The Girl from Summer Hill(28)

“I don’t.” Casey was solemn as she thought about what he’d just revealed about Landers. It was one thing to trespass but another to use the legal system to take away a man’s daughter. She smiled at Devlin. “After I get this done, why don’t you come to my house for dinner—if His Royal Highness hasn’t thrown me out because he owns the place, that is. We can talk about…things.”

“I would like that very much.” Life seemed to be coming back into Devlin’s eyes. “You know, there aren’t many people—especially women—who are perceptive enough to see beneath how Tate presents himself to the world.”

“Casey!” the stage manager shouted. “You need to come now!”

“Tell His Majesty Landers to keep his shirt on. And I mean that literally. I’ll be there in a minute.” As she plucked a little blue flower from the bouquet Devlin had given her and stuck it into her hair, she smiled at him warmly. “This isn’t Hollywood and he doesn’t rule here.” She started down the corridor, walking backward. “Eight P.M., my house. You know where Tattwell is?”

“I rented a house here for the summer just to be near it. I’m hoping that my daughter will visit and I’ll get to see her.”

“You will,” Casey said.

“The moment I saw you standing by the food tables and laughing, I knew you were special. I felt it.” Devlin was grinning, but then he grew serious. “But be careful of him. Tate doesn’t like to be crossed, so tread lightly.”

Casey gathered her long skirt and ran up the stairs. “No, I don’t think I will be careful,” she said quietly as she took her place on the stage.





Casey didn’t look at the audience. But then, it was mostly the women from town who’d come to drool over a movie star. Besides them, there were a few workmen who were still planting the garden and some electricians in the rafters, putting in the lights. She didn’t know if Josh was around or not. And there was Kit, behind his desk and watching, with Olivia not far away.

For a moment Casey smoothed her skirt and composed herself. She knew her lines well, since she and Stacy had helped to write them. And for the last few hours she’d heard them many times.

Right now, foremost in her mind was what she’d just heard about Devlin’s dear little daughter. Why had Tate Landers done something like that? But she seemed to know the answer. She’d seen his sense of possession. He owned Tattwell, so he believed that gave him the right to enter her house when she wasn’t there.

As for his niece, it was almost as though he carried her in his pocket. Did he consider his sister and niece his property? Something he owned? Is that why he’d used his wealth and prestige to get rid of Emmie’s father?

As she stood there, she could feel her anger building. Right now he seemed to be delighting in making everyone wait for him.

I must remember that I am Elizabeth Bennet, she thought. I’m supposed to be from a time when women didn’t stand up to men and tell them off.

To her right the people were, yet again, waiting for HRH to appear onstage. When the stage manager yelled, “Quiet on the set,” Casey knew he was about to appear. What? No drum rolls? No trumpets playing “God Save the King”?

As Tate Landers stepped forward, there was a wave of female sighs and it was all Casey could do not to roll her eyes. He did look like the proverbial tall, dark, and handsome, but as Devlin said, she was perceptive enough to see beneath his exterior.

When he saw Casey, he didn’t react as she thought he would. She’d expected a frown and for him to emit an annoyed “You!” Instead, there was a bit of a smile, as though he was glad to see someone familiar.

I bet he sees me as something he owns, she thought, and her expression almost turned into a glower.

“Sorry for the delay,” he whispered when he was a few feet from her. “Wardrobe problems. My—”

“Shall we get on with this?” she said curtly.

“Sure.” He took a step back. “Where do you want to start?”

“How you think I’m an inferior being to you.”

He was staring at her as though trying to figure something out. “I really am sorry for all that’s happened today. Maybe tonight we could—”

“You can begin now,” Kit said loudly.

Tate turned to him. The stage was so brightly lit that by contrast the auditorium was almost dark. “Sure,” Tate said. “Give me a second, would you? I need to channel Darcy.” He turned his back to them, but Casey could see his profile—and he was not trying to get into character. “Let me take you out to dinner tonight and explain what happened.”