The Collector's Edition Volume 1 (20 page)

‘Loud and clear, Mum. I promise I’ll be as good as gold. Cross my heart.’ He grinned. ‘I wouldn’t risk not going to England with Mr. Cliffton.’

And that was the crux of it, Ashley thought wryly as she accompanied Harry to the Rolls Royce. William was getting totally out of hand. He needed a father. But was Harry any different to her son? Everything seemed to be suddenly out of hand. She didn’t feel in control of anything any more.

Harry saw her settled in the front passenger seat, wanting her beside him. As he rounded the bonnet to the driver’s side he felt the exhilaration of having crossed another critical line. Not only had becoming lovers exceeded all his hopes and expectations, he had successfully put in place the process of moving Ashley to his home ground.

It had niggled at him all week that not once had Ashley questioned him in any practical sense about his life. A woman who was considering him as a husband surely would. It had seemed to him she was satisfied with collecting beautiful memories while Harry had progressed to absolute certainty about what he wanted.

It was possible that she saw a visit to Springfield Manor as a chance to fill a treasure chest of memories, but it was a step towards him, a step towards the future he could give her. Surely she would see that what he offered was entirely different from the life she had suffered with Roger. He couldn’t lose now. No way. She wanted him. And they were great together. No doubt about that.

Ashley didn’t look at him as he slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. She appeared deep in private thought. Not worrying, he hoped. He drove slowly, considering how best to make his next move.

‘Do you always do what Mr. Fotheringham tells you to?’ she asked.

It was a tricky question. Harry didn’t want to lie to her. Soon, very soon, he would have to lay out
the truth, but that was better done in England when she was under his roof. He could more easily counter a negative reaction there. He chose his words with as much care as he had in explaining George’s telephone call.

‘We tend to come to an agreement, Ashley. I did tell you that George Fotheringham’s family and mine have been connected for centuries. Since the Battle of Flodden in 1513. There is a line of respect kept by both sides and an affection and indulgence that comes from long familiarity.’

‘A sense of belonging,’ she murmured.

‘Yes.’

‘That must be…comforting.’

‘You can share it, too, Ashley. You and William.’

She made no reply to that. She pointed ahead. ‘There’s the house. The one where people are out on the front balcony.’

The Rolls Royce was definitely on show, Harry thought with a flash of irony, but status symbols were totally irrelevant to what was on his mind. The driveway to the Stantons’ double garage had been left clear, and he drove the Rolls into it for Ashley’s convenience. He switched off the engine and turned to her, reaching over to take her right hand and hold it.

She looked at him, her eyes mirroring a fearful uncertainty, but she left her hand in his, perhaps needing the comfort of the contact. Without hesitation, Harry gave her one rock-solid certainty to hang onto.

‘I want to marry you, Ashley. Will you think about that while you mix with your friends tonight?’

‘Harry…’ It was a breathless little gasp as though he’d punched the air out of her lungs. Her eyes widened wonderingly.

‘Don’t answer me now. I just want you to know,’ he said with quiet seriousness. To imprint it firmly on her mind, he repeated, ‘I want to marry you.’

T
HE
next few moments were a blur to Ashley. The trip to England, Harry’s declaration on top of it followed by him playing the chauffeur, stepping out of the car to open her door for her and see her safely onto her feet…It was all happening too quickly for her. Now he was leaving her at this meaningless party to go home and play a war game with her son, and she didn’t have wits enough to stop him, to say she didn’t want him to go and leave her here alone.

She stood, stupidly speechless, watching him close her door and move to the driver’s side, decisive in all his actions. He entered the Rolls, switched on the engine, reversed out of the driveway, and Ashley felt deserted in no-man’sland.

But, of course, she wasn’t. People were watching. People were waiting. People who had made up her world before Harry had swept into it. It was probably a good idea to remind herself of what she was leaving behind before she left it to go to England with Harry, before she made decisions that would affect the rest of her life. And William’s. She turned and walked up the steps.

‘Ashley! You’re looking marvellous!’

Olivia Stanton pounced the moment Ashley stepped onto the broad balcony that fronted the house and gave sweeping views of the sea. Her beady, black eyes were avid with curiosity. She was a tall, robust woman, overpowering in her manner. She grabbed Ashley’s upper arms and bestowed a cheek-to-cheek greeting as though they were bosom friends.

‘And your butler!’ she said in Ashley’s ear. ‘What a prize! So gorgeous, and I’m sure very obliging.’

She’d had a good view of Harry as he’d helped Ashley out of the Rolls. Everyone here had undoubtedly cast an eye over Ashley’s highly unusual acquisition. Olivia drew back and gave her a knowing smile.

‘I’ve never seen you so glowing.’

He wants to marry me.

Ashley dragged her mind off the overwhelming thought and found an appropriate response. ‘You look quite superb yourself, Olivia.’ The flowing tunic and wide-leg pants in accordian pleat were of some expensive silky material, and its brilliant turquoise colour was clearly meant to outshine everyone else. ‘That is certainly your colour.’

She laughed, preening. ‘I adore bright colours. But, of course, you’re still young enough to wear black and men do find it sexy. I daresay having a man like your Cliffton around the house must be quite exciting.’

‘He does make a difference,’ Ashley replied, letting Olivia interpret that any way she liked, not
really caring what anyone thought. Somehow what had happened with Harry had made her feel quite apart from these people, as though they didn’t count in her life any more.

He wants to marry me.

Olivia’s husband came forward, pressing Ashley to take a glass of his especially concocted New Year punch from the tray he carried. He was a big man who’d been highly successful in real estate. He enjoyed showing off, and the exotic-looking punch with a piece of pineapple and a cherry attached to the rim of the glass had the same attention to detail as everything he did.

‘Thank you, Geoff. I hope it doesn’t have too much of a kick,’ Ashley said, obliging her host.

He laughed merrily. ‘What’s life without a few kicks? I bet you enjoy riding around in that Rolls.’

‘It’s very comfortable.’

‘A Silver Spirit, isn’t it?’

‘So William tells me.’

‘Enterprising boy, your William,’ Geoff Stanton said approvingly. He grinned. ‘Must get it from his mother. Enterprising of you to take on a butler of such class, Ashley.’

‘It’s certainly been interesting.’

He boomed another big laugh, his eyes sweeping over her in male speculation, obviously seeing her in a totally different light than he had previously. Ashley wondered if his hormones were stirred. Did her new knowledge of herself really show, as Harry
said, or was Geoff Stanton’s imagination running riot?

It didn’t matter. What she felt with Harry superseded everything else.

He wants to marry me.

She wanted to say yes, yet she also wanted to find out what lay ahead, what new turning points she might be faced with. It was good that she and William were going to England. She needed to see what life would be like at Springfield Manor.

‘Ashley! Over here!’

It was Sonya Bixell, Rodney’s mother, calling and beckoning her to join the group of people she had gathered around her at the other end of the balcony. Rodney’s third uncle, a very muscular gym instructor, was prominently at her side.

Ashley excused herself from the Stantons’ company and made her way to Sonya, smiling at the outré image she always affected. Her hair was dyed a deep burgundy and highlighted with wide blonde streaks. She wore a purple and green outfit and was bedecked with the arty costume jewellery she designed and made herself. Her penchant for taking and discarding lovers was put down to her artistic temperament, and she was such a bright spark, her company was always welcome.

‘Darling! I’m a cocktail of admiration and envy.’ Sonya waggled her eyebrows as no-one else could. ‘What a move up in the world! A butler and a Roller! How did you do it?’

Ashley grinned. ‘I didn’t really do anything. They simply arrived. And I thought, why not?’

‘Why not, indeed? A man like that doesn’t happen very often. I’d have snapped him up, too.’

‘Come on, Sonya,’ the muscle man protested. ‘Not in front of me, please.’

‘Take heart, dear boy!’ She patted his hand. ‘I never poach on my friends.’

He gave Ashley a droll smile. ‘Handcuff him to you, Ashley.’

‘Uh-uh! Bad move,’ Sonya advised. ‘That would mean she was handcuffed, too. Keep your freedom, Ashley.’

‘Not everyone is a free spirit like you, Sonya,’ one of the other women said. ‘I like being married.’

‘Thank you, darling,’ her husband purred.

All marriages weren’t bad, Ashley thought.

‘Well he is the father of your children,’ Sonya conceded indulgently. ‘Rodney’s father left me holding the baby, and that experience was quite enough for me. Having more kids is not on my agenda.’ She grinned at Ashley. ‘I bet William’s enough for you, too.’

She had thought so, but would she really mind if Harry wanted a child…children? If she married him.

‘That boy of yours is something else,’ Sonya went on, ‘taking photos of his friends in the Rolls, then selling them at ten dollars a pop. Has he got your butler twisted around his finger?’

‘I think Cliffton has his measure,’ Ashley said slowly. She had the strong impression Harry was always one step ahead of both of them. Her wayward son wouldn’t be able to get away with quite so much if Harry was her husband. From what William had let drop earlier this evening, some closer supervision was called for. What
was
the stuff she didn’t know about?

The conversation flowed onto other topics. She half listened to the gay repartee, more observing the people than hearing what they said. Were they happy with their partners? Did economics and family ties keep them together or did they have a very real emotional commitment?

She couldn’t go down Sonya’s track. Not with Harry. Besides, she didn’t have the temperament or inclination for a life of changing partners. All or nothing. Harry was right about that. Until he had swept into her life,
nothing
hadn’t seemed so bad. Now…Well, she would make her decision in England.

Her gaze drifted to the huge living room beyond the glass doors that opened to the balcony. It displayed the very latest in modern furnishings, no expense spared, and display was definitely the key word. The Stantons’ home was by far the most impressive in the neighbourhood, and Olivia took great pride in the sophisticated decor. Children were not allowed to play indoors, a matter of some disgust to William.

Ashley wondered what Springfield Manor was like. Such an old place was probably full of precious antiques. She hoped the grounds would be large enough to divert William from playing where he shouldn’t. Ghost hunting could become a costly sport if he wasn’t careful.

She was startled to see Gordon Payne amongst the guests in the living room, then realised it wasn’t unlikely for him to be friends with Geoff Stanton. Building project homes and dealing in real estate went hand in hand. With all that had followed from the delivery of his two dozen white carnations, she had forgotten to send him a thank-you note. Much as she still disliked the man, Ashley decided it was diplomatic to acknowledge the gift.

She waited until she caught his eye then moved purposefully towards him. Surprisingly he detached himself from the group around him and moved to meet her, ensuring a private little chat.

‘Mrs. Harcourt,’ he greeted with dry formality. ‘Quite the little show stopper tonight.’

Crass,
Ashley thought, but she put on a polite smile. ‘I wanted to thank you for the flowers. It was a generous gesture, Mr. Payne.’

He smirked. ‘Pure politics, Mrs. Harcourt. That so-called butler of yours went to the minister of local government on your behalf and was creating trouble for me. Obviously I had to find means to protect myself.’

Alarm jangled through Ashley’s brain. This odious man had something up his sleeve. ‘What have you done now?’

‘I have connections in London,’ he boasted. ‘I had them investigate your so-called butler and find out precisely who and what he is.’

‘There’s nothing sleazy about Harry Cliffton,’ Ashley declared hotly, hating Gordon Payne’s snide manner.

‘No? Well, let me tell you—’

A loud commotion distracted both of them. Dylan Stanton came pelting into the living room, dripping blood from his nose and mouth and bawling for his mother and father. To Ashley’s horror, William was at his heels, blood dripping from a cut over one eye, but totally undeterred by the wound. He grabbed Dylan’s T-shirt and rained blows on his shoulders.

‘Stand and fight, you snivelling coward!’ he yelled.

‘Boys! Boys!’ Geoff Stanton shouted, plowing towards the fray as guests shrank from it.

‘Oh, my God! They’re bleeding on my carpet!’ Olivia shrieked.

‘He broke my nose, Dad,’ Dylan cried.

‘William!’ Ashley gasped.

‘I’ll break more than that before I’m through with you, you little creep,’ William snarled, grabbing his hair and putting a headlock on Dylan with his other arm. ‘You take back what you said about my mother or I’ll throttle you.’

‘It’s true!’ Dylan croaked, his arms flailing in an effort to fight William off. An elaborate vase of flowers was knocked from a coffee table, crashing in a mess onto the floor.

‘Dirty liar!’ William muttered fiercely, unabashed by the chaos being wrought around them.

‘Stop it, William!’ Ashley commanded, pushing forward to try to pull him off the other boy.

‘He said bad things about you, Mum. He’s gotta take them back.’

‘You young ruffian!’ Geoff Stanton roared, reaching them first and tearing the two boys apart.

William stumbled, crashing into the coffee table. Glasses of punch went flying onto a white leather couch, the sticky orange liquid splashing over the cushions and dripping onto the floor.

Olivia screeched. ‘It’s going to stain. They’re ruining everything!’

‘Someone get towels!’ Geoff snapped.

Ashley reached William and helped him up, relieved to see that the cut near his eyebrow was more a slight split that an open gash. He would end up with a black eye, but of the two boys, he had sustained by far the less damage.

‘There’s not that much blood,’ William said, eyeing the carpet judiciously. ‘There would have been a lot more,’ he declared without regret, ‘if I could have held him down a bit longer.’

‘Oh, William!’ Ashley cried despairingly. ‘How could you?’

‘I did it because I love you, Mum.’ He glared murder at Dylan, who was now cowering behind his father. ‘He said you had the hots for Mr. Cliffton. He reckoned being a butler was just a fancy name for being like Rodney Bixell’s uncle.’

‘It’s true!’ Dylan jeered from the safety of his father’s back.

‘It is not. Let me at him, Mum,’ William demanded in a fury, struggling to free himself from her hold.

‘My mum saw them in a clinch through your living-room window late one night,’ Dylan claimed triumphantly.

Ashley’s heart sank. Dancing by candlelight. So much for discretion.

‘Your mum couldn’t see out of a paper bag,’ William yelled.

‘This is an absolute disgrace!’ Olivia cried, seething with outrage at the despoiling of her perfect house. ‘Have you no control over your son, Ashley?’

‘What was your son doing out at this time, repeating your tattle to William?’ Ashley retaliated. While she didn’t approve of fighting, her son had stood up for her. Loyalty deserved loyalty.

‘He knocked out one of my teeth,’ Dylan wailed.

‘Yeah, and I’ve got it right here.’ William pulled a bloody tooth out of the back pocket of his shorts and displayed his gruesome trophy with defiant pride. ‘It’s gonna cost you to get it back, too.’

Ashley went into shock.

Not so Olivia. ‘You little savage! You should be sent to a reform school.’ She looked around wildly. ‘Someone call the police.’

No-one moved. No-one had gone to get towels to clean up the mess, either. No-one wanted to miss one second of this horror show. It was too deliciously fascinating to all the non-participants. Surreptitious glances flashed from neighbour to neighbour as they wondered what quality of moral direction was being given to their children with what was going on about them. Were they all above reproach?

‘Now, Olivia, let’s not overreact,’ Geoff Stanton demurred. ‘I’ll take Dylan to casualty at Gosford Hospital straight away. We’ll see an orthodontist.’

His wife was aquiver with rage. She pointed an accusing finger at William. ‘He has assaulted and maimed our son, wrecked our living room—’

‘I’ll pay for all damages,’ a calm voice interposed, and all heads turned towards it.

The crowd from the balcony parted for Harry to step into the limelight. As far as Ashley was concerned, it was a very timely entrance. She needed all the support she could muster. Her white knight had come to her rescue again, and her heart danced a tune of sweet relief.