‘Well, yes, I can understand that, but—what are we going to do with him?’ Lydia Hamilton sounded flustered again—not a frequent occurrence, Jed would hazard a guess.
‘Why, nothing.’ Meg sounded startled by the question. ‘Jed isn’t going to—’
‘Lydia, who was that at the door? Meg!’
Jed had put Scott down to turn at the first sound of that masculine voice, just in time to see the pleasure that lit the paleness of Meg’s face before she launched herself at the man who had to be her father, a tall, thin man with eyes as green as his daughter’s.
‘Daddy.’ Meg choked emotionally as she hugged her father tightly.
‘Daddy’, not the formal ‘Mother’ with which she spoke to Lydia Hamilton, Jed noted with satisfaction, glad there was one person in this household, at least, who was pleased to see Meg. Although that relief was short-lived as he remembered that this man was just as guilty of neglecting his daughter and grandson the last three and a half years as his wife was.
He looked critically at the older man. David Hamilton was still a handsome man, his hair white, with a definite look of Meg about him in the eyes and face, although that face showed the pale unhealthiness of a recent illness, his sweater and trousers seeming slightly too big for his frame too, as if he had recently lost weight.
The illness had been a recent thing, then, Jed decided. Perhaps the reason Lydia seemed to have relented where her youngest daughter was concerned? It would be too much to hope that it had been for Meg and Scott’s sakes.
Jed glanced down as Scott tugged at his trouser leg, going down on his haunches as he saw the little boy was looking shyly at the man his mother was hugging.
‘Is that man my grandad, Jed?’ he prompted in what he no doubt thought was a hushed voice, but nonetheless which carried in the cavernous hallway.
David Hamilton stiffened slightly before putting Meg slowly away from him and turning to look at the source of that voice.
Jed’s move was purely instinctive as he placed a protective hand on Scott’s shoulder. Lydia Hamilton’s complete indifference to her grandson had been hard enough to witness; Jed felt as if he might actually do someone physical harm—even a recently ill man—if David Hamilton were to hurt the boy too.
‘Yes, Scott, I’m your granddad.’ David Hamilton spoke gently, his gaze riveted on Scott’s small features as he slowly walked over to where they stood. ‘Goodness, you look just like your mummy did at your age,’ he breathed emotionally, a glitter of tears in those faded green eyes as he bent down to the little boy’s level.
‘Do I?’ Scott breathed excitedly. ‘Do I really?’
‘You certainly do,’ his grandfather assured him huskily. ‘Why don’t you come with me and I’ll show you some photographs of her that I keep in my study?’ He held out his arms, earning Jed’s approval as he let the little boy come to him rather than forcing the issue.
‘David, I don’t think you should be exerting—’
‘I’m perfectly fine, Lydia,’ David cut in harshly on his wife’s protest, his gaze still on his grandson. ‘Scott?’ His voice gentled again as he encouraged the little boy to come to him.
Jed glanced across at the two women who stood together watching this scene, Meg with tears of happiness shining brightly in her eyes, Lydia’s expression much harder to read, although Jed thought he recognized concern there. For her husband, he guessed, so perhaps the woman did have some redeeming qualities, after all. Somewhere behind that coldness.
Scott, he was pleased to see, had responded to his grandfather’s gentleness, and was now securely held in the man’s arms as David straightened and looked at Jed for the first time, as if just noticing him. Which, considering the emotional reconciliation the man had just had with his daughter, his first ever meeting with his grandson, he probably hadn’t, Jed acknowledged ruefully.
The older man gave him a quizzical look. ‘Jerrod Cole, isn’t it?’ He held out his free hand in welcome.
‘It is.’ Jed shook that hand, finding the grip firm. ‘But I would prefer it if you called me Jed,’ he added lightly.
‘And I’m David.’ The older man smiled. ‘I enjoyed your book very much. Can’t wait for the next one to come out.’
That had the effect of wiping the smile off Jed’s face. ‘I’m working on it, thank you, sir.’
‘David, please,’ the older man insisted. ‘I’ve had a lot of time for reading recently,’ he added ruefully.
‘David, how on earth did you know that Margaret’s friend is Jerrod Cole?’ Lydia prompted with hard suspicion.
Her husband gave her a level glance. ‘I recognize him from the photograph on the back of his book, of course,’ he dismissed mildly before turning back to Jed. ‘I take it you can actually pilot the plane you’re standing next to?’ he teased.
Jed easily returned that smile. ‘I can.’
‘Good.’ The older man nodded. ‘I’ll take this young man and show him those photographs now.’ He bestowed a warm smile on the patiently waiting Scott.
‘I’ll come with you,’ his wife put in quickly.
‘That really isn’t necessary, Lydia,’ David assured her lightly, but the slight edge in his tone brooked no argument. ‘Why don’t you take Meg and Jed through to the sitting-room and offer them a drink?’ he softly, but again firmly, reminded his wife of her manners.
It was easy to see by the bright wave of colour in Lydia’s cheeks as her husband departed with Scott that she wasn’t at all happy with this arrangement, but at the same time recognized that she had no choice but to comply.
‘Margaret, why don’t you take Mr—Jed, through to the sitting-room and I’ll go and organize some refreshments before lunch?’ She didn’t wait for an answer but moved off stiffly down the hallway.
Jed had been studiously avoiding looking at Meg for the last few minutes, first because he had felt like something of an intruder to that emotional reunion with her father, and after that because he had been able to feel the accusation in her gaze as she’d looked at him, obviously none of what had happened in the last few minutes detracting from her earlier anger at his duplicity. Something he knew he was likely to hear about now that they were alone.
Yep, the sparkle in her eyes, the firmness of her mouth, told him he was definitely going to hear about it.
He sighed. ‘Meg, why don’t you hear me out before you say what you’re obviously bursting to say?’
‘You’re Jerrod Cole,’ she accused impatiently, as if that nullified anything else he might have to say in his defence.
‘Well, yes, I am aware of that.’ He grimaced. ‘But I’m also Jed Cole. And it was Jed Cole that you met yesterday—’
‘They’re one and the same person,’ she interrupted irritably.
‘No, not really.’ He sighed. ‘I—’ He broke off as the front door suddenly swung open behind them, a gust of cold air and snow preceding the two people who entered.
A tiny woman wearing a long white luxurious coat and matching hat, her face flushed from the cold as she laughed huskily at something her companion was saying.
The man was tall and grey-haired, his handsome face lined beside nose and mouth, teeth very white against his tan as he grinned down at the woman, limping very slightly as he moved to close the door.
Obviously Meg’s brother-in-law, Jeremy.
Which meant the woman had to be her sister, Sonia.
The woman had removed her hat now, moving slender, perfectly manicured fingers through the short dark tresses, green eyes narrowing, her smile slowly fading, as she turned and saw that they weren’t alone.
There were no impish freckles on her nose, and she didn’t have that slightly overlapping tooth to the left of her front teeth, either, but even so Jed recognized her as Meg’s twin, Sonia.
Identical, and yet strangely not so, just as Meg had tried to tell him.
And that tall, distinguished man at her side, a man surely old enough to be her father, was her husband, Jeremy.
Jed’s gaze shifted to Meg, and he took an instinctive step closer to her as he saw how pale she had become. He wasn’t exactly sure why—this was her twin sister, after all—but offering her his support, anyway.
So much for not getting involved—he was involved up to his thirty-eight-year-old neck.
Chapter 5
Meg felt as if she were somehow frozen in time, as if everything were happening in slow motion.
First that frosty meeting with her mother, then that startling revelation about Jed—a revelation, no matter what he might wish to the contrary, that she hadn’t finished talking to him about.
He was Jerrod Cole, for goodness’ sake.
She still couldn’t quite believe it.
The man had become a publishing phenomenon this last year, the sale of his book The Puzzle—what an apt title for such an enigmatic man—outselling anything that had come before it, on both sides of the Atlantic. The film rights had been sold for a record amount of money too.
Meg read the newspapers, but she hadn’t yet found the time to buy and read the book everyone was talking about.
Something she should maybe rectify now that she had actually met the author.