The Australian Heiress by Margaret Way

you are with me, Camille. But I am grateful to you for taking an interest in my daughter.”
    “You might consider you may have failed her.” Camille pointed out cruelly.
    His expression changed to one of icy rigidity. “You go too far.”
    She was struggling for control. “Do I really? For you to say such a thing! I didn’t want to come tonight, but I’m only human. You dangled a lure in front of me and I couldn’t possibly have resisted. You’ve got some sort of complex plan and…and I’m just a pawn.”
    “Of course you are,” he acknowledged in a hard ironic voice. “My plan is to alter your understanding. Unlike you, I’ve no wish to hide from the truth. But you’re just a child. Twenty-five—what’s that? You know nothing of life. And you’re wrong about my daughter. Many people have tried to help her, but she rejects everyone. I know she’s highly intelligent, but she can’t or won’t focus on anything. She doesn’t do well at school and she won’t mix. Her teachers are very patient, but Melissa is disruptive in class. As well, she has a tendency to bite, scratch and hurl herself on the floor, then refuse to get up.”
    “And you’ve seen all this with your own eyes? Or is it hearsay? Do the kindhearted nannies and teachers tell you?”
    Abruptly he pulled off to the side of the road and killed the engine. Her heart thudded, and he turned to her with an expression of despair.
    “You must know from your experience of your father what my life is like. I have very little time.”
    “You mean you can’t make any.” Camille was shocked by her desire to hurt him. But everythingabout him cut so deeply into her. “My father never found a minute for me, either.”
    He gave a brief contemptuous laugh. “I’m a saint compared to Harry Guilford.”
    For long moments they faced each other in a terrible silence, then Camille wrenched open the door and jumped out. If she consented to what was happening, she’d never be the same again.
    She began to run swiftly along the path beside the road, knowing only that she had to get away from Nick Lombard. Every look, every word from him, stripped her to the bone. By exposing her father’s unsavory past, he was exposing her to herself.
    “Are you nuts?” He’d caught up to her easily and grabbed her arm, whirling her like a partner in a macabre dance. “Why’d you take off like that?”
    “You…” Her agitation was so extreme her voice broke. “You’re the cause of all this.”
    “Stop.” Strong hands grasped her shoulders, his fingers biting into the flesh. “I’m not your enemy. It was Harry Guilford I despised, not you.”
    “Harry Guilford, Harry Guilford,” she chanted. “So you despised him so much, you had to break him. Destroy—”
    He cut her off angrily. “Should I have let him go unchecked? Harry Guilford tore lives apart. Worse, he enjoyed it.”
    “He gave me life!”
    “Did he?” Nick snorted. “How the hell can we be sure of that?”
    Camille was so astounded she went limp. “Please! No more freakish mysteries.”
    He thrust her off and began to walk back to the car. “Oh, let’s just leave it.”
    “I can’t leave it.” Now it was she rushing after him. “What horrors are you hinting at now?”
    He rounded on her so sharply she had to step back. “OK, you’re Guilford’s daughter. We can’t deny it was a sordid story, though, can we? Natalie was dazzled by Harry Guilford but not for long. She needed my uncle. He was always there for her. Always. We all knew it, though it nearly drove my family insane. My grandparents came to hate Natalie. She brought such strife. We lived every day with the constant threat of tragedy. Guilford was a dangerous and violent man. Tragedy did happen. My uncle knew the consequences. He’d made his choice. As Natalie did. In the end.”
    Camille couldn’t answer. She was struck dumb.
    “The child Natalie was carrying at the time of her death was my uncle’s. Perhaps Guilford found