Pagan Enchantment. Кэрол Мортимер
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I’m not the girl you were looking for after all. My name is Meredith Charles, yes, and my parents’ names are Sarah and Malcolm, but I—I wasn’t adopted.’ Her voice shook.
‘Meredith—–’
She stood up. ‘You have the wrong girl, Mr Steele,’ she told him hardly. ‘The wrong girl!’ She turned away, walking straight into the waiter bringing their bill, pushing past him with a muttered apology, almost running out of the restaurant, knowing that Gideon Steele couldn’t follow her when he had to pay the bill.
But why should he want to follow her? He had the wrong Meredith Charles, the wrong person completely. He had to have! She couldn’t possibly be the daughter of some woman called Anthea. Her mother was Sarah Charles. She was!
‘HEY, how did—Merry?’ Vanda frowned as Merry rushed straight past her into her bedroom, closing the door behind her. ‘Merry?’ Vanda knocked on the door anxiously. ‘What happened? Was it just an approach after all?’ Anger entered her voice.
Merry sat numbly on the bedroom chair, her thoughts racing—and all of them telling her it had all been a terrible mistake, that what Gideon Steele had told her couldn’t possibly be true of her!
‘Merry, can I come in?’ Vanda requested gently, softly opening the door as she received no answer. ‘Oh, love!’ she groaned as she saw Merry’s pale face, coming down on her knees in front of the chair. ‘What did he do to you?’
‘Do?’ Merry repeated dazedly. ‘Nothing. He didn’t do anything to me.’
‘Then why—Damn!’ Vanda swore as the doorbell rang, standing up to go and answer it.
Merry looked panic-stricken. ‘I don’t want to see him. I won’t see him!’
‘All right, love,’ the other girl soothed. ‘I’ll tell him you haven’t got back yet. I’m not an actress for nothing!’ She closed the bedroom door firmly behind her, a determined glint in her eyes.
Merry heard the flat door being opened, the murmur of voices, and then silence. She would never be able to thank Vanda enough for getting rid of Gideon Steele. She needed time to think right now, to get her thoughts together—to forget what he had told her.
She looked down at the carpet as the bedroom door opened once more. ‘Thanks, Vanda,’ she murmured, ‘I didn’t want to talk to him again. You see, he has some wild story—–’
‘It isn’t wild, Meredith,’ his husky voice interrupted her.
‘You!’ she gasped, looking up at Gideon Steele with wide green eyes, her hands clutching convulsively at the arms of the chair. Vanda hadn’t managed to put him off after all!
‘Yes,’ he sighed wearily, slightly pale beneath his tan. ‘Can I talk to you?’
She doubted this man requested very often, he was the type who did things without asking anyone’s permission. But she didn’t feel in the least warmed by the fact that he was asking her now. What he had done to her had been cruel and thoughtless. He should have made sure of his facts before confronting her with such a ridiculous story. As it was, she was in no mood to listen to anything further he might have to say.
Some of what she was thinking must have shown in her face. ‘I think we have to, Meredith,’ he encouraged softly, closing the door behind him.
Her head went back, her eyes defiant. ‘If you want to apologise—–’
He shook his head. ‘I can’t apologise for telling the truth. I can apologise for the way I told you. I had no idea you didn’t know about your adoption.’
She stood up, moving about the room with agitated movements. ‘I wish you’d stop saying that,’ she snapped. ‘You can’t know how wrong you are,’ she gave a scornful laugh. ‘I’m so like my father that what you’re telling me is ridiculous. Ever since I can remember people have remarked on the similarity.’
His hands were thrust into his trousers pockets, his height dwarfing the tiny bedroom. ‘Maybe they were just being kind—or maybe you do have the same colouring.’ He shrugged. ‘I’ve heard that adoption societies try to do that, match the child up with at least one of the parents. Any facial similarity would have to be a coincidence,’ he shook his head. ‘I’ve never seen two people more alike than you and Anthea.’
‘Your stepmother,’ she said bitterly.
‘That’s right,’ he nodded grimly. ‘When you walked into the restaurant today it was like seeing Anthea as she must have looked twenty years ago.’
‘Maybe I do bear some resemblance to this woman—–’
‘It isn’t just a resemblance, Meredith,’ Gideon Steele shook his head. ‘Look, I can show you a photograph if you like,’ his hand went into the breast pocket of his jacket.
‘No!’ she stopped him in the action of taking out his wallet. ‘I don’t want to see any photograph.’ She turned away, absently twisting the signet ring round on her right hand, the ring that had been a birthday gift several years ago from her parents. ‘It won’t make any difference,’ she told him stiffly.
‘Scared, Meredith?’ he taunted gruffly.
‘Certainly not!’ She spun round, an angry frown between her eyes. ‘I have nothing to be frightened of,’ she said haughtily. ‘It’s quite simple, you have the wrong girl,’ she repeated her earlier claim.
‘The right one,’ he corrected softly, running an agitated hand through the darkness of his hair, revealing several streaks of grey beneath the darkness. ‘God, I had no idea it was going to be this difficult!’ he scowled.
‘What did you expect?’ Merry shouted angrily. ‘That you could calmly walk up to some unsuspecting girl and tell her that her parents aren’t her parents any more, and that some unknown woman is? If you thought that you’re a fool!’
‘Meredith—–’ he began warningly.
‘I don’t care,’ she exclaimed furiously. ‘You had no right barging into my life with such a story! If I were of a nervous disposition—–’
‘Which you obviously aren’t,’ he drawled hardly.
‘Luckily for you,’ she snapped. ‘But if I were I could have been totally destroyed by what you just told me. As it is, I think you’d better go back to your source—Harrington, I presume,’ she added drily. ‘And tell him it’s back to the drawing-board. Why do you want to find this girl anyway? Has your stepmother died and left her the family fortune?’
His mouth twisted derisively. ‘Would it change your mind if she had?’ he taunted.
She gave an angry gasp. ‘How dare you! I have no intention—–’
‘Calm down, Meredith,’ he mocked. ‘Anthea is still very much alive. She would just like to see her daughter.’
‘Whom she abandoned as a baby, by the sound of it!’
If she had expected an angry defence to her scorn she was mistaken, Gideon Steele only nodded abruptly. ‘Anthea hasn’t denied that. But it hasn’t stopped her feeling guilty for the last twenty years, for wanting to see her daughter.’
‘Has she ever stopped to consider that perhaps her daughter doesn’t want to see her?’ Merry snapped.
‘I only said she wanted to see her daughter, I didn’t say she had made any attempt to do so. My stepmother has no idea I’ve sought you out. She certainly doesn’t know I’ve found you.’
‘But I keep telling you you haven’t,’ she said exasperatedly.
His mouth was a thin determined line. ‘There’s a