Mistress of Deception

At last, with head held high, she started to walk from the room, stopping only briefly to bestow a sad little smile on the pale-faced woman standing with her back against the open door, her hand still on the doorknob. 'I'm sorry, Mrs Carstairs. Really, I am. Please don't see me out. Goodnight. Thank you for the lovely dinner.' And without giving Alan so much as a parting glance, she swept from the room.

Alan's mouth had dropped open with her blase boldness, her total lack of shame. He was the one who was left with the shame, and the guilt, and the frustration. God, if only he'd thought to lock the damned door. Then he wouldn't be lying here with his mother looking at him as if he were the original Bluebeard, or worse!

'Should...shouldn't you go after her?' she managed to say.

'Not bloody likely. And before you start in on me,' he went on testily, 'Ebony was not dragged into this bed by the hair on her head. She came willingly enough. And it's not the first time, either.'

'So I gathered by your earlier comments.' His mother glanced daggers at him again. 'Yet you are the older party here, Alan, and I am not impressed by your trying to paint Ebony as some sort of scarlet woman. She is nothing of the kind! It would seem that you have—much to your discredit—taken advantage of the girl's one-time hero-worship of you.'

She dismissed his startled look with a scornful wave of her hand. 'Oh, yes, I knew about that. Do you think I go around here with my eyes shut? As for your both trying to hide this affair from me by pretending not to like one another... I find such deception most reprehensible. But once again, I heap most of the blame on you, Alan. I'm sure it was not Ebony's idea. I can only conclude also that this intimacy began when society would have frowned on such a relationship.'

'It did not!' he defended fiercely. 'I didn't touch her till she turned twenty- one!'

His mother looked surprised, then relieved, then confused. 'Then why all the secrecy? Why not be open about your relationship? Good lord, Alan, I would like nothing better than for you and Ebony to marry.'

'Which is exactly why I didn't want you to find out about us,' he snapped. 'Ebony would never marry me for starters. And I damned well would never marry her!'

'Why not?'

'God...'

'Tell me, Alan. I think I have a right to know. The girl was placed in my care as well as yours. I worry about her. She's a very vulnerable type of girl.'

Vulnerable? Was his mother kidding? Hadn't she seen her swan out of here just now, unmoved at having been discovered inflagrante delicto with the man who was not only her legal guardian, but twelve years older than herself? Hell, Ebony was as hard as her name!

'You want the truth,' he challenged. 'The whole unvarnished truth?'

Deirdre squared her shoulders and her chin. 'I do.' 'So be it, then. So be it...'

Ebony did not cry till she reached the safety of her flat. Then it all poured out, all the hurt and the pain and the shame. She would never forget the look of horror on Alan's mother's face when she had walked into that bedroom. Never! Ebony had never felt so low in all her life. How she had got herself out of there with some shreds of dignity intact she had no idea. But she had, thank God.

As for Alan... She had never hated him as much as she had when he'd failed to defend her, when he'd destroyed his mother's good opinion of her. She'd never pretended to be a saint. But she wasn't a slut either. She was merely a woman, made weak by a love that had been doomed from the start. Now, there was no one left who thought well of her, who cared for her.

No one except Gary...

Ebony stood up and went to get her luggage. Time to start packing, she thought. Time to escape this torment for good.

The doorbell ringing sent her into a momentary panic till she remembered she was in control here. No one could get in unless she let them in.

Initially, she ignored it, till the insistent buzzing nearly drove her mad. Only Alan would be so persistent. Any normal person would have given up

and gone away. In the end, she marched over and flicked the switch on the intercom. 'Yes, Alan?'

'I need to talk to you,' he ground out.

'Well, I don't want to talk to you.'

'So I gathered. Look, I regret what happened earlier. I should have locked that damned door. But I straightened Mother out about a few things, and she doesn't think badly of you. Quite the contrary. I'm the one she tore strips off. She's cast you in the role of the wronged woman. She actually thinks you're in love with me.'