Название | Passionate Scandal |
---|---|
Автор произведения | Michelle Reid |
Жанр | Современные любовные романы |
Серия | |
Издательство | Современные любовные романы |
Год выпуска | 0 |
isbn |
‘Oh, so you do actually move in the same company,’ Madeline scowled. ‘I suppose that has to mean something.’
‘Not much,’ Louise grunted. ‘We may attend the same things but we never acknowledge one another.’
‘Good grief!’ Madeline exploded. ‘But that’s positively—archaic!’
‘I entirely agree with you, dear.’ Louise nodded. ‘But it’s there and has to be faced. And I wouldn’t like you to make some terrible gaffe by speaking to the Stantons this Saturday night at the Lassiters’ only to find yourself cut dead where you stand.’
‘Y-you mean, they would actually do that?’ Her blue eyes widened in pained disbelief. ‘No wonder Vicky was so damned touchy whenever we mentioned family! My God,’ she breathed, utterly appalled by it all.
‘Your father felt sure you would be able to cope,’ Louise was looking pensive at Madeline’s paste-white face, ‘but if you don’t feel you can face it all just yet, Madeline, we would understand if you preferred not to attend...’
‘Oh, I’m going,’ Madeline murmured ominously. ‘And don’t think for one moment that I shall be joining in your petty feud!’
‘I thought you might say that,’ Louise grimaced.
Another sudden thought brought Madeline’s gaze arrowing on to her stepmother. ‘Does this also mean that the Stantons have not been invited to Nina’s wedding?’ she demanded, saw the answer in Louise’s uncomfortable face and was furious. ‘Vicky is my best friend!’ she cried. ‘We—all three of us—Nina, Vicky and I planned to be bridesmaids at each other’s wedding! Are you now telling me that even poor Vicky has been made a pariah by this family?’
‘I’m so sorry, dear.’
‘I should hope you jolly well are!’ Madeline snapped, so angry her eyes were flashing in a way that they hadn’t done once since she’d returned home. ‘For the first time, I feel heartily glad that I’ve come back! It’s time it stopped, Louise,’ she stated grimly. ‘And you can tell Daddy that I’m going to see to it that it does!’
‘You can tell him that yourself, Madeline,’ Louise drily declined the offer as she came gracefully to her feet. ‘The subject has been made taboo between your father and me ever since we fell out over it for a whole month! I don’t ever intend to put myself through that kind of purgatory again.’ She shuddered at the mere memory of it. ‘No,’ she reached up to pat Madeline’s shoulder, ‘any sorting of this problem will have to come from you, darling, since you’re the one who is at the root of it.’
And Dominic, Madeline added crossly to herself as Louise left her to seethe alone. How could he have allowed things to deteriorate into this state? And how darned petty!
She needed to talk to Vicky, she decided. And urgently if something wasn’t to be done before Nina’s wedding-day. Grimly, she picked up the phone and dialled the Stanton home number, crossing her fingers that she would catch Vicky before she left for the day.
She did just. ‘I’ve changed my mind about today,’ she told her friend. ‘What time do you usually have lunch?’
* * *
Loath though she was to admit it, it was with great reluctance that Madeline rode the Stanton Bank lift to the executive floor later that morning.
On the face of it, meeting Vicky at her place of work had seemed logical since it was Madeline who was flexible with her time and Vicky restricted by what might require attention on her desk. But even with the assurance that both Vicky’s father and Dominic were to be out of the building all day today, she was still finding it difficult to be here, in the enemy camp so to speak, she thought with feudal dryness.
Still. At least she knew she looked good. Her taupe jacquard suit was elegant, and reacted well with the deep purple accessories she’d teamed with it. Her hair was plaited in a single thick braid down her back, and her newly acquired self-awareness—forced on her by her mother—helped her maintain an air of cool self-possession—even if it didn’t go more than skin-deep.
Four years ago she wouldn’t have given a second thought to how others might see her. She had used to wear what she enjoyed wearing rather than what was considered appropriate for the occasion—but then, she mused rather heavily, she had used to laugh infectiously when she thought something funny, cry real tears at the drop of a hat! The old Madeline had flitted her way through life on a restless ever-changing spirit. This new one tempered every move and gesture to suit the status quo.
Her composure was now inscrutable, her sophistication an indisputable fact. She walked, talked, behaved as the daughter of a prominent man of the City should do. She never revealed ruffled nerves, wouldn’t dream of putting on a show of temperament like the old Madeline had used to do often—and to her ruin, she reminded herself. Her dress sense was superb, her personal grooming impeccable, and her manner serene. And if those closest to her were surprised to the point of dismay in the change in her, they had to agree, surely, that this new Madeline was far more acceptable than the old one?
That wretched girl who had run away four years ago was now back, and determined to make a point. She had begun with her family, and intended continuing by facing the people who had hurt her the most. The Stantons mainly, bar Vicky, and really only one Stanton in particular who was going to be made to eat those bitter words he’d thrown at her four years ago—even if he had set her off balance slightly with their unexpected meeting last night.
And she intended to do it by calmly smoothing out the quarrel between their two families. How, she wasn’t sure yet. She only knew that she was going to do it, and show them all that Madeline Gilburn had matured into a cool sensible woman at last.
The lift doors slid open, and she stepped gracefully out into the luxurious foyer of the Stanton directors’ floor, pausing for only a moment to collect herself as old memories hit out at her senses.
Once upon a time, she had rode that lift and bounced out here like an inmate, blithely trotting past the disgruntled receptionist of the day to walk right into Dominic’s office without knocking—just so she could surprise him with a kiss before walking blithely out again!
Now she cringed at the very idea of doing such a thing. So gauche—so adolescent.
The walls of panelled walnut still looked the same, and the same deep-pile grey Wilton carpet still covered the floor. Everything, in fact, was just as she remembered it—except the smiling face of the receptionist already on her feet and waiting to greet her.
Madeline flicked a brief glance at the several closed doors she knew led to the plush offices of the individual Stanton Bank directors, James Stanton’s dead centre, Dominic to the right of his and the rest belonging to lesser members of powerful family. She had no idea which door belonged to Vicky. Four years ago, the family had been dismayed at their daughter’s desire to join the firm. Now things were different. Vicky would be different, Madeline reminded herself. She too was older, would be more self-assured now that she held a responsible position in the bank.
‘Miss Stanton is expecting me,’ Madeline informed the waiting receptionist. ‘I’m Madeline Gilburn.’
The woman’s smile warmed into rueful humour. ‘She’s been jumping about like a demented flea all morning because you were coming. If you’ll just take a seat for a moment, I’ll put her out of her misery and let her know you’ve arrived.’
But the receptionist didn’t get the chance to inform Vicky of anything, because just at that moment a door further along the row flew open and out bounced Victoria Stanton—who came to a jerking halt when she saw Madeline standing there.