Page 2 of Return of the Outback Billionaire

‘Can’t say I’m surprised.’

And why should she be? Bridie’s shut-in tendencies weren’t exactly a secret.

‘But you have to go,’ the older woman continued briskly. ‘People will be looking to you to see what you’ll do now that Judah’s back. It’d be cruel to act as if you’re scared of him.’

‘I’m not scared of him.’ And she didn’t want to be cruel. ‘It’s just...why did he have to go and throw a society ball, of all things? Out here?’

Gert’s thin lips stretched into a smile. ‘Used to be a time when fancy balls were all the rage at Jeddah Creek station, you’re just too young to remember them. They put on at least one a season and all the fancy types would be there. The things we got up to...’ The older woman sounded positively wistful. ‘Your mother loved them. She and your father used to dance all night long, and they were good at it.’

Bridie’s mother had left the world not long after Bridie had set foot in it. Gert was the only person who ever talked freely about her.

Her father never spoke of his wife at all.

Okay, so her mother had loved dancing and balls. Maybe Bridie could learn to love them too. She’d already RSVP’d that she and her father would be there. No way could they stay away after everything Judah had done for her. And she had to be presentable, which wouldn’t be hard, what with a closet full of rarely worn designer clothes at her fingertips, all of them tailored just for her. Granted, they were half a dozen years out of date, but haute couture never really dated. All the age of a piece did was show other people for how long someone had been obscenely wealthy.

Bridie didn’t consider her wealth obscene, but once upon a time she’d modelled such clothes and sometimes she’d been allowed to keep them. She’d been a rising star with the face of an angel and a body on the cusp of womanhood. She’d had absolutely no clue about the predators roaming the glittering, crazy world of high-fashion modelling.

Her awakening had been a hard one.

‘What did people used to wear to these balls? Full formal?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘Breast medals and sashes and things? Gloves for the women?’

‘No to the medals and sashes, yes to the family rings and jewels, sometimes gloves,’ answered Gert. ‘Landed gentry and all that. Sometimes it’s subtle, but it does show.’

Bridie blew out a frustrated breath as she tried to mentally turn Judah next door into Lord Judah Blake, peer of the realm, bona fide English aristocracy. ‘Right, then. Gown time. She pushed a hand through the thick waves of summer-wheat-coloured hair, liberally sprinkled with darker shades of brown, and vowed yet again to get a proper haircut before the ball.

‘He phoned this morning wanting to speak to you.’

‘Judah?’ She’d been dodging his calls all week.

‘So ring him back.’

She nodded, knowing full well that returning his call would take more guts than she had. At least at the ball they’d be surrounded by people and the conversation wouldn’t get too personal too fast. Ease into things slowly was her motto.

‘You’re not going to call him back, are you?’ stated Gert flatly.

‘No. But I will be at the ball, dressed to impress, and I will speak with him then and welcome him home and shower him with gratitude and whatever else I need to do. Trust me, Gert, I have a plan.’

‘Good girl,’ soothed the older woman. ‘Have some pie.’

Something was up. Gert never let anyone at the lemon meringue pie before it was cool, but she cut Bridie a slice and watched with barely contained disapproval as the warm filling oozed all over the plate.

‘Now.’ The older woman’s steely gaze could have skewered a razorback at a hundred paces. ‘Let’s get this sorted, sweet petal.’

Sweet petal... Oh, this was bad. Worse than when Bridie had used the giant Limoges vase that used to sit at the end of the hallway as a frisbee target...and nailed it.

‘What are you going to wear?’

Judah watched from his vantage point at one end of the ground-floor veranda as his guests spilled out of the crowded ballroom and into the night to speak in glowing terms of the landscape they’d flown over to get here and the beauty of the old two-storey Victorian house in the middle of nowhere.

‘Jeddah Creek station, what a magnificent place.’

‘Judah, you’re looking so well.’

And for the truly brave, ‘I miss your parents and I’m sorry for your loss.’

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