away on some computer course or other this weekend,’ she added helpfully.

‘Ah. At a bit of a loose end, are you?’ Her grandfather nodded understandingly, blue eyes twinkling teasingly beneath bushy iron-grey brows.

‘Grandfather!’ Leonie chided laughingly. ‘You make it sound as if I only came to see you because I have nothing better to do this weekend!’

‘That’s how it should be with old fogies like me,’ he assured her seriously. ‘Enjoy your life, Leonie, with people your own age. That’s the way it should be. Despite what your mother may tell you to the contrary,’ he added dryly.

They shared a conspiratorial smile; as an only child, Leonie was expected, by her mother at least, to telephone her parents at least once a week, and to visit them in Cornwall once a month. Thank heavens her grandfather was just pleased to see her, no matter how long it had been since her last visit.

‘Actually, I was in Hampshire earlier this morning,’ she began slowly, still not quite sure how to broach this subject when her grandfather had never mentioned it himself. ‘I believe I met an old acquaintance of yours there…? At least, he seemed convinced the two of you had met.’

‘Really?’ her grandfather prompted interestedly before taking a sip of his tea.

‘Yes. You didn’t tell me your social life now involved screenwriters,’ she added lightly, grey eyes glowing teasingly.

He gave a perplexed frown. ‘I’m not sure…’

‘Luke Richmond,’ Leonie told him questioningly; she had far from forgotten the fact that the other man had claimed to have spoken to her grandfather concerning his biography.

Her grandfather looked blank for a moment, and then his brow cleared. ‘Ah—Luke Richmond!’ he repeated knowingly. ‘A rather dour young man as I recall…’ He nodded. ‘How on earth did you come to meet him, darling? Or has your own social life now moved into the world of the movies?’ he added teasingly.

‘Oh, no, you don’t, Grandfather!’ Leonie dismissed laughingly—although she couldn’t say she disagreed with his summing up of Luke Richmond’s nature! ‘I know exactly what you’re doing,’ she assured him wryly, ‘and I’m not going to be distracted. Why didn’t you tell any of us that you had been approached with the suggestion of writing the screenplay of your life?’

He grimaced. ‘Can you imagine your mother’s reaction to that?’ he scorned.

Leonie had no illusions about her mother, knew she was a complete snob—and she had not been at all happy the previous year when Leonie’s book on her father-in-law had come into print.

‘I can,’ she acknowledged dryly. ‘But even so… You could have told me, Grandfather,’ she admonished, giving him a playfully reproachful glance.

Her grandfather grinned, suddenly looking quite boyish. ‘What on earth were you doing in Hampshire this morning with Luke Richmond?’

Leonie looked at him searchingly, trying to gauge his reaction, but her grandfather was turned slightly away from her, making this difficult.

‘I wasn’t exactly with him,’ she said slowly. ‘I—he was a guest at the home of the person I was visiting.’

For some reason, after coming all this way to see her grandfather, Leonie now found herself reluctant to discuss Rachel Richmond with him. Or the fact that she had been stupid enough to be tricked into writing the other woman’s memoirs.

Her grandfather nodded. ‘He seemed like a very capable young man when I met him.’

‘If a little dour,’ she reminded dryly.

Her grandfather shrugged. ‘Only to be expected, I suppose. It can’t have been much of a life for him,’ he added softly. ‘Living in his mother’s shadow, I mean,’ he added at Leonie’s continued silence, turning to give her a rueful grimace.

No, it can’t have been easy for Luke all these years, Leonie acknowledged heavily. By agreeing to write Rachel’s book, she was about to make Luke’s lot in life all the harder to bear!