'How was it different?'

'I'd been drinking.'

'You've been drinking tonight.'

'Matt, stop this!' Olivia drew a labouring breath, it's useless, and you know it. I"I didn't come back because of you. I came back because my mother asked me to.'

'You wouldn't have come back if I had asked you to?'

'No.' She gulped as his hand closed over her knee. 'No!'

'Do you want me to prove you wrong?' he demanded harshly, leaning towards her, and suddenly there was no air in the car.

'I'm"I'm going to marry"Perry,' she got out chokingly, scrabbling for the handle of the door. 'Please, Matt, let me out of here. I don't think I can take any more.'

Matthew slumped in his seat, and the electric window glided down beside her. 'Calm down,' he said, leaning forward and flicking the ignition switch. 'You don't have to panic. I'll take you home. Your father would never forgive me if I didn't.'

But he's not my father; yours is, Olivia wanted to scream, her emotions swept to fever pitch by the agony of the situation.

And if her mother had never got involved with his father Helen wouldn't have this hold on him now.

But commonsense prevailed, and by the time they reached the farm Olivia was able to thank him for bringing her home, and ask him if he'd like to come in for a nightcap. There were lights still glowing through the drawing-room curtains, and she guessed her parents would expect Matthew to show his face.

But for once Matthew declined, and in the illumination cast by his headlights she saw his gaunt expression. It tore her heart, and she knew it would take the utmost determination on her part to get out of the car without saying something to rea.s.sure him.

She knew what she wanted to say"that she loved him, and that she'd live with him forever, if she could, with or without the sanction of a wedding-ring. She didn't care about Helen, or the Berrenger stables; she didn't even care about Rycroft, except in so far as it affected all their lives. She only cared about Matthew.

And she wanted him to know that.

He looked at her then, and something of what she was feeling evidently showed in her face, for he made a strangled sound, and moved towards her. Before she could even think of stopping him, his hand was at the back of her neck, tipping her face up to his. And when his mouth touched hers, her lips parted automatically.

It was heaven to be this close to him again, and she thought fleetingly of those occasions in the past when he had brought her home, and they had spent long satisfying minutes sitting in his Mini, saying goodnight. He had kissed her then, too, though not so urgently, and his tongue in her mouth had never felt so desperate. It was as if he knew, as she did, that this was the last chance they would ever have to be alone together, and her senses swam beneath the dark pa.s.sion of his demands.

'G.o.d, Liv, don't"don't leave me,' he groaned, against her neck, and her hand slipped into the open collar of his shirt to pull him closer.

And then, light spilled out of the opened door of the farm house, dazzling in its brilliance, and Matthew swore as Olivia jerked away from him. But even he recognised the incongruity of her father's witnessing their embrace, and, thrusting open his door, he got out of the car.

'Bob,' he said politely, and only Olivia heard the strain in his voice. But even as she was silently congratulating Matthew for his control, another man appeared behind her father, and her stomach plunged when she realised his ident.i.ty. It was Perry, slim and elegant, in his pale grey trousers and matching shirt, a silk cravat filling the opening of his collar.

'Oh, G.o.d!' she breathed inaudibly, and although it was the last thing she wanted to do she, too, pushed open her door and got out of the car.

'You've got a visitor, Livvy,' her father greeted her, but she could tell his reaction to Perry's arrival was only marginally more enthusiastic than Matthew's.

As for Matthew himself, he suffered Robert Stoner's introduction with unsmiling civility. But, as it happened, Perry had seen Olivia, and any inadequacies on Matthew's part were overlooked in his delight at seeing her.

'Darling,' he exclaimed, launching himself at her, and Olivia had no choice but to let him take her in his arms and kiss her.

As a kiss, Perry's salutation left much to be desired, but Olivia knew that no small part of its deficiency was due to her.

She could hardly bear to let him touch her, and her eyes stayed open, observing Matthew's response with an aching sense of loss.

But apparently there were limits to what even Matthew was prepared to stand, and, refusing Robert Stoner's offer of refreshment, he walked back to his car.

'Goodnight,' he said stiffly, including them all in one sweeping glance, and Olivia had to stand, with Perry's arm about her, as Matthew drove away.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

Two days later, Olivia sat on the bed in her grandmother's bedroom, watching her mother sift through the contents of her grandmother's wardrobe. Although she hadn't welcomed the task of helping her mother sort out her grandmother's things, it did give her an excuse for leaving Perry to his own devices, and in the last two days she had had few opportunities to do so. As soon as she came downstairs in the morning he was there, and although she appreciated the fact that his only reason for coming here was to find her and take her back to the United States with him, she wished he were less demanding in his att.i.tude. She had told him she would leave with him at the end of the week, and she would. But until then she needed some s.p.a.ce and he wasn't giving her any.

The truth was, of course, she wished he hadn't come here, it was stupid, perhaps, particularly as she was expected to marry him as soon as they returned to New York, but Perry didn't belong here. It wasn't anything he did particularly; he had been excessively polite to both her parents and, although her father evidently found him a little strange in his habits, even he had had to accept that the man was sincere. But, in all honesty, she didn't want him here, and, if she examined her reasons why, she would have to say that it was because his arrival had prevented her from seeing Matthew again.

And that shouldn't have been a bad thing, she thought despairingly, smoothing the worn bedspread beneath her fingers.

For G.o.d's sake, after the way she had behaved the other night, she ought to be glad that Perry's presence had had the involuntary effect of preventing her from making matters worse.

For that was what would have happened, she was sure of it.

Where Matthew was concerned, her resistance was losing its conviction, and there were times when she didn't know which was worse " his unhappiness or her own torment.

'Oh, I think all these things can go to the church jumble sale,'

said her mother suddenly, pulling an armful of woollies out of the wardrobe, and tossing them on to the bed. 'I know the vicar's wife will appreciate them, and I'm sure it's what your grandmother would have wanted. Don't you agree?'

'What?' Olivia had been lost in thought, and only the sight of the woollens on the bed gave her some indication of what her mother had been asking. 'Oh"um" yes,' she answered, not really knowing what she was agreeing to, and her mother regarded her with resignation.

'What's the matter, Livvy?' she asked. 'I'm getting quite worried about you. I thought you'd be pleased that Mr Randall is here, but you're not, are you?'

'His name's Perry,' said Olivia, without answering her question, and Mrs Stoner's lips drew in as she recognised the diversion.

'I prefer to call him Mr Randall,' she declared. 'We hardly know him, Livvy. He's your friend, not ours. If" and you've not really told us what your plans are, so far as he is concerned"if you do intend to marry the man, then naturally we'll be obliged to accept him as a member of the family, but until then---'

Olivia sighed. 'You don't like him, do you?'

'I didn't say that.' Her mother shook her head. 'We hardly know him, as I say----'

'But you don't like what you do know?'

'No. I mean, yes. That's not what I'm saying.' Mrs Stoner looked a little exasperatedly at her daughter now. 'Livvy, we're just not used to his ways, that's all. I mean"eating yoghurt for breakfast! What's wrong with good old-fashioned toast and marmalade?'

Olivia had to laugh, in spite of herself. 'There's nothing wrong with toast and marmalade,' she said. 'But we generally eat white bread, and Perry doesn't. Plus the fact that the marmalade you make is full of sugar.'

'Oh, well---' Mrs Stoner made an expressive gesture, and turned back to the wardrobe, it doesn't appear to have harmed your father, and young Sara's husband says it's the best he's tasted.'

It is.' Olivia lifted her shoulders, It's just Perry's way. His diet's very important to him.'

'Well, I've always thought that when you're a guest in someone's house, you should be prepared to compromise,'

retorted her mother, rummaging about in the bottom of the cupboard. 'Which reminds me, Mrs Davis says that he's asked for his sheets to be changed every day. Does he do that at home?'

'I believe so.' Olivia shrugged. 'So, you don t like him?'

'I'm not"enamoured of him, no.' Mrs Stoner pulled a face.

'But that's not to say there's anything wrong with him.' She sighed. 'You're the one who has to decide if he's the man for you.

Not your father or me.'

'But, if I did marry him----'

'"you'd both be welcome here, and you know it,' cut in her mother crisply. 'Just as Sara and her husband always are. And that's another thing: I haven't heard from Sara since she went back. I hope she's all right. That baby's very near its time.'

Olivia hesitated. She would have liked to ask her mother who she thought the man for her should be, but she didn't. It was always like this. Whenever the opportunity to pursue the truth presented itself, she always drew back. How could she accuse her mother of lying to her"to her husband"all these years?

Another heart attack could be fatal, and Olivia couldn't have that burden on her conscience.

So, instead, she said tautly, 'Your first grandchild. You must be very excited.'

'Oh, yes.' Mrs Stoner had unearthed what appeared to be a deed box in the bottom of the wardrobe, and she indicated that Olivia should come and lift it out for her. 'And poor Sara's having to carry the baby to full term. I didn't have that problem with any of mine.'

Olivia paused in the process of lifting the deed box on to her mother's lap. 'You didn't?' she asked faintly.

'No.' Felicity Stoner took the box from her unresisting fingers, and set it on her knee. 'For some reason, all my babies were born at seven or eight months. You were the earliest, I remember. Barely seven months after your father and I got married.'

Olivia swallowed, and sat down on the bed again rather heavily. 'Really?' she said, her face suffusing with colour for no apparent reason. 'How"how unusual.'

'Yes, it was.' Happily, her mother was intent on opening the deed box and didn't notice her daughter's embarra.s.sment. 'But some women are like that. The doctor said it was perfectly natural.'

Olivia absorbed this with some difficulty. How could her mother sit there and pretend she had been a seven-months baby?

According to her grandmother's reckoning, Felicity had been at least two months pregnant when she'd married Robert Stoner.

However early her other babies had been, Olivia hadn't been one of them.

The deed box was open now, and Olivia, sitting on the bed beside her mother's wheelchair, felt her eyes drawn to its contents. There was a copy of her grandmother's will, some old photographs, sepia-tinted, as they used to be, and several old pension books, dogeared with age.

There was also a bundle of letters, bound together with an elastic band, and Olivia watched, with some dismay, as her mother snapped them free.

'My G.o.d!' she exclaimed, and Olivia was alarmed at the tremor in her voice. But when she looked into her mother's face there was only anger in her expression. Evidently she had not known that Harriet Stoner had found the letters Matthew's father had written her, and she was reacting to that discovery and nothing else.

'Um"what's wrong?' Olivia asked innocently, sitting on her hands to prevent herself from s.n.a.t.c.hing the letters out of her mother's grasp.

'These,' said Felicity Stoner bitterly, flicking through the envelopes that her daughter had once opened with such dread.

'They're the letters Matt Ryan wrote to me, all those years ago.

Your grandmother must have taken them, and kept them for some reason.'

Olivia drew a careful breath. 'Didn't"didn't you keep them?'

she asked, trying to sound casual, but her mother shook her head.

'No. Years ago"just after your father and I were married, actually"I threw them all away. I don't know why I kept them that long, really. Except that they had sentimental value, I suppose. They reminded me of my youth.'

Olivia frowned. 'Your youth? But you were only young when you got married.'

'I was twenty-four,' said Felicity ruefully. 'That was old in those days. Particularly in a village like Lower Mychett. After all, your father and I had known one another since our schooldays.'

Olivia licked her lips. 'So"why did you wait so long?' she ventured, wondering if at last her mother was going to tell her the truth, and Mrs Stoner sighed.

'I suppose"because of Matt,' she admitted slowly, opening one of the letters, and briefly scanning its contents. 'You've heard the gossip, I know. But Matt and I did care for one another, however bad that sounds.'

'Bad?' Olivia's voice was hoa.r.s.e.

'Of course.' Her mother looked up. 'He was married, Livvy.

And that, too, meant a lot more in those days. Divorce wasn't easy; not for anyone. And I was just a teenager, not even sure it was what I wanted.'

' A teenager!'

Olivia couldn't help the way her voice rose as she said the words, but her mother was too absorbed with what she was saying to pay much attention to her daughter's reaction.

'Yes. Nineteen,' Mrs Stoner said reminiscently, and Olivia's jaw sagged. 'And Matt was thirty-seven; almost twice my age.'

Olivia could feel the beads of sweat standing out on her forehead, but she had to pursue this now. She had to know if what her grandmother had told her ten years ago was a lie. She had to know if"oh, G.o.d!"if Matthew wasn't her brother.

'So"what happened?' she asked, hoping she sounded like any daughter would, faced with her mother's indiscretions. And Felicity lifted her head to stare into s.p.a.ce.

'Do you really want to know?' she asked, and Olivia quelled her burning impatience to admit to being curious. Curious! Dear G.o.d. She dug her nails into the coverlet. She wasn't just curious, she was desperate!

'Well,' said Felicity softly, 'Matt didn't get a divorce, as you know. Which was all for the best, in the circ.u.mstances.'

'Wh"what circ.u.mstances?'

'Oh--' Her mother turned to give her a doubtful look, and then lifted her thin shoulders. 'Lavinia found she was expecting a baby, you see. After all those years, she chose that time to prove that she and Matt were still sleeping together.'

Olivia's breath caught in her throat. 'I see.'

'Do you?' Felicity arched her brows. 'I wonder.'

'What do you mean?'