All That Glitters Read online

  ALL

  THAT

  Glitters

  THE SECOND NOVEL OF THE STUART TRILOGY

  By

  Ruthe Ogilvie

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  © Copyright 2012 Ruthe Ogilvie.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written prior permission of the author.

  ISBN: 978-1-4669-1118-5 (sc)

  ISBN: 978-1-4669-1116-1 (hc)

  ISBN: 978-1-4669-1117-8 (e)

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2012900779

  Trafford rev. 06/08/2012

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  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER I

  CHAPTER II

  CHAPTER III

  CHAPTER IV

  CHAPTER V

  CHAPTER VI

  CHAPTER VII

  CHAPTER VIII

  CHAPTER IX

  CHAPTER X

  CHAPTER XI

  CHAPTER XII

  CHAPTER XIII

  CHAPTER XIV

  CHAPTER XV

  CHAPTER XVI

  CHAPTER XVII

  CHAPTER XVIII

  CHAPTER XIX

  CHAPTER XX

  CHAPTER XXI

  CHAPTER XXII

  CHAPTER XXIII

  CHAPTER XXIV

  CHAPTER XXV

  CHAPTER XXVI

  CHAPTER XXVII

  CHAPTER XXVIII

  CHAPTER XXIX

  CHAPTER XXX

  CHAPTER XXXI

  CHAPTER XXXII

  CHAPTER XXXIII

  CHAPTER XXXIV

  CHAPTER XXXV

  CHAPTER XXXVI

  CHAPTER XXXVII

  CHAPTER XXXVIII

  CHAPTER XXXIX

  CHAPTER XL

  CHAPTER XLI

  CHAPTER XLII

  The Stuart Trilogy is dedicated to a chosen few; those whose inspiration, dedication, and talent combined to encourage the finished works to flow forth from my pen or keyboard. To my husband, Frank (Bud) Ogilvie, who continually supported me through the long, arduous process; to my twin sister, Rubye Macdonald, the encourager who urged me to start writing in the beginning; to Kevin Thompson, whose business acumen and friendship guided me through publisher duress; to Linda Cruz, sounding board and organizer extraordinaire; and to Doug Warner, friend, computer expert and fixer of the word processing messes that I too often created (although I always blamed the computer).

  CHAPTER I

  The sounds of gaiety at Hildy’s and Jay Stuart’s twenty-first wedding anniversary party were interrupted abruptly, as their daughter, Cameron, suddenly appeared through the French doors. The resemblance to her mother was so striking that they looked more like sisters than mother and daughter.

  She paused for a moment and posed. Then, with the same dramatic flourish she always used for the opening scenes of the many musicals she had appeared in, she made her entrance. Cammie, as she had been called from childhood, had a great sense of the drama, and sometimes it seemed that with her the curtain was always up. Her reddish blond hair, inherited partly from her mother, and partly from Jay, moved slightly in the gentle breeze, as she approached her parents, arms outstretched. Her pretty face beamed with pleasure. “Hi, guys!” she greeted them.

  “Cammie!” Hildy exclaimed. “You made it!” She kissed her daughter, as Jay embraced them both.

  “Hi, honey! When did your plane get in?” Jay asked her.

  “About forty-five minutes ago!” Cammie looked around at the festivities. “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world!”

  Hildy looked puzzled. “How did you manage to get away?”

  Cammie chuckled. “Easy! I just asked my understudy to fill in. She was delighted!”

  Zack rushed over and enveloped her in a big bear hug. “How’s my girl? And how’s Paris? Is it still there?”

  “Uncle Zack!” she cried, returning his embrace. “When did you get here?”

  “I flew in yesterday with Jenny and Peter. They’re over there—” he pointed—“and very anxious to see you!”

  Jenny and Peter, who had been talking with Roger, saw her coming.

  “My goodness, look at you!” Jenny held her at arm’s length. “Aren’t you quite the lady!”

  “Cammie,” Peter said, “I want to talk to you later about starring in a new musical I’m going to film.”

  Cammie nodded. She had hoped to get a chance for a serious talk with her parents, but was relieved that she could wait a little longer before telling them her news. She dreaded the reaction that she was afraid it might provoke, but she knew she couldn’t put it off forever.

  After the friendly greetings, she made her way over to one of the chaise lounges by the ocean. Her face looked more troubled than any twenty-year-old face should look, and she began to wonder if the decision she had made was a mistake.

  She sat there watching the crests of the waves glint like gold in the bright sunlight before kissing the giant, jagged rocks that bordered the shoreline. The spray from the waves emitted a prism of rainbow colors, and for one brief moment it seemed that everything was in its right place, just as the colors of the rainbow were lined up in perfect order.

  Nevertheless, her cornflower blue eyes filled with tears at the thought of leaving her friends and family, and her beloved home in Scarsdale, New York, to take up permanent residence in France. She thought back to the events that had led her to consider such a move, and she could come up with only three words that had swayed her—namely, Count Francois Dubonnet. What a storybook name! she mused. And how dashing he was with his dark hair, soft bedroom eyes, and ruggedly handsome face. Her heart pounded madly every time she thought of him. So why am I filled with such doubt?

  She stared off into space and smiled, as she envisioned his tall, slim figure, and the captivating smile he had sent her way when he had caught her eye across the room at the casino in Monaco. I almost didn’t go that night, she mused, and if it hadn’t been for Jess, I wouldn’t have.

  When Jessica Goodwin, her school chum who was visiting her in Paris, had said she would “absolutely die if she didn’t see the inside of the gambling halls,” Cammie had agreed to go. Even though she was tired from all the extra matinees she had been performing, and had hoped to sneak in some rest on her night off, she hadn’t wanted to disappoint her friend. She and Jess, as she called her, had first met when they attended the same private school just outside of Paris, and she hated to deny Jess what she so obviously had her heart set on.

  So they had chartered a plane to Nice, adjacent to Monte Carlo, and had flown there immediately following her matinee performance that afternoon.

  Cammie hadn’t been able to hide from Jess how taken she was with Francois. Jess, a happy-go-lucky, pert brunette, contrary to her appearance, was quite savvy for her years. “I feel guilty about having dragged you here,” Jess told her. “I think you should watch your step with that one,” she said, referring to Francois.

  Cammie tried to reassure her. “Jess, what is it about Francois that makes you so su
spicious?”

  “I can’t shake the feeling that he’s after something.”

  Cammie was stunned. “What could he possibly be after?”

  Jess shrugged. “Maybe the huge trust you’ll inherit when you’re twenty-five. Or maybe he likes being seen with a celebrity. Or maybe it’s because you come from a titled family.”

  Cammie laughed. “Jess, he has his own title, remember?”

  Jess gave her a long look. “Does he?”

  Cammie was incredulous. “Why do you doubt that?”

  “Cammie, lots of men go around claiming titles they don’t have. And even those who have them are often broke,” Jess warned. “Check it out. I don’t like the vibes I’m getting. I can’t explain it. It’s just a gut feeling.” She shrugged. “I may be one hundred percent wrong, but I’m your friend, and I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t tell you. I’m just trying to shield you from the disappointment if you were to find out too late that I was right.”

  Cammie hadn’t listened. The fact that Francois turned out to be a real Count, and was extremely wealthy, had, in her mind, discounted Jess’ doubts, and here she was one month later back home, trying to get up the nerve to tell her folks that she was planning to marry him.

  But something else bothered her. Francois had demanded that she give up her brilliant career.

  “You’ll be very busy performing your duties as the Countess,” he had told her.

  I’ve worked so hard to get where I am, she thought. How can I explain this to Mom and Dad? she wondered with dismay. And how is Peter going to take this? He has musicals lined up that he wants me to be in. I feel awful letting them all down. She felt as though she were committing a crime, yet wasn’t it up to her what she did with her life?

  Until now it hadn’t occurred to her to challenge Francois’ wishes. She realized she’d be mixing with European royalty, and they might feel that being on the stage was a little beneath the dignity of a Countess. She felt this was a bit snobbish, but figured this was the way they did things in Europe. Besides, at this point she was so infatuated with him, so impressed by his title, that she refused to give up her storybook fantasy, and was willing to accept him under almost any conditions.

  She sat there for close to an hour, trying to plan the best way to break the news to her parents, and to Peter. The others were too busy having a good time to take much notice of her, and she was glad for this. She needed time to herself.

  But now the guests were leaving, and she went over to say her goodbyes.

  CHAPTER II

  As soon as the guests were gone—except for Zack, Jenny, Peter, and her parents, who were staying the night at Roger’s home—Hildy approached Cammie.

  “What’s the matter, dear?”

  Cammie looked at her mother, and heaved a big sigh. No use trying to hide anything from her. She can always tell when something’s bothering me. I can’t put this off any longer. She tried to be calm as she spoke to her mother, but her voice quivered slightly. “Let’s go inside,” she suggested. “I need to talk to you. Besides, it’s getting chilly out here.” She shivered, but it wasn’t from the chill. The moment they were inside, Cammie surprised herself by bursting into tears. The stress of the last few weeks had finally caught up with her, and she could no longer cope with it by herself.

  Hildy was all sympathy. “Honey, what is it?”

  Cammie tried to hold back the tears, but once the first sob escaped from her lips, she couldn’t stop.

  Hildy put an arm around her, and led her upstairs to the guest room that she and Jay were using. She sat her down on the bed and cradled Cammie in her arms, the way she used to when Cammie was a little girl. “Just cry it out, honey,” Hildy told her. “Take your time.” She looked up as Jay entered the room, and she motioned to him to join them.

  He sat down in the easy chair beside the bed and waited patiently for Cammie’s sobs to subside. “It can’t be that bad, honey,” he said, gently. “Maybe you’ll feel better if you tell us what this is all about.”

  Cammie wiped her eyes with the handkerchief he gave her. They’re so great, she thought. How am I going to break this news without upsetting them?

  She took a deep breath and plunged in. “Dad—Mom—I don’t quite know how to tell you this, so I’d better just lay it out for you.” She looked at them, her eyes swollen and red from crying. “What I have to tell you is so wonderful,” she sobbed. “I just hope you’ll be as happy as I am.”

  Jay looked dubious. “You don’t seem very happy. If it’s so wonderful, why are you crying?”

  Cammie gulped, and choked back the tears. “Well—I don’t really know. I guess it’s just that I’m not sure how you’ll feel about this, and I hate to be so far away from you.” She began to cry again.

  Hildy was the first to speak. “Just tell us what it is, dear,” she encouraged her.

  Cammie rose from the bed and walked across the room to the window. She dabbed at her eyes, and looked out. The ocean with its steady crash of waves against the shore—something she could depend on no matter what—somehow gave her the courage she needed. With renewed resolution, she turned to face her parents. “I’m getting married,” she announced.

  There was a dead silence. “Who are you marrying?” Jay asked.

  Cammie hesitated, then decided to come right out with it. “I’ve met a wonderful man. He’s a Count. We met one night at the gambling casino in Monte Carlo.”

  Hildy opened her mouth to say something, but Cammie continued, afraid if she didn’t she might lose her nerve. “Mom, he’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of. He’s so handsome and kind and—and—” She groped for the right words to explain how she felt.

  Jay’s eyes narrowed. “Isn’t this a bit sudden? This is the first we’ve heard about him. How long have you known him?”

  Cammie gulped uncertainly, and began to stutter the way she used to when she was a little girl, and wasn’t quite sure of herself. “W-well, I j-just m-met him l-last month.” She struggled to regain her composure.

  * * *

  Hildy immediately recognized the signs of Cammie’s uncertainty, and it worried her. This always happened when Cammie was about to make a mistake.

  “B-but he l-loves me, and wants to m-marry me right away,” Cammie insisted. Her eyes filled with tears again. “It m-means I’ll be l-living in France. It’s so far away. I’ll be l-leaving m-my home here, and you two, and all m-my friends.” She started to tremble. “It’s hard. I guess th-that’s why I’m having d-doubts.”

  “Honey,” Jay told her, “if you really loved him there would be no doubts. You’d be so sure, nothing could stop you.”

  Hildy rose from the bed and started to pace. Up to now she had been silent. She had dreaded this day, and now it was here. Pictures from her past came flooding back. Her brief encounter with Gregory Wilcox; his sudden proposal; her discovery of his deviousness; his selfishness and cruelty; her disappointment in him, all flashed through her mind.

  Why she equated this Count with Greg she didn’t know, but Cammie was a well known star, and she was aware that some men might try to exploit her daughter. Is now the time to tell Cammie about Greg?

  She turned to Jay, deeply troubled. Sometimes words between them weren’t necessary. He understood, and nodded agreement.

  “Cammie—” Hildy motioned for her to sit down. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you, but it never seemed to be the right time. I think that time has come.”

  Jay looked earnestly at Cammie. “I want you to listen very carefully to what your mother is about to tell you. Perhaps you can learn from her experience. You’re so young. It takes time to learn that not everyone who seems charming can be trusted. We learned the hard way, and because of it we almost lost out on our wonderful life together.”

  Hildy took a deep breath, and told Cammie
the whole story of Jay’s and her hair-raising experience—the result of placing their trust in a man who was anything but trustworthy—how Gregory Wilcox stole her musicals, “The Ginger Jar” and “La Fleur Rouge,” and Roger Fielding’s musical, “The Happy Heart”; how he placed a bomb on her plane when she was flying to Paris; how Zack, the detective Greg had hired to find her, had protected her when he found out about Greg’s devious intent to kill her; how Greg had kidnapped her and Roger and left them to die in the French Alps, just to save his own reputation and career; how Zack and Jay had saved them; and, finally, how Greg tried to shoot Hildy, and shot Jay by mistake—and this in a court of law where you’d think something like that could never happen.

  “Appearances are no guarantee, honey,” Hildy told her daughter. “I thought because Gregory Wilcox was famous, handsome, and charming, and said he was anxious to help me, that he must be a fine man. I was wrong. I was infatuated with him—impressed by who he was—and your father and I almost lost our lives because of him. I was pregnant with you when I was kidnapped, and if Jay and Zack hadn’t found us in the Alps, you would never have been born.”

  But it was clear that Cammie could see no comparison between Gregory Wilcox, and her beloved Count Francois Dubonnet, the man she was determined to marry. “Mom—Dad—he’s not at all like that!” she protested.

  Hildy smiled in spite of herself. The similarity between Cammie and herself when she was that age, struck her forcefully. Her heart ached for her daughter. She wanted desperately to spare her the heartache she had suffered.

  She recalled how tenaciously she had clung to believing the best about Gregory Wilcox, and how disillusioned she had felt when she was finally forced to accept the truth. She reminded herself that it had all worked out for her, and she must have faith that it would for Cammie, but this didn’t stop her from worrying. She was beginning to realize what every parent must learn sooner or later—that she couldn’t work out her child’s problems for her. She must let Cammie find her own way. Sometimes it’s only by experience that we learn, she thought reluctantly.