Chapter thirty-three - Lady in Red

665 69 21
                                    


The tall blonde smoothed the wrinkles in her short, poppy-red dress and reached inside the car for her handbag. She checked her appearance in the wing mirror and, after a moment of indecision, released another button on her blouse to expose more skin.

Although their visitor was glamorous, Jess thought her outfit was more appropriate for a club on a Saturday night than an afternoon visit in the countryside. "Whoever she is, she's very beautiful."

"That's Ellen Williams, and trust me, that beauty is only skin-deep. She was in the same year as Rhian at school. Dad's fame impressed her, so she was friendly with us. Yet she never had a problem smiling to your face while calling you black and blue when your back was turned."

"What's she doing here?"

"Not sure, but she works for the local newspaper. I understand she's also going through a messy divorce after a fling with her editor, but you didn't hear that from me."

The blonde reporter turned to look across the courtyard, away from the house. Then Gareth appeared, looking relaxed in faded jeans and a generous white shirt, open at the neck. The reporter gave him a simpering smile and kissed him on both cheeks, leaving a smudge of scarlet behind. She giggled and brushed her fingertips across his face, wiping the lipstick away, her caress lingering along his jaw.

Carys watched her performance though the window. "Women like that give the rest of us a bad name. Look at her. She must be six or seven years older than me and Gareth, and she's acting like a cat in heat, all because of some stupid advert."

Jessica agreed. Although they couldn't hear any of the conversation, they had no problems translating the body language. The woman was doing everything except rubbing herself against his legs and purring.

Carys shook her head and refocused her attention on the vegetables. "I can't watch any more. It's making me feel sick." She picked up the knife, hesitated, then slammed it point down into the wooden chopping board. "What are they doing now?"

Gareth accompanied the woman across the courtyard. He smiled and nodded, polite as always, then opened a door and stepped back to let her go first. "They're coming in through the other door."

"I bet Ellen was hoping to see the inside of the boat house. Everyone around here knows that's Gareth's sanctuary." An old servant's bell rang, flagged up in the drawing room. "Wise move, Gareth. She won't be able to move on him so easily in there. I'll go play the hostess and find out what's going on."

While Carys was away, Jess sat alone in the kitchen, staring at the bright red sports car. Gareth had looked much more like his old self as he'd walked across the courtyard. He hadn't been so pleased earlier when he'd discovered her in the kitchen.

She should have resented him for refusing to work with her, but Jess found it impossible to dredge up such a negative emotion. Instead, she felt only a stinging disappointment. She knew how effortless it could be to work with Gareth. It was a shame that he now felt unable to even have a civil conversation, and she couldn't understand why. Why would he walk away from a project like this?

She wished she knew what was going on in his head.

Carys returned, quietly seething. "Apparently, this interview's been planned for weeks, but no one bothered to tell me. Ellen's here to write an article on Gareth's new found fame. A local boy makes good type of thing. At least he had the sense to claim one of the armchairs, so she couldn't sit right next to him, otherwise she might have ended up on his lap. Now, she's perched on the edge of the sofa, displaying her assets. She might as well be wearing a sign saying 'take me'. It's pathetic."

Ten Days with Mr Darcy (on hold)Where stories live. Discover now