he said firmly.
How desperately she loved him. It seemed as if her slender form must shatter with the force of her love.
As they neared the house she saw a tall man standing on the steps. He’d been a teenager when she’d glimpsed him in the factory, but she had no trouble recognising him again as Jason Tenby.
He must have been a good six foot two, with broad shoulders and a certain massiveness about his presence that had more to do with his air than his build. His hair was dark brown with a touch of red, and his skin was tanned as though he spent a lot of time outdoors. He wore riding breeches and a tweed jacket and stood at his ease, one foot on the lowest step, his hands thrust into his breeches pocket. He looked for all the world like a patriarch watching the hordes advancing on his domain, sizing up a threat.
‘How do you do, Miss Smith?’ His voice was deep and vibrant. Had she imagined it contained a sneer, as though he was mocking her for her commonplace name?
His very handshake was unnerving. Her delicate hand was swallowed up in his great fist, and she almost gasped from the strength of his grip and the sense of power that came from him.
She remembered every moment of her first evening at Tenby Manor. It was the first time she’d been in a house where people dressed for dinner. At least, she thought, she could live up to her surroundings, for she had an expensive long gown and a delicate sapphire pendant, both of them Simon’s gifts. He was wonderfully handsome in dinner jacket and black tie, although even her adoring eyes could see that he was cast into the shadow by his brother.
Simon was twenty, slim and mercurial, with fair, boyish looks and rapid speech. Jason was twenty-eight with slow, thoughtful speech and an authority beyond his years.
Simon enchanted her. Jason awed her.
There was only a slight brotherly likeness between them. Already Jason’s face was harsh with experience, and there was a firmness about his mouth and chin that revealed his impatience with fools, or with anyone who disagreed with him. Yet when in repose his mouth had an unexpected curve, suggesting humour, sensuality, even charm. She grew nervous whenever he looked at her because his dark eyes seemed to swallow light, and it was impossible to read his thoughts in them.
The walls of the grand dining room were lined with portraits of Tenby ancestors, and under their censorious eyes she was sure she would use the wrong knife and fork, or knock over one of the lead-crystal glasses. But it wasn’t as bad as she’d feared. Jason talked to her cordially enough, and showed no sign of recognising her from years ago. Afterwards he showed her around the grand house, and they sat talking in the library.
‘So, how did you meet my brother?’ he asked, handing her a sherry.
‘Hasn’t Simon told you?’
‘I’d like to hear your version. He has a tendency to—shall we say—embellish things?’
She nodded. ‘He does have a wonderful imagination,’ she agreed eagerly. To his dour brother Simon’s tendency to get carried away might be maddening, but after her dull life it was a glorious plus.
‘Wonderful,’ Jason echoed. Then, unexpectedly, he grinned. She couldn’t help herself smiling back, and for a moment a flash of understanding passed between them.
‘I was working in a shoe shop,’ she said with a touch of defiance. ‘And Simon came in to buy some shoes.’
He’d stayed two hours and left with five pairs— ‘because I couldn’t tear myself away from your sweet face’, he’d said over dinner that night.
‘Have you done any other kind of work?’ Jason asked.
‘I was going to train as a nurse, but my mother became ill and I stayed at home to look after her until she died.’
‘And you didn’t start your training then?’
‘Well—then I met Simon,’ she said, and nothing could have stopped the gentle smile that crept over her face.
She heard a sound like a sharp intake of breath and looked up quickly to find Jason staring at her, hard-eyed.
‘What does your father do?’ he demanded abruptly.
‘He’s been dead for ten years.’
Joe Smith had fallen into a ditch while weaving his drunken way home from the pub, gone to sleep in a foot of water and never woken again. She could imagine what this stern man would make of such a story.
She noticed Jason frowning as she spoke, and suddenly he leaned towards her and said, ‘You really are Brenda Smith’s daughter. I couldn’t believe it at first—’
So he’d recognised her after all, she thought in despair.
‘Yes, I—that is—’
‘And we met that day in the factory. Well, well! A little more sherry?’
While she was sipping he suddenly demanded, ‘What made you choose that dress?’
Taken off guard, she did what came naturally to her, and replied with complete honesty. ‘Simon chose it.’
‘So I would have supposed,’ he replied dryly. ‘Paid for it too, I dare say.’
‘I didn’t ask him to—’
‘Don’t say a word. I know my brother. That thing is much too old and sophisticated for you.’
‘I—I thought it would be suitable,’ she stammered.
‘You mean you thought you should dress up and pretend to be something you’re not. Damned idiotic idea! Who do you think you’re fooling?’
Her cheeks flamed. He saw it and added more kindly, ‘Don’t take it to heart. I’m a plain man—a rough man, some would say—and I talk plainly. And, in plain words, you and Simon are a mistake.’
‘You can’t tell that in one evening.’
‘I could tell it in one minute.’
To her relief Simon came looking for them then. Jason said no more, but let Simon take her away for a stroll in the garden.
‘He knows me,’ she said, distraught. ‘He recognised me all the time. It’s not funny—’ Simon had broken into a chuckle.
‘I’m sorry, darling,’ he choked. ‘What did he actually say?’
‘He said, “You really are Brenda Smith’s daughter. I couldn’t believe it at first—”. Oh, Simon, don’t you see what that means? He saw it during dinner and he kept it to himself until he was ready.’
‘Did he tell you what made him realise?’ Simon asked in a curious voice.
‘No. Oh, what does that matter? He was laughing at me all that time.’
‘He enjoys being one up on people,’ Simon agreed.
‘What else did he say?’
‘Isn’t that enough? He despises me because I haven’t got any “background.”’
His laugh came echoing down the years to her now. How young and delightful he’d been! How generous and full of charm! ‘Who cares about background?’
Her name was Elinor Lucinda, but Simon called her Cindy. Cindy for Lucinda, but also—
‘Cindy for Cinderella,’ he teased. ‘My little Cinderella.’
Her poverty enchanted him. ‘I love giving you things,’ he said that first night as they walked under the trees. ‘I’m going to cover you with diamonds.’
‘But I don’t want diamonds. Just your love, my darling. Nothing but your love.’
‘You can have that as well, all tied up with a big shiny bow, and anything else you ask for.’
Lost in delight, she hardly realised