child...
Had he been adopted already? The question seared in Anatole’s head. If so, then he would have a nightmare of a search to track him down—even if he were allowed to by the authorities. And if he had already been adopted then would his adoptive parents be likely to let him go? Would the authorities be likely to let him demand— plead !—that they accede to his need for Timon to know that he had an heir after all?
He stood looking down at the sister of the woman who had borne his cousin a child and died in the process. He swallowed.
‘Where is my cousin’s son?’ he asked. He tried not to sound brusque, demanding, but he had to know. He had to know!
Her chin lifted, her eyes flashing to his.
‘He’s with me !’ came the answer. Vehement, passionate.
Abstractedly Anatole found himself registering that when this drab dab of a female spoke passionately her nondescript features suddenly sharpened into life, giving her a vividness that was not drab at all. Then the sense of her words hit him.
‘With you ?’
She took a ragged breath, her fingers clutching the side of the chair. ‘Yes! With me! And he’s staying with me! That’s all you need to know!’
She leapt to her feet, fear and panic impelling her. Too much had happened—shock after shock—and she couldn’t cope with it, couldn’t take it in.
Anatole stepped towards her, urgency in his voice. ‘Miss Brandon, we have to talk—discuss—’
‘No! There’s nothing to discuss! Nothing! ’
And then, before his frustrated gaze, she rushed from the room.
Lyn fled. Her mind was in turmoil. Though she managed to make her way into her next lecture she was incapable of concentrating. Only one single emotion was uppermost.
Georgy is mine! Mine, mine, mine!
Lindy had given the baby to her with her dying breath and she would never , never betray that! Never!
Grief clutched at Lyn again.
‘Look after Georgy—’
They had been Lindy’s final words before the darkness had closed over her fevered, stricken brain and she had ebbed from life.
And I will! I will look after him all my life—all his life—and I will never let any harm come to him, never abandon him or give up him!
‘Just you and me, Georgy!’ she whispered later as, morning lectures finally over, she collected him from the college crèche and made her way to the bus stop and back home for the afternoon.
But as she clambered on board the bus, stashing the folding buggy one-handed as she held Georgy in the other, she completely failed to see an anonymous black car pull out into the road behind the bus. Following it.
Two hours later Anatole stood in front of the block of flats his investigator had informed him was Lynette Brandon’s place of accommodation and stared bleakly at it. It was not an attractive building, being of ugly sixties design, with stained concrete and peeling paint. The whole area was just as dreary—no place for Timon Petranakos’s great-grandson to be brought up!
Resolve steeling, he rang the doorbell.
CHAPTER TWO
L YN HAD SAT down at the rickety table in the corner of the living room and got out her study books. Georgy had been fed and changed, and had settled for his afternoon nap in his secondhand cot, tucked in beside her bed in the single bedroom the flat possessed. She was grateful for Georgy’s afternoon sleep, even though if he slept too much he didn’t sleep well at night, for it gave her an hour or two of solid homework time. But today her concentration was shot to pieces—still reeling with what had happened that morning.
Hopefully she had made her position clear and the man who had lobbed a bombshell into her life would take himself off again, back to Greece, and leave her alone. Anxiety rippled through her again. The adoption authorities believed that there was no contact with Georgy’s father or any of his paternal family. But since this morning that wasn’t true any more...
No, she mustn’t think about that! She must put it
Had he been adopted already? The question seared in Anatole’s head. If so, then he would have a nightmare of a search to track him down—even if he were allowed to by the authorities. And if he had already been adopted then would his adoptive parents be likely to let him go? Would the authorities be likely to let him demand— plead !—that they accede to his need for Timon to know that he had an heir after all?
He stood looking down at the sister of the woman who had borne his cousin a child and died in the process. He swallowed.
‘Where is my cousin’s son?’ he asked. He tried not to sound brusque, demanding, but he had to know. He had to know!
Her chin lifted, her eyes flashing to his.
‘He’s with me !’ came the answer. Vehement, passionate.
Abstractedly Anatole found himself registering that when this drab dab of a female spoke passionately her nondescript features suddenly sharpened into life, giving her a vividness that was not drab at all. Then the sense of her words hit him.
‘With you ?’
She took a ragged breath, her fingers clutching the side of the chair. ‘Yes! With me! And he’s staying with me! That’s all you need to know!’
She leapt to her feet, fear and panic impelling her. Too much had happened—shock after shock—and she couldn’t cope with it, couldn’t take it in.
Anatole stepped towards her, urgency in his voice. ‘Miss Brandon, we have to talk—discuss—’
‘No! There’s nothing to discuss! Nothing! ’
And then, before his frustrated gaze, she rushed from the room.
Lyn fled. Her mind was in turmoil. Though she managed to make her way into her next lecture she was incapable of concentrating. Only one single emotion was uppermost.
Georgy is mine! Mine, mine, mine!
Lindy had given the baby to her with her dying breath and she would never , never betray that! Never!
Grief clutched at Lyn again.
‘Look after Georgy—’
They had been Lindy’s final words before the darkness had closed over her fevered, stricken brain and she had ebbed from life.
And I will! I will look after him all my life—all his life—and I will never let any harm come to him, never abandon him or give up him!
‘Just you and me, Georgy!’ she whispered later as, morning lectures finally over, she collected him from the college crèche and made her way to the bus stop and back home for the afternoon.
But as she clambered on board the bus, stashing the folding buggy one-handed as she held Georgy in the other, she completely failed to see an anonymous black car pull out into the road behind the bus. Following it.
Two hours later Anatole stood in front of the block of flats his investigator had informed him was Lynette Brandon’s place of accommodation and stared bleakly at it. It was not an attractive building, being of ugly sixties design, with stained concrete and peeling paint. The whole area was just as dreary—no place for Timon Petranakos’s great-grandson to be brought up!
Resolve steeling, he rang the doorbell.
CHAPTER TWO
L YN HAD SAT down at the rickety table in the corner of the living room and got out her study books. Georgy had been fed and changed, and had settled for his afternoon nap in his secondhand cot, tucked in beside her bed in the single bedroom the flat possessed. She was grateful for Georgy’s afternoon sleep, even though if he slept too much he didn’t sleep well at night, for it gave her an hour or two of solid homework time. But today her concentration was shot to pieces—still reeling with what had happened that morning.
Hopefully she had made her position clear and the man who had lobbed a bombshell into her life would take himself off again, back to Greece, and leave her alone. Anxiety rippled through her again. The adoption authorities believed that there was no contact with Georgy’s father or any of his paternal family. But since this morning that wasn’t true any more...
No, she mustn’t think about that! She must put it
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