The Complete Ravenscar Trilogy: The Ravenscar Dynasty, Heirs of Ravenscar, Being Elizabeth. Barbara Taylor Bradford

style. Large, luminous black eyes stared out from under perfectly arched black brows. Her incomparable and rather dramatic beauty was matched by her slender, willowy figure and her clothes, which were the height of current fashion and expensively chic.

      Coming fully into the room, she closed the door behind her and gave Edward a cursory look, then turned her attention on Alfredo Oliveri furiously.

      ‘I’ve been looking all over for you!’ she cried in perfect English only slightly accented. ‘How dare you hold these meetings about the Carrara quarries without my presence!’

      Alfredo took a deep breath, obviously striving to control his temper. ‘The matter is urgent, and you were not here last week, Mrs Grant. Because of the urgency I held my meetings with Aubrey Masters and other executives involved in the mining division. But you know all this. And there is nothing wrong with my doing that, you know.’

      ‘I represent my husband at this moment in time. I run this company, and I will not tolerate insubordination.’

      ‘There wasn’t any,’ Alfredo shot back. ‘And I won’t have you suggesting that there was.’

      ‘You must not speak to me in that tone—’

      ‘Hey, hold on a minute,’ Edward cut in peremptorily. ‘Let me just point out one thing to you, madame. You do not run this company!’

      ‘Oh but I do,’ she exclaimed. ‘And why are you here in the first place? You have no right to be here, no right to occupy this office. Pack your possessions and get out.’

      ‘Oh but I do have every right. You had better go and look at the company rules, Mrs Grant. You will quickly discover that I have every right to be here at Deravenels, to occupy my father’s office, to be a director of this company, and to work here. For one very simple and undeniable reason. I am a Deravenel. You are not a Deravenel by birth, and therefore you cannot run this company. Actually you shouldn’t even be here at all. Because in those company rules you will find a clause which says only a woman who is a born Deravenel can work in the company and hold a directorship. Other women may work here as secretaries and receptionists, but not hold a position as an executive.’

      ‘Ah, c’est pas possible!’ she cried, reverting to her native French.

      ‘Oh but it is possible!’ Edward responded. He moved forward, was suddenly standing in front of her, looking down at her.

      Staring up at him, Margot Grant saw the handsomeness of this man, became aware of his raw sex appeal, and she took a step back, glaring. But she was silent for once, unnerved by him, taken aback by his charismatic presence. He overwhelmed her.

      Edward continued. ‘I will not get out, and don’t you ever dare suggest that to me again. You are the one who is a trespasser here, not I, madame.’

      At a loss for words, feeling unexpectedly humiliated, Margot Grant swung around and left Edward’s office without another word.

      Once the door had closed behind her, Alfredo grinned at Edward and said, ‘That was telling her where to get off.’

      ‘She’s one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen,’ Edward said almost wonderingly.

      ‘But she’s also a bitch, and evil,’ Alfredo pointed out in a low, almost inaudible voice. ‘Don’t ever forget that. Not ever.’

      Neville Watkins met Edward and Oliveri for lunch at Rules later that morning. The wonderful restaurant just off the Strand was a favourite of his, and after Edward’s urgent telephone call he had made a reservation for one o’clock and been accommodated immediately.

      The three men sat at the best table in the house, studying their menus as they waited for Amos Finnister to arrive.

      They had just selected their food and were relaxing with apéritifs when Amos Finnister hurried in.

      ‘So sorry to be late,’ he explained, ‘but I got caught up with—some of my operatives.’ As he took a seat opposite Neville, he added, with a small, satisfied smile, ‘I have set things in motion, sir. Regarding those…er…er records.’

      Neville smiled warmly, holding Amos Finnister in great esteem. ‘I have no qualms about you. I know how dedicated and efficient you are. Now, have a look at the menu and let’s order lunch. In the meantime, would you like to join us in a glass of sherry?’

      ‘Thank you kindly, Mr Watkins, but I won’t, if you don’t mind. I’ve got my hands full today. And I’d better be sober.’

      Laughing, Neville nodded. ‘As you wish, Amos, although I don’t think one drink would do any harm.’

      Again Amos declined, picked up the menu and studied it. Within a few minutes the four men had ordered, and leaning closer to each other, their heads together, Neville said, ‘Now that we’re all here, let’s have it, Ned, my boy. What is your important news, other than the discovery of the notebooks and your father’s diary, which you informed me about already.’

      Keeping his voice low, Edward told Neville and Amos about the discovery of the numbers on the map, and what he believed they meant. He also confided that he thought it was Neville’s father Rick who had been the person Richard referred to as compadre.

      ‘To tell you the truth, my boy, that had occurred to me, too. Who else would your father trust so implicitly but my father? Now, to the discovery of the numbers on the map, and the meaning of them, let me ask you something. Why did your father keep listing those particular mines in the notebook? Not just because they were mines, surely? There’s another reason.’

      ‘I think there is probably something wrong with the mines,’ Alfredo volunteered. ‘What this is I can’t hazard a guess. But there’s something amiss, I feel positive. Mr Richard was troubled when he was in Carrara, and as I’ve told you before, the reason he came to Italy instead of Aubrey Masters was because he wanted to get to the bottom of the problem there. Which is the dwindling of the marble in the quarries we own. As for the mines in those other countries, maybe they have the same problem.’

      ‘I doubt it,’ Neville answered. ‘I think my uncle would have told my father, and certainly my father would have mentioned it to me. It’s something else.’

      ‘But what?’ Edward asked worriedly. ‘What could it be?’

      ‘I don’t know.’ Neville shook his head. ‘You and Oliveri here have to keep your eyes and ears open. You mustn’t miss…a trick.’

      ‘I understand,’ Edward replied, and then laughed. ‘I had quite a run-in with Margot Grant this morning.’

      ‘He was superb, really told her off,’ Alfredo said proudly.

      ‘Did you?’ Neville raised a brow, his pale blue eyes twinkling.

      ‘I told her she had better go and read the company rules. That she would soon discover she wasn’t even allowed at Deravenels. Well, that’s an exaggeration. But she was somewhat perturbed. She left without another word.’

      ‘But I’m afraid we haven’t heard the last from her,’ Neville muttered. ‘Not by a long shot.’

      At the end of the afternoon Edward went to see Lily Overton. He had missed her, and he knew he must quickly make amends for neglecting her the previous week.

      It was Mrs Dane, the housekeeper, who opened the door to Edward, and her face lit up. ‘Why Mr Deravenel, good afternoon, sir. How nice to see you.’

      ‘Good afternoon, Mrs Dane,’ he answered politely, and smiled at her warmly.

      Her immediate response to his undeniable charm was to open the door wider for him. ‘Please come in, Mr Deravenel. I’ll