Secrets Of The Outback. Margaret Way
you, Blair.” Jewel stood up, preparing to leave.
“I noticed a small error in your preparation of the Mayne Goddard brief.” Skinner fixed her with such a steely glance that she sat down again.
“Really? A misplaced comma, perhaps?”
“Don’t be too clever, my dear. No, it’s…” Skinner slipped his gold-rimmed glasses onto his nose. “Ah, here it is. Good thing I picked it up. It might have cost us. You said Shipton Technologies funded the initial deal.”
Jewel breathed an inner sigh of relief. “They did.”
“But surely it was Goddard on their own?” Skinner gave her a steady frown.
“Let me refresh your memory.” Jewel spoke pleasantly. “It was supposed to be, but things changed. A man called Elliot stepped in to handle the negotiation, remember?”
Light dawned in Skinner’s eyes. “Ah yes, now I do. You’re off the hook, Eugenie, when I was so looking forward to catching you out. Shipton Technologies, of course.” He gazed across at her, considered a minute. “By the way, if you were to pop in with some papers at around three-twenty this afternoon, I could introduce you to Lady Copeland and Keefe Connellan. They’ll be here.”
“My goodness. I assure you I’m appreciative of the honor.”
“It’s a gesture of my confidence in you, dear girl. So for God’s sake, be on your best behavior. That sardonic tone might go over well enough with me, but these people are used to a lot of respect.”
“I’ll be so respectful they’ll never know what hit them,” she promised with a straight face.
“You might keep in mind that Keefe is a past master at gobbling up small fry,” Skinner said acidly.
Like you hung heavily in the air.
CHAPTER TWO
BLAIR SKINNER WAS ALL SMILES, as he shook hands with his favorite clients, then waited until they’d seated themselves—he had special chairs brought in for such occasions—before he returned to his revolving leather armchair behind the desk. Lady Copeland had asked for this meeting, bringing along not her son, Travis, as might under normal circumstances have been expected, but Keefe Connellan. Keefe would provide company, support and advice. And few better, Skinner thought, scanning Connellan’s handsome familiar face. Keefe had hair that was almost jet-black, and his eyes were equally dark. They were remarkable eyes, ablaze with intelligence and a shrewd intensity that a lot of people, including Skinner, found daunting, but they also had a marvelous capacity to light up with humor and an irresistible charm. Men as well as women felt it. Skinner, the clotheshorse, approved of Connellan’s unmistakable sense of style—the dark-gray suit, beautifully tailored to fit his tall, athletic body, the very pale lilac shirt worn with an olive silk tie patterned with lilac, silver and midnight blue. Keefe Connellan looked what he was: a rich, highly successful young man from a powerful and influential family.
Lady Copeland, as usual, was lovely, but getting very fragile. Skinner knew she was seventy-five but she didn’t look anywhere near that age. She always dressed beautifully, today in one of her exclusive little suits, in a shade of indigo that was particularly effective with her wonderful eyes. She wore glorious triple-stranded South Sea Island pearls around her neck, chin-length pearl-white hair classically framing a face whose bone structure would probably look good forever. Her skin was extraordinarily unlined. Granted, she had the money for the most expensive skin treatments in the world, but so did other clients of the same age and none of them looked as good. Davina Copeland was and remained a genuine beauty.
She was smiling at Keefe now. Skinner could see the ease and depth of affection that lay between them. They seemed to be seasoned confidants—even co-conspirators. Certainly this kind of bond didn’t appear to exist between mother and son, which was possibly one of the reasons Lady Davina Copeland still held the reins of power in Copeland Connellan.
“So?” Keefe asked with his slow smile, deliberately breaking into Skinner’s thoughts. “Perhaps we could get started, Blair. I have an appointment in just over an hour. Lady Copeland has filled me in thus far, but perhaps you can tell me more. On the face of it, I don’t think we can rule out industrial espionage.”
Skinner inclined his head in acknowledgment. “But we want proof.”
“Of course.” Keefe leaned forward, assuming like lightning a different guise—official, authoritative, keeping his brilliant black gaze on the lawyer. “And I’m quite sure we can obtain it. Inside the law. Just one question.”
Skinner hoped he was prepared for it….
WHEN THE KNOCK CAME some twenty-five minutes later, Skinner was so intent on the discussion, he wondered for a moment who would have the temerity to interrupt him when he was with such important clients. Anger flared in his eyes, and he swung around in his revolving chair, remembering at the last moment that he’d instructed Eugenie Bishop to make a calculated appearance around that time.
“Enter,” he called curtly, his expression fixed. All exchanges with Keefe Connellan raised him to this level of intensity. Keefe was more than his equal when it came to strategy and points of law. It didn’t make him dislike Connellan; rather, Skinner strove constantly to be well regarded by the younger man.
As they all glanced toward the door, Jewel opened it and walked gracefully into the room, her demeanor poised and confident. Before Skinner could open his mouth to introduce her, Lady Copeland, suddenly looking years older, simply slid from her chair onto the carpeted floor.
“My God!” Skinner leapt up in agitation, wondering if he’d imagined the icy hostility that swept Keefe Connellan’s face. Clearly they were both shocked. Connellan was already down on his knees, demanding a glass of water. Lady Copeland was already stirring, her face white as a sheet.
“Keefe,” she said almost desperately, clutching at his jacketed arm. “Keefe.”
“It’s all right,” he assured her in a strangely harsh tone. “We can handle this, whatever it is. Let me get you up.” He put his strong arms beneath her and lifted her into the chair, keeping a steadying hand on her shoulder.
“Is there anything else I can do for you, Lady Copeland?” Jewel was back within seconds, carrying a glass of cold water, which she offered to the woman.
“Who are you?” Lady Copeland asked in a quavering voice. She clearly wanted some sort of answer, but Jewel felt it was beyond her.
“I should’ve explained,” Skinner said hastily. “This is one of our associates. Eugenie Bishop, Lady Copeland.”
“Bishop?” Connellan turned to stare at Jewel.
“I don’t understand.” It was impossible to ignore the hostility that emanated from him, the half-horrified, half-fascinated expression on Lady Copeland’s face.
“Here, let me help you.” Jewel moved quickly, seeing Lady Copeland’s hand shake badly. She didn’t even pause to consider that Lady Copeland might reject her help. As it happened she didn’t, allowing Jewel to assist her in bringing the glass to her mouth.
“I’m so sorry. Are you feeling better?” Jewel asked, bending to peer into the older woman’s face.
“I’m fine.” Lady Copeland gave a faint little smile that struck Jewel oddly as very brave after that sudden, shocking collapse.
“And why is Ms. Bishop here, precisely?” Keefe Connellan looked at Skinner with unconcealed contempt.
“Mr. Skinner was after a particular file,” Jewel fired back levelly. She’d never met a man like Connellan. Who the devil did he think he was? She felt a wave of answering aggression. More to the point, what had she missed? She’d surely missed something. He was looking at her as though she was playing some high-stakes game. Or as if she had secrets to hide. What on earth was going on? Whatever reaction she’d been expecting, it wasn’t this.
Connellan