Devika Fernando's Blog, page 26

#FreeDailyRead - Forbidden, Book 4 (Lady Sotheby's Curse) - Part 9

Jayne resisted the urge to look at the peephole and stepped nervously from one foot to the other. He knees trembled. She balled her hands into fists inside her pockets, wanting to keep them out of sight because they were shaking.
​
When the door finally opened, she found herself looking at a young blonde with short hair, holding a baby, its pudgy face red from crying. The woman in baggy, worn clothes frowned at Jayne, clearly confused, and looked her up and down.

“You forget your key?” she asked in English, her accent sounding Eastern European. She did a double take, looking Jayne up and down, her gaze stopping above Jayne’s forehead. “Your hair...”

“I’m not Celeste,” Jayne said quickly, forcing herself to smile and breathe a little easier. “I’m Jayne, her twin sister.”

The blonde—was she a nanny?—looked even more surprised now. “I did not know Celeste had twin sister!”


The baby let out a small cry, gazing at Jayne with big, shiny, blue eyes. For a moment, Jayne found herself scanning his features for any similarity with Celeste, finding none. “He’s adorable,” Jayne said sincerely, then focused her gaze back on the girl. “Do you know when she’ll be back?”

Jiggling the squirming baby on her hip, the nanny continued to stare at Jayne, mouth open and offering a glimpse of gum she’d forgotten to chew in her confusion.

“Soon,” she finally answered.

“Do you mind if I come in and wait?” Jayne tried another smile.

“Uh…sure, I guess this will be okay.” She grinned, still looking stunned. “You are Celeste’s sister, after all!”
 
* * *

A few minutes later, Jayne was sitting in the living room with a cup of filter coffee and making halting small talk with Oliwia, who Jayne had learned was Celeste’s nanny from Poland. Her gaze kept returning to the silently staring baby being rocked by the nanny, although the apartment itself was interesting to behold, too. It was exactly as she’d have expected it, elegantly furnished with old wood, soft leather and expensive rugs. The windows let in a lot of light, and the gold-rimmed cup with flower patterns in Jayne’s hand looked like it cost a fortune—and that made the mess in the place even more shocking and incongruent. For the costly furniture was littered with baby items of all sorts, some astonishingly soiled. Whatever space was not occupied by pacifiers, diapers, stuffed toys, baby bottles and blankets was taken by clothes of all kinds.

Celeste was apparently working part-time at a Paris fashion design house, which explained the haphazardly strewn-around clothes. But why this mess when there was a nanny? Did Celeste simply not care? Was this some sort of rebellion? Was Oliwia too lazy or not paid for housework? Why live like this?

Not for the first time today, Jayne wondered if and how her sister had changed. She’d find out soon enough, as Celeste was supposed to be home any minute.

All too soon, there was the sound of the lock turning in the front door.
Jayne’s cup rattled in her saucer, and she set it down on one of the few free spaces on the coffee table, straightening up. Suddenly, the airy room seemed to close in on her, making it difficult to breathe.

When Celeste entered and moved straight towards the kitchen, Oliwia called out, “We are in living room!”

Celeste walked through the door carrying a portfolio under her arm. When her gaze fell on Jayne, she slowly came to a stop, a wide range of emotions crossing her face in a matter of a second or two. Shock, anger, confusion, resentment...and then, surprisingly, a smile.

Jayne didn’t know whether Celeste felt it or not, but the mysterious “twin connection” she had mentioned to Rob was real, at least for her. For this very moment, despite all the stress and separation, despite her reason for coming here, an answering smile lifted her own lips, and her heart gave a small leap. And Jayne learned once and for all what she’d been suspecting all along—it was impossible to truly hate your twin over the long term. That person may have been a separate human being, but she still felt like a part of you. It would be like hating your own arm.

Jayne was out of her chair before she’d realized it, taking a step towards her sister.

“Celeste…I…I’m sorry for just showing up without calling, but I didn’t have your phone number...and…”

“It’s all right,” Celeste said in her posh, slightly British accent, the smile still on her face.

At that moment, Jayne remembered the thrilling yet almost surreal time they had first met last summer, when it seemed as if she was listening to a recording of her own voice.

The baby made an eager “ma” sound and Celeste set down her portfolio to take her son in her arms.

Many times in the past few months, Jayne had wondered whether Celeste would be a good mother. Would she be one of those spoiled brats and career women who had no idea how to even hold a bundle of stinky poop crying its heart out, or would the tiny newcomer have softened her and activated some mysterious mother instinct? The latter seemed more accurate, though Jayne knew she shouldn’t judge a moment that may well have been choreographed for her benefit.

Celeste cradled her baby close, apparently not caring a bit that he was drooling all over her expensive navy-blue jacket. She wore it with a matching pencil skirt and white blouse that had a ruffled collar. She let the infant’s little pudgy hands tug on her hair, which was a tiny bit longer than Jayne remembered it, and without the blonde highlights.

Oliwia was smart enough to understand they might want to talk alone, for she retreated towards the kitchen and asked if she could make them something to eat.

Jayne stood hovering close to her sister, watching her and the child silently, not sure whether she wanted to stay.

“Yes, that would be great,” Celeste said. “Make one of your Caesar salads.” She used the same commanding tone Jayne remembered from a year ago, not really sounding as if she were friends with the girl who cared for her baby.

Jayne said, “I’m…uh…actually, I can’t stay long and I already had a bite to eat, but thanks.” The truth was, Jayne’s appetite was back and was so intense she could have gnawed off one of the door handles, but she did not want to linger here.

“Nonsense. You’ve come all this way...” Celeste waved her hand much in the same way that Jayne remembered their mother doing it, and again she was torn between conflicting emotions. Oliwia left the room.

Celeste said, “So, what brings you to Paris?” as if Jayne was in the French capital on some other business and had decided to drop in for a visit.

Jayne blinked, searching for the right answer and wondering how Celeste could sound so calm. Did her sister know that she and Rob were living together in Oxford? Did she suspect that Jayne had come now, after all this time, for a specific reason? If she had sent the blackmail letter, she was cool as a cucumber, and a far better actress than Jayne would have thought.

Jayne focused on the baby again, sitting on his mother’s knees with his thumb tucked into his mouth. He stared alternately at Celeste and her. Did he, on some intuitive level, realize how alike the two of them looked?

“I’m actually here because of you,” Jayne said truthfully, after the silence had stretched to breaking point. “I’ve been worried about you and just wanted to make sure you and...” She glanced at the baby again. “I don’t know his name.”

“Liam. I named him after my father—I mean, my stepfather.”

“Liam is a wonderful name,” Jayne said, sending a smile the toddler’s way, which made him suck his thumb even harder. “Anyway, I just wanted to make sure you and your son were all right.”

For a moment, she wasn’t sure whether her sister would buy the lie. The silence was punctuated by Oliwia banging and clanging around in the kitchen, humming to herself, almost as if she knew they had important things to talk about and she shouldn’t eavesdrop.

“That’s very nice of you,” Celeste finally said. She lifted Liam and placed him on a blanket on the floor, where he grabbed an enormous, fluffy, blue teddy bear.

Crossing her legs and smiling at her again, Celeste started talking animatedly about how great she was doing now, working her way up from the bottom in fashion design.

Jayne listened with rapt attention as her sister explained how having the child had changed her for the better, brushing a hand over the boy’s brown tufts of hair. She had become much more grounded and responsible. She leaned forward, insisting earnestly that she was not the same person Jayne had met last summer, then told her again how happy she was to have her here for a visit.

Jayne was having a very hard time believing that Celeste had sent the letter. Either Celeste was the world’s greatest actress, worthy of a whole shelf of Oscars, or she was completely innocent.

Celeste gazed at Jayne with an expression that was both pained and distant at the same time. “She wasn’t all bad, you know.”

“I know,” Jayne said softly. Celeste was talking about Eleanor.

Her expression brightened and she looked down at little Liam’s face again. “I have to admit, she was right about one thing—those bad boys are losers.” Celeste gave Jayne a sour glance. “Right after Mom died, I was desperate, and I contacted André...what a mistake that was!”

“André?” Jayne sat up a little straighter.

“André Gaillard,” Celeste said distastefully. “Liam’s father.” She whispered these last words as if the baby might understand.

Jayne vaguely remembered that André Gaillard was the young man that the paparazzi had caught Jayne frolicking with on the beach in Saint Tropez, and how mad Eleanor had gotten when the photo appeared in the tabloid. She also remembered what Rob had told her about André Gaillard—that he was the son of a French movie star, throwing his dad’s money out of the window by living a reckless life and constantly getting drunk. He’d even been arrested several times.

“André wanted nothing to do with me or his son, said I was ‘stupid’ for having the baby, for wasting my great body and money and whole life on a ‘useless brat.’” Celeste cringed at these words but beamed at her child. “That’s when I realized what an asshole he truly was. Liam is truly a gift from God.”

She paused, shooting another adoring glance at her precious baby. “Now I’m dating a nice, quiet, reliable French lawyer. He’s got far more money than I do so I don’t have to worry about that issue. I wish he could live with us, but there are a few things to be ironed out before that’s possible. He’s quite a bit older...he reminds me a lot of my stepfather, actually. And he’s being a great father to Liam, too.”

Celeste paused and looked at Jayne. “Are you and Rob living together now?”

Jayne tensed. Here we go, she thought.

“We are, yes.” She held her breath, studying her sister’s face closely for any signs of resentment.

Nothing. Just another happy smile as she tugged Liam’s thumb out of his mouth with the casual watchfulness of all mothers.

“I figured as much,” Celeste said. “I’m glad it worked out for the two of you. I think you and Rob make a great couple—a far better one that he and I would have made, I’m sure.” At Jayne’s look of surprise, she nodded. “I have no problem admitting that now. You can believe me when I say I’ve changed.” She gave Jayne a warm smile.

They were interrupted by Oliwia poking her head into the room. “The salads are ready,” she announced. Liam made an enthusiastic circular motion at her, wiggling his arms, opening and closing his hands, cooing. At a nod from Celeste, the nanny came to take him into her arms and walk back into the kitchen.

“I really can’t stay to eat,” Jayne said glancing at her watch, torn between wanting to hear more about Celeste and little Liam—she had not processed the heady fact that now she was an aunt—and needing to get to the truth. “I have…urgent commitments in England and need to catch the next flight back.”

Her sister nodded and rose gracefully, absentmindedly kicking a few toys into a corner so she wouldn’t step on them.

“Thanks so much for coming, Jayne.” She held out her hands, and Jayne rose from the couch to take them. “I hope someday we can all be friends—you, Rob, Nicolas and I—and spend some quality time with Liam and maybe your own child.”

At a loss for how to react, Jayne settled on a smile of her own and a nod. They clasped hands, not really embracing but squeezing each other’s fingers, an unspoken message passing between them.

Celeste wasn’t the blackmailer, Jayne was ninety-nine percent sure of that. “Before I go, I would like to ask you something else, if you don’t mind...”

“Yes?” Celeste said, cocking her head and for one brief moment reminding Jayne of their mother and her cool poise.

“I was just wondering if you told anybody the details of what happened last summer.”

“About Mother?”

“Well, about me impersonating you.”

Celeste frowned. “No, I haven’t told anyone.”

“Oliwia doesn’t know?”

“No, of course not.”

“Not even Nicolas?” Jayne watched her sister closely for telltale clues.
“No, not even him. Why would I talk about any of that? It’s not something I’m proud of or want to remember. Surely you don’t go around spilling the beans to all and sundry either.”

Jayne shrugged, but couldn’t hide the anxiety she felt. “The problem is, someone seems to have found out and they’re... causing some trouble for Rob. We don’t know who it is.”

Celeste seemed bothered by this, her expression growing serious. “What kind of trouble?” She read the sick look on Jayne’s face. “No—don’t tell me blackmail.”

“Yes.”

Celeste looked shocked. “Well, I haven’t breathed a word to anybody. Not a soul.”

“Are you absolutely sure?” Jayne asked, noticing that she’d hesitated slightly.

“Well, I was just thinking of André...but I didn’t say anything to him about that, I’m positive.”

“You’re certain...”

“Of course I’m certain. We only talked the one time and it was a very short conversation, believe me.”
 

Chapter 11
 
As soon as Jayne was downstairs on the street and a safe distance away from Celeste’s building, she called Robert. When the phone on the other end started ringing, she realized she had forgotten the time difference again. It was six o’clock now, and must be late at night in China.

When Robert answered, he sounded exhausted. She apologized for calling him so late, but he couldn’t have cared less—he was far too interested to know what had happened with Celeste.

Jayne summarized the meeting as succinctly as she could. When she reached the end, where she questioned Celeste about André Gaillard and said that she felt that Celeste was lying about not telling him anything, Robert said, “But that makes perfect sense!” She could all but hear the wheels inside his head turning. “If André Gaillard knows about what went on last summer, he’ll see it as the perfect opportunity to get some money out of the whole thing. I’ve heard a lot about that bloke. His movie-star father has basically disowned him, completely cut him off financially. That’s your motivation right there. The guy is skint, there’s no doubt about it.”

Skint meant flat broke, one of Robert’s pet expressions.

It did make sense to Jayne. She said, “And he’s been in trouble with the police before, hasn’t he? I think I remember you saying—”

“Yes, yes, absolutely! His criminal tendencies are no secret—he’s been arrested before, he’s a low-life.”

As Jayne continued to hold the phone to her ear, she crossed the street, seeing the metro sign not far away. The late afternoon sun shone down on Paris and gave it that special glow she remembered from her first visit, which had been under such different circumstances.

Robert actually sounded excited now—he seemed sure they had found the blackmailer. “Jayne, I’m glad you went to your sister’s place and that you have that oh-so mysterious twin sense.” She actually heard that familiar smile in his voice now. “I can forward this information to Schröder tomorrow morning—oh, hell, I’ll call the bugger right now, I’m paying him enough! He’ll track that worthless punter André down in no time, hopefully before he has a chance to think to send another letter to us. Schröder is in Cyprus at the moment, still investigating the trail of the first payment. I’ve been waiting for him to report back.”

Jayne could hear rustling sounds—she guessed that Robert was in bed. She pictured him sitting up, with his strong manly shoulders. Was he wearing only pajama bottoms? Sleeping in his boxers? Was his hair all mussed up, perfect to run her fingers through and tug him close for a kiss? Longing cut off her voice for a moment.

“As soon as you call Schröder, get some sleep please.”

“I will.”

“Promise?”

“Yes,” he sighed. Now he sounded exhausted.

“Rob, I’m so sorry about this whole—”

“Jayne, if you tell me one more time that you’re sorry and you think it’s all your fault, I swear I’ll cut the call right now.”

His tone was only half-joking, and Jayne closed her mouth. She approached the metro hall and checked the signboard, unsure which line would take her to the airport.

“Are you headed back to the airport now?” Rob asked.

“Yes, I should be back in Oxford sometime in the wee hours of the morning. When will I see you?”

Another sigh. “I’ve been meaning to tell you…I can’t make it home this weekend. With all the stuff taking up part of my time, I have some catching up at work to do.” He paused. “I’m sorry, darling. I miss you terribly.”

With a lump in her throat, Jayne told herself again to hang on, that this mess would all resolve itself soon. Now they had a solid lead. “I miss you too, Rob. But I understand. We’ll talk tomorrow. I’ll send you a message when I’m home safe and sound.”

“Please do. Take care of yourself, Jayne. And be extra careful, now that we know a man is behind this, especially one who may be a bit desperate.”

Read Part 8 here.

​Don't want to wait? Pre-order the book now (release date is June 30th)!

Featured - Book Club Spotlight for "The Wrong Turn" by Sanjay Chopra and Namita Roy Ghose

 

THE WRONG TURN:Love and Betrayal in the Time of NetajibySanjay Chopra & Namita Roy Ghose


Blurb
1944, Kohima — a small, sleepy town in northeast India. Subhash Chandra Bose and his Indian National Army (INA) along with the Japanese, are on the brink of bringing the Empire to its knees and forcing the British out of India. But, inexplicably, the tables turn. The INA’s advance is thwarted and the victory march to Delhi is halted. Seventy years later, the British admit that the Battle of Kohima was the greatest battle they had ever fought. Even more so than the battles of Waterloo and Dunkirk. Was it then that old Indian curse — betrayal? Someone from within Netaji’s own ranks? Were there forces other than the British, waiting in the shadows closer to home, who stood to gain even more from the INA’s defeat? Or was it just love that irrevocably altered the course of India’s destiny? The Wrong Turn: Love and Betrayal in the Time of Netaji, is a sweeping tale of passion set against the freedom struggle. Debraj, the rakish playboy and scion of a distinguished Calcutta family, and Nishonko, the fiery revolutionary sworn to the cause of the INA, must not only fight their common enemy, but also for the love of Aditi, the rebel with the healing touch. A haunting tale of love, friendship and betrayal of an entire nation, The Wrong Turn veers inexorably towards a poignant redemption.
Grab your copy @
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About the authors

“The Wrong Turn is a story that traverses the cities of Calcutta, Singapore, Rangoon and Kohima caught up in the blaze of the Second World War. It is about the clash of four desperate forces as they come together in Kohima to vie for the brightest jewel in the crown -- India. Victory will come to those who possess not just the coldest steel but even colder hearts.”
SANJAY CHOPRA is an airline pilot and author of two collections of short stories.  Said and Done and Tailspin stories . He believes that his  office forty thousand feet in the sky and his travels provide him with a view that fuels his vivid storytelling that cuts a wide arc through time and space.
His stories have won the Invisible Ink, the Millennium writers and Southport awards in the UK and USA. In the words of his readers, ‘He is a storyteller like those of the old days, yet his stories are as modern as tomorrow.
He lives in Mumbai with his wife Tisca Chopra, an actress and he is currently working on a film script and a web series. 


You can stalk him @
      
                 

Follow the Authors of The Wrong Turn @ Pinterest

  

“This was a story waiting to be told. So much about Netaji was smoke and mirrors, partial views foisted on us by the British and other vested interests. Here was a man who was a personal hero, who was part of the lore of my childhood. And here was a chance to set the narrative straight - through the lens of a very human yet universal story of love.”

During a school project on ‘The most memorable day of my life’, NAMITA ROY GHOSE wrote about a Russian girl on the day WW2 ended. She got her first rejection slip from the teacher for making things up. Ever since, Namita has established her storytelling skills through her scriptwriting, screenplays poetry, fiction, legendary advertising campaigns, and as a renowned advertising film director. A Creative Director with HTA, she left after 13 years to start her own film company, White Light, one of India’s top ad film outfits. A social activist, she is the founder of Vanashakti, an NGO that works to protect the environment. Namita has done pro bono work on issues like domestic violence, child welfare, sexual harassment and forest preservation. She is an avid traveller, a photographer, foodie and teacher.
      You can stalk her @ 
                            
   Praise for the book

Vidya Balan:  "I like historical fiction. This one is just gripping, racing along like a thriller. I am sure people will love it and I wish Namita and Sanjay all the best for the book".
Shekhar Gupta: “Gripping reading. This is one writer duo with story-telling imagination and uncluttered turn of phrase”.
Jug Suraiya: “A sweeping saga of war, love and betrayal, set at a climactic point of India’s fight for freedom”.
Lord Meghnad Desai: “An absorbing and indeed thrilling story of one of the most crucial events in India’s history”.
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Box Sets & Bargains

All good things come in threes...which is why I've decided to offer my three royal romances in one box set at a special discounted price! If you buy the box set that was released today, you save 3 bucks compared to buying each eBook separately.

Amazon buy link: http://mybook.to/royalboxset This bargain box set contains three full-length novels, also separately published as Book 1, Book 2 and Book 3 of the Romancing the Royals Series.

3 irresistible princes - 3 extraordinary women who turn their lives upside down

Book 1 - The Prince's Special Bride

Marie doesn’t believe in fairytales and needs no handsome prince to rescue her from misery – but everything changes when she falls in love with Crown Prince Christian of Taragonia. When his sister invites Marie to the palace, their lives collide and leave them both fighting their forbidden attraction.

Prince Christian has no place in his life for love or for a woman who doesn’t fit into the royal scheme of things. But vivacious Marie steals his heart and puts all he has lived for at stake. When the media gets wind of their affair, he has to make a difficult decision.

Will the unlikely couple have a chance at a happy ending?

Book 2 - The Prince's Stubborn Bride

Princess Olivia has just lost her husband. She is all alone in a foreign kingdom in desperate need of a ruler who can make it prosper again. Prince Sebastian is the only one who can help her prevent an uprising – but he has a reputation for being a loner and a rebel. Can she trust him when it seems that everyone else has a hidden agenda?

Prince Sebastian of Visteria once vowed to stay away from all royal obligations, but there’s no way he’ll leave his brother’s young widow in the claws of scheming ministers fighting to bring the monarchy to its downfall and ruin the people’s future. What he hasn’t counted on is the instant attraction sparking between the two of them.

Is a happy ending possible for these two royals who are too blind to realize they’re made for each other?

Book 3 - The Prince's Surprise Bride

When Jessica is accidentally involved in the kidnapping of the Crown Prince of Eirik, her life turns upside down. Not only does she start questioning everything she has taken for granted, but she also falls head over heels in love with the charming Norse royal. Reality returns with a vengeance after their short but exhilarating time together, and Jessica is forced to bury all hopes for a love-filled fairytale and fight for her future as well as her ailing father’s health. But then Prince Erik makes her an offer too good to refuse. Should she listen to her heart or her head?

Prince Erik has always put his kingdom before himself, but that changes when fate tempts him with this amazing woman from Germany. He is determined to win Jessica over, even if it means opening up old wounds. When push comes to shove and not only his heart but also his country is at stake, will he find the strength to make love overcome all obstacles thrown into their path?

More Box Sets Did you know that there are two other box sets of my books available?

Once bitten, twice shy… What if life threw a second chance at love your way?

This set contains two books at a special discount price that can be read as separate, stand-alone romance novels with a happy ending: Kaleidoscope of Hopes & When I See Your Face.

You can download the second chance romance set (sweet & clean) here. ​
​The special bargain set below contains two full-length multicultural romance novels for the price of one.
The ebooks are also separately available as SAVED IN SRI LANKA and SEDUCED IN SPAIN, Books 1 and 2 of the Romance Round the World Series.

You can download the ebook here - or treat yourself to the paperback, which is also available on Amazon.
And don't forget: I have a new release coming out on June 30th - Book 4 of the Forbidden romantic suspense series coauthored with Mike Wells, titled Lady Sotheby's Curse. Pre-order links here!

#FreeDailyRead - Forbidden, Book 4 (Lady Sotheby's Curse) - Part 8

Chapter 9
 
At nine a.m. Friday morning, Jayne was sitting at the desk in the restaurant office taking small bites off a sandwich. The workmen were out in the dining area, making the usual horrendous noise while they installed new moldings all around the room. Jayne had decided not to call Celeste in advance, but to simply show up at her apartment, with no advance warning and no time to prepare.

She forced the sandwich bites down with shop-bought coffee in a paper cup she was clutching too hard in her hand. Her emotions were all over the place, and all the ruckus wasn’t helping things.

What would Jayne find in Paris? How would her twin sister react to her? They hadn’t seen each other since the height of the scandal last summer, or since Eleanor had died. Would the past come crashing back with full force now that it had hooked its foot in between the door and the frame?

And how would Beatrice react to her suddenly leaving for a day? Would she buy Jayne’s vague reason for having to be gone?

Fear clogged her throat and made the forced-down breakfast want to crawl back out. On top of all this worry, she had no idea how to actually tackle the meeting with Celeste, the exact words she would use to breach the subject of blackmail. That was a very serious matter to accuse someone of, even indirectly.

Jayne heard the front door of the restaurant open and set the butt of the sandwich back in its wrapper, waiting.

Beatrice breezed into the office, her arms filled with cardboard boxes stacked several feet high. She pulled the door shut, drowning out only a smidgen of the perpetual noise.

Jayne watched her go through her calm, measured ritual of removing her jacket, straightening her unruffled hair, folding the leather gloves she loved to wear, and setting her Louis Vuitton handbag neatly on a surface she dusted first. As usual, Beatrice was a picture of sophistication, somehow managing to elegantly sit down on a cardboard box as if it were an antique armchair of polished mahogany.

When they said good morning to each other, Jayne tried to return Beatrice’s smile, knowing she had failed when the woman arched her neatly trimmed eyebrows.

She sat down at her little desk and opened her tablet computer, but then looked back at Jayne’s face. “You look as if you’ve had another sleepless night.”

Jayne sat up straighter. “Actually, I need to ask a favor of you, Beatrice, and to tell you the truth, I’m a little uneasy about it.”

Beatrice set the tablet aside, focusing full attention on her, looking a little uneasy herself.

Jayne wet her dry lips and pushed on. “It’s something personal… I…a kind of family emergency has come up in Paris, and I’m needed there as soon as possible. I was wondering whether you could hold the fort on your own? Just for one day?”

For a brief moment, she saw something flicker across Beatrice’s face that could have been anger or disappointment or even exasperation. Then her features smoothed out again and only a slightly cool undertone in her voice betrayed her surprise. “You still have family in Paris?”

“Yes.”

“I had no idea.” Like everyone else, Beatrice only knew that Celeste Sotheby had disappeared after Robert had practically left her standing at the altar, but nothing more, not even that Celeste had been pregnant. Since Eleanor was dead, Jayne had no more family in Paris, so it was no wonder that Beatrice was surprised.

“It’s a close friend of my family,” Jayne said.

Beatrice clearly wanted to know more, but Jayne planned to leave it at that, and she barreled on. “I know this is the worst possible time to be gone even for a day, and I hate to leave you hanging, but there’s absolutely no other way. I really need to be in Paris this afternoon to sort this problem out.”

Beatrice’s eyes widened. “This afternoon?”

“Yes. That is, if it’s okay with you. I already made the reservations—I’ll be back late tonight.” The truth was, she had already bought the tickets. She was going to Paris, come hell or high water. She had to confront Celeste about this horrific blackmail letter.

Beatrice narrowed her eyes. “Is this what you’ve been so keyed up and distracted about?”

“Yes.”

With a sigh, Beatrice said, “Well, I hope it’s nothing too serious.”

“It’s just…it’s quite urgent. I’m sorry I can’t say more—it’s very personal.”
It felt awful being so vague, but at least it was the truth. And she hated herself for acting like she was Beatrice’s employee. She wasn’t an employee at all—she was the woman’s business partner, and an equal partner, at that! But she couldn’t help it, because she knew she wasn’t behaving the way a responsible business partner should.

There was a frown on Beatrice’s face, and it made Jayne’s gut clench. The woman glanced at her tablet before meeting Jayne’s gaze. “I’m sure you know we’re having the new gas stove installed in the kitchen this afternoon.”

“Yes, of course I know, but—”

“You should be here for that, Jayne. The kitchen is your domain.”

Jayne felt even worse. “I know, I know. But you’re an engineer, I was thinking that you’re better qualified to deal with the installation of a stove, anyway.”

Beatrice glanced at the fingers of one manicured hand, with its neat nails in the softest pink brushing over the hem of her tweed skirt. “I don’t like that, Jayne, you trying to justify your absence by stroking my ego.” For the first time, she saw the anger flaring beneath Beatrice’s composed veneer. “You know how important this is! We need to be ready for the private customer focus group dinner next week. Without that, we can’t finalize the menu before the grand opening!” She pointed a manicured finger at Jayne. “You’re the one who kept telling me how crucial this last phase is.”

Jayne just sat there. Beatrice was right. There was nothing to say. She had no defense.

After a long, uncomfortable moment, Beatrice let out a little groan and said, “I suppose a family problem can’t be helped.” She waved her hand towards the door. “Off you go, off you go.”

Jayne rose from her chair, relieved. “Thank you for understanding, Beatrice, I really appreciate it.”

Before she left the room, she turned and said, “I won’t let you down, Beatrice. I promise.”

“I certainly hope not,” Beatrice muttered.


Chapter 10
 
At three-thirty p.m., Jayne stepped out of Charles De Gaulle airport in Paris with a heavy heart and a mind working overtime. It had been a year since she’d last set foot in France, and she had planned to never return because it dredged up too many bad memories.

But this was the right thing to do. She had spent every minute of the train and taxi rides and flight here reconsidering her decision and reflecting on the untenable situation she was in, and she’d come to a frightening conclusion: If this blackmailer demanded more payments, she might lose Rob. If Celeste was the blackmailer, she had to put a stop to this.

Even though it had only been a few days since they received the first letter, there were already signs that it was weighing down their relationship. Whenever Robert called, he sounded busy, exhausted, serious, or all three at once. They hardly ever talked about anything but the blackmail problem now, and the usual cheerful, positive undertone in his voice was mostly gone. Rob was doing his best to find a solution to the problem, she knew, but it was evident he was also under tremendous stress, and she wasn’t sure how long he could find it in himself to not let the dreadful situation get to his heart. He had to be blaming her for it, at least a little bit—that was only human.

Lifting her head and jutting her chin out defiantly, Jayne exited the airport lobby and walked towards the taxi stand. As she would only be here in Paris for a day, she didn’t even bring a carry-on—she simply slung her messenger bag over her shoulder.

Remembering the French she had polished during her impersonation of Celeste, Jayne asked the taxi driver to take her into the city. She had memorized Celeste’s address and done a bit of research online. If Celeste was behind the blackmail letter, she would let her twin know that she wouldn’t get away with any further attempts, just as Rob had said he would do. She would make it clear that Rob would not give her more money, not another euro, and she’d make sure Celeste knew that she was lucky they hadn’t called the police.

Celeste lived in the sixième arrondisement of Paris, or sixth arrondisement as it would be called in English, and was sometimes known as Luxembourg, Faubourgh Saint German or Saint-Germain-des-Prés. The area was the home of a magnificent abbey constructed during the 6th century—the entire area was decidedly upscale, but that didn’t really surprise Jayne as the taxi cruised through it. She remembered that Celeste had mentioned a trust fund she could fall back on. This posh area south-west of the city center was popular for its peace and quiet, independent food stores and designer boutiques, and the beautiful Jardin du Luxembourg park.

With an odd mix of feelings, Jayne wondered whether Celeste took her baby to the park in a stroller, mingling with the high-society crowd. Would she disguise herself with a cap and sunglasses? Or was she bold and unafraid for people to know who she was, withdrawn enough from the social circles to have sunk completely into oblivion?

Jayne hadn’t eaten a bite since she’d forced down the cardboard-tasting sandwich in the morning, her nerves keeping her from doing more than gulping two cups of coffee and then guzzling water during the flight because her stomach was revolting. Now, it protested with gurgles as she tried to get her thoughts in order, gazing unseeingly out at the heavy traffic and glimpses of the Paris suburbs. She couldn’t for the life of her figure out what to say to her sister. When she showed up on her doorstep without warning, would Celeste simply close the door into her face and refuse to talk? What then? Or what if it was all a trap and Celeste had been waiting for Jayne or Robert to turn up at her place so she could do more damage?

By the time Jayne pulled herself out of her desperate thoughts she realized they were nearing Celeste’s part of the city, cruising along the River Seine.

As they traveled to the left bank and approached the sixième arrondisement, it became obvious that it was indeed one of the city’s most expensive neighborhoods. The French intelligentsia favored this area because of all its higher education institutions and publishing houses—and the world famous cafés like Les Deux Magots and Café de Flore certainly helped contribute to its popularity.

Many of the buildings looked old but newly renovated with immaculate little strips of lawn and wrought-iron gates. They passed the grand old building of the École des Beaux-Arts de Paris on the Rue Bonaparte, almost directly across the Seine from the famous Louvre Museum. As they drove past one elegant building after the other, Jayne marveled at how high the income of those living here must be. Still, there was no gaudy opulence. Instead, the area had an almost bohemian air to it. Odd as it was, Jayne would have felt at home here too if she’d had the means—and the thought gave her pause, because wasn’t that something she had in common with Celeste then?

Before she could analyze that, the taxi pulled to a stop in front of an endless row of similar-looking four-storied apartment buildings on the Rue Dauphin. The driver let loose a litany of rapid-fire French, and Jayne guessed more than understood that he said he wouldn’t be able to park here.

What now? Should she send him off in search of parking so he could wait for her? What if she got mired down and it took her hours get what she wanted out of Celeste? She couldn’t even be sure Celeste was home, but she knew that Celeste’s child was too young to be in a nursery school yet. She thought Celeste might employ a nanny.

“C’est combien?” she asked, frowning at the ungodly sum of money the driver demanded. She had no energy left for haggling, so she pushed the euros into his hand and got out.

Surreptitiously straightening her clothes—she’d dressed in beige pants and a pearl-colored Cashmere sweater, but opted against any jewelry—Jayne scanned the building front with its many identical windows with white shutters. The basement housed shops, but there was a narrow passageway leading to a central courtyard at the rear.

She walked to the main entrance of Celeste’s building and studied the bells with their neat name tags. There was no Celeste or Sotheby to be seen, but some of the name tags had been kept blank for privacy reasons.

Jayne fished her phone out of her pocket and double-checked the address and apartment number. She walked on shaky legs into the foyer and pressed 2 to take the elevator to the second floor. Hauling in a steadying breath, she rang the bell, hearing it peal faintly inside.

After a moment, she thought she could hear a baby crying. Then, a muffled thunk and shuffling footsteps that stopped close to the door. Was Celeste looking at her through the peephole? 

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Chapter 8
 
Changshu, China
 
Robert Astor loosened his tie, the elevator ride up to his hotel room seeming endless. It was as if the weight that had settled low in his stomach this morning was dragging him down, making the elevator go slower than usual.

Today was the day.

Time to pay the bloody blackmailer.

If it was Celeste Sotheby...well, he didn’t know what he would do.

He tugged at the tie’s knot, looking at his strained face in the elevator mirror, the movement of his hands so tense and angry that he nearly damaged the silk. With a sigh, he turned the material this way and that in his hands, willing himself to calm down. There wasn’t much he could do at this point, and he hated his helplessness. The private investigator still hadn’t been able to track Celeste down, so he had no choice but to wait for the instructions and make the transfer. Something told him that this problem wouldn’t go away so easily. What would come next? Another demand, perhaps for a higher amount? Threats to their lives?

His heart skipped a beat when he thought of Jayne, alone in the otherwise empty house. He sensed that she was a lot more frightened than she had let on.

He’d talked to her this morning, then again only an hour ago after he’d got permission from his boss to leave the factory early and be alone in his hotel room when he would receive the dreaded text message.

The elevator bell dinged, and a moment later it came to a stop on his floor. Robert walked out, striding quickly to his room and glancing at his watch. It was 1:50 when he slid his key card into the door and entered the room.
He set his briefcase down, shrugged his coat off because he suddenly felt sweaty and claustrophobic, and sat down at the desk by the window. For a moment, he stared unseeingly at the endless blue sky interrupted by a few jutting, glittery glass-fronted skyscrapers.

Hadn’t Jayne—and he—suffered enough? Why this new cruel injustice?

Taking a deep breath, Rob sprang into action again. Opening his laptop, he logged into his bank account. Not his checking account, but his savings account, where he kept his “nest egg.” After being cut off from his family, it was all the money he had in the world, and he intended to use it to send his, and presumably Jayne’s, children to college.

He clicked the International Wire page. The thought of having to dip into it now made him feel ill.

He set his company phone on the desk beside his computer, making sure its volume was turned on.

Leaning across the desk, he pulled the hotel phone closer and punched in the number of the private detective he’d hired, a German man named Schröder who charged exorbitant fees but was one of the best. As a seasoned pro and ex-Interpol, Schröder not only had lots of useful connections and experience but was also known for his absolute confidentiality. He worked alone from his office in London, a study in politeness and punctuality but with a ruthless determination beneath his typically Germanic correctness and slightly boorish countenance. An old Oxford friend of Rob’s had recommended him highly—and it only made Rob more antsy and annoyed, for if such a pro couldn’t track Celeste Sotheby down, it was seriously bad news.

He put Schröder on the speakerphone, greeting him curtly and watching the hands on his watch inch towards the designated time.

This morning when he had talked to Jayne, she’d asked him if he was going to pay the blackmailer, and he’d said he honestly didn’t know, it would depend on the amount. But he felt he didn’t have any choice. If the criminal followed through with the threat and sent the story and photographs to all the tabloids, there would be a media holocaust like none his family had ever seen. His mother would be devastated. And either of his parents ever accepting Jayne into the family as their daughter-in-law...well, he didn’t kid himself…it would simply vanish into thin air, and it was slim enough already.

In such an event, he really would have to choose between his family and Jayne, and he did not want to have to make that choice.

Robert sat there tensely drumming his fingers on the desk and watching the time, waiting for the text message. He could feel his stress level rising with each passing second, aware of Schröder’s annoyingly heavy breathing on the speakerphone.

Finally, he broke the silence. “Any progress on finding Celeste Sotheby?”
“Vee are close.”

“Close? What does that mean?” Robert’s tone was more demanding than he meant it to be.

“Mister Astor, when I find her you vill be ze first to know.” Schröder always sounded a little belligerent despite his impeccable manners, and Rob wasn’t sure whether he liked the man. Well, he didn’t have to, he just needed him to do his job, dammit. He trusted the detective, but he already had the feeling the man was a bit too comfortable with all his high-paying clients and perhaps a little lazy.

“I certainly hope I’m the only one to know,” he said irritably.

“Vell, yes, of course, zis is what I meant,” came the quick answer.

As Rob waited for the text message, wishful thinking kicked in. Maybe this ‘blackmailer’ won’t have the nerve to follow through with the call, he thought hopefully. Maybe it was all just a prank. Maybe—

The phone beeped, and Robert flinched. He took the device in his hand and looked at the display.

The caller field indicated UNKNOWN, of course.

“You have received ze text message?” Schröder asked over the speakerphone, his tone a little more eager than usual.

“Yes, yes.” Rob noted that the time on his laptop was two p.m.

He hurriedly opened the message.

YOU HAVE EXACTLY FIVE MINUTES TO WIRE 100,000 EUROS TO THE FOLLOWING ACCOUNT AT THE HELLENIC BANK IN CYPRUS: CY690030003820000003608086834

Robert swallowed, staring at the number. A hundred thousand euros! He hadn’t expected such a large amount…he had thought it would be twenty, or forty, or maybe fifty. That put a serious dent in his nest egg.

 He felt even sicker now, staring at the amount the blackmailer wanted, but the anger always lurking under the surface was back, too. He gritted his teeth, wanting to curse the person who had put him in this position with a vicious stream of expletives.

This is really happening, he thought. It’s no joke. This person seriously thinks they can take over my life. If it turns out to be Celeste Sotheby I swear I’ll...

But at least the amount demanded was not beyond his financial capacity. Thank god for that. Look at it as buying time, he told himself. Just make the payment and Schröder can track this miscreant down before he or she asks for more. It might even be possible to recover this money, or most of it.

Robert wanted to send a message back and say I WILL PAY YOU ONCE AND ONLY ONCE, but of course with the blocked number that was impossible. Anyway, the blackmailer might not even be thinking of asking for more than one payment, so it was probably better to simply send the money and hope that was the end of it, no matter how naïve that might be.

“Well, what does ze message say?” Schröder asked impatiently, breaking the tense silence.

“It asks for money, what do you think?” Robert hacked away at the keyboard, entering the wire information into his laptop. “The bank is in Cyprus, the Hellenic Bank!”

“You vill pay?”

“Yes,” Robert hissed, typing furiously. He knew Schröder was against it, but the risk seemed too high to him.

“Which branch of the Hellenic Bank in Cyprus?” the detective wanted to know, and he could hear some rustling on the other end but had no time to focus on anything but inputting the details for the wire transfer.

“How the hell do I know which branch?” Robert snapped, double-checking the information. “All they sent was an IBAN.”

“Ze branch number is coded in the IBAN—forward ze message to me, please.”

“In a minute!” Robert barked. “I have to get this done, dammit!”

He had broken out in a sweat, his fingers slipping on the keys. By the time he finished entering the bank account info, his hands were so sweaty he had to wipe his palms on his trouser legs.

At 2:02 pm, he hit the MAKE PAYMENT key. A message appeared that said THIS TRANSFER REQUIRES VERIFICATION—YOU WILL RECEIVE A TEXT SHORTLY. PLEASE ENTER SECURITY CODE HERE _________:

With a muffled curse, Robert continued watching the clock, his phone in his hand again. “Come on, come on,” he muttered under his breath. Finally, the phone beeped, and a message appeared. VERIFICATION CODE 3X7F9V

He quickly typed it into the blank field, double checked it, and slapped the ENTER key. The screen refreshed and he read the notification YOUR WIRE TRANSFER HAS BEEN COMPLETED

The clock changed from 2:03 to 2:04.

“Okay,” Robert told Schröder, “I’m forwarding the text message to you now.”

“If vee contact ze police in Cyprus, they might have time to get to ze bank and…”

“No police!” Robert snapped. “I’m sure this bank is just an intermediary anyway. The money will be forwarded to another bank account somewhere else.”

“Maybe,” Schröder said. “There are many possibilities.”

“I want you to go to Cyprus yourself, immediately, and investigate this. There has to be a trail you can follow.”

“I have trustworthy connections in Cyprus who…”


“I want you to go yourself, do you understand me?” Robert insisted. “I don’t trust anybody except you. That’s why I hired you in the first place.”
 
* * *

Jayne stared intensely at the phone in her hands, willing it to ring. She was at a point where it didn’t even matter whether it was good news or bad news. Anything was better than the loaded silence around her, pressing in from all sides until she could hardly breathe.

It was nearly seven-thirty in the morning and she’d been up since five when Rob had called the last time before facing the blackmailer’s message—if it had even been sent to his phone.

There was a half-empty cup of coffee next to her, without milk. She usually hated drinking the brew black, but this morning she needed the caffeine jolt in its purest form.

Please let everything have gone smoothly, she prayed silently, closing her eyes. Please. A media feeding frenzy about the scandal that had taken place last summer would end the possibility of her and Rob ever getting married, and there would be no restaurant venture, either. That could not happen. It would be a disaster!

Her phone’s ringtone made her jump a foot off the armchair. She fumbled for it, answering with a breathless “Yes?”

“Jayne.” Robert sounded serious, but not panicky, and she forced some air into her lungs. “I got the message from the blackmailer at two p.m. sharp, my time, and paid the bastard—or bitch—the money.”

Her throat worked, trying to swallow. “How much?”

“One hundred thousand euros.”

Jayne flinched. “So much?”

There was a bit of rustling on the other end of the line, and she wondered what Rob was doing. She wished she could be by his side, not here in Oxford while he was on the other side of the world and had to deal with all this on top of his rigid work commitments.

“Don’t worry, it could have been higher. We’ll manage, somehow. I’ll just have to work even harder.”

Guilt made her sink back into the armchair, chewing her bottom lip with her teeth. “Oh, Robert, I’m so sorry about all this. It’s all my fault. I wish… Sometimes I wish you hadn’t met me. If our paths hadn’t crossed, you would be living a quiet life of luxury right now and not…”

“Nonsense!” His voice was so vehement it shut her up immediately. She heard a sigh. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you, darling. But don’t say that, don’t even think it. Meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

She sniffled. Robert Astor really was too good to be true. She didn’t deserve him…but neither did she deserve all this trouble.

“We love each other, don’t we?” his voice cut through her inner monologue.

“Yes. Yes, of course, Rob.” How could he even ask such a thing?

“Then we’re in this together, Jayne. Don’t blame yourself, and don’t worry so much. Maybe it’s all over now anyway. Maybe this despicable excuse for a human being will be content with the money and leave us in peace.” Before she could protest that they both knew it simply couldn’t be that easy, he added, “Schröder is one of the best. I forwarded the message and bank details from somewhere in bloody Cyprus to him, and he’ll help us solve all this.”

Jayne absently took a sip of now cold coffee, nearly choking on the bitterness. “You have great faith in that man,” she said cautiously. No matter how high Robert’s opinion of the private investigator was, she wasn’t so sure. Her episode with Eleanor had made her suspicious of people in general. And Robert was paying that German man a small fortune. What if he was dragging his feet so he could milk them for all they were worth?

Again, Robert interrupted her morose train of thought. “Yes, yes I do have a lot of faith in him. Speaking of which, I have good news for you too, if you can call it that.”

Jayne sat forward, pressing the phone harder against her ear. At the moment, she’d take anything, even the tiniest bit of silver lining.

“What is it?”

More rustling. Was he pacing? Checking something? Getting ready to forget about this problem and all the associated stress and go back to the factory?

“Schröder called me just a few minutes ago—he found Celeste.”

Irrational though that was, Jayne caught herself frantically searching out the window, as if her twin sister would suddenly materialize from thin air to hurl insults at her. “Oh my god. Where is she?”

“She’s still in Paris after all, so that’s probably one reason less to panic. I’ve got her address now.”

Paris. So much good and so much bad had happened to her in and around that city, forever engraved on her mind.

“I think I’ll talk to her myself,” Rob said, surprising her again. “I can stop by on my way back from China this weekend and speak to her face to face. If I get the feeling that she’s behind all this, I can subtly or not so subtly let her know that she can’t get away with it again.”

The idea of Rob visiting Celeste alone didn’t sit right with Jayne. “Are—are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t it be?”

She fidgeted in her seat, fighting a weird jab of jealousy just like the one she felt a few days ago when Robert had expressed his doubt that Celeste would really do something so mean as send the awful letter. He’d dated Jayne’s twin sister for years, known her as a child, envisioned the rest of his life as her dutiful husband, for god’s sake. No, she didn’t want him anywhere near Celeste, especially not if her sister was indeed up to some evil scheme.

“Jayne?” Robert said. “Are you there?”

“I was just thinking that you’re so busy you can barely breathe. Why don’t I go see her instead?”

“Hmm, I don’t know...”

“You’re the one who just said we need to face this together. Let me take some pressure off you. I know how to handle Celeste, I—”

“Darling, I’m really not keen on that. We need to treat this whole issue with kid gloves or it’ll blow up in our faces. I’ve known Celeste for decades, and you spent only a few months in her company, and under, well, odd circumstances, shall we say.”

Jayne winced. It was true, but still… “Yes, I understand. But Rob, you’re forgetting that she and I are twins. And twins have a mysterious bond, right from the time when we shared space in our mother’s womb. It’s something other people can’t fathom, but I’ve felt it firsthand.” She put all her hard-found conviction into her words, because it was the truth. “I may not have lived alongside her growing up, but that connection is there. Deep down, I know when she’s lying, I know how she ticks.”

There was a long silence on his end of the line, and she could picture him frowning, thinking things over in that rational way of his.

“That may well be true, Jayne, but what about the risk involved?” Concern colored his voice. “What if she really is behind this? If so, I would say she’s become seriously unhinged—dangerously unhinged. I can’t have you walking into a lion’s den, unarmed and all alone.”

Jayne swallowed. That was a valid point… But she was determined to keep Celeste and Robert separated. She felt that there might be some unfinished romantic business between them, and she wanted it to remain that way, hoping that it would simply fade away.

“Rob, do you really have time for this? I mean, honestly?”

“Do you?” he countered. “I’m not the one trying to launch a startup.”

“Well, I’m sure Beatrice could handle things for a short time—I can easily fly to Paris, see Celeste, and come back in one day. Beatrice is out of town for her other job right now but she’ll be back tomorrow night. I could go the next day, on Friday.”

More silence, then a sigh. She pictured Robert scrubbing a hand over his face, a little defeated.

“All right, darling,” he finally said. “Maybe it is better if you talk to her. Do you have a pen? I’ll give you her address.”

Jayne breathed a great but suppressed sigh of relief as she jotted the information down.

“And for god’s sake, Jayne—when you meet with her, be careful.”

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Chapter 5
 
Jayne watched the taxi drive away from the kitchen window, scrubbing furiously to wash the ink off her fingers. When the car had rounded the bend, she looked down at the blue swirls in the water and at her own, still slightly trembling hands.

She hadn’t been completely honest with Robert—she was not comfortable on her own at home now, not after receiving that letter. After all these months, she had finally left the nightmares and memories behind, and now this!

She shivered, then scolded herself. Why would a blackmailer send that damned letter if she or he wants to attack me physically? That doesn’t make sense. But her thoughts kept circling back to a question she hadn’t asked Rob: Why had the letter been sent to her and not directly to him since he was the one who would pay? There had to be a good reason for it. Clearly, the blackmailer wanted her to suffer, at least emotionally.

What would their anonymous enemy do next? Would Celeste—if it was really Celeste—simply do nothing and patiently wait until the time had come for the payment demand? Or would Jayne have to be constantly on guard, fearing another intrusion on her privacy?

With a scowl, she dried her hands and then checked the locks of the window before wandering upstairs and through the rest of the house to make sure everything was locked properly. Then she shook her head at her own behavior. As if a locked window would keep the person who had sent the blackmail letter out. Jayne had to leave the house constantly.

hat if the criminal knew this and was waiting for the right moment to pounce?

The image of her biological mother leaping on top of her, snarling and lashing out like some mad beast, haunted her even more now. She remembered the finality of that moment, the gut-wrenching certainty that there would be no happy ending with Robert for her, that she was about to die before she’d really had a chance to live.

“Stop being such a wuss,” she hissed, angry with herself for feeling such weakness. There was no reason for it. Built in typical British fashion, the houses on this block all shared common walls, so there were very few ground floor doors and windows, only one pair in front and one pair in back. And because all the houses’ backyards were cordoned off with high brick walls, with some of the owners having dogs, access to the back would be difficult. It wasn’t even necessary to be so overly cautious.

But Jayne wasn’t about to take any chances.

She double checked all the windows before heading back to work.

The next step was to get through the rest of the afternoon without Beatrice sensing that anything was wrong.
 
 

Chapter 6
 
The following morning, Jayne cycled into work earlier than usual, merging into the throngs of Oxford students and staff headed into the center of the city to the hallowed, prestigious university. Although she had managed to keep her dirty secret from Beatrice yesterday afternoon, she doubted she could fool her astute business partner much longer.

There had already been one close call yesterday—she had been so upset and distracted by the blackmail letter that she had completely forgotten to bring the legal documents that Robert had brought for them to sign—the very reason that she’d biked home to meet him in the first place! When she stepped into the restaurant empty handed, Beatrice frowned and said, “So where are the papers to sign?” Jayne made up a white lie on the spot and said that Robert had found a couple of serious typos and had sent them to an all-night printer in the center, and that she would pick them up and bring them in the morning.

Today, she made damn sure she had the large envelope full of papers in her messenger bag. When she arrived at the restaurant, she found Beatrice in their makeshift office, which barely accommodated both of them. Perched on a low cupboard but managing to look professional and proper nevertheless, her classy business partner was on the phone and only acknowledged her with a nod and a small smile.

“Yes... Absolutely, Dear Harvey. I understand…mmm… Certainly… You have no idea how much we wish we could change this.”

Her voice had taken on an odd tone that was cajoling and commanding at once, and Jayne grimaced. “Dear Harvey” was their neighbor, a real pain in the neck. They had the rotten luck that a lawyer—or a solicitor, as you called them here in England—had rented the office next door. He was constantly complaining about the noise and dust, and threatening to sue them, which was what Jayne supposed he did best. Fortunately for them, Beatrice had a way with words and knew how to handle difficult people. She’d sorted and smoothed things out several times already, and Jayne wondered for how long they’d have to walk the tightrope with him.

By the time Beatrice set the phone down and permitted herself a long-suffering sigh, Jayne had engrossed herself in comparing small swatches of fabric in an immense catalogue with samples, trying to find the right material, color and pattern for the table cloths. She wanted to avoid as much eye contact with Beatrice as possible.

“So what’s ‘Dear Harvey’ saying today?” she asked.

Beatrice gave in to a somewhat unladylike eye roll. “Oh, he’s whining, as usual. He claims he’s been suffering from a wheeze because of the dust.”

Jayne scoffed. “If I can handle this with my asthma, then he shouldn’t complain.”

Beatrice straightened her impeccably tailored jacket. “Well, complaining is what he does all day, so I suspect we’ll have to put up with some more nuisance calls.” She paused. “So have you got the papers?”

With a nod, Jayne bent to her messenger bag and took out the business documents. She had already signed them all at home. Beatrice had a long browse through them, slowly turning the pages, slogging through the legalese. In between reading and twisting her pen thoughtfully, she said, “You know, I think we should offer dear Harvey a free meal as compensation. Pull out all the stops and treat him to a five-course dinner shortly after opening day. What do you think?”

“That’s a good idea…though he’ll probably only end up complaining about the size, texture and temperature of the food we pile on him and leave a scathing review.”

They shared a brief laugh, and Jayne felt some of her tension ebb. She was sure that anxiety was written all over her face, and in much clearer language than the legalese Beatrice was perusing.

Beatrice leaned forward and studied her more closely. “Are you all right?”

“Sure,” Jayne said, looking back down at the swatches. “Why?”

“You seem a little nervous.”

“I didn’t sleep well with Rob away, that’s all. I never do.”

“Ah.” Beatrice started signing all documents, seeming to accept that explanation.
 

Chapter 7
 
Jayne threw herself into her work that morning, dealing with the construction folks milling around the restaurant, hoping that it would make her forget her and Robert’s gut-wrenching problem that had appeared out of nowhere. But it overshadowed everything, looming over her head like a sword poised to decapitate her at any moment.

To her surprise, as lunchtime approached, she started receiving frequent texts from Robert with updates about what the detective had found out—she was amazed at how fast he’d hired someone to work on the case. Robert was back in China now, trying to work, but considering all the interaction with the detective he was apparently having, Jayne wondered how he could be getting anything done. Before Rob had even left the UK yesterday, he had couriered the envelope, letter, and their own fingerprints to the private eye, who apparently was highly recommended and based in London.

Despite all this, however, it seemed that the investigator was not making much progress. Mid-afternoon, Robert sent her a text telling her that no useful prints were found on the blackmail letter or the envelope. This put Jayne even more on edge. Somehow, it reconfirmed her irrational fear that her mother was behind all this. Eleanor Sotheby was a pro. She would never handle things without gloves, knowing full well how easily fingerprints could give her away. She even began to feel again that it was all her fault, the blackmail letter, the added stress at a time when Rob already had his hands full.

The search for Celeste Sotheby’s whereabouts seemed to be coming up blank, too. The detective had quickly determined that the cut-out letters glued to the paper were from UK tabloids, and because the missive was mailed from the Heathrow Airport, Rob was now wondering whether Celeste had perhaps moved back to London or some other city in the UK.
Rob seemed more and more convinced that Celeste Sotheby was behind the blackmail letter, and Jayne had stopped voicing her doubts to him. It had to be her.
 
* * *

Despite this, during the late afternoon, Jayne stole a few minutes away from Beatrice to search online for cases where people had fallen to the ground from great heights and survived. There were lots of such cases, including some in which people actually dropped from airplanes without parachutes and had their deadly descent slowed by tree branches or the cushion of a snow bank. They ended up badly injured, in some cases paralyzed, but they lived.

And yet Jayne kept assuring herself that of course Rob was right—the chances of Eleanor still being alive and sending blackmail letters was slim to none, and considering the possibility was driving her crazy.

When she was in the middle of reading one of the articles, which was rather grisly, Beatrice stepped into the office.

Jayne’s finger was poised on the mouse button and she quickly closed the window on her laptop.

Beatrice glanced at the back of the computer, then at Jayne’s face.

Jayne was sure she looked like the cat who had just swallowed the canary.
“What on earth is going on, Jayne?”

Jayne hesitated. Beatrice had to go out of town again tonight on a two-day business trip to Ireland for the construction firm that still employed her, and Jayne had prayed that she would leave the restaurant before she figured out that something was wrong. But that bit of good luck apparently wasn’t in the cards.

“It’s nothing,” she said hastily, snapping the laptop shut. “I was reading about remedies for insomnia.”

“A cup of warm milk does the trick for me.”

Jayne nodded. “I’ll try that.”

Beatrice eyed her and said, “You know…” She sounded oddly hesitant, which was a first and made Jayne glance up at her face. “You can talk to me if there’s something wrong. We’re friends and not just business partners, right?”

Jayne nodded, forcing a smile onto her lips but knowing it didn’t reach her eyes. She felt bad enough hiding the unexpected scandal from Beatrice, who had absolutely no idea about what had really happened last summer and that Jayne had impersonated Celeste. Now Beatrice’s concern only made Jayne feel worse.

Beatrice said carefully, “Are you and Rob having some kind of problem? It’s only natural for that to happen in a relationship, you know, especially in the early days. Even after three years I still sometimes want to kill Damien or tear my own hair out…” She gave a rueful smile.

While Jayne felt that her concern was genuine, she sensed it was mostly because the woman was thinking that all she needed now was a business partner who had some serious personal problem.

Jayne took a deep breath and opted for a second white lie. “We’re both under a lot of pressure right now, that’s all. Rob has so much work to handle, juggling his China project with everything going on back here. Don’t worry, it’s nothing serious. It’ll all be fine in a few days—I’m sure I’ll sleep better tonight.”

Jayne had put as much conviction into her voice as she could muster, not only to make Beatrice believe her but also to convince herself.

Beatrice glanced at her watch. “Well, I’m off then, I have to get to the airport.” She smiled. “Hold down the fort while I’m gone.”

“Will do,” Jayne said. “Things will be fine.”

 
* * *

But would things really be fine? Jayne wondered later that evening, as she stood staring out the bedroom window at the road. Now, night had fallen once again and the pedestrian flow of Oxford students and staff returning home had thinned to barely a trickle. Her fatigued mind conjured all sorts of spooky scenarios, her eyes focusing on the dark spaces between the streetlights, on the tall hedges and gated driveways that could hide who knows what.

Tomorrow, Rob would receive the text message to go through with the blackmail payment, and they hadn’t achieved a damn thing during their laughable attempt at investigation.

What would happen then?

Read Part 5 here.

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Featured - Cover Reveal for "A Shape on the Air" by Julia Ibbotson

About the BookGenre:  historical time slip romance
Release Date: 28th July 2017
Publisher: Endeavour Press
Pre-Order link: AMAZON
 
Two women 1500 years apart. One need: to save the world they know. Can they help each other to achieve their greatest desire? And what if that world they want is not the one that's best for them?  University lecturer in medieval studies, Dr Viv Dulac, is devastated when her partner walks out (and with her best friend too!) and threatens her home.  Drunk and desperate, her world quite literally turns upside down and she finds herself in the body of the fifth century Lady Vivianne, who is struggling with the shifting values of the Dark Ages and her forced betrothal to the brutish Sir Pelleas who is implicated in the death of her parents. Haunted by both Lady Vivianne and by Viv's own parents' death and legacy, can Viv unravel the web of mystery that surrounds and connects their two lives, and bring peace to them both? A haunting story of lives intertwining across the ages, of the triumph of the human spirit and of dreams lost and found.
​
About the Author​Award winning author Julia Ibbotson lives with her second husband in the heart of England in a renovated Victorian rectory, and, their four children having grown up, she is now suffering from empty nest syndrome. She is obsessed with the medieval world and concepts of time travel (and chocolate) (and cakes …).  She read English at Keele University (after a turbulent but exciting gap year in Ghana) specialising in medieval studies. She wrote her first novel at 10 years of age, but life (and later the need to earn a living as a single mother) intruded and she became a school teacher, and then, on gaining her PhD as a (very) mature student, a university lecturer. Julia has written a memoir The Old Rectory: escape to a Country Kitchen (with recipes) and a children’s book S.C.A.R.S (a fantasy medieval time slip), before embarking on her Drumbeats trilogy (which begins in Ghana).  Her latest novel, A Shape on the Air, is a historical (medieval) time slip romance. Clearly, she is obsessed …  Apart from insatiable reading, she loves travelling the world, singing in choirs, swimming, yoga, baking, and walking in the English countryside.

Author page on Amazon:  http://www.amazon.co.uk/Julia-Ibbotson/e/B0095XG11U/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1377188346&sr=1-2-ent
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Julia-Ibbotson-author/163085897119236
Twitter:  https://twitter.com/JuliaIbbotson
Goodreads Author Page:  http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6017965.Julia_Ibbotson
LinkedIn:   https://www.linkedin.com/in/dr-julia-ibbotson
Blog:   http://www.juliaibbotsonauthor.com
Website:  http://www.juliaibbotsonauthor.com
Pinterest:  http://pinterest.com/juliai1/
​
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#FreeDailyRead - Forbidden, Book 4 (Lady Sotheby's Curse) - Part 5

Jayne's words didn’t seem to sink in as Robert continued to read, his face growing paler by the minute. By the time he had finished comparing the two photos, he looked decidedly sick himself.
​
For what felt like an eternity, they stared at each blankly, shock written all over their faces.

A deep frown marred Robert’s features until finally he blinked slowly a few times, as if coming out of a trance. “No…no…it’s impossible. Eleanor could never have survived the fall. I mean…you were there, Jayne, you saw her plunge thousands of feet into a snow-filled ravine…”

She was shaking her head and nodding alternately, her thoughts still a crazed and panicked jumble. “Yes, but… Who else could it be? It has to be her. Nobody else knows!”

Rob looked at the walls, the floor, and the ceiling as if the truth could be grasped out of thin air. “I… I don’t know, but… I mean, if Eleanor were alive, she would just try to kill us again, not blackmail us.”

Jayne shook her head, the bitter taste of bile in her throat. “You don’t know her like I do, Rob. She doesn’t think and act like a normal human. She’s, she’s… oh god.” Her breath wheezed and rattled in her chest—she was on the verge of having an asthma attack. It made her feel a thousand times worse because she had Eleanor to thank for that, too. And then she realized she hadn’t experienced a single asthma attack since the fateful day that Eleanor had tried to kill them.

Now it seemed the horrible wretch had risen from the grave!

As if Robert knew she would soon reach snapping point, he pulled himself together. He squatted next to her, running his hands soothingly over her head and trembling shoulders, and over her arms until he gripped her hands tightly.

“Jayne. Calm down. Look at me, darling. Calm. Down. Now.”

She focused on his face, his eyes, the reassuring pressure of his fingers on hers.

“Nothing has happened yet. It’s just a letter. Please try to think rationally, darling.”

Once she was breathing a little easier, he gently pulled her up, and they half-fell onto the couch. Robert set the envelope and letter carefully down on the coffee table. His hands were steady now, but the tension in his body was palpable.

“Better not touch the paper again,” he said quietly, his tone now more serious than panicked. “There could be fingerprints or some other kind of evidence on it, maybe the envelope, too.” He took a deep breath. “Let’s think logically. Who sent this letter? And why now?”

Jayne swallowed heavily, the bitter taste still in her mouth. “I’m sure it’s Eleanor, as crazy as that sounds. It’s got to be her. But how the hell did she find us?”

“What makes you so sure it’s her?”

“Everything. It’s so…so her. The tone, the language. And especially the hatred between the lines.”

When she shivered, Rob put his arm around her.

“Jayne…” A conflicted expression crossed his face, and he spoke the next words with a gentle precision, like someone trying to reason with a recalcitrant child. “I know Eleanor ruined your life, or rather, she tried to. And believe me, I understand your panic. But please look at this more rationally. Nobody could have survived that fall. It’s just not realistic.”

With a sigh, she fought for more control, but couldn’t quite find it. “They never found her body,” Jayne muttered, gnawing on her bottom lip. She so wanted to believe he was right, but her gut feeling told her otherwise. “What if she was seriously injured but was somehow saved by sheer luck? Maybe that’s why the letter arrived now—she couldn’t do anything until she recovered.”

Robert frowned, opened his mouth and closed it again. After a moment, he scrubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t think this discussion is leading us anywhere.” His tone was weary. “We have to consider all options. There’s got to be a logical explanation behind this. Everything in life has a logical explanation, dammit.”

Jayne hardly ever heard Rob curse, and it revealed how worked up he was despite his superficial calm. She didn’t know what to say, what to think, to do.

After a moment, he added slowly, “What if it was written this way exactly because someone wants us to think it’s Eleanor? Or us to think it’s someone else, for that matter?”

The thought gave Jayne pause. “But who would go to all this trouble? Who would know all these details about us?”

Their gazes met, and the next moment, they both blurted the answer out at the same time.

“Celeste!”

Of course. Why hadn’t they thought of her immediately? Who else but her own twin sister, Celeste Sotheby, would hate Jayne so much and would blackmail her for revenge?

Now that she considered this, it made perfect sense.

“I’m sure it’s her,” Jayne said. Now she felt less frightened because no matter how nasty the threat sounded, Celeste was not a monster like their biological mother. “I mean, everything points in her direction. She vanished. Nobody knows anything about her and the child that may or may not even be alive.” Jayne shuddered. “You have to admit, whoever wrote this letter knows both our families intimately.”

Robert looked more thoughtful than ever now, his jaw set and his expression grim. “It does make sense…” He turned towards her and took her hand, squeezing it. “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We don’t want to jump to conclusions.”
 
* * *

For the next half hour, they racked their brains to remember everyone who had been around the summer villa in Nice and the mansion in Paris. Could anybody have gotten wind of their scheme?

“Did anyone see you and Celeste together?” Robert asked. “Actually see you side by side?”

“No! Never.”

“Are you absolutely sure?”

“The only time Celeste and I were physically at the same location was at the Nice villa, and we had no staff there.”

“Nobody?”


“Not a soul. You remember, Rob, Eleanor didn’t even have a gardener there. She kept the pool up herself, and I did all the cooking and cleaning. We had no private chauffeur either. As far as I can remember, nobody set foot in that house the entire summer except for Eleanor, Celeste, and me. And you, that one time you visited.”

“Yes, I remember, the yard was completely overgrown. But are you absolutely sure that you and Celeste were never out anywhere together?”
“Yes. Well, no...there was that night at the guest house, but just for a few minutes...”

“What guest house?” Rob sat up straighter, raising his eyebrows raised in alarm.

“A bed and breakfast near Nice. When you showed up unexpectedly that day, Eleanor took Celeste there.”

For a moment, Jayne allowed the memories to resurface; their frantic struggle to remove every single trace of Celeste’s presence and pregnancy, then her few hours of stolen bliss with Rob that led her to make a final decision.

She went on, “Right after you left, I took a taxi over and told them I wasn’t going through with their plan. But it was two o’clock in the morning then, and I don’t think anyone at the B&B was even awake. We were only there for a few minutes, and then we went back to the villa in a different taxi.”

Robert sighed, leaning forward and reading the letter again without touching the paper.

“What about the chauffeur who drove us around Paris?” Jayne asked.
“Philippe?” Robert shook his head. “That man has worked for my family for twenty years, a close mate of my father’s, as trustworthy as they come. He wouldn’t even dare to snoop around a little, let alone do something as brazen as this.”

Robert pursed his lips, thinking. “What about the staff at Les Fleurs? You stayed there during my visit and afterwards. What if you were overheard? Could any of the servants have figured out what was going on?” Before Jayne could answer, Rob added, “What about that red-headed butler who worked there—what was his name?”

“Giles.”

“Yes, Giles. I remember having an odd feeling about that bloke when I came to meet you there the first time. I thought he was a bit sketchy.”

“Hmm...” Jayne paused, traveling back in time in her mind. “Now that you mention it...I did have the feeling he was hovering around Celeste’s bedroom just before you arrived, while I was getting dressed.”

Rob jotted something down in his notebook. “Was there any other staff at the mansion who might have figured out what was going on? Someone close to Giles, maybe?”

Jayne thought it over. “Well, there was Margaret, the cook. She seemed to be tight with Giles and well aware of most of what went on under that roof.” Jayne looked back at the shocking blackmail letter, her hands twitching as if she wanted nothing more than to rip it into shreds and forget all about it. She frowned. “But I can’t imagine her writing anything like this.”

“The place has been sold by now, I’m sure—do you know if any of the staff are still working there?”

“I have no idea,” Jayne said. The grand mansion was supposed to be auctioned off by the bank when Eleanor died, to pay off her massive debts. By that time, most of the domestic staff had long been fired, and some valuable items had secretly been sold off to provide quick cash to her desperate mother. Jayne did not know who had bought the property or who might live there now.

They both sat there for a long moment, and she noticed that Rob looked sick again, although he gave her hand another reassuring squeeze.

Glancing at the blackmail letter, Jayne wondered, “I don’t see why this person went to so much trouble, gluing all those cut-out letters all over the page. Isn’t that kind of old school? Why not send an anonymous email?”

“Good point,” Rob said, thinking. “I’m guessing it was done for theatrical effect, to show us that they know where we live.” Rob hesitated, glancing at her. “To scare us.”

Jayne grimaced. “Rob, if Eleanor is dead—and I have to agree with you now, she must be—this threat must have been sent by Celeste. When you consider everything here, she’s the most likely suspect. There’s no need to look any further.”

“I know,” Rob muttered with a pained expression. “I guess I just don’t want to believe that she would do such a thing. It’s so unlike her...”

He grew distant and a little wistful, and though Jayne hated to admit it, this made her feel an unpleasant jab of jealously. She hoped fervently that Rob didn’t still have feelings for his childhood sweetheart. Then again, this was her own sister they were talking about, and it did feel awful to think such traitorous thoughts.

Rubbing her temples, she tried to get a grip on herself. She’d dealt with so much already and come out on top. She could and would handle this too. And this time, she wasn’t alone.

Jayne leaned against Robert, and he put his arm around her. He simply held her for a few minutes. She listened to his steady heartbeat, snuggling deeper into his embrace.

“What are we going to do?” she mumbled into his body. Her words come out muffled and much quieter than a minute ago.

His chest rose and fell, the soft, flawlessly woven fabric of his suit brushing against her face. “You know, I wish we could just ignore this, but something tells me it won’t go away. The best option we have would be to get some professional assistance.”

Jayne flinched. “You mean the police?”

“No, no, they can’t be trusted to keep secrets, and if this gets out, the whole thing will blow up in our faces.” She felt him shake his head. “No, we can’t go to the police. I think hiring a top-notch private investigator is the prudent thing to do. If a good detective can move fast enough without arousing any suspicion, he might be able to track down Celeste…or whoever is behind all this…before the message with the payment instructions arrives.”
 
* * *

A moment later, Rob went upstairs, rummaged around in some boxes in the closet, and brought a black ink pad back down. This was so they could take a set of their fingerprints for the private detective to use for elimination, since both of them had already touched the letter and envelope.

She stared at him as he carefully rolled each of her fingertips across the pad and then pressed them against a blank piece of paper. “You seem to know a lot about this.”

“Not really. My dad’s office was robbed a couple of times, that’s all.”

He folded the blackmail letter up and slid it back into the envelope, touching only a tiny corner of both.

“Are you sure you feel safe staying here alone?”

“Oh, I’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

“Really?”

“Of course.”

He nodded, already seeming far away. That awful letter had distracted him to the point where he seemed almost cold towards her, though she knew it was just the shock.

As he picked up his bags and moved towards the door, he unconsciously smoothed the wrinkles in his suit and finger-combed his brown hair.

“We’ll get this solved, don’t worry,” he said, and they kissed each other goodbye.

Read Part 4 here

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#FreeDailyRead - Forbidden, Book 4 (Lady Sotheby's Curse) - Part 4

Chapter 3

“Whenever I’m out of the country,” Robert said solemnly, “I don’t just miss you miserably, I have this odd longing to tell people about you. To be one of those annoying married men who gush about their beautiful wife, look for sentimental presents and show everyone a dozen unsolicited photos of their chubby-cheeked children.”

His words made Jayne’s heart swell. Damn it, she wanted to be his wife so much.

“Is your mother still coming next month?” he said, stroking her hair. “I was thinking we could all go to a cracking play on the West End. A musical, maybe.”

“Yes, she’s coming. I’ll call her tonight and see if she’s bought her airline tickets yet.”

When Jayne had moved over to the UK, Rob had generously promised to cover Barbara’s expenses until she had found a job in England. Her mother, who had survived a debilitating battle with cancer, was feeling much better and had encouraged her daughter to make a new start, so Jayne didn’t feel too bad about leaving her mom behind in the U.S. Jayne promised they could visit each other often, and Barbara was excited about coming to England—she’d never been outside of the USA before.

“I so wish your mother could meet my parents when she visits,” he said. “But I don’t think that’s possible.”

If only Rob had got a chance to tell them the truth, Jayne thought, to make them meet Jayne in person before all hell had broken loose—but no, the wicked Eleanor had gotten to them first.

Jayne suppressed a sigh, trying to convince herself that things would change over time. But deep down, she knew they wouldn’t, at least not in the near future. Despite how many times Robert had tried to tell his mom the real story, Lady Astor simply did not believe it. She claimed he wasn’t thinking with his incisive mind but with his emotions and ego, as happened with so many men who were either infatuated with a woman or played by one. As if that wasn’t bad enough, his mother went on to poison his father’s mind, too. No matter how hard Robert threw himself into the task, he could not dislodge the notion that Jayne was a shameless, opportunistic parasite who would suck the entire Astor family dry if she managed to manipulate Robert into marrying her.

As if reading her thoughts, he said, “We will get married, Jayne. With the grandiose public wedding, all the posh accouterments, the whole shebang.”
“Oh, Rob.” She placed her hand against his cheek, his slight stubble scratching her pleasantly. “I want all of that too, but it’s not that important to me.”

 “If it turns out we can’t win over my parents, we can always just—”

“No. Not that way.” He had made this offer many times before. “I’m not going to stand between you and your family, ever.”

He shifted in the bed and craned his neck to get a better look at her face, and he smiled. “So you’re happy just living with me in sin? Don’t you want me to make an honest woman out of you?”

Jayne smiled. “I just don’t want it to happen like that. Of course I want what every young woman dreams of secretly. A church wedding and then a grand reception. With a veil and a tiara to feel like a princess for a day. With chubby-cheeked altar boys in mini suits and bridesmaids almost more beautiful than me. I want to free a hundred white doves, want to pose for a thousand photos until our mouths will hurt from smiling so much.”

She half-turned to face him, wondering how he took this.

She was pleased to see that he was smiling.

She smiled, too. “Can’t you picture it? All those splendidly dressed people beaming from ear to ear. Personalized vows, later on sentimental speeches. Lovely little gifts for the guests, a multi-tiered cake, matching floral arrangements, champagne for everyone. And then you sweeping me off my feet for a waltz.” He chuckled at this. “I know it sounds girlish and old fashioned to you, but I long for all that, Rob. To dance with your father, too. To have my mother and yours dab at a few happy tears when we finally climb into a limousine or carriage among tons of confetti and cheers.”

Rob reached out and twirled a strand of hair around his finger, but he looked saddened by the vision, probably because he knew it would never come to pass. “Who’d have thought you’re such a romantic, Miss Clark? You would make a lovely fairytale bride, putting all the British royalty to shame.”

“I doubt that.”

“Still, back to the other idea, why not have a small wedding by ourselves and let the chips fall as they may? They’re not your parents, they’re mine. If they’re too bloody bull-headed to see— “

“Maybe it’s because I’m adopted.”

Robert sat up a little in the bed, eying her curiously. “How so?”

Jayne felt awkward. She took a deep breath and plunged forward—she had never told a soul this before. “Rob, I have this intense yearning inside me for a whole, complete, fully-intact biological family. For all the little things that people take for granted with ‘real’ families but that I’ve never had. When we have children, I want them to have all of that, too. When I was adopted, all my adoptive grandparents were dead, and of course I didn’t know my biological ones. Don’t our kids deserve a wonderful set of grandparents like your mother and father who care for them? Who drop in for regular visits to spoil them rotten?”

 Rob’s face revealed pleasurable surprise. “I had no idea that’s how you felt, Jayne! Of course we’ll have the grand wedding, hang it all! I’ll get my parents over this nonsense one way or another. And they’ll both come around and love you as much as I do, I promise!”

“You really think it’s possible?”

“I know so!”

He kissed her passionately, one of his hands wandering lower and lower.

“Again?” she asked, smiling and bucking into his touch.

“Well, I’ll be gone for a few days.” He grinned. “We better make it last.”
 
* * *

After their second round, they lay side by side, sweaty and sated, Jayne with a leg thrown over Rob and her head resting on his chest.

Their earlier conversation had greatly improved Jayne’s mood, and her confidence. Something had shifted inside of Rob. He was now much more committed to solving the problem with his parents, and she could sense it. She was glad she’d told him her innermost feelings on the matter.

His finger was drawing languid circles on her back, and slowly their breathing returned to normal.

“Rob?”

“Hmm?”

Before she could speak, a metallic ka-thunk sound echoed through the house.

“What the devil was that?” he said, sitting up in the bed. He looked uneasily at the bedroom door.

 “Relax, it was just the mail. Oh, pardon me, the post, as you call it.”

With that, Jayne caught him looking at the clock on the nightstand—she knew he had to catch his plane to China. “Maybe if you were here more often, you’d recognize the sound.”

He smiled in that characteristic, slightly crooked fashion that was utterly endearing, and he slowly rose from the bed. “I wish I had more control over my schedule, darling, but you know how things work. Either you fight, or you get swallowed up whole and eaten alive by the sharks. No more nepotism to fall back on—I’m working in the real world now.”

“You and your beloved SHEDdule,” Jayne teased. “I’ll never understand why a nation of such logic-fixated, properness-possessed people would pronounce the word that way.”

“It’s you Americans who’ve got it backwards,” Rob said, stepping into the bathroom. As he turned on the water to the shower, he turned and raised his brows at her, amusement curling his lips because she’d been ribbing him about his British ways all these months.

“That’s ridiculous,” she fired back good-naturedly. “It’s so inconsistent. You don’t say ‘She studies at SHool’ or ‘He’s a SHizophrenic’, for god’s sake. So why would you say SHedule? Explain that to me, will you?”

Standing there naked as the water heated up, he crossed his arms and gave her a mock-stern look. “Ever heard about not throwing stones if you live in a glass house? It’s not like you Americans are oh-so-logical and consistent. You turn the spelling of cheque with Q-U-E to check with C-K and all that just so it looks more English than French, but you insist on leaving the H out in the pronunciation of herbs because you claim you want to retain its French feel. And don’t even get me started on how obnoxious you Yanks sound sometimes. Only an American could say ‘yeah right’ and ‘good luck with that’ and have it mean exactly the opposite.”

Jayne mimicked his belligerent stance, crossing her arms too. “Did you just call me obnoxious, Mister ‘I’ll just apologize for everything under the sun so people think I’m politeness personified while I’m secretly ridiculing them’?”

Robert threw his head back and laughed, and she couldn’t help joining in, and he pulled the shower curtain open and disappeared behind it.

Oh, how she loved these careless moments, so few and far between. They were like precious pearls she wanted to collect to craft a necklace of lovely memories.

She wished with all her heart that he didn’t have to leave.
 

Chapter 4
 
When they’d both gotten dressed and were back down in the living room, Robert gestured to several sheets of papers on the coffee table, filled with small print and little yellow SIGN HERE stickers.

“I’ll leave these here for you and Bea to sign. They need to be sent to our lawyer by registered post, but please scan them and mail them to me before that.” His voice had automatically dropped into the calm, clipped tone he used for business matters, one more sign that he was half out the door before he’d even left.

With a resigned nod, she spared the documents only a glance and followed him to the front door.

He bent down to pick up the envelopes that they’d heard the postman push through the mail slot and sifted through them. Jayne reached around him to unlock the door when she saw him stop and freeze with a frown on his face. He stared at a letter in his hand, flipped it over, then looked at the front side again.

“What’s the matter?” Jayne said.

He held the envelope out towards her. “This is for you.”

Jayne took the letter and saw that her name was written in odd block letters on the front, with the word PERSONAL underneath in the same style that reminded her of a child laboriously writing out its barely learned letters. There was no return address. Odd. The postmark, she realized after some squinting, was the Heathrow Airport Post Office. Even odder.

Puzzled and feeling a little uneasy, Jayne ripped open the envelope and took out the papers inside.

Her head began to spin as she took in the text composed from cut-out letters of different sizes and colors:
 
DEaR jaYNe,

IF yOu ThINk yOU ArE GOinG tO GeT awaY wITH YoUR CRiMinaL WaYS, ThINk AgAIn. I CAn pROvE YoU ArE NoTHinG BuT A CoMMoN GolD DIgGer aND tHat You ImPErSoNAted YoUR TWin SiSTer wHEn ShE WaS PREgnaNT In AN AttEMpt To MArrY RObeRt aSTor YoURsELF AnD SuCK LoRD aND LaDY AsTOR Dry oF ThEir HaRd-EArNed FOrTUne (sEE PhOTos).

I DoN’T KnOW WhAT KiND oF WiCked SpeLL yoU CaST oN YOuR “BeLoVED” RoBERt, BuT yOu CaN TeLL HiM ThAT I WiLL TeXT Him On HIs BUsINESS phone thIS weDnESday aT ExACtLY 07.00 GMt AnD sTaTE My deMANds. I StRONGly SuGGeST thAT HE Be ONlinE wiTH His BAnk accOUNT ReADY tO IMMediaTELY FollOW My InSTRUctionS. If He DOes NoT COmPLy, I WiLL SenD YouR WhoLE SoRDId storY tO LoRD AnD LAdy AStOr, aNd tO ALL ThE TAbloiDS, ToO! SaME iF yOU cALL tHE PoLICe oR Do AnYTHinG ElsE sTupID.
 
With trembling hands, she turned to the next page and gasped. There was a photo of her and Robert sitting together at the Café de la Paix in Paris last summer. Jayne recognized it. She remembered the exact moment it was taken because she’d been so in over her head at the time. No doubt about it, this picture was from a tabloid and had been taken by one of those paparazzi.

In one corner of the page was a cutout of her sandaled foot, apparently magnified by whoever had sent the letter, with a big red circle around the birthmark on her right ankle. On the next page was another tabloid photo, this one of Celeste frolicking on the beach with her lover in Saint-Tropez—also with the foot magnified, bare in the sand. Even if you didn’t really know what to look for, the difference between the photos was unmistakable: In the second photo, the birthmark had moved to the left ankle.

“Jayne? Jayne, whatever is the matter? Say something! You’re scaring me.”

It dimly registered that Robert had taken the letter from her shaking hand.

For the love of god, she couldn’t bring herself to give him a coherent answer. His worried gaze darted from her face to the letter and back. When she only continued to stare wide-eyed, Robert began to read the letter himself.

“She’s still alive,” Jayne finally gasped, on the verge of vomiting.

His head snapped up for a second but then he went on reading, his eyes now racing across the page. “Who’s alive?”

“Eleanor,” she forced out just before doubling over, certain that she was going to be sick.

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#FreeDailyRead - Forbidden, Book 4 (Lady Sotheby's Curse) - Part 3

Chapter 2

​Outside, Jayne slung her messenger bag over her shoulder and hopped onto her bicycle with its cheerful red frame. She pedaled energetically, the dull pain in her knee no match for her joy at being reunited with Robert in a few minutes. It was misting outside, making her hair damp, but today she didn’t care.

They lived in a lovely—and rather scandalously expensive to Jayne—rented house only a few blocks away, in the trendy Jericho section of town. Oxford had been an obvious choice once Jayne had decided move to England. It was close enough to London for Robert to travel there on business and to see his parents whenever he—or they—wanted to see each other, but far away enough from high-society and the media humdrum for them to be discovered and asked unwelcome questions.

Jayne slowed her bike down at a “humped zebra crossing,” which is what the Brits call speed bumps. She smiled briefly, because she thought their term for these humps in the pavement was funny. But then she felt anxious again and mentally counted her blessings.

Oxford certainly wasn’t Wichita with its careless, typically small-town American charm, or Nice with its luxuries and ocean breeze. It had taken some getting used to, being surrounded by all those morosely grand, gray gothic buildings and posh stores. The dreary weather with its permanent drizzle could be depressing—especially if one relied on a bicycle or public transport like almost everyone living here. On the other hand, she found it exciting to be living smack in the middle of a one thousand year old university community packed with some of the smartest people in the world.

And Robert had spent many years of his youth here, earning his degree and being shaped into a man of the world. His funny anecdotes and wonderfully educated off-hand comments had helped her with settling down—as had her business relationship with Beatrice.

As she pedaled past Woodstock Road, Jayne’s gaze momentarily fell on a gated driveway, and a memory of the horrific time last summer came rushing back at her, when she “escaped” from Eleanor’s villa in Nice. Her traumatic episode in France with Eleanor and Celeste was something she chose not to dwell on anymore—but her mind had its own agenda. She was still frequently jolted awake by nightmares about it all. In the dreams, she kept replaying the terrifying scene where Eleanor had tried to kill her and Robert at the hotel in Switzerland and had then leaped over the balcony, into the abyss and to her certain death.

Jayne had spent countless hours thinking about the entire ordeal from every possible angle, how she’d become tangled up in it in the first place, asking herself how much of it was her own fault and if she could have done anything differently. Then again, if none of it had taken place, she never would have met Robert Astor. When “Lady” Eleanor Sotheby had simply shown up out of the blue in Wichita and told her that she was Jayne’s biological mother, and that Jayne had a sister in France, how could she have behaved any differently? It had all proved to be true. And then, when Eleanor offered to pay for her ticket to come to France and meet Celeste in person, and to attend Celeste’s wedding later in the year to some young British aristocrat, how could she have known her twin sister had stupidly gotten pregnant from a sleazy one night stand, and that Eleanor already knew about it and had only tracked Jayne down in Kansas to use her?

The late Eleanor Sotheby’s deviousness and malfeasance truly knew no bounds. Jayne still marveled that she herself was the biological daughter of such a wicked, Machiavellian creature. She was equally astounded by the fact that Eleanor somehow managed to make it seem like it was her idea to step in and pose as Celeste until the precious wedding could take place, which was virtually an arranged marriage of convenience, concocted by the ever-scheming Eleanor. The woman was so sneaky and such a master of psychological manipulation that it would have been impossible for Jayne to realize that she was covertly pulling her and Celeste’s strings. The aging bitch was flat broke and saw Celeste’s marriage into the Astor family as her only way out of total financial ruin.

But who could have known that Jayne would fall in love with Robert Astor herself, and that the feeling would be mutual?

When she realized the full extent of the situation and the damage that could be done to Robert and his wealthy, well-respected family, Jayne had put her foot down and refused to go through with the wedding. Celeste had already secretly given birth to the child but was still in hiding, too overweight and exhausted to actually attend the long ceremony and celebrations, so they tried to make Jayne do it, which was the last straw. She had gone straight to Robert and told him the ugly truth, fully expecting never to set eyes on him again. It was a miracle, she thought, as well as a testament to Robert’s inherent good nature, that he’d forgiven her. At that point, Eleanor had gone completely mad and tried to kill them both, but had only succeeded in killing herself.

Fortunately, no one had found out about her impersonation of Celeste except Robert and his parents. In fact, no one else in the world knew that Celeste Sotheby had a sister, let alone a twin, living in America. Robert’s parents were powerful enough to influence the Swiss police before word got out. Only the fact that Lady Eleanor Sotheby had committed suicide had been released to the news media, and everyone believed she had ended her life because she had gone bankrupt.

 The only big problem was that before Eleanor had died, when she was furious with Jayne and Robert, she poisoned Lady Astor’s mind with the same story she’d threatened Jayne with when Jayne had backed out of the scheme. Namely, that Miss Jayne Clark from Wichita, Kansas, was nothing but a low-class American gold digger who had rushed over to France on her own when she found out she had a twin sister who was about to marry a rich aristocrat, and sunk her claws into Lady Astor’s unsuspecting son, determined to steal him from Celeste and have him for herself.

After it was all over, Jayne simply went back to her old life in Kansas and tried to pretend it never happened. Robert visited her often, and the love between them only grew stronger. He also endeared himself to Jayne’s adoptive mother, Barbara, who had thought he would be a “stuffy British type” and was greatly surprised at his warmth and down-to-earth nature.
During one of his many visits to Wichita, Robert asked Jayne whether she would be willing to join him in England.

Jayne was completely caught off guard by the question—she didn’t think such a thing was remotely possible. She accepted their long-distance and somewhat secret relationship for the time being and wasn’t sure it would last.

“But what about your parents?” she asked.

“What about them?”

“They despise the ground I walk on, Rob, and you know it.”

“That’s not true, darling.” He shrugged, hugging her close to him. “With time, they’ll come to love you just as much as I do. And I’m sure that we can eventually…”

“Eventually what?”

“Get married, and with their full blessing. In a huge, public wedding, with all the pomp and circumstance that they planned for the one with Celeste.”

“Really?” she said, looking into his eyes, wanting to believe him.

“Absolutely.”

Jayne had her doubts, but she couldn’t resist the offer to live with him and wake up next to him every morning.

Rather than settle in London, Robert and Jayne chose Oxford. It was a quiet university town and relatively far away from the prying eyes of the big city tabloid journalists and paparazzi who might have sniffed something juicy to write about, but close enough so that Rob could visit his parents often. Robert slowly introduced Jayne to all his friends as Celeste Sotheby’s sister who had grown up in Kansas with no knowledge that she had any siblings, let alone a twin sister. The cover story he told everyone was simple: after he called off the wedding with Celeste, and Eleanor committed suicide, he found out through Eleanor’s lawyer that Celeste had an estranged twin sister in Wichita by the name of Jayne Clark who didn’t know that Celeste or Eleanor even existed. The lawyer told Robert that Eleanor had accumulated such massive debt that some of the debtors might try to go after Jayne as a last resort, so Robert flew to Kansas to warn her.

When the two met, it was “love at first sight,” according to Robert.
Jayne always blushed when he told this white lie.
 
* * *

Jayne pedaled up to the house she and Robert occupied, a two-bedroom “terraced Edwardian” home just across from the Oxford Canal. Over one hundred years old, the brick dwelling was outfitted with lovely antique furniture, had a beautiful sunroom and a pocket-sized, neater-than-neat garden in the back. Jayne was sure it was the most modest house Rob had ever lived in, but as he was no longer part of his father’s company, he had to watch his spending.

Unfortunately, Robert had grossly misjudged both his parents’ feelings about Jayne. When his father found out that she had moved from America to live with him, Robert was summarily kicked out of the family business. Although he’d already left his mark in the industry at not even thirty, this was a throwback. He was forced to go out into the UK market and land a job on his own, without the benefit of nepotism or even a recommendation from his father. His mother refused to speak to him for the first couple of months and then coldly told him that she hoped he would start coming to dinner at their house on Sundays, but that the “American hussy” he lived with in Oxford was not welcome.

The only decent job that Robert could get was one that required him to travel to China often—his prior experience with opening the factory there for his father helped land the position. The drop in pay had been massive and he was under intense pressure to prove himself. Poor Robert didn’t even own a car now and, as he often joked, had to actually stoop to using public transportation and riding a bicycle, like he’d done as an Oxford student. He only took taxis now when he could get his new employer to pay for it.

As Jayne hopped off her bike, she frowned, wondering in a brief moment of self-doubt whether the financial strain would rub off on their relationship and drive him away from her in the long run. Did he miss the carefree times when he didn’t have to worry twice about any decision and used his black Amex card to buy whatever he wanted? Did he sometimes long for a wealthy girlfriend to take to parties and sip champagne with, even if he kept insisting earnestly that those parties were hell to live through?

Just as she unlocked the front door, a taxi pulled up in front of the house.
Rob got out and paid the driver, waving at her while he waited for a receipt so he could be reimbursed. He then jogged over, grinning broadly and lighting the gloomy, cloudy day with his presence. With his impressive height of 6’2”, Rob could have been gangly, but there was just the right amount of muscle definition to his long, lean body to make it clear that this was a businessman who also loved outdoor activities. He caught many women’s eyes with his jet-black, neatly styled hair and his soulful brown eyes—but the slightly crooked, utterly disarming smile that made him look a few years younger was reserved for Jayne only. God, how lucky she was that a man like him had fallen for her. He looked positively delicious in his business suit.

Catching her own thoughts, Jayne blushed and lifted her face happily for a quick yet thorough kiss.

“Hello, darling.” Rob nuzzled her cheek for a moment before guiding her into the building with a hand on the small of her back. Living together had not only influenced her but also had an effect on him. He never hesitated with public displays of affection now, as if she had chipped away at his prim and proper gentleman upbringing with her spontaneous shows of love.

Inside the house, her giggle was cut off when he slammed the door shut and claimed her mouth in a searing kiss. He turned with her in his embrace to back her up against the living room wall, and a moment later their hands were everywhere, groping, stroking, clutching, desperate for more. Rob grabbed her thigh and hoisted her leg up around his hips so he could grind himself against her, making them both moan.

“Let’s go upstairs,” he whispered hoarsely into her ear.

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