The Deserving Mistress Read online

  ‘When Reception informed me you were waiting to see me downstairs, I ordered coffee for us both. Thank you.’ April turned to smile at the waitress as she arrived with the coffee tray. ‘I hope you don’t mind?’ she prompted May lightly as she sat forward to pour the aromatic brew.

  ‘You go ahead,’ May invited stiffly once they were alone again. ‘I had a coffee before leaving home.’ And she certainly hadn’t come here to spend a sociable half-hour with this woman.

  ‘It won’t choke you to have coffee with me, you know, May,’ April said tautly, eyes flashing deeply green.

  May gave a barely perceptible shake of her head as she recognised that angry characteristic in the other woman as one of her own. In fact, apart from the length of their hair, and the obvious difference in their ages, the similarities between the two women were so noticeable, to May at least, that she was surprised no one else—namely David or Jude—had put two and two together and come up with the appropriate answer of four.

  But it was only a matter of time…

  ‘That’s a matter of opinion,’ she snapped dismissively. ‘I only want to know—’

  ‘What I told Jude last night,’ April finished dryly. ‘And my answer to that is, why should I have told Jude anything, last night or any other time?’

  This wasn’t going to be as easy as she had thought it would be, May realised heavily. The last thing she had wanted to do was come here and talk to this woman at all, but she really had felt that she had no choice in the matter; Jude was already far too superior in his manner for her liking—if April were to tell him of their family connection then the whole situation would become unbearable.

  As it was May had found it very difficult to continue to act normally with her two sisters and their fiancés after Jude’s departure the previous evening, knowing Jude was intelligent enough to realise that if she wouldn’t give him any answers to his questions his only other source of information was April…

  She gave an impatient movement of her hand. ‘Because Jude knows there’s something going on—he just doesn’t know what it is. At least, he didn’t…’ she added pointedly.

  April poured coffee into the second cup, adding the cream before placing it on the table in front of May. ‘I take it you still don’t like sugar in hot drinks?’ she prompted huskily.

  No, she still didn’t like sugar in hot drinks—but it was completely disturbing to realise that this woman remembered her well enough to know that…!

  ‘Miss Robine—’

  ‘April,’ the older woman cut in tersely. ‘If you can’t call me anything else, then call me April,’ she added firmly as May looked at her frowningly.

  Call her anything else…? What sort of ‘anything else’ did the other woman have in mind? Surely not ‘Mother’.

  May nodded abruptly. ‘April,’ she ground out tersely. ‘I don’t want any coffee. I don’t want to exchange polite pleasantries. I just want—’

  ‘To know what I said to Jude last night,’ the other woman repeated heavily. ‘But as I haven’t seen Jude since we all met at the farm together yesterday evening, I have no idea why you think I have told him anything.’

  May’s eyes widened. April hadn’t seen Jude again last night…? Could Jude possibly be telling the truth when he denied having any sort of intimate relationship with the beautiful actress? It was incredible if that really were the case, but as they both denied that such a relationship existed—

  What difference did it make in the huge scheme of things? Jude’s friendship with April alone was enough to make him a danger to the harmony of her family.

  Although May couldn’t deny the small surge of warmth inside her at the knowledge that the man she loved wasn’t involved with the woman who had been her mother. Not that she thought her own feelings for him were going anywhere, either, but it would make those feelings unbearable if she knew he was intimately involved with April.

  ‘Did something happen, May?’ April prompted frowningly. ‘Have you and Jude argued—?’

  ‘Jude and I have done nothing but argue since the moment we first met. In fact, before we first met.’ She grimaced.

  ‘Explain that last remark, please.’ April frowned.

  May sighed. What difference did it make if April knew about the farm? It was absolutely none of this woman’s business, but at the same time it really didn’t matter if she knew; April’s own interest in the farm—if she had ever had one—had ended long ago.

  May shrugged. ‘Jude wants to buy the farm.’

  April looked surprised. ‘What on earth for?’

  ‘The reasons aren’t important; the farm isn’t for sale.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘It isn’t for sale,’ May repeated firmly, her own eyes flashing a warning now.

  Two pairs of identical green eyes warred for several long seconds before April gave a puzzled sigh. ‘Okay, Jude wants to buy the farm, you don’t want to sell; are you trying to tell me that’s the only involvement between the two of you?’

  ‘Of course that’s the only involvement between the two of us,’ May assured her impatiently. ‘Do I look like the type of woman Jude Marshall would be romantically interested in?’ she added disgustedly.

  April sat back in her chair, looking at May consideringly now. ‘And why shouldn’t he be interested in you?’ she finally said slowly. ‘You’re beautiful. Intelligent. A very talented actress, according to David,’ she added ruefully. ‘So why shouldn’t Jude be attracted to you?’

  ‘Never mind,’ May dismissed impatiently.

  ‘But—’

  ‘My only interest in Jude is what you may or may not have told him about our own—connection,’ May cut in determinedly.

  ‘Nothing,’ April snapped. ‘Absolutely nothing,’ she repeated tightly. ‘And I presume you want it to continue that way?’ She arched dark brows.

  ‘Most definitely,’ May scorned. ‘And I don’t want you coming to the farm again, either,’ she added hardly.

  Pain flickered across the beautiful features so well known to film and television viewers alike, the eyes now a dark, unfathomable green. ‘You really hate me, don’t you?’ April choked.

  ‘How I do or don’t feel about you really isn’t important,’ May dismissed impatiently. ‘January and March arrived back home unexpectedly last night, and—’

  ‘January and March are here, too?’ April breathed huskily, eyes wide, her beautiful face lit with anticipation.

  May scowled her displeasure at the other woman’s response to this information. ‘You’re dead, remember,’ she stated flatly.

  The other woman flinched as if May had physically struck her, all the colour fading from her cheeks, the deep red lipgloss she wore standing out in stark contrast to that paleness.

  ‘You enjoyed saying that.’ April winced, putting up a hand to cover the emotional quiver of her lips.

  May felt a momentary guilt at April’s obvious pain, but it was a guilt she quickly squashed as she remembered this woman’s abandonment of her husband and three young daughters. After all, this woman was the one who had left them, not the other way around. And she really couldn’t expect that any of them would want to see her again now.

  ‘You’re wrong, I’m not enjoying any of this situation,’ May assured her emphatically. ‘It just happens to be fact.’ She shrugged. ‘You—’

  ‘How did your father explain the money?’ April cut in frowningly. ‘What did he tell you all? That there was a rich uncle around somewhere who liked to help out occasionally?’

  May looked at the other woman for several long seconds, and then she turned to rummage through her handbag, finding what she was looking for almost immediately. ‘I called at the bank before coming here this morning,’ she told April woodenly. ‘I wanted to be able to give you this.’ She held out the piece of paper in her hand.

  April’s hand visibly trembled as she reached out to take the paper, that trembling increasing as she looked down at the cheque May had given her.
/>   ‘It’s all there,’ May told her evenly. ‘Including the interest.’

  Tears swam in the pained green eyes as April looked up at her. ‘He didn’t use any of it,’ she groaned. ‘Not a single penny.’

  It had been the shock of May’s life when, on the death of her father, she had been informed of the money in his bank accounts, one that was used for the everyday expenses, and predictably contained very little, a second one that contained a few hundred pounds her father had saved for a rainy day, and a third that contained an amount of money that made May’s eyes widen incredulously. Until informed by the bank manager that an amount was placed in that account every month, increasingly so, and had been for the last twenty years. It had been the almost twenty years that had given it away; after that it hadn’t taken too much intelligence to work out who could have been making those payments…

  ‘No, he didn’t,’ May confirmed huskily. ‘Did you really think that he would?’ She gave a pained frown.

  April swallowed hard. ‘I—I hoped that he would. I—wanted you girls to have things, pretty things—’

  ‘Why?’ May laughed humourlessly. ‘Did you really think that “things” could make it up to us for not having a mother?’ She shook her head incredulously. ‘I’m glad my father didn’t use any of that money, I would have been disappointed in him if he had.’

  The amount in the account was an absolute fortune, could have made all of their lives so much easier, but May knew very well why her father had refused to use it, even to ease the lives of his daughters as they grew up. For the same reason May had refused to touch a penny of it since he had died…

  ‘You’re so like him.’ April spoke huskily now, shaking her head slightly. ‘You look like me, but you’re so like your father—’

  ‘I’m glad of that,’ May said with satisfaction, but nevertheless the barb—if indeed that was what it had been meant as—hit home; this woman believed her to be like the man she hadn’t been able to stay married to, to the point that she had left her children in order to escape him.

  But her father had been a good man, an honest man. Not always able to show his affection, perhaps, but none of his daughters had ever doubted his love for them. As May had never doubted that he had continued to love the wife who had left him until the day he’d died…

  ‘Believe it or not, so am I,’ April choked emotionally. ‘Are January and March like him, too? Do they—?’

  ‘I absolutely refuse to discuss them with you,’ May cut in coldly, hands clenched angrily in her lap. ‘You—’

  ‘Well, hello, ladies,’ interrupted a silkily familiar voice. ‘Having another one of your cosy little chats?’ Jude prompted lightly as he came to stand beside the table they sat at.

  Cosy hardly described the chat between the two women, May fumed angrily, wondering how much of their conversation Jude had overheard before interrupting them, turning to glare up at him suspiciously, only to have that angry gaze met with by one of bland indifference. Whatever Jude might or might not have overheard he wasn’t about to give any of that away from his expression.

  But April, May was at least relieved to see, had had the foresight to push the cheque she had just given her away in her own handbag. Away from curious eyes…

  ‘I telephoned the farm earlier, but neither January nor March had any idea where you were,’ Jude informed May as he sat down at the table with them without being invited.

  May stared at him impotently, once again having that feeling that this whole situation was rolling away from her…

  Jude continued to look at May for several seconds, but could gauge very little from her expression. She was getting as good at this as he was himself.

  It had been quite a surprise to see May chatting away with April when he’d stepped out of the lift a few minutes ago, the two of them looking intensely serious about something. He had considered—briefly—not interrupting them, but on second thoughts had decided the opportunity of talking to the two of them together was too good to miss.

  ‘Why were you trying to find me?’ May spoke sharply, her voice husky, as if she were finding it difficult to talk at all.

  Jude relaxed back in his chair, his expression deliberately inscrutable. ‘I wasn’t. I actually telephoned to talk to Max, but March seemed to assume it was you I wanted to talk to, and before I could correct her on the matter she had explained that neither she nor your sister had any idea where you were.’

  May’s mouth firmed at this disclosure. ‘I can see I will have to ask my sisters to be a little more—circumspect, in what they tell complete strangers about my movements!’

  In spite of himself, Jude felt some of his inscrutability slip at her deliberately insulting tone, knowing it was what she wanted but unable to stop the tightening of his mouth and the narrowing of his eyes. She really was—

  ‘Max?’ April repeated lightly, drawing his attention to her and away from May. ‘Is Max here, too?’ She smiled delightedly.

  ‘He is.’ Jude nodded ruefully. ‘And he’s now engaged to marry one of May’s sisters,’ he explained dryly, no longer looking at May but nevertheless aware—if puzzled—by the way she had stiffened as April’s comment revealed that she obviously knew Max, too.

  ‘How lovely,’ April said with genuine delight, her eyes glowing deeply green. ‘March or January?’ she prompted interestedly.

  ‘January, as it happens,’ May was the one to answer curtly. ‘Although I can’t see what difference it makes to you which one it is,’ she added disgruntledly.

  April looked flustered. ‘Well…no. But—’ she gave an impatient shake of her head before turning to smile at Jude ‘—I’m so pleased for Max,’ she told him huskily.

  So was Jude, well aware of the reason for Max’s previous determination never to fall in love, pleased that someone as beautiful and charming as January Calendar had managed to overcome Max’s barriers.

  But it was May’s reaction to April’s acquaintance with Max that intrigued him…

  Jude nodded. ‘We’ll have to arrange for us all to have dinner together one—’

  ‘No!’ May gasped protestingly, although she seemed to regret the protest as soon as she had made it, a shutter coming down over her eyes even as her face paled.

  Jude gave her a quizzical glance. ‘I didn’t mean this evening,’ he drawled mockingly, having no intention of anyone intruding on his evening with May. As seemed to have happened every other time he had tried to spend time alone with her.

  ‘I didn’t think you did,’ May snapped dismissively, obviously not in the least concerned with that. ‘But I’m sure Miss Robine is far too busy for socialising on that scale,’ she added with what looked like a pointed glare in April’s direction.

  April returned that glare, neither woman seeming aware of Jude’s presence as the silent war of wills continued for several long seconds.

  Giving Jude time to study them unobserved. They were both such lovely women, inside as well as out, that it was totally unbelievable to him that the two of them didn’t even like each other. Well…no, that wasn’t strictly accurate; April seemed to like May well enough, it was May who was so antagonistic.

  What could she possibly have against someone as charmingly gracious as April—?

  Jude froze in his seat, his gaze suddenly fixed as he looked at the two women, the expressions of determination on their faces absolutely identical. In fact, apart from the twenty or so years’ difference in their ages, the two faces bore a striking resemblance to each other…

  What?

  His gaze narrowed as he studied the two women more closely, noting the ebony hair, the creamy brow, deep green eyes, the generously kissable mouth, pointed determination of the chin, the slender curvaceousness of the body.

  My God…!

  Apart from the difference in their ages, these two women might have been sisters. But as they couldn’t possibly be sisters, that only left—

  But it couldn’t be!

  Could it…?

&n
bsp; CHAPTER TEN

  ‘YOU know, don’t you?’ May said huskily, her gaze not quite meeting Jude’s.

  She had been dreading seeing him again this evening, ever since this morning at the hotel when she had finally broken her gaze from April Robine’s to turn and see Jude looking at the two of them as if he had just been punched between his eyes—or that he couldn’t quite believe what his eyes had been undoubtedly telling him. Except, May was sure by the shutter that had suddenly come down over those silver-grey pools, that he had believed it…

  But after that first shocked reaction, he had continued to chat quite amiably with the two women, obviously had had no intention of going anywhere, leaving it to May to have been the one to make her departure, knowing there had been nothing further she could do there that morning. In fact, if what she suspected concerning Jude was true, she had probably made things worse.

  And so she had left the hotel, totally distracted as she’d carried out the work on the farm for the rest of the day, picking up the telephone in the hallway at least half a dozen times with the intention of cancelling their dinner engagement for this evening, only to have put it down again as she’d accepted that she would only have been delaying the inevitable. Besides, there was always the possibility—more than a possibility—that Jude had questioned April once May had left the hotel…

  His expression had been unreadable when he’d arrived at the farm to pick May up at exactly seven-thirty, looking extremely handsome in a dark business suit, grey shirt, and neatly knotted tie, receiving raised-brow looks from both Max and Will as they’d helped January and March prepare their own dinner, although neither man had actually made any comment about the fact that Jude and May had obviously been going out to dinner together.

  May had chosen her own clothes carefully for this evening, not wanting to give the impression she’d thought she was actually going out on a date with Jude—which she most certainly wasn’t—but at the same time needing to look a bit more glamorous than she usually did. If only to give her more confidence than she’d actually felt. The fitted dark green above-knee-length dress, teamed with a contrasting black jacket, had seemed about right to her.