Master of Her Virtue - By Miranda Lee Page 0,7

but she’d been shattered all the same. He’d vowed then and there to not ever hurt another person like that again. And he hadn’t, thank heavens. Not even when he’d got divorced for a second time a few years back.

Henry returned his glass to the table before settling a sceptical gaze on his son. ‘Really, Leo?’ he said. ‘What was the problem, then? You never did fully explain the reasons behind your first divorce. I just presumed there was another woman. After all, you were mixing with a pretty racy crowd by then.’

‘There wasn’t any other woman. I just didn’t love Grace any more.’

‘I see. I’m sorry to have misjudged you. But you could have set me straight before this. Why didn’t you?’

‘I just didn’t like talking about it. I guess I was ashamed of myself.’

‘No need to feel ashamed for being honest. So you weren’t unfaithful; mmm, I am surprised. I presume the same doesn’t hold for your second marriage?’

Leo couldn’t help laughing. But there was a slightly bitter edge to his amusement.

‘Unfaithfulness was certainly a large factor in that divorce,’ he admitted. ‘Just not mine.’

Henry frowned over the rim of his wine glass which had frozen just before reaching his lips. ‘Are you saying Helene was unfaithful to you?’

Again, Leo had to laugh. ‘Thank you for making it sound like that’s impossible.’

Henry looked hard at his son and saw what he always saw: a very handsome, very successful, very charming man. Women had always found him irresistible, ever since he was a little boy.

His Aunt Victoria had adored him, making sure he didn’t lack for feminine love and attention as he grew up. She’d taken responsibility for that part of his education which no father or school could provide, giving him a love of the things women loved, like movies and music.

Each year, during Leo’s summer holidays from school, she’d taken him abroad, showing him the world’s wonders and teaching him all there was to know about different cultures. She’d also taught him another talent: how to listen. Which was why the female sex found him so appealing. There was nothing more seductive to a woman than a man who listened to them. Of course, it did help that he’d also been blessed with great genes. Good looks did run in the family.

It seemed unbelievable to Henry that any woman would look elsewhere when she had a man like Leo in her life and in her bed.

‘So, who was the silly girl sleeping with?’ he asked. ‘One of her leading men, I suppose?’

‘All of them, it seems,’ Leo admitted drily. ‘Or so I found out later. I only caught her with one of them. She claimed it was only sex; that she did it to relax during a shoot. I didn’t quite see it that way. Now, could we talk about something else? This wine, perhaps?’

‘Do you like it?’

‘It’s as good as any you can buy in Europe.’

‘There’s nothing to compare with a South Australian Shiraz. And there’s nothing to compare with Sydney Harbour on New Year’s Eve.’

‘Let’s hope the good weather holds, then,’ Leo said.

‘It should. I just hope Violet doesn’t do a runner at the last moment.’

‘You think she might?’

Henry frowned. ‘Actually, no, I don’t. Which is odd in itself. She sounded different on the phone just now. More confident. No; I think she’ll turn up. I just hope she doesn’t come as someone boring like Jane Eyre. Or a nun.’

‘Most of the movies I’ve seen with nuns in them aren’t boring.’

‘True. Violet would probably come as the nun in that old movie set during the war on an island in the Pacific. What was it, now?’

‘Heaven Knows, Mr Allison.’

He slanted Leo an admiring glance. ‘Yes, that’s the one. You do know your movies, don’t you?’

‘I should do. It’s my job. Besides, that particular movie was one of Aunt Vicky’s favourites.’

‘Dear Victoria,’ Henry said wistfully. ‘I still miss her terribly, you know.’

‘So do I.’ Leo’s aunt had died a few years back, not long before Leo had married Helene. Perhaps, if she’d been alive, Aunt Vicky would have seen through Helen’s surface beauty to the ugliness which lay beneath. She’d been an excellent judge of character.

‘You know, Henry, Aunt Vicky would have loved this place.’

‘Yes. I do believe she would have. Shall we have a toast to her?’ Henry suggested.

Leo smiled with fond remembrance. ‘Why not? To Aunt Vicky,’ he said as he reached over and clinked his glass against Henry’s. ‘Who, if she were alive