Margaret Way - Secrets Of The Outback

“Really?” Jewel couldn’t mask her surprise. “You only met me a minute ago.”

Lady Copeland, who had listened without interrupting, now spoke. “What is your background, my dear?”

Jewel felt astonished by her interest. “I could show you my file, Lady Copeland, but shouldn’t I be getting you a cup of tea?” She sought to keep her tone respectful.

“I’ll ring for it.” Skinner moved quickly to the phone, betraying an uncharacteristic agitation, not without a hint of excitement.

“I find it hard to believe you’re a country girl,” Keefe Connellan said, his black eyes moving so disturbingly over Jewel that she felt herself flush. She was developing a profound dislike of this too-handsome, too-arrogant, too-rich and powerful man.

“But I am, Mr. Connellan. Take it or leave it. In fact, I was born on an Outback cattle station.”

Incredibly he laughed. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he said strangely. Facing her, he was disconcertingly close.

“Doing?” Her vivid blue eyes sparkled with anger. Jewel was confident in herself and her own abilities. She refused to let this man belittle or insult her, no matter who he was.

But he smiled at her. A curiously unnerving smile, for all that it lit his lean, darkly tanned face. “You’d better be good.”

Lady Copeland spoke in a voice so strained it seemed almost theatrical. “It’s all falling into place. Your father was a Steven Bishop? Overseer on one of our properties, Mingaree Station, some twenty years ago.”

Skinner looked over at Jewel quizzically. He had always sensed this girl had some mystery to her. Was that what it was all about? Her father? What had Bishop done?

Jewel inclined her gleaming blond head, one side sweeping forward to shield her face. “He was. Perhaps you could tell me, Lady Copeland, why you and Mr. Connellan are so interested. My father died tragically, as you must know—or perhaps you don’t. He wasn’t important in your scheme of things.”

“I didn’t know him, my dear,” Lady Copeland confirmed gently. “I saw him only once in my life, at my late husband’s funeral.”

“I was six at the time,” Jewel answered, just as quietly. “I don’t really remember Dad going, but my mother told me he attended the funeral with a party of cattlemen.”

“What else do you remember?” Keefe Connellan asked.

Jewel turned on him with magnificent disdain. “He never came home.”

In the midst of the bitterness, he suddenly sounded sincere. “I’m sorry.”

“Blair, I wonder if you’d mind leaving us for a few minutes?” Lady Copeland unexpectedly took the initiative. “I would appreciate it.”

Keefe Connellan intervened. “Davina, I don’t think this is the right time. You just fainted and you’re still very pale. I should take you home.”

“Ten minutes, no more.” Lady Copeland threw him a trusting smile.

“Take as long as you want, Lady Copeland,” Blair Skinner said, not meeting Jewel’s eyes. “I have things I can attend to.”

He went to the door, practically colliding with a secretary carrying a silver tea tray. The secretary smiled at Jewel, who went to her and said thank you, then put the tray down on a side table. As Skinner shut the door, Jewel poured Lady Copeland a cup of tea, asking over her shoulder if she took milk.

“No, my dear. No sugar, either, but perhaps today…”

Jewel ladled in two teaspoons and passed the elegant cup and saucer to Lady Copeland, who took it with a steadier hand. “Tell me about yourself,” Lady Copeland invited, gesturing to the armchair Keefe Connellan had vacated. He stood, arms folded, and leaned against Skinner’s desk.

“You’re dying to tell someone, aren’t you,” he said.

“Pardon me, but are you insane?” Jewel let her own hostility spill over.

He stared at her for a few moments, his handsome face drawn into somber lines. “I’m so very sorry, Ms. Bishop, if I’m Goddamn offending you.”

“Keefe!” Lady Copeland endeavored to soothe him. “Maybe she doesn’t—”

“Doesn’t what?” Jewel asked, finding the whole situation bizarre. Yet was it? Now that she was really looking at Lady Copeland, she was swept by a strange sense of familiarity.

“Does your mother live with you?” Lady Copeland asked, sipping her tea, then putting it down.

“My mother lives in Hungerford, North Queensland, where I was raised. Perhaps you can give me a clue, Lady Copeland. I have no idea what you’re getting at.”

“You haven’t looked in the mirror for a while?” Keefe Connellan asked in a dark voice.

Jewel sat back wearily. “Could this possibly be the nature of your enquiry, Mr. Connellan? My appearance?”

Though she spoke sardonically, inside her was growing panic, confusion, even fear.

“So it’s come to you at last. My, my, my!” he drawled, eyes snapping.

In desperation, Jewel turned to Lady Copeland, who was now excessively pale. “Please tell me! I swear I don’t know what this is all about.” Lady Copeland was gazing at her with such a strange expression but for the moment seemed quite unable to reply.

“We didn’t get much notice, either,” Keefe Connellan said, his handsome features drawn tight. “Tell me, are there many golden-haired, black-browed, sapphire-eyed women in your family?” he asked. “Don’t look so stunned. You’re a beautiful woman with very distinctive features.”

“So?” Jewel spread her hands. “Please continue.”

“But, Ms. Bishop, you’ve even got your hair cut the same way. Tell me, are you and Skinner enjoying this? I assure you your enjoyment won’t last long.”

Jewel stood up, her mind racing. This meeting had implications that were deeply disturbing. They could also cost her her job. “There’s no way I can continue to sit here and listen to this,” she said. “Either you come out with the information you appear to have, or I’ll break all the rules by walking out on you.” Arrogant son of a bitch. He could get her fired, but she no longer cared.

Behind her Lady Copeland sighed heavily. “My dear, I may be almost three times your age and I, too, am breaking all the rules by saying this, but you’re the living image of me when I was in my twenties.”

“The question is, why haven’t you noticed?” Keefe Connellan demanded before Jewel could hope to speak.

He moved suddenly, taking her by the arm and guiding her toward a gilded mirror that hung between two ceiling-high Georgian bookcases.

“Please let go of me,” Jewel said from between clenched teeth. Her confusion was growing.

He removed his hand immediately but continued to watch her with careful eyes, their two heads reflected in the mirror. “Are you going to tell us what’s going on, Ms. Bishop?” he asked.

She felt as though she was hardly breathing. “Fine, there’s a resemblance,” she conceded. “I see it now, but I was never looking for it. Hardly! All I can say is that it’s a coincidence. And for the record, Blair Skinner has never remarked on any such resemblance.”

“He must have known,” Connellan said.

“Known what?” She swung on him. Tall herself, she had to look up at him. “What sense is there in keeping me in the dark? I’m not a fool. You seem to be implying that Blair Skinner and I have devised some strategy to bring me to Lady Copeland’s attention.”

“Haven’t you?” he challenged.

“Please, Keefe.” Lady Copeland spoke quietly.

Jewel ignored him and walked back to where Lady Copeland was sitting. She noticed that a fraction of color had come back into the woman’s face. Jewel sat down so her own face would be level with the older woman’s, staring into eyes she now saw with shocking clarity were indeed like her own. “I wouldn’t for the world be party to any plan to upset you, Lady Copeland. Neither would Blair Skinner. He respects you greatly. It was exactly as he said. I’ve done quite a bit of work on the Quinn Corp.–Omega takeover. I’m well thought of in this firm. He felt it was time I met some of our more important clients.”

“Surely you could up with something better than that?” Connellan stood tall, his expression cool and cutting. An imposing figure who clearly didn’t believe her.

“I don’t think I could come up with anything better than the truth. In any case, this isn’t a courtroom, Mr. Connellan,” she reminded him.

“But you’re playing a dangerous game.”

“Nonsense!” she said emphatically.

“Perhaps, my dear, we’ve all been taken by surprise?” Lady Copeland suggested, still looking as if she’d seen a ghost.

“Or you and Mr. Connellan have leapt to a conclusion,” Jewel countered. “I don’t allow myself to be used by anybody. That includes my boss.”

“Maybe you could visit me so I could find out more about you.” Lady Copeland for all her power and influence seemed to be pleading.

Jewel stared back at her, perturbed. “There can’t be any connection between us, Lady Copeland, no matter how strong the resemblance. Isn’t it said we all have a double somewhere?”

“Perhaps not so close to hand. I have to admit you play the game well,” Keefe Connellan said dryly.

Jewel faced him, terribly unnerved but determined not to be thrown off balance. “Game, what game?” she asked. “Why do you seem to think it’s your place to confront me, Mr. Connellan? Why this hostility? My God, it fills the room! I don’t feel the same antagonism coming from Lady Copeland.” It was perfectly true. Lady Copeland’s demeanor was curiously nonthreatening.

Connellan merely shrugged. “To answer your question, I’ve known Lady Copeland all my life. I care about her. We’re part of a tight circle. Whoever disturbs her, disturbs me. I wonder if you fully appreciate that.”

“I’m not afraid of you, Mr. Connellan.” Jewel met his gaze unflinchingly.

“Perhaps you should be.” A faint smile curved his mouth. “What was the plan? First the meeting, then the blackmail?”

It was an insult too great to be borne. Before she knew it, Jewel’s hand flew up spontaneously and she struck Keefe Connellan across his arrogant face.

The silence in the room was profound. Jewel felt her heart flutter.

“Oh God, I didn’t mean that,” she said.

“Yes, you did.” Connellan rubbed his cheek thoughtfully. “It’s a first, anyway. I’m sure you’ll tell me next that you’re the proud possessor of a black belt.”

“I apologize,” Jewel said, feeling his whole aura intensely. “But you have to admit you deserved it.”

“What else have you got up your sleeve?” he enquired with mock politeness.

Jewel was utterly exasperated. “I want to hold onto my job. I deeply regret this upset, but I feel I’m the innocent victim here.” She turned to Lady Copeland, who appeared to be hanging on her every word. “This is the first time I’ve ever laid eyes on you, Lady Copeland. I’m sorry if—for whatever reason—that makes you sad.” And sorrow was the expression printed on Davina Copeland’s face.

“Oh, it does, my dear.” Lady Copeland flung a narrow hand to her heart. “Forgive me, but…you’re not hiding anything from us?”

This would be ridiculous if it weren’t so disturbing. “I’m sorry, Lady Copeland. I’ve already told you no. If we’ve finished our conversation, I should get back to work.”

Again Keefe Connellan intervened. “So how did you get this job? Who offered it?” He glanced at his watch.

“I’m not sure this is any of your business, Mr. Connellan.”

“Oh, it is,” he muttered grimly.

“I was recommended to Mr. Skinner by Professor Goldner from the university,” she said, knowing he would check.