The Deserving Mistress

‘The reasons aren’t important; the farm isn’t for sale.’

‘But—’

‘It isn’t for sale,’ May repeated firmly, her own eyes flashing a warning now.

Two pairs of identical green eyes warred for several long seconds before April gave a puzzled sigh. ‘Okay, Jude wants to buy the farm, you don’t want to sell; are you trying to tell me that’s the only involvement between the two of you?’

‘Of course that’s the only involvement between the two of us,’ May assured her impatiently. ‘Do I look like the type of woman Jude Marshall would be romantically interested in?’ she added disgustedly.

April sat back in her chair, looking at May consideringly now. ‘And why shouldn’t he be interested in you?’ she finally said slowly. ‘You’re beautiful. Intelligent. A very talented actress, according to David,’ she added ruefully. ‘So why shouldn’t Jude be attracted to you?’

‘Never mind,’ May dismissed impatiently.

‘But—’

‘My only interest in Jude is what you may or may not have told him about our own—connection,’ May cut in determinedly.

‘Nothing,’ April snapped. ‘Absolutely nothing,’ she repeated tightly. ‘And I presume you want it to continue that way?’ She arched dark brows.

‘Most definitely,’ May scorned. ‘And I don’t want you coming to the farm again, either,’ she added hardly.

Pain flickered across the beautiful features so well known to film and television viewers alike, the eyes now a dark, unfathomable green. ‘You really hate me, don’t you?’ April choked.

‘How I do or don’t feel about you really isn’t important,’ May dismissed impatiently. ‘January and March arrived back home unexpectedly last night, and—’

‘January and March are here, too?’ April breathed huskily, eyes wide, her beautiful face lit with anticipation.

May scowled her displeasure at the other woman’s response to this information. ‘You’re dead, remember,’ she stated flatly.

The other woman flinched as if May had physically struck her, all the colour fading from her cheeks, the deep red lipgloss she wore standing out in stark contrast to that paleness.

‘You enjoyed saying that.’ April winced, putting up a hand to cover the emotional quiver of her lips.

May felt a momentary guilt at April’s obvious pain, but it was a guilt she quickly squashed as she remembered this woman’s abandonment of her husband and three young daughters. After all, this woman was the one who had left them, not the other way around. And she really couldn’t expect that any of them would want to see her again now.

‘You’re wrong, I’m not enjoying any of this situation,’ May assured her emphatically. ‘It just happens to be fact.’ She shrugged. ‘You—’

‘How did your father explain the money?’ April cut in frowningly. ‘What did he tell you all? That there was a rich uncle around somewhere who liked to help out occasionally?’

May looked at the other woman for several long seconds, and then she turned to rummage through her handbag, finding what she was looking for almost immediately. ‘I called at the bank before coming here this morning,’ she told April woodenly. ‘I wanted to be able to give you this.’ She held out the piece of paper in her hand.

April’s hand visibly trembled as she reached out to take the paper, that trembling increasing as she looked down at the cheque May had given her.

/> ‘It’s all there,’ May told her evenly. ‘Including the interest.’

Tears swam in the pained green eyes as April looked up at her. ‘He didn’t use any of it,’ she groaned. ‘Not a single penny.’

It had been the shock of May’s life when, on the death of her father, she had been informed of the money in his bank accounts, one that was used for the everyday expenses, and predictably contained very little, a second one that contained a few hundred pounds her father had saved for a rainy day, and a third that contained an amount of money that made May’s eyes widen incredulously. Until informed by the bank manager that an amount was placed in that account every month, increasingly so, and had been for the last twenty years. It had been the almost twenty years that had given it away; after that it hadn’t taken too much intelligence to work out who could have been making those payments…

‘No, he didn’t,’ May confirmed huskily. ‘Did you really think that he would?’ She gave a pained frown.

April swallowed hard. ‘I—I hoped that he would. I—wanted you girls to have things, pretty things—’

‘Why?’ May laughed humourlessly. ‘Did you really think that “things” could make it up to us for not having a mother?’ She shook her head incredulously. ‘I’m glad my father didn’t use any of that money, I would have been disappointed in him if he had.’

The amount in the account was an absolute fortune, could have made all of their lives so much easier, but May knew very well why her father had refused to use it, even to ease the lives of his daughters as they grew up. For the same reason May had refused to touch a penny of it since he had died…

‘You’re so like him.’ April spoke huskily now, shaking her head slightly. ‘You look like me, but you’re so like your father—’