Tall, Dark... Collection

Not his love.

Which was all she really wanted…

But pride could only take her so far, and she knew that in the months ahead she was going to need Nick’s financial help, at least. She wished she were in a position to turn away that offer of help, but she wasn’t—not without becoming a burden to her parents. It was no good even pretending she was.

‘Fine,’ she accepted tersely. ‘I’m ready to go if you are.’ She nodded.

Nick wasn’t sure he would ever be ready to help Hebe leave his life in this way. But he also knew he didn’t have a choice. Because he had done this to himself.

If only he hadn’t seen that portrait and assumed it was Hebe. If only he had listened to her when she’d told him it wasn’t her. If only he hadn’t acted on the assumption that she had already tried to entrap two wealthy men and failed. He’d believed that he was just the third in line, with the added inducement of pregnancy before the marriage this time. If he hadn’t, maybe he would have been able to ask Hebe to give him a second chance.

But he had done all of those things.

And Hebe walking out of his life was exactly what he deserved!

Hebe could quite easily have broken down and cried on the journey to her flat, staring out through the side window of the car as she blinked back those ready tears, determined she had to hold on until after Nick had left her—because she couldn’t let him see how much this parting from him was hurting her.

She didn’t even know when she was going to see him again.

Or if.

Nick might just decide to handle all the financial details through his lawyers, and eventual access to the baby would be handled in the same way.

Even being forced into marrying Nick would be better than never knowing when or if she would ever see him again!

She turned to him after unlocking the door to her flat. ‘Can I continue to work at the gallery until—until—’

‘Work at the gallery as long as you want to—or not. Whatever you decide to do,’ he came back curtly. ‘I’ll instruct Jane as such when I get back.’

‘I just—’

‘Hebe, can we go inside? This portrait weighs a ton!’ He grimaced, resting the painting against his knee. ‘I’ve probably given myself a hernia carrying it up the stairs as it is!’

She smiled. ‘You—’

‘Excuse me,’ a voice behind them interrupted. ‘I’m looking for Flat—’ The voice broke of abruptly.

Hebe had turned at the first query, her gaze becoming quizzical as the man stopped speaking, his face slowly draining of colour as he just stood and stared at her.

‘Claudia…?’ the man gasped disbelievingly.

There was only one man Hebe could think of who might mistake her for her mother.

But it couldn’t be—!

CHAPTER TWELVE

‘ANDREW SOUTHERN?’ Nick enquired, as neither Hebe nor the man staring at her with a dazed look seemed able to speak.

‘Yes,’ the artist confirmed in a strangulated voice, not taking his gaze from Hebe for a moment.

Nick knew how the other man felt—he didn’t want to stop looking at Hebe either!

But he knew the other man’s fascination with Hebe was for quite another reason than his own…

He recognised Andrew Southern from photographs he had seen, although he was older now, of course, the dark hair heavily peppered with grey, his handsome face weathered and lined, his eyes a deep, piercing grey.

Hebe’s father. Or not.

It didn’t really matter at that moment; the other man had cared enough, after receiving Hebe’s letter, to come to London in person rather than just writing back or telephoning.

Hebe couldn’t be unaware of the relevance of that either.

Hebe swallowed hard, unable to move or stop looking at the man who might be her real father. The two of them simply stared at each other.

Andrew Southern was the first to recover, shaking his head ruefully. ‘Of course you aren’t Claudia,’ he murmured gruffly. ‘You’re far too young to be her. But the likeness…the likeness—’ He stopped as his voice broke emotionally.

‘Uncanny, isn’t it?’ Nick said bitterly.

Hebe knew it was this likeness that had resulted in him making such a mistake where she was concerned—and Nick wasn’t a man who liked to make mistakes.

‘My name is Hebe,’ she told the older man huskily. ‘You received my letter?’

‘Yes,’ he breathed, and Hebe looked at him again. He was a man aged in his early fifties, tall and handsome, with grey eyes that seemed to see into the soul.

An artist’s eyes, Hebe decided. Eyes that saw beyond the outer shell of a person into the very heart of them. As he had once seen beyond Claudia’s youthful recklessness…?

‘Would you like to come inside?’ she invited shyly as she pushed the flat door open, aware of Nick standing back until the older man had entered, and then following behind carrying the portrait.

The portrait…!

Nick anticipated Hebe’s request, placing the portrait on the table before removing the covering, then turning to look at the older man as he propped the portrait against the wall.

Andrew Southern went even paler, seemingly possessed by the same stupor as first Hebe and then her parents had been on seeing the portrait.

The difference was that this man had actually painted the picture, already knew every loving brushstroke, every soft nuance and shading of Claudia’s beautiful face and body.

‘I never thought I would see this portrait again,’Andrew Southern murmured as he gazed at it in wonder. ‘How did you get it?’ he breathed raggedly.

Nick was the one to answer him. ‘I bought it from Jacob Gardner’s great-nephew after he died.’

‘Claudia!’Andrew’s voice broke emotionally. ‘I tried to buy it back from Jacob Gardner myself after—after Claudia left. But he refused to sell it to me.’

‘He never married,’ Nick told him quietly.

‘No.’ Andrew sighed. ‘How could any man after Claudia? My darling Claudia…!’ He buried his face in his hands and began to sob.

This man, Nick knew with startling clarity, had loved Claudia with the same depth, the same deep need, with which he now loved Hebe.