B004D4Y20I EBOK by Lulu Taylor Read Free Book Online Page B

the cold and the icy stone flags on the floor were covered in a pale sisal wool carpet and then finished off with lush white rugs. A chaise longue designed by Philippe Starke curved sensuously at the end of the bed. Jemima had had her pick of the most exquisite antique furniture in the house and her bedside table was a heavy Jacobean carved chest, the contemporary glass and silver lamp on top of it providing a wonderful contrast against the dark wood.
    She sat down for a moment in front of her Linley dressing table, a simple piece of sycamore with rosewood stringing and burr ash inlay.
    Mixed emotions coursed through her. Today she had buried her mother. Today she had discovered the final twisted trick the old woman had been hiding up her sleeve. Today she had had to face what life might be like without her juicy allowance from Trevellyan.
    No. That will never happen! I won’t let it!
    She stared at her white face and wide blue-grey eyes. Was that fear she could see in them? It couldn’t possibly be. Jemima Trevellyan was rarely cowed by anything. She laughed at authority and courted danger. She was a risk-taker, a game player. Wasn’t she?
    But suppose, for a moment, she lost it all. Suppose she lost the independence that her Trevellyan money gave her … what would she be left with? A life at Herne with Harry. No Eaton Square flat to escape to. No more shopping, parties, excitement. Perhaps the press and media, which she had always scorned, would lose interest in her and there would be no more diary pieces or two-page spreads on her fabulous life and celebrity friends. Or worse, perhaps they would write fake sympathy pieces about her fall from grace and publish photographs of her in last season’s clothes, shopping in the village without make-up on.
    She shuddered.
    The worst of all was that if it was all taken away from her, it would be given to Jecca.
    Evil, fucking, despicable Jecca, who’d done her best to destroy the family.
    Jemima felt her fist clench.
How could Mother have done it? She hated Jecca more than any of us! What made her decide to give her Trevellyan?
    She blinked at her reflection.
But only if we fail
, she reminded herself.
    Her iPhone chirruped from her bag. She scrabbled inside and picked it up. Tara’s name was illuminated.
    ‘Hello, Tara.’
    ‘Mimi, where are you?’
    ‘Herne.’
    ‘When are you coming back?’
    ‘Tonight, I think.’
    ‘Tonight?’ Tara sounded worried. ‘It’s so late already. Are you going to drive?’
    ‘I was planning to.’
    ‘Mimi, I don’t think you should. You’ve had an incredibly exhausting day; you can’t drive from Dorset to London, it’s too much for you.’
    ‘You know how I feel about staying here. I can’t bear it.’
    ‘I know, darling … but really, you can come back first thing tomorrow. What’s another twelve hours? You’ll be asleep for most of that.’
    Jemima thought of the four-hour drive ahead of her and then of the beckoning bed in the mirror behind her. ‘All right. I’ll stay till tomorrow. But I’ll be off first thing.’
    ‘Good. That’s what I was ringing you about. We need to meet with the Trevellyan board urgently. I’ve summoned Victor and his team, and the finance and account directors. We’ll meet in the boardroom tomorrow afternoon at four. Can you be there?’
    ‘Darling, all I have is an oxygen-blast facial, very easy to cancel. What about you? Your diary is a tiny bit more difficult, isn’t it?’
    ‘Don’t worry about that. This is an emergency. Roz has cancelled everything for me. We have to get this mess sorted out right away.’
    ‘For once, I’m in complete agreement.’
    ‘Good. Poppy will be there too. I’ll see you at Trevellyan House tomorrow afternoon.’
    ‘Bye, darling.’
    ‘Bye. Sleep well.’

6
    POPPY TREVELLYAN STOOD in the middle of the chaos in her bedroom and wondered what on earth she would wear.
    She was spoiled for choice, that much was certain. Like her sisters, she adored