His Wedding-Night Heir Read Free Page A

wondered whether that
    would have been a good time to tell him she was leaving—if
    he hadn't guessed already. After all, the Hartleys must have
    him under notice too, although they'd reluctantly agreed to let
    the Children's Centre remain open for the time being.
    They're thinking of nasty stories appearing in the local paper,
    Cally thought. Television cameras filming weeping children
    in pushchairs. The kind of publicity one's friendly local
    department store needs like a hole in the head.
    The kids' parents, of course, were a different matter. Not
    everyone had the same concern for the disadvantaged as
    Genevieve Hartley had had, or tried to do anything about it.
    They'd be counting on that.
    And the Gunners Terrace residents, once they were made
    homeless, would qualify for council housing anyway. That
    would be their argument, so how many people would really
    care if a small, struggling would-be community fell by the
    wayside?
    But Cally knew that real pride, real spirit was being engen-
    dered in this tiny part of town, where those qualities had long
    been absent. And that it mattered. But it would soon wane
    once the families were dispersed, as seemed inevitable.
    They deserve to survive, she told herself with sudden angry
    passion. They don't need another defeat. If only—only—there
    was something I could do...
    But there could have been—once, a sly voice in her head
    reminded her. If you'd chosen another kind of life. If you
    hadn't run away. You might have made all the difference.
    For a moment she was motionless, staring into the distance
    with eyes that saw nothing but pain.
    She said under her breath, 'But I made the right— the only
    possible choice. I know that.' And dropped the broken pencil
    into the wastepaper basket
    She had no smart clothes, so she opted for another version of
    her working gear for their visit to the Town Hall.
    The exhibition, which included a video presentation as well as
    a scale model of the development, was being staged in the
    conference hall—
    which hadn't seen many conferences, but was useful for
    antiques fairs and craft markets. Also for the flower show in
    its usual inclement weather.
    The Mayor and his entourage were clearly preening them-
    selves because the place was living up to its grandiose title at
    last.
    There were a lot of people present, most of them clustered
    around the tables where the scale model was set up, and the
    remainder hovering near the lavish buffet.
    Waiters were going round with trays of champagne and heavy
    platters loaded with canape's, presumably all with the
    compliments of Eastern Crest. How to win friends and influ-
    ence people, Cally thought cynically as she stood with Kit and
    Tracy, wondering whom they should approach.
    But in the end the decision was made for them when they
    found themselves caught in a pincer movement by Ford on
    Hartley and his younger brother Neville, their faces flushed
    and inimical as they strode across the room.
    'I wasn't aware anyone had asked you here.' Gordon addressed
    Kit, ignoring the two girls completely. 'I'd like you to leave—
    now.'
    Kit held up three invitation cards. 'Someone clearly has a
    different idea,' he returned coolly. "I thought we should see
    what we're up against.'
    'You're up against nothing,' Neville chimed in. 'You've already
    lost, so what's the point in coming here, making fools of
    yourselves? Our mother may have looked on you all as an act
    of charily, but we don't.'
    'All the same.' Kit was undeterred. 'We'd like to have a look at
    the proposed development, and maybe speak to who-ever's in
    charge at Eastern Crest.'
    Cally found herself admiring his calmness. His refusal to be
    rattled. He had 'We shall not be moved' written all over him,
    in spite of the hostility he was faced with.
    Goodness, she thought, if Leila had come she'd have bitten
    someone in the leg by now.
    'Then you're really out of luck.' Gordon was speaking again,
    his tone curt, pushing his weight forward