LONDON was very warm, the atmosphere heavy after the clean air of Avocado Cay. For several days Charlotte was too exhausted to summon up the energy to do anything, too drained both emotionally and physically to care where she was or what was going on about her.
It had been surprisingly easy to get away from the island. Expecting a hitch at the last moment or, terrifyingly, Logan’s sudden reappearance, she found her eventual journey from San Cristobal to Tortola had been something of an anti-climax.
It had been agonising leaving Robert. That last morning, letting him go off to find Carlos with only a casual word of farewell, had torn her to pieces, but she knew if she broke down and told him what she planned to do, he would never let her go alone.
Helen had tried to argue with her. But she had known that she was wasting her time, and had offered no reproaches. Only someone intimately involved could try to persuade her, and while she knew she could never have done such a thing, she had to admire Charlotte’s courage. Nevertheless, there had been moments on the quay, before the launch sailed, when Charlotte would have given anything for someone to have told her what she was doing was wrong.
In London, she checked into the cheapest hotel she could find, booking a single room without bath, overlooking a row of equally cheap houses. It was near Shepherds Bush, in an area which had once been prosperous, but which now struggled against becoming a slum.
She slept a lot those first few days, only eating when the pangs of hunger became unbearable. She felt as though she was living in limbo, not really believing her situation, but similarly accepting that she was unable to escape from it. She looked at her reflection in the spotted dressing table mirror only rarely, because she knew she had to find employment, and the sight of her haggard features filled her with despair. Who, she wondered, would be prepared to hire such a gaunt-looking creature?
Of course, there would be all manner of formalities to go into first. She had no National Insurance card, no indication of what she had earned that year, or what income tax she was due to pay. But first, before entering into those complications, she wanted to go to the university and find out whether Dr Mannering had retired. It was a foolish whim in the circumstances, but one which she had promised herself she would obey.
The university was in Kensington, and a week after she had returned to England, Charlotte caught a bus which would take her some way towards her destination. It was the first time she had been out, other than to buy food, and she had the ridiculous sensation that everyone must know and was looking at her. She had put on denim trousers, and a blue cotton shirt, not wanting to draw attention to herself and had left her hair loose to hide the hollows in her pale cheeks.
The receptionist at the inquiry desk regarded her curiously when she asked for Dr Mannering. ‘No, he hasn’t retired yet, Mrs Derby,’ she replied, after Charlotte had vouchsafed her identity, and the doubts she had had. ‘But the university’s closed at the moment—–’
‘Oh, I know that,’ Charlotte interrupted her quickly. ‘But I do want to contact Dr Mannering if I can.’
‘Well …’ The girl looked thoughtful. ‘As it happens, he is in the building today. Hang on—I’ll see if I can reach him.’
‘Thank you.’
Charlotte hovered uncertainly about the coolly tiled lobby, waiting while the receptionist made several calls. The panelled walls were hung with dark-framed pictures of solemn-eyed individuals in caps and gowns, and an enormous plaque denoting the year the university was founded. Not the most comforting of surroundings, but she was in no mood to care.
‘Mrs Derby?’ The receptionist was beckoning, and Charlotte hurried towards her. ‘I’ve managed to contact Dr Mannering, and he says he’ll see you, so long as whatever it is you have to say doesn’t take up too much of his time.’
‘Oh, no, it won’t.’ Charlotte hugged her bag to her breast. ‘Where do I go?’
Dr Mannering awaited her in his office, an imposing room on the first floor. Here again, the walls were panelled, and a framed portrait of the man himself hung behind his desk. He frowned as she came into the room, obviously trying to place her, and then his eyes widened in surprise.
‘Of course,’ he said politely, holding out his hand, ‘you’re Matthew Derby’s wife—or rather his widow. I’m sorry, that was tactless. Tell me,’ as she subsided into the chair he indicated, ‘what can I do for you?’
Charlotte didn’t know how to begin. ‘I—I hoped I’d still find you here, Dr Mannering. I was afraid you might have retired.’
His smile was dry. ‘There’s life in the old dog yet.’
‘Oh, no …’ She coloured. ‘That’s not what I meant. Ony it seems so long ago since—since Matthew had anything to do with the university.’
‘Yes.’ Dr Mannering seated himself opposite her, crossing his legs. He was an angular man, tall and inclined to stoop now, but approachable, for all that. ‘I’m afraid your late husband and I had different views about—a number of things.’
‘Yes.’ Charlotte shifted awkwardly. ‘I—er—I’ve been living out of the country for the last month.’
‘Since Matthew died?’
‘Soon after, yes.’
‘I was sorry to hear about his death.’ Dr Mannering sounded sincere. ‘He was quite a young man.’ His eyes flickered over her pale face. ‘Was it very bad?’
Realising he must think her appearance had to do with Matthew’s death, Charlotte felt worse than ever. ‘As a matter of fact, it was over fairly quickly,’ she said. ‘And—and towards the end, I’m afraid he didn’t want to see me.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Yes.’ She shrugged. ‘But it’s over now. We have to get over these things.’
‘Of course.’ He inclined his head. ‘And you have a son, I believe, who must be a great comfort to you at this time.’
Charlotte felt a terrible yawning sense of emptiness opening inside her, and it was all she could do not to moan aloud at the agony it caused her. But somehow she managed to choke back her misery, and say carefully: ‘As a matter of fact, Dr Mannering, that is what I wanted to talk to you about.’
He frowned. ‘Your son?’
‘Yes.’
He leaned forward, resting his arms upon the desk. ‘In what way can I help you?’
She swallowed convulsively. This was more difficult than even she had imagined. ‘I—well, it’s not easy for me to ask you what it is I want to ask you, Dr Mannering,’ she faltered, realising how disjointed that sounded.
‘No?’
‘No.’ She twisted the strap of her bag round her fingers. ‘Do you—is it possible you remember a student of yours from some years back? A—a Brazilian called Logan—–’
‘—Kennedy,’ supplied Dr Mannering flatly. ‘Of course I remember him.’
‘You do?’ Charlotte was amazed.
Dr Mannering made an impatient gesture. ‘It’s not every day that one of my students is threatened with an accusation of statutory rape, Mrs Derby,’ he remarked coldly. ‘Of course I remember him. I myself suggested it might be best if he returned to Rio de Janeiro.’
Charlotte was stunned. She had known nothing about this. That Logan should have been involved with another girl whose parents had threatened him with court proceedings was bad enough, but she had left Robert in the charge of such a man!
‘I—I didn’t know,’ she stammered faintly.
Now it was Dr Mannering’s turn to look shocked. ‘Come, Mrs Derby,’ he protested, ‘you must have done.’
Charlotte shook her head. ‘How—how could I?’
Dr Mannering stared at her. ‘Do you mean to say that Matthew didn’t tell you?’
‘Matthew?’ Charlotte put a confused hand to her head. ‘What—what has Matthew got to do with it?’
‘He made the complaint!’ exclaimed Dr Mannering forcefully. ‘My God, do you mean it wasn’t true?’
Charlotte thought she was going to faint. It was strange, because she wasn’t a fainting person, but just lately she seemed to have very little stamina. She must have looked ill, because Dr Mannering got up from his chair and came round the desk towards her, quickly opening a decanter on a side table and offering her some strong-smelling spirit. It was brandy, and she sipped it obediently, unwilling to collapse here and possibly let him see where she was staying.
‘Are you feeling better?’ he asked at last, and she managed to nod her head, putting down the glass and making an effort to appear calm. He resumed his seat behind the desk, and then, folding his hands together, he said: ‘Exactly what was your relationship with young Kennedy, Mrs Derby?’
Charlotte hesitated. But she had started this and she had to go on. As briefly as possible she outlined how she met Logan, their attraction for one another, and less coolly its ultimate outcome.
‘I—I should tell you that—that Matthew and I had—had had a row,’ she murmured, hectic colour giving her cheeks a feverish appearance. ‘When—when I went to Logan’s hotel room, I—I was as much to blame for what happened as he was.’
Dr Mannering pushed back his chair with an impatient gesture. ‘Do you mean to tell me that my call to Kennedy came in while you were still there?’
Charlotte remembered the telephone call from the principal only too well. ‘I—I suppose it must have done. Unless you rang a second time …’
‘There was no second call, Mrs Derby.’ Dr Mannering paced to the windows, hands clasped tightly behind his back. ‘Your—that is to say, Derby rang me and told me Kennedy had seduced his ward. He made it very clear what his intentions would be if one of my students persisted in pursuing such a course.’
Charlotte was horrified, hardly able to comprehend what this could mean to herself—and to Logan. ‘You—you mean, Matthew rang you after I had left the house?’
‘I suppose he must have done.’ Dr Mannering turned back to face her. ‘You’re saying you knew none of this?’
‘No. No!’ Charlotte was distracted. ‘Please …’ She gazed at him imploringly. ‘If there’s anything else you think I should know …’
He came back to the desk, regarding her gravely. ‘Why has all this come up now?’ he asked. ‘Surely the past is dead and gone.’
‘Oh, no.’ Charlotte shook her head vigorously. ‘I’m afraid I haven’t told you the whole story. I—my son—the son you mentioned earlier. Logan was the boy’s father.’
‘You mean—you passed him off—–’
‘No. No, that’s not what I mean.’ Charlotte spoke frantically. ‘Matthew knew. He knew he couldn’t have any children—he was injured, during the war. He didn’t like to talk about it, but it’s true. His brother can verify that. That—that’s why Robert and I left the country. He left us nothing.’
‘My dear Mrs Derby—–’
‘Oh, please! Won’t you go on? If there is anything else I should know …’
‘Where does Kennedy come into all this?’ The principal was determined to have all the facts. ‘Does he know about the boy?’
‘He does now.’ Charlotte sighed. ‘Oh—I don’t know why, he must have kept me under observation over the years, and when he knew Matthew was dead, he was instrumental in getting me a job as nursemaid to the children of a friend of his. That was when—when he learned about Robert.’
‘I see.’ Dr Mannering nodded, subsiding into his seat again. ‘Well, let me see—what more can I tell you that you don’t already know?’ He frowned. ‘The whole affair was very upsetting, you know. Kennedy was an intelligent man, a fine student. We were sorry he had to leave, but in the circumstances …’ He sighed. ‘What I can’t understand is why you didn’t speak to him yourself afterwards. Surely that would have been the fairest thing to do.’
Charlotte bent her head. ‘He—he left before I could contact him.’
‘Before you could contact him!’ Dr Mannering stared at her aghast. ‘My dear young lady, I know that young Kennedy tried several times to see you—to speak to you. I believe he wrote several letters, but they were all returned unopened.’
Charlotte had thought she had heard it all, but now she felt utterly shattered. ‘You mean—you mean Matthew …’ She couldn’t go on, and Dr Mannering, after a moment, nodded.
‘It seems as though he must have done,’ he exclaimed perplexedly. ‘Oh, dear, oh, dear! I had no idea …’
‘Nor did I!’ cried Charlotte, getting to her feet to pace restlessly about the room. ‘Do you realise what this means? If—if Logan tried to get in touch with me, he didn’t just—abandon me.’
‘And you thought he did?’ Dr Mannering’s expression mirrored his distaste at the whole affair. ‘But surely you had Kennedy’s address?’
‘Not in Rio. And—and Matthew rang the university, or so he said, and ascertained that Logan had left the country.’
Dr Mannering spread his hands. ‘Well, Matthew certainly had Kennedy’s address, had he chosen to give it to you. In the beginning, if you remember, he evinced an intense interest in the young man’s work. It was only later—–’
‘After Logan and I fell in love,’ said Charlotte bitterly.
‘—that he became opposed to him.’ Dr Mannering rose to his feet again. ‘If only I’d known … Although,’ he shook his head, ‘Matthew was your guardian. The law would have been on his side, one can’t deny that.’
Charlotte nodded, too numb now to think straight. ‘Well—well, thank you for your time,’ she managed unsteadily. ‘You—you’ve answered all my questions. Thank you.’
Dr Mannering took the hand she held out in farewell with more warmth than at their meeting. ‘I’m sorry I had to be the bearer of such bad news,’ he said regretfully. He paused. ‘Console yourself with the thought that Matthew must have loved you very much.’
‘Yes.’ Charlotte found his words cold comfort. ‘Goodbye, then.’
‘Goodbye, Mrs Derby.’
Outside, she breathed deeply of the cooler air. It had been warm in Dr Mannering’s study with the sun streaming through his windows, and it was easier to think away from his too-knowledgeable eyes.
She slung her bag over her shoulder. So Logan had not deserted her, after all. And she had refused to listen to him, had practically driven him into the arms of another woman! Oh, Matthew, she thought despairingly, you’ve certainly made me pay for any humiliation you suffered when my mother chose another man!
The path to the gates was tree-lined, and she was walking along with her head down when she almost collided with a man coming from the opposite direction. She lifted her head, an apology spilling automatically from her lips, and then gasped incredulously: ‘Logan!’
And Logan it was, vaguely unfamiliar in a dark lounge suit and grey shirt, his lean features hard and implacable. Before she could formulate any words at all, he had grabbed her upper arms in an iron grip, and with scarcely-leashed anger, exploded: ‘Deus! So I’ve found you! What in God’s name do you think you are doing?’
‘Logan.’ She said his name again, hardly daring to accept that it was really him. She touched his cheek, but he flinched away from her. ‘Logan, oh, Logan—I can’t believe it’s really you!’
‘I’ll bet you can’t!’ he muttered, betraying emotion thickening his tone. ‘And to think—this was my last chance!’
Charlotte swayed towards him, and in a moment his arms were around her, his face buried in her neck. Now she could feel him trembling against her, and his vulnerability broke down all the barriers between them.
‘Dear God, Charlotte,’ he groaned, ‘are you trying to kill me?’
‘No. No.’ Her arms slid round his waist, under his jacket, uncaring that other eyes were observing them now with avid interest. ‘Oh, Logan, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’
For a few moments he seemed unable to speak, and then at last, he drew back so that he could look into her face and she saw how pale he was. ‘Why did you do it?’ he demanded unsteadily. ‘Why did you do it?’
Charlotte stroked back the hair from his forehead. ‘How’s Robert?’ she asked huskily, and Logan closed his eyes for a moment in remembered agony.
‘He’s all right,’ he said at last. ‘Missing you like hell!’
‘He—he didn’t want to leave,’ she stammered.
‘Well, he sure as hell doesn’t give that impression,’ remarked Logan dryly. Then he glanced round. ‘We can’t stay here. I’ve got to speak to you alone. Do you have an hotel we could go to?’
‘Do—do you?’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Why? Don’t you want me to know where you’re staying?’
She shook her head. ‘It’s not that. It’s—well, it’s not very nice. I—I couldn’t afford any better.’
‘Charlotte!’ The way he said her name made her knees go weak. ‘All right, all right, we’ll go to my hotel. It’s not too far from here. So long as you trust me.’
Charlotte looked up at him adoringly. ‘I don’t need to trust you,’ she said softly.
‘For God’s sake, don’t look at me like that!’ he muttered huskily, and taking her hand, dragged her after him towards the gates. It wasn’t gentle, or particularly polite, but Charlotte loved it. Logan had hold of her hand, and so far as she was concerned, he could pull her through the very gates of hell and she would not object.
The hotel he was staying in was the same hotel he had used all those years ago when he was at the university. He saw her eyes dart up to take in the sign, and nodded half aggressively. ‘It was the only place I knew. Do you mind?’
‘Mind?’ She shook her head, and with an exclamation he led her through the swinging doors and across the carpeted lobby.
His room was not the same. It was bigger for one thing, looking out across the park, and the bed was double instead of the narrow divan he slept on before. She preceded him into the room, and he closed the door behind them, securing the safety catch before turning towards her. She stood beside the bed, suddenly very aware of her pale cheeks and dark-ringed eyes, but Logan did not look at her. Instead, he remained where he was, saying quietly: ‘I have to have an answer. Why did you run out on me?’
Charlotte linked her fingers round her bag. ‘I—you were going to marry Elaine—–’
‘I was not going to marry Elaine!’ he snapped savagely. ‘I asked you to marry me, if you remember, but you refused.’
‘For Robert’s sake.’
‘Yes, for Robert’s sake. But mostly for mine. God, Charlotte, can’t you see what you do to me?’
She badly wanted to be in his arms, but there were things that had to be said first. Taking a deep breath, she said: ‘I—I learned today that—that you tried to see me before—before you left England.’
Now it was Logan’s turn to look amazed. ‘You—what?’
‘I—I learned today—–’
‘Oh, yes, yes, I heard that. What do you mean by today?’
‘What I say.’ Charlotte took a step towards him. ‘Logan, you’ve got to believe me. I didn’t know!’
‘You didn’t know?’ Logan stared at her aghast.
‘I didn’t. Matthew—Matthew never told me.’
‘But my letters …’
‘I never got them. Matthew must have returned them himself.’
‘I can’t believe it.’
‘You’ve got to believe it. It’s the truth. As God is my witness, Logan, I am not lying to you.’
He raked back his hair, trying to make sense of what she was saying. ‘You mean—you mean you weren’t—disgusted by what had happened? You—you never said you didn’t want to see me again?’
‘No, no! That’s what I’m telling you.’ Charlotte wrung the strap of her bag. ‘I—I’ve been talking to Dr Mannering. He—he told me what Matthew had said. I knew nothing of that. Logan, I—I loved you—I still love you!’
He looked absolutely stunned. ‘You mean—all these years …’ He shook his head. ‘Oh, my God! how could he do such a thing?’
‘I don’t know. Perhaps it was because of my mother. He wanted her once, but she loved my father. Then … then the war came …’
‘And Matthew was made impotent,’ finished Logan harshly. Then, at her surprised gasp, he added: ‘I went to see his brother yesterday. I had the faint hope that you might have contacted them—that they might know where you were. When they learned who I was, they very quickly let me know that poor dear Matthew couldn’t possibly be the father of your son.’
Charlotte bent her head. ‘When—when did you come to England?’
‘Four days ago.’ Logan looked at her now. ‘As soon as I got back and found you’d gone.’
‘Oh, Logan …’
He covered the space between them in two strides, pulling at his tie impatiently. ‘What did you think to achieve?’
‘I—I didn’t know about—about what happened—eleven years ago. I thought—–’
‘Yes?’ he demanded. ‘What did you think?’ He made an impatient gesture. ‘For God’s sake, why do you think I brought you to the island? I didn’t know Robert was my son then, did I?’
She shook her head. ‘I—I thought you wanted to hurt me—–’
‘I did. I do.’ His eyes swept down her slender body. ‘But I know I’ll only hurt myself more. Tell me something, how did you really feel after … after …’
‘After we made love?’ She lifted her face to his. ‘You know how I felt.’
He swore softly. ‘That call came in from the principal’s office. You were crying …’
‘Aren’t girls supposed to cry? I suppose I was young and frightened …’
His hand caressed her cheek. ‘With good cause, as it happened. I wonder if you’ll get pregnant as quickly this time.’
‘Logan!’
‘Well!’ He was unashamed. ‘You are going to marry me, aren’t you?’
Charlotte trembled. ‘If you want me to.’
‘If I want you to!’ He raised his eyes heavenward for a moment. Then his hands dropped to the buttons of her shirt, making her tremble even more. ‘Do you know what I did?’ She shook her head, and he went on: ‘After I got no joy out of ringing you and trying to see you and writing letters to you, I went back to Rio. I thought—what the hell! The lady doesn’t want to know. Forget her! But I couldn’t. I loved you then as I love you now.’ Her blouse came loose, and he pulled a face at the bra beneath. ‘So I came back to London.’ His hands slid round her back, seeking the clip that kept the bra in place. ‘And when I found you had married Matthew, that you were pregnant, I actually tried to think of ways of killing you, do you know that?’
‘Oh, Logan!’
The bra was loose, and he pushed it aside, bending his head to caress her hardening nipples with his lips. He was trembling now, she could feel it, and his eyes were dark and disturbingly sensual.
‘But,’ he continued speaking with evident difficulty, ‘I knew that killing you I’d achieve nothing, only my own damnation, so I made other plans. It occurred to me that because Matthew was so much older than you were, sooner or later you were bound to be free, and when you were …’ He looked into her face deeply. ‘I knew that somehow I would make you come to me. As it happened, it was easier than even I had imagined.’
‘That—that was how Mr Lewis—–’
‘—learned about the post? Yes, of course. I explained that I was an old friend of Matthew’s, who wanted to remain anonymous, etc., etc. He swallowed it without question. So, my sweet, did you.’
Charlotte’s tongue appeared to wet her upper lip. ‘And—and Robert?’
‘Oh, yes, Robert.’ He had unbuttoned his shirt now and was pulling her closer, his hair-roughened skin tickling her breasts. ‘I hurt you. I’m sorry.’ His tongue trailed a distracting path along her ear. ‘That was why I slapped you, of course. When I saw him …’ He shook his head. ‘Can you ever forgive me?’
‘Can you forgive me?’ she breathed, her lips turning against his cheek.
His eyes kindled with emotion. ‘Only if you’ll promise to marry me, as soon as we can get a licence, here or in San Cristobal.’
‘What about Elaine?’
‘What about Elaine?’ he asked impatiently, his mouth doing disturbing things to her powers of reasoning.
‘Lisette told me—about Senhor Mendoza’s plans for you. Your work at the Institute …’
Logan sighed, loath to talk about such mundane things. ‘All right,’ he nodded. ‘Manoel did hope that one day Elaine and I …’ He paused. ‘He should have known better. No one buys my love and affection. It’s not for sale. And Manoel is sufficiently much of a business man, I think, to overlook my deficiencies in that direction.’
Charlotte relaxed. ‘It’s all too good to be true.’ Then her eyes clouded: ‘But Robert—–’
‘What about him?’
‘He’s still in San Cristobal?’
‘Yes. He’s staying with Carlos. You don’t have to worry, he’s quite safe.’
‘I’m not worried, but I am apprehensive.’
Logan frowned. ‘What about?’
‘Telling him.’
Now it was Logan’s turn to be concerned. ‘Oh, my darling, I have a confession to make …’
Her lips trembled. ‘What?’
‘I—Robert knows already. I told him. You left me no alternative.’
Charlotte quivered. ‘What did he say?’
‘What did you expect him to say?’ Logan half smiled. ‘He said I needn’t think he wanted a father who hurt his mother and sent her away!’
‘Oh, Logan …’ She guessed how much it must have cost him to tell her that. ‘He doesn’t mean it.’ She shook her head. ‘Do you think he’ll ever understand?’
Logan’s fingers caressed her nape. ‘When he’s older perhaps. Right now, Carlos is doing a great job of public relations. And once we’re married, and he has brothers and sisters …’
‘Brothers and sisters?’ echoed Charlotte huskily. ‘Aren’t you being rather ambitious?’
‘I don’t think so,’ remarked Logan, drawing her down on to the be‘And to begin …’