Colm stared at his father, his jaw tight and his scowl deepening. ‘Why? Why would ye do such a thing? I meant less than nothing to you for all these years.’
‘It’s simple.’ Longworth picked his glass up and stared pensively down into the contents. ‘We had no children, Anne and I. We tried...but it wasn’t meant to be, I suppose. Now that we’ll both soon be gone, I want to ensure that you – as my only son – inherit my estate. All of it. I know it comes far too late,’ he added, ‘but I hope it goes some small way towards making amends.’
‘That’s incredibly generous.’ Penelope eyed him with curiosity. ‘But surely you have other relatives ‒ cousins, uncles? Your wife’s family?’
He shook his head. ‘They’re all dead. And my wife’s family has no need of more money, God knows. No,’ he finished, ‘what I have – the money, my cars, the townhouse in Mayfair and the house in Wiltshire – all of it belongs to my son Colm, now. Or will do, very soon.’
Colm stood up. ‘I don’t want it. I don’t want your charity. And I won’t let you throw your money at me as a salve to your conscience before you die.’
Longworth stood as well, his face etched in pain, both physical and emotional. ‘Colm, please!’
‘Nae, I want nothing you have to offer. Keep it. Thanks for making the trip, and I wish you a safe journey back to London, but I want no part of you or your money.’
With that, Colm flung open the study door, and strode out.
‘Colm! Please, wait!’ Helen demanded as she left the study and ran down the hall after him.
He didn’t stop. ‘You’ll not change my mind,’ he said grimly. ‘I have my pride.’
‘Damn your pride!’ Helen snapped, and caught at his arm. ‘Are you mad? Your father’s just begged your forgiveness and offered you his entire fortune! He’s got a townhouse in Mayfair, Colm – do you even know what the property values in central London are these days?’
‘I don’t care. I’m not leaving Draemar.’
‘Why? Will you throw away everything your father’s offering you to live in a gatehouse and – and deliver bloody packages? My God – you could sell the townhouse in London and have enough money to buy two bloody castles!’
He fixed her with a hard stare. ‘Not everything’s about money, you know.’
She bristled. ‘Meaning what?’
‘Meaning, I’m not like you. I’m not looking for the main chance, for a way to cash in. My integrity means more to me than my bank balance.’
‘And mine doesn’t?’ she challenged, her eyes flashing. ‘Why? Because I’m a journalist? How dare you question my integrity.’ Helen dropped her hand from his arm.
‘If you had an ounce of integrity,’ he snapped, ‘you’d not be taking unauthorized photos of Dom and Gemma’s private wedding tomorrow for your bloody tabloid rag! But never mind that they don’t want their wedding made public – you’ll do it anyway. For the money.’ He spat out the last word.
Helen stood unmoving, stunned by his accusation. ‘I’m a reporter, Colm. It’s my job—’
‘It’s your job to report news, to inform the public. It’s not your job to trash someone’s special day by splashing it all over the red tops.’ He paused. ‘Oh, sorry – but that is your job, isn’t it?’
‘I thought I knew you, Colm MacKenzie,’ Helen said, her voice shaking with fury. ‘And I thought you knew me. But it turns out...we don’t know each other at all.’
Her eyes, bright with anger and hurt, seared his long and hard before she turned and stormed away.
It was late, and Caitlin, tired and upset after her argument with Wren, had excused herself as soon after dinner as she could and went up to her room. She’d just drifted into a light sleep when the phone by her bed rang.
Groggily she reached out and grabbed the receiver. ‘Hello,’ she mumbled.
‘Hello, my darling girl.’
She sat up and pushed the hair out of her face. ‘Niall!’
‘I called to wish you a happy Christmas, Cait, since I can’t be there with you. I miss you terribly.’
She yawned and leant back against the pillows. ‘I miss you, too. Where are you?’
‘In my flat in Fulham. Jeremy’s with his mother.’
‘Are you spending Christmas with them tomorrow?’ she asked.
He hesitated. ‘No. I’m not invited. I’ve promised Miriam I’ll drop off the presents and leave straightaway.’
‘So you’ll be alone.’
‘All by myself,’ he responded, ‘just like the song. I wish you were here, darling. Soon enough, you will be. We’ll set up the nursery, and start shopping for baby things. I can scarcely wait.’
‘It’s only a matter of time before he cheats on you, Caitlin. Because those sorts of men always do.’
The thought made her indescribably sad, and she began, quietly, to cry. Was Wren right? Was Niall destined to cheat on her, as he’d done to his wife Miriam?
Was she about to make a huge mistake?
‘Cait, what’s wrong?’ Niall asked, alarmed. ‘Why are you crying? Is everything all right? You’re not – you’re not having second thoughts, are you?’
She groped for the box of tissues on the bedside table and pulled one out. ‘No. No, of course not,’ she answered, and blew her nose. ‘I’m just hormonal, I suppose. Everything makes me sad. Or cranky.’ She hesitated. ‘I had to tell Wren today that I’d changed my mind, that I wasn’t giving the baby to her and Tark for adoption. She – she was devastated, and I feel awful,’ she admitted.
‘I’m sure you do,’ he said firmly, ‘but you mustn’t blame yourself. When you promised the baby to Wren, you’d no idea I wanted to marry you and keep the child. Wren will just have to understand.’
‘Easier said than done,’ Caitlin sighed. ‘I feel like the worst villain in the world right now.’
‘Like the Rat King?’ he teased.
‘Worse.’
‘The Grinch?’
‘At least the Grinch saw the error of his ways.’
‘Cait – don’t be so hard on yourself. Wren will come through this. She and Tarquin can always adopt another child.’
‘I suppose,’ she agreed. ‘Oh, Niall – I wish we could spend Christmas together! But I’ve got this stupid wedding to be in, and you’ve got family obligations...’
‘Darling, even if I come up there tomorrow, you know your parents won’t welcome me to the festivities. They’d sooner pluck me, truss me up, and roast me in a pan next to the Christmas goose than welcome me into the Campbell family bosom.’
‘It won’t always be like this, will it, Niall?’ she asked plaintively.
‘Once my divorce comes through,’ he reassured her firmly, ‘this will all be nothing more than a bad memory.’
‘I hope you’re right.’
‘Of course I am. I’m always right,’ he joked. ‘Now,’ he ordered, ‘bundle yourself back into bed and get some rest. You’re sleeping for two now, you know.’
Caitlin giggled. ‘Goodnight, Niall. I love you.’
‘Goodnight, darling. I love you back.’
She hung up the phone and snuggled down into the pillows, imagining that Niall was next to her, and soon drifted back to sleep.