Satan's Contract. SUSANNE MCCARTHY

him, gritting her teeth. ‘Half of it will probably go in inheritance tax.’ And turning him an aloof shoulder, she stalked away.

      * * *

      Inevitably there could be no other topic of conversation at the Corbett dinner table that evening—it wasn’t exactly an aid to digestion. ‘Walking in here like that, as if he already owned the place,’ fumed Sir Charles, spearing a lump of kidney with his fork as if it had been freshly cut from the body of his enemy. ‘Looking around in that sly way, pricing everything up. It wouldn’t surprise me if he was planning to sell off the lot!’

      ‘What I simply can’t understand,’ his wife remarked for the fortieth time, ‘is how the law can even recognise a...a natural child in that way, let alone favour them. I mean, it’s virtually condoning...that sort of thing. I wonder if the Government is aware of it? I think perhaps I shall write a letter to the local party agent, just to draw it to his attention.’

      ‘Well, he’s going to find out that it isn’t going to be as easy as he seems to think,’ Sir Charles rambled on, ignoring his wife’s contribution. ‘Possession is nine-tenths of the law. That damned stupid old fool of a solicitor—I don’t trust a word he said. Good God, bringing the man here like that, quite openly—it’s easy to see whose side he’s on! Well, he’s burned his boats with me. We’ll see what a decent solicitor makes of the matter!’

      Pippa ate in silence, the acrid taste on her tongue ruining her appetite. Shaun’s words were still bouncing around inside her head. How dared he interpret her simple gesture of friendliness as an attempt to make a play for him? As if she would lower herself even to consider marrying a man for his money! And least of all him! She had never met such an insufferably arrogant man in all her life, and if she did ever meet him again—which she sincerely hoped she wouldn’t—she would tell him exactly what she thought of him.

      Although it would be disappointing if she never had the chance to respond to that...that outrageous insult he had handed her. At the time she had been too stunned to be able to think of a suitably cutting retort, but since then her mind had been occupied with nothing but honing and refining a few extremely choice words that would wither him into the ground.

      ‘He’ll know he’s got a fight on his hands,’ her father was still pontificating. ‘I’ll take it all the way to the House of Lords if I have to. You mark my words...’

      ‘Oh, can’t you leave it alone for five minutes?’ Pippa burst out irritably. ‘Even if you do manage to stop Shaun getting the money, that doesn’t automatically mean it’ll come to you. It’ll go to the Crown instead—so you won’t be any better off, and you’ll just have wasted a fortune on legal fees.’

      They both stared at her, startled by her heated intervention. ‘And what would you know about it?’ her father demanded crossly. ‘You’d just better hope it does get sorted out right, my girl. It would have all come to you eventually, and if you’re telling me you’re happy to see a fortune whistled down the wind you’re a bigger fool than I ever took you for.’

      Pippa rose to her feet. ‘I really couldn’t give a damn about a fortune,’ she snapped, her patience strained beyond endurance. ‘I’d just as soon be poor. And you’d better take that glass off her,’ she added with a wry nod towards her mother. ‘That’s her fourth brandy already this evening, on top of all that sherry this afternoon. She’ll be under the table by ten o’clock at this rate.’

      ‘Philippa! How dare you speak of your mother like that?’

      ‘Oh, come off it, Dad. You know she drinks, I know she drinks, everyone knows she drinks. Why don’t you try to get her to do something about it, instead of closing your eyes to it all the time?’

      Sir Charles drew himself up in righteous indignation. ‘I won’t have that kind of talk at my dinner table,’ he pronounced pompously. ‘If you can’t keep a civil tongue in your head, you’d better leave the room.’

      ‘That’s exactly what I was planning to do,’ she retorted. ‘I couldn’t stand to sit here with the pair of you wittering on a moment longer! Neither of you ever listen to each other anyway. I’m going down to the stables—at least the company’s a little more civilised down there!’

      Her temper was still simmering as she walked down to the stables. She knew she shouldn’t have been so rude to her father, but she felt as if she had been stretched on a rack all day—and his posturing had been just about the last straw.

      Of course, she shouldn’t be the least bit surprised at the way he was behaving, trying to thwart poor old Gramps’s wishes even after his death. It wasn’t as if he needed the money—he seemed to have business interests all over the place; there were always companies who were eager to pay for the kudos of his aristocratic links and public-school education, though she had the impression that they generally saw through him pretty quickly, and kept him out of any serious areas of responsibility.

      The stables were warm and quiet. Fury wickered softly in greeting, nuzzling into her shoulder, hopeful that she had brought him an apple. She had, of course, and one for Lady too, then she perched up on the partition of the stall as she watched them munching contentedly.

      ‘Maybe it’s time I started to look for a place of my own anyway,’ she mused, idly stroking the horse’s thick mane. ‘After all, I’m twenty-two. The only problem is, what am I going to do with you two? I’ll have to find a livery stable for you somewhere. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you’re comfortable. But it won’t be quite the same as having you at home.’

      Fury regarded her with one liquid brown eye, completely understanding every word she said.

      * * *

      She had had the day off for Gramps’s funeral, but the next day found Pippa back at work behind the counter of the small flower-shop she owned, in partnership with her friend Marjorie. They had been in business for nearly eighteen months now, and the shop was proving so successful that they were thinking about opening another one.

      Situated on the edge of Stratford-upon-Avon, close to the river, it was one of a row of medieval half-timbered houses that had been preserved and turned into shops—there was a tea-shop next door, and an antiques dealer, and a very smart dress shop at the end of the row. It was the kind of hidden corner that the tourists loved, stumbling across it unexpectedly and ever after convinced that they were one of an exclusive few who had found it.

      It had been a busy afternoon. As closing time approached, Pippa was helping a customer select a bouquet for his wife’s birthday when she heard the door open. She didn’t bother to look up—Marjorie was already stepping forward with her polite, ‘Can I help you?’ on her lips.

      ‘Yes—I’d like some flowers to send to a young lady. Roses, I think.’

      The sound of that familiar laconic drawl brought Pippa’s head round in astonishment. He must have seen her, though he was acting as if he hadn’t. But it was certainly no coincidence that he had chosen to come in here, out of all the florist shops in town, she reflected, her mind in turmoil—he must have done it deliberately, just to needle her.

      But who on earth could he be sending flowers to? A girlfriend in Canada? He had hardly had time to get something going in this country—so far as she was aware, he had arrived only yesterday morning! Not that she cared, of course—it was none of her business...

      ‘Does that include VAT?’

      ‘Oh...’ She turned her attention quickly back to her own customer, annoyed with herself for allowing Shaun Morgan to distract her. ‘I beg your pardon.’ She smiled a swift apology. ‘Yes, that’s inclusive of VAT. And delivery within the local area is two pounds ninety-five. Tomorrow, you said?’

      Shaun was chosing long-stemmed roses—a pretty expensive trifle, to be paid for out of his new-found wealth, Pippa noted acidly. At least he had chosen yellow instead of red—the significance of sending a dozen red roses would have been unmistakable, and she had no wish to see the girl he proposed to install as the new mistress of Claremont flying