Rejection Runs Deep (The Canleigh Series, book 1: A chilling psychological family drama), Carole Williams [ebook reader 8 inch .TXT] 📗

He stood up as soon as she walked in and smiled.  He was taller than her but slightly younger; fresh faced and eager to please.  Delia liked the look of him immediately.

“Paul?” she asked, walking towards him and holding out her hand.  “Delia Canleigh,” she announced.  She hadn’t given him her title.  There was no need for him to know anything more than necessary.  His hand was cool and the shake was firm.  He nodded to a chair on her side of the desk.

“So, Your Ladyship.  How can I help you?” he asked with a grin.

“How did you ….”

He laughed.  “I like to know exactly who I am working for, so I looked you up.  You are the daughter of the Duke of Canleigh.  You have a twin brother, the Marquess of Keighton, and a younger sister, Lady Victoria Canleigh.  Your mother, the former Duchess of Canleigh, died in the Caribbean a few weeks ago.  You have my deepest sympathies.”   He also knew that she had been rejected by her fiancé for another woman only days before their wedding and he sensed her vulnerability and wanted to help her, even though she possessed the annoyingly haughty, superior air of the British upper classes.

Taken aback, Delia sat motionless for a moment but found she was pleased he was so thorough.  It boded well for her quest to find her half-brother with so little information to go on.  She explained exactly what she wanted, handing him the birth certificate and letter from Elizabeth.

He examined them carefully.  “Hum.  I don’t think this will be too much of a problem.  Just give me a couple of days,” he reassured her and smiled, giving Delia a bit of a jolt.  An image of them in bed together was vivid and she wondered if he was thinking the same.  Not at the moment though.  He had work to do and would keep until later.

“I’ll give you a ring at the Waldorf as soon as I have something solid to impart,” he said confidently.  Delia nodded, stood up, and left his office, enjoying a thrill of excitement when he didn’t take his eyes of her until she closed the door behind her.

While waiting for Paul to do her bidding Delia decided that she might as well spend a few days exploring the safer parts of New York.  She made her way up the Statue of Liberty to the crown to gasp at the panoramic view of New York Harbour and watch the boats gliding about so far down below, then the Empire State Building to do the same and spent an afternoon at the New York Historical Society Museum learning about the New York of yesteryear which she found fascinating, history always being her favourite subject at school.  But as much as she wanted to visit Central Park, she took Paul’s advice and stayed well clear.  Its reputation wasn’t good.  Repeated headlines about muggings, rapes and murders were totally off-putting and confirmed his warning.

Eager to make his mark tracking down missing persons, Paul was as good as his word and within two days Delia had all the information she needed.  By all accounts, Elizabeth and George had returned to England when Peter Percival was nineteen and he had stayed in Boston where he had been brought up.  He hadn’t wanted to go with them as he was the lead singer of a rock band, which was enjoying some success with a single reaching number three in the charts.  He now went by the stage name of Rocky Carmichael.

“The band is called ‘Phantom”, Paul told her over the phone.  “They made one record which proved to be pretty popular but nothing since.  There are five of them in the band, all long hair and leather jacket types and if I remember rightly from press coverage, they’re all into drugs.  If you’re going to visit him, I would be very careful if I were you.  In fact, would you like me to come with you?” he asked, knowing she had no-one else to turn to in America and although he had ascertained she was a somewhat resourceful, strong and wealthy woman, she was still a woman and all alone in a strange and vast country.

Delia was touched.  She had only recently met this nice young man and he was offering to look after her.

“Thank you, Paul, but no.  I want to do this myself.  It’s going to be somewhat of a shock for him to find out he has a family he probably knows nothing about and they are all members of the British aristocracy.  I think I shall have to break it to him gently.”

“Well, just remember, if you need any help or support while you’re in the States, you know where I am,” he replied.

Unable to resist a little dalliance before she left New York, Delia invited him to dinner in her suite at the Waldorf, giving the reason that she wanted to thank him properly for doing his job so expertly and quickly.

“When are you leaving New York?” he asked, replete after a heavenly meal of prime steak, blueberry tart and French red wine.  He hadn’t dined at the Waldorf before and was enjoying himself immensely.

Picking up her coffee, Delia moved from the dining table into the lounge area and stood looking out at the view of the streets below.  It was dark and the lights of New York were bright and sparkling and the cars moved quickly, occupants either driving home after a long day at work or those on their way to work for the night shift or who were eagerly going out for the evening to the theatre, cinema, dinner or just to see friends or family.  Everyone scurrying along like little ants.  Busy, busy, busy.  It exhausted Delia.

“Tomorrow,” she said firmly.  “I’ve seen all I want here and