Once he’d got her alone, Caroline had had no option but to tell him everything he wanted to know. He hadn’t even had to push all that hard; she might have started reluctantly, but once she’d got into her stride she hadn’t been able to stop. In fact, the more she’d talked, the more Will had had the impression she’d actually found it something of a relief to be able to unburden herself.
Nevertheless, the ease with which she poured it all out didn’t make what she’d had to say any less startling, or any less forgivable.
Will sank back against the leather and rubbed a hand over his face as his mind ran over his aunt’s confession.
Apparently she’d been sneaking into the bank every week for the past six months, switching the jewellery one piece at a time.
Apparently she’d been bored.
And lonely.
Which, to be honest, had astounded him. As far as he’d been able to gather in the two months he’d been back, Caroline drifted from one social engagement to another, more often than not with a quick visit to her plastic surgeon in between.
If he’d taken the trouble to think about it he wouldn’t have imagined she’d have had the time to be bored or lonely.
Or, for that matter, to become addicted to online bridge.
But she had. With a vengeance and a complete absence of talent.
At first she’d more or less broken even. But as the addiction had taken hold, her bank balance simply hadn’t been able to keep up. Once her own funds had run out, she’d gone to the bank for a loan, and then, when her debts had begun to mount up, she’d hit upon the idea of selling the stones in the collection to both pay them off and facilitate her ongoing habit.
Stunned—because he hadn’t known his aunt had even heard of the internet, let alone knew how to log on and embroil herself in the world of online gaming—Will had muttered that it was a good thing he’d flown back before she’d managed to get her hands on the Caravaggios. At which point Caroline had flashed her eyes at him and pointed out that caring for his cantankerous father hadn’t exactly been a picnic, and he ought be grateful she hadn’t sought refuge in alcohol or drugs or unsuitable men.
Swamped by an unwelcome and unexpected deluge of guilt at the realisation that by dashing off to the other side of the world he had left her to deal with his father’s moodiness pretty much non-stop for the past thirteen years, Will had promised to clear her debts as soon as he got home, on the condition that she never logged on again.
With relief shining in her eyes, she’d thanked him, told him he was a good man, and scarpered.
The car pulled out into a gap in the traffic and Will closed his eyes briefly and pinched the bridge of his nose, his stomach churning as memories and guilt assailed him from all directions.
A good man?
Yeah, right.
He wasn’t a good man. If he were a good man, he wouldn’t have left his aunt to deal with his father by herself. He’d have stuck around instead of escaping everything by emigrating to the Cayman Islands.
If he were a good man he’d have swallowed back his bitterness and been on a plane the minute he’d heard his father was ill. He’d have come back for the funeral at least, instead of telling himself it wasn’t a convenient time.
If he really were a good man he’d never have weakened and given in to a moment’s temptation all those years ago.
At the very least he wouldn’t have abandoned his manners for an entire afternoon.
The unfamiliar sense of shame that had spun through him when, moments before disappearing, his aunt had suggested he might want to go and see if Bella was all right jabbed him in the chest all over again.
Because as much as it annoyed him, actually Caroline had had a point. He really shouldn’t have stormed out and left her standing there, undoubtedly thinking him arrogant and cursing him to heaven and back.
And she’d be perfectly justified to do exactly that on both fronts, because come to think of it, he reflected as he rubbed a hand over his face and sighed, none of his behaviour had been exactly exemplary this afternoon. After demanding she accompany him to the bank he’d then
spent the journey there ignoring her. And then she’d asked him about his possible contributions to the collection and he’d sat there brooding and tight-jawed as he charged off down a traumatic memory lane while all she’d been doing was expressing an interest.
Yes, he’d been disconcerted by the effect she had on him, and yes, he’d then been poleaxed by the appearance of his aunt at the bank, and what it had to mean, but that was no excuse for abandoning civility. He hadn’t even thanked her for helping him out this afternoon.
No wonder by the time he’d made it back to the vault to apologise for dashing off quite so unthinkingly she’d vanished. If it had been him, he wouldn’t have hung around either.
Inwardly cringing at his uncharacteristically callous behaviour, Will was struck once more by the need to remedy the situation and shot upright.
By now, he reasoned, frowning as he pulled his phone from the pocket of his coat, Bella would be on her way home, and who knew where that was? So all he could do was give her a call to apologise and thank her profusely for her help this afternoon, and hope she’d accept his grovelling.
And, with any luck, that would be that, he thought, his head beginning to ache as this afternoon’s unexpected string of events ricocheted around his brain. His conscience would be clear, the weirdly distasteful notion that Bella might think him arrogant would be appeased, and today, thank heavens, would be over.