Because if Tony was Kit Miller, that’s what he’d done.
Bianca’s stomach turned over at the thought.
He’d done the very worst thing he could – made her fall in love with him. Made her believe his poisonous lies.
It was a nightmare, but it was true.
The man she had fallen in love with was Kit Miller.
Tony Mobley didn’t even exist.
56
Lady Albermarle kept a house in Palace Court, Kensington, a big red-bricked monolith with huge bay windows and airy endless rooms, and she stayed there whenever she came up to town, which was often. When Ruby called in to see her old friend, Vi’s elderly husband Anthony was in Oxfordshire tending the ancestral family acreage, as usual.
‘Darling!’ Vi greeted Ruby, air-kissing her on both cheeks.
‘Hello, Vi,’ said Ruby, struck by the fact that in all the years she’d known her, Violet had somehow managed to remain unchanged.
There was something eternally attractive about Vi, something so effortlessly chic that Ruby thought it was no wonder Vi’s younger sister Betsy had resented her just about forever. But then Vi had always been the cleverer of the two. While she had deliberately wooed and then married old money, her younger sister had married less well, opting for Ruby’s brother Joe. While Vi rubbed shoulders with aristocrats and celebrities, poor Betsy seemed forever doomed to chase after respectability and status like an amateur collector snatching uselessly after rare butterflies.
‘You look wonderful,’ said Ruby truthfully.
Vi did. She still, at fifty-eight years old, sported the same dark red bob she had worn all her life; she was slim, tall, the same striking forthright girl she had been in the days when she stomped the boards and posed naked at the Windmill Theatre with Ruby, way back in her youth. Her green eyes were vibrant, her lips were painted carmine red, and she moved around in flowing drifts of Missoni fabric and wafts of her signature scent, Devon Violets.
‘Come in, sweetheart, it’s so lovely to see you,’ said Vi, ushering her into the drawing room and seating her upon a Louis Quinze chair before taking the seat opposite.
‘Would you like tea?’
‘No, nothing for me.’ Ruby looked at Vi. This was her best, her oldest friend. They had grown up together, coming through the war, forging very separate paths in life. Ruby had transformed a small corner shop into a nationwide chain of department stores; Vi had snagged a viscount.
‘How’s Daisy? And those adorable twins? Is Daisy still looking to follow in her mother’s footsteps?’
Ruby gave a rueful smile. ‘She tried working at the store, but truly, I think she hated it.’
‘I’m surprised you’re not at work though, beavering away as always. You live for that business.’
Ruby smiled painfully. If Michael’s death had taught her anything, it was that life is short. She needed cheering up, snapping out her low mood, and Vi – lovely Vi – was the one to do it. ‘I just wanted to see you. So here I am, on a workday – and what’s more I don’t care.’
‘Is everything OK?’ Vi’s brow wrinkled in concern.
Before Ruby could answer there was a quiet knock at the door. It opened slightly and a young man with bright blond hair and a stunningly attractive face put his head around it. He saw Ruby there and smiled: ‘Sorry to interrupt, darling,’ he said to Vi. ‘What time did you say for dinner tonight?’
‘Nine, sweetheart,’ said Vi. ‘You know I never eat before nine.’
The young man nodded and closed the door.
There was a moment’s silence, in which the two women smiled at each other.
‘He’s very good looking,’ said Ruby. ‘And very young.’
‘Isn’t he.’ Vi gave a satisfied smile. ‘Now, what was I saying…?’
‘You were asking if everything was OK.’ Ruby’s face clouded. ‘And it’s not, I’m afraid. There was something… something awful…’
‘What’s happened? Has someone been hurt?’
Ruby nodded. ‘Simon – Daisy’s ex-husband. Oh, Vi, it’s horrible. He committed suicide. Hung himself.’
‘Oh God, how awful.’ Vi looked aghast. ‘Rubes, I’m so sorry.’
‘It’s the funeral on Friday. I’m dreading it, I really am. The worst of it is, Kit says Simon’s death wasn’t suicide at all, it was some sort of reprisal.’
‘Reprisal for what?’ asked Vi.
Ruby waved her hand tiredly. She had probably already said too much. ‘Let’s just say things have been pretty tough since Michael died.’
‘And Kit? Are you and he getting on any better?’
Ruby’s eyes were brimming with tears. She shook her head.
‘Not good,’ she said, and it all poured out then: that Kit had been drinking heavily, losing it; that he believed the Danieri family had been behind Michael Ward’s death, even though Bella Danieri swore this wasn’t true.
‘What, she genuinely doesn’t think her boys were responsible for Michael being shot? But, Rubes, it must be them,’ said Vi with an incredulous little laugh. ‘Of course it was them.’
‘She says not. And I believe her. Kit is determined to find out who did it. He loved Michael so much, it nearly broke him when he died.’
‘I was so sorry about Michael,’ said Vi. ‘I thought you were settled, you and him.’
‘What about you, Vi? Are you settled?’ Ruby indicated the door the delicious young man had appeared at.
‘What, with dear old Anthony? Yes, I suppose so. Although I do have my diversions, as you know.’
Ruby knew. A procession of very young handsome ‘walkers’ attended Vi whenever she was in town. Ruby had met them. They were all beautiful, polished and charming; lovely diversions indeed.
‘And you? There’s no one else yet?’ asked Vi, her eyes resting on Ruby’s face.
‘No. Of course not. Only…’ Ruby hesitated.
‘Only what?’
Ruby frowned. ‘Someone’s been in touch with me, a couple of times. He sent me flowers, asked me to call him, asked if he could call on me…’
Vi’s eyes lit up with interest. ‘Really? Who is he? Have you seen him?’
‘We’ve both seen him. He was at Michael’s funeral.’
‘Is he part of that world then? Michael’s world?’
Ruby looked at Vi. She knew exactly what Vi meant. Did this man, like Michael, inhabit that shady grey area that hovered between respectable business and the dodgy deals done on the London streets?
‘Yes, I suppose he is.’
‘What’s his name? What does he look like? You say we both saw him?’
‘He looks like…’ Ruby paused, searching for the words…’ He looks like a thug.’
‘Oh, come on, Rubes, I need more than that. Is he handsome?’ Vi was nearly hopping on her seat with excitement now.
Ruby thought about what she had so far seen of Thomas Knox. She had noticed him at the funeral, watching her with hard blue eyes. The straight dark-blond hair, the firm mouth, the air of a lion walking through a jungle, knowing he was king of the beasts. He had nodded to her, she had nodded back. They hadn’t exchanged a word. And then had come the flowers, the notes, the letter…
‘I suppose he is handsome, yes,’ she said cautiously. ‘In a brutish sort of way.’
‘Why don’t I remember him? I don’t usually miss a pretty face.’
Ruby shrugged. ‘He isn’t so much pretty. More… rugged.’
‘So what are you planning to do? Will you take him up on his offer and call him?’