Read Online A Question of Pride by Michelle Reid - Free Book Online Page B

that her father had done this with her future in mind—because he loved her, and because he wanted the best for his daughter. She had sullied that love with her foolishness; it cast a scar deep into her heart to realise it. She had dishonoured her father and the clean morals he had instilled in her through his own high moral beliefs. She didn't deserve this, and worse—even as she was thinking it—she was aware of feelings of relief because of what the money would mean to her future.
    Amy turned bright eyes to her husband—misreading the expression skittering across her daughter's pale face. 'Oh, James!' she sighed. 'How can Paolo be dead, when he sits here looking at me through my daughter's eyes?'
    It said a lot for James's confidence in Amy's love for him that he could accept such an emotional outburst, and Clea's own estimation of her new stepfather doubled as she saw his gaze soften with sympathy.
    'Now, Mum,' she rebuked teasingly, to break the grip emotion had on the room. 'You and I both know just whose eyes I inherited.'
    'Colour, shape, size.' Amy nodded in agreement. 'But the expressions you use are all your father's.'
    'I think we'd better retire to the other room,' James inserted with a rueful tilt to his mouth. 'Before all this emotion threatens ruin to my Queen Anne table!'
    They walked out together, James flanked either side by a beautiful woman, both as opposite as the poles, yet unbreakably tied by the sheer strength of natal love.
    Clea went very quiet once she was seated in the luxuriousness of an easy chair of champagne velvet. Her brow was creased into a brooding frown as, with each passing minute, it became more and more difficult to say what she knew she had to say. James was fussing around Amy, seeing her seated on the settee before going to pour them all drinks, handing them out before going to sit beside his wife, again reaching for her hand, as though physical contact was imperative to his well being.
    Clea felt a stab of envy rip through her. Amy was so lucky! She seemed to have everything her daughter yearned for—the love of a good man and ...
    'What was your other piece of news?' she asked suddenly, again delaying the moment when she would have to confess. 'You did say two bits of news, didn't you?' she prompted, when she was surprised by the look of sheepish embarrassment that reddened both faces opposite.
    Amy and James looked at each other and their glances lingered, silent messages passing from one to the other while Clea sat watching it happen with a vague feeling of uneasiness. It was her mother who turned to face her, looking as uncomfortable as Clea felt.
    'I—I'm not sure how you're going to take this, darling.' She began with the warning so as prepare her daughter. Clea straightened slightly in her seat. 'I—that is, we—James and I—' poor Amy blundered, her cheeks going redder and redder. 'That is—well... We're going to have a baby!' she announced on a rush.
    'I don't think it is at all the done thing at my age. But—well, it's happened, and really ... '
    Once started, it seemed Amy couldn't stop her self-conscious tongue, and she ran on while Clea sat, stunned, trying desperately to come to terms with what her mother was telling her.
    She felt like giving in to hysterical laughter. There was a distinct buzzing going on inside her head, and all she could do was stare across the space separating them, shocked into complete immobility. She knew her face had drained of all colour, because she felt it happen—just as she knew if she didn't get rid of the glass from her hand she was likely to snap its delicate stem.
    She dragged her eyes away from her mother, and with a studied care set the glass down beside her, all the time aware that James was watching her with narrowed eyes. The sky was falling in! she found herself thinking with tragic fancy.
    'Will you mind, Clea?' she heard her mother ask anxiously, and made a concerted effort to pull herself together.
    'Of course I