Passionate Scandal

Her composure was now inscrutable, her sophistication an indisputable fact. She walked, talked, behaved as the daughter of a prominent man of the City should do. She never revealed ruffled nerves, wouldn’t dream of putting on a show of temperament like the old Madeline had used to do often—and to her ruin, she reminded herself. Her dress sense was superb, her personal grooming impeccable, and her manner serene. And if those closest to her were surprised to the point of dismay in the change in her, they had to agree, surely, that this new Madeline was far more acceptable than the old one?

That wretched girl who had run away four years ago was now back, and determined to make a point. She had begun with her family, and intended continuing by facing the people who had hurt her the most. The Stantons mainly, bar Vicky, and really only one Stanton in particular who was going to be made to eat those bitter words he’d thrown at her four years ago—even if he had set her off balance slightly with their unexpected meeting last night.

And she intended to do it by calmly smoothing out the quarrel between their two families. How, she wasn’t sure yet. She only knew that she was going to do it, and show them all that Madeline Gilburn had matured into a cool sensible woman at last.

The lift doors slid open, and she stepped gracefully out into the luxurious foyer of the Stanton directors’ floor, pausing for only a moment to collect herself as old memories hit out at her senses.

Once upon a time, she had rode that lift and bounced out here like an inmate, blithely trotting past the disgruntled receptionist of the day

to walk right into Dominic’s office without knocking—just so she could surprise him with a kiss before walking blithely out again!

Now she cringed at the very idea of doing such a thing. So gauche—so adolescent.

The walls of panelled walnut still looked the same, and the same deep-pile grey Wilton carpet still covered the floor. Everything, in fact, was just as she remembered it—except the smiling face of the receptionist already on her feet and waiting to greet her.

Madeline flicked a brief glance at the several closed doors she knew led to the plush offices of the individual Stanton Bank directors, James Stanton’s dead centre, Dominic to the right of his and the rest belonging to lesser members of powerful family. She had no idea which door belonged to Vicky. Four years ago, the family had been dismayed at their daughter’s desire to join the firm. Now things were different. Vicky would be different, Madeline reminded herself. She too was older, would be more self-assured now that she held a responsible position in the bank.

‘Miss Stanton is expecting me,’ Madeline informed the waiting receptionist. ‘I’m Madeline Gilburn.’

The woman’s smile warmed into rueful humour. ‘She’s been jumping about like a demented flea all morning because you were coming. If you’ll just take a seat for a moment, I’ll put her out of her misery and let her know you’ve arrived.’

But the receptionist didn’t get the chance to inform Vicky of anything, because just at that moment a door further along the row flew open and out bounced Victoria Stanton—who came to a jerking halt when she saw Madeline standing there.

Grey eyes so like her brother’s gazed at her transfixed, thickening Madeline’s throat with tears as she stared into the pretty diminutive face of her closest friend. She had been wrong about Vicky, she acknowledged tearfully. She hadn’t changed, not one single iota.

‘Maddie—!’ she cried, coming back to life with a stunned blinking of her eyes. ‘Good God,’ she gasped. ‘It is you, isn’t it?’ then, before Madeline had a chance to say anything at all, Vicky was rushing across the room to fling herself into her arms. ‘Oh, you beautiful, beautiful creature! I have missed you so!’ She pressed a satisfying kiss on Madeline’s cheek, then leaned back to stare at her again. ‘Goodness me, but you’ve changed,’ she told her. ‘You look so—so…’

‘Grown-up?’ Madeline solemnly supplied when at last Vicky floundered. ‘You too,’ she smiled. ‘You look quite the hot-shot executive in that pin-striped suit!

‘It comes with the job,’ Vicky explained the severe tailoring of the suit which accentuated every nuance of her hour-glass figure. ‘Specially made for bottom-wiggling at the—’

‘Judith, have you heard from—?’

Silence fell like a stone. Vicky’s excitement switched off like a light as she spun round to stare in horror at her brother while he fixed his narrowed gaze on her best friend.

The very air in the foyer began to tingle. And so did Madeline’s senses as she stared at him without even managing to breathe.

Meeting Dominic on a dark moonlit night bore no resemblance to meeting him like this, in broad daylight, where there was nothing—nothing to help mute the effect he had upon her senses.

Four years, she thought desperately, four years of quelling the aches, sealing up the wounds, learning to come to terms with the public rejection and humiliation he had forced on her, and it had all been for nothing. She had suspected it last night when he had caught her so unawares. But it was only now, as she stood face to face with him in the cruel light of day, that she had to accept that no amount of self-discipline was ever going to erase the profound effect he’d always had on her. And all she could think, and bitterly at that, was—thank God for Boston! Because she knew that, whatever turmoil was wringing at her insides, her face remained supremely calm and composed.

‘Hello, Dominic,’ she greeted quietly, accepting that it was for her to break the silence since nobody else seemed capable of it. ‘You’re looking—well.’

‘Madeline,’ he acknowledged huskily, running his narrowed gaze over her as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. ‘And you,’ he returned equably. ‘Very different, in fact,’ he added on a note which told her he was talking about last night, not four years ago.

‘M-Maddie is taking me out to lunch!’ Vicky put in with a voice so high-pitched that it hovered just this side of hysterical. Then her poor friend began talking quickly, saying things that no one else listened to. Even Judith, the receptionist, was too busy flicking her eyes from Dominic’s face to Madeline’s in wide-eyed curiosity to hear a word Vicky said.

‘You’ve not returned to Boston yet, then,’ Dominic drawled across his sister’s nervous chatter.

Instantly recognising the dig, she moved her chin upwards in mild defiance. ‘Since I only arrived home yesterday, I’m not likely to be rushing straight back, am I? Though,’ she added exclusively for his benefit, ‘once England begins to pall, no doubt I shall go back—home.’

In his turn, Dominic did not miss her own subtle meaning in the final word. And his mouth tightened on it.

‘I th-thought you were out today,’ Vicky rushed in agitatedly. ‘Y-you said you were—all day—out at some meeting.’

‘I changed my mind,’ Dominic informed Vicky while not removing his eyes from Madeline. ‘And aren’t I glad I did?’ he added silkily. ‘A Gilburn in our bank again; quite a surprise, Vicky. How did you manage to do it?’

It was time to put a stop to this, Madeline decided angrily as she saw Vicky’s hands clench convulsively at her stomach. It was one thing him wishing to mock her, but quite another to use his sister as a tool to do it with.