The Token Wife

by Sara Craven

  He said softly, ‘And who are you?’

  Lou gave him a bland smile. ‘The cook.’

  ‘Indeed?’ His brows lifted. He stirred the mass of shimmering cloth at his feet with the toe of a polished shoe. ‘Is it part of the job to dress for dinner?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘These are for the local drama group. They’re doing a revue—An Evening with Noël Coward.’

  ‘Dear God,’ said Alex Fabian, and his lips twitched into an appreciative grin. ‘A little ambitious, wouldn’t you say?’

  Lou had thought exactly the same when the idea was first mooted, but she stonily refused to share his amusement. Particularly when his smile had sent his attraction quotient soaring into some sexual stratosphere.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she said crisply. ‘You won’t be expected to buy a ticket.’

  ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘I’ve just realised. You’re Louise, Ellie’s stepsister. How do you do? I’m Alex Fabian.’

  Lou dived to pick up the dresses, pretending not to have seen his outstretched hand. It occurred to her that she did not want to touch him. That even a polite handshake might carry some inherent risk, like making contact with a force field. And that she could not afford to find out.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’d gathered who you were.’ She hoisted the pile of silks and satins into her arms, using them as a barrier. ‘Now you must excuse me. Duty calls.’

  ‘You mean you really are doing the cooking?’

  ‘Well, don’t sound so surprised. Someone has to.’ She gave him a swift, taut smile. ‘Reliable staff is hard to come by round here. But I promise not to poison you.’

  ‘I’m completely reassured.’ He paused. ‘Before I was booby-trapped,’ he said, ‘I was looking for the guest bathroom.’

  ‘Second door on the left.’ She edged round him.

  ‘One moment,’ he said, and a sudden tremor went through her as she felt his hand brush her hair.

  She practically jumped backwards, nearly flattening herself against the wall. She said breathlessly, ‘Just—what do you think you’re doing?’

  ‘Relax,’ he advised, a sudden glint in those amazing eyes. ‘You had a cobweb in your hair. See?’ He showed her its remains on his fingertips. ‘Some poor spider is now homeless.’

  ‘A banker with a caring side,’ she said. ‘I’m impressed.’

  ‘Now, why do I find that so hard to believe?’ Alex Fabian said musingly. ‘But I won’t detain you now for any further discussion. You have your pots and pans to get back to. So, as Noël Coward himself would have put it, Miss Louise Trentham, I’ll see you again.’

  No, she thought with relief. No, you won’t.

  Tonight she would be at the village hall, and tomorrow she would persuade David to take her out for the whole day. And on Sunday she’d invent a headache, and stay in her room until they’d all gone back to London.

  She muttered something unintelligible into the pile of dresses, and headed off to her room.

  Once safely inside, she leaned back against the door panels, and whispered, ‘Phew.’

  So that was Alex Fabian, she thought weakly. Hell’s bells, he should carry a government health warning. No wonder Ellie was becoming flaky at the prospect of marriage with him.

  Nor was he a picture of the eager suitor. He was a cool operator. She had seen no kindness in that smiling mouth, no warmth to soften the sensual speculation in the green eyes. For Alex Fabian, women were no more than a commodity to be enjoyed. And what happened when a particular commodity began to pall?

  Did Ellie really have the emotional and mental stamina to cope with someone like him? Or was she too glamoured—too beguiled by his looks, charisma and money to care?

  She should turn him down, she told herself vehemently. Instantly, and without a second thought. It was a question of survival—pure and simple.

  A description which could never be applied to the bridegroom-to-be, she added, her mouth twisting wryly.

  She left the dresses on her bed. As she turned away she caught sight of herself in the mirror, and realised there was a smudge of dust on her cheek that Alex Fabian had not seen fit to mention.

  Thank God he didn’t try to remove it as well, she thought caustically as she went down to the kitchen, or I’d probably be a gibbering wreck by now.

  She was concocting the orange sauce for the ducklings when Marian came in.

  ‘Is everything under control?’ she demanded, glancing sharply around her.

  ‘In here, it is.’ Lou added a dash of Cointreau. ‘I can’t speak for the rest of the house.’

  Marian stared at her. She was elegant in amethyst jersey, with pearls at her throat and in her ears, and her blonde hair was drawn back into an elaborate chignon. ‘What is that supposed to mean?’

  ‘I met Ellie’s intended,’ Lou returned. She paused. ‘Are you really going to let her marry him?’

  Marian’s brows lifted haughtily. ‘I think that is a decision that we can safely leave to them.’

  ‘I don’t agree.’ Lou met her gaze calmly and directly. ‘I think it’s like handing a lamb over to a tiger.’

  ‘What a dramatic turn of phrase,’ her stepmother said mockingly. ‘Perhaps you should be writing melodramas for your little village group.’

  ‘Better melodrama than tragedy,’ Lou said curtly. ‘Marian, she’s not in his league. You must see that.’

  ‘I see that she’s marrying a very successful man, who will soon be chairman of Perrins Bank,’ Marian retorted.

  ‘So you’re not pretending she loves him.’

  Marian laughed. ‘Oh, I think she’ll find it very easy to love him—in the ways that matter to a man. After all, she’ll have an expert teacher.’ She paused. ‘Are you quite sure, Lou, dear, that you’re not just a tiny bit jealous?

  ‘No,’ Lou said steadily. ‘Because I have a man that I can love in all the ways there are. Not just those that happen in the bedroom.’

  ‘You’re really a little prude, aren’t you?’ Marian drawled. ‘I’m sure you and David will suit each other admirably.’ She glanced at her diamond watch. ‘Are you leaving yourself enough time to change?’

  ‘I’m going to a village-hall rehearsal, not Glyndebourne.’ Lou tasted her sauce, and nodded with satisfaction.

  ‘But you can’t serve the dinner in jeans and an old sweater.’

  ‘I’ve no intention of serving it at all,’ Lou retorted curtly. ‘I said I’d cook, and that’s it. You and Ellie can manage the rest between you—unless, of course, you want Alex Fabian to end up with a lap full of mushroom soup,’ she added menacingly. ‘No? I thought not. And I presume you know how to load the dishwasher as well,’ she called after her stepmother as Marian flounced out.

  A minor victory, she thought, but what did that matter when the war was already lost?

  Up in her room, she went across to the window to close the curtains against the gathering twilight, and paused, alerted by a movement in the shrubbery below her. To her surprise, she saw it was Ellie, pacing up and down, and talking on her cell-phone.

  What on earth is she doing out there? Lou asked herself in bewilderment. ‘I’d have thought Marian would have had her chained to Alex Fabian’s wrist by now.’

  She was about to rap on the window—attract Ellie’s attention—then held back. Even in the poor light, she could see that her stepsister looked strained. Every gesture, every restless movement betrayed her agitation.

  Maybe she’s decided she can’t go through with it, she thought. But who is she talking to? The Samaritans?

  She went back to the bed and began shaking out the dresses, folding them with care and placing them in large carriers.

  On her way out to the car she would have a word with Ellie, she decided. Tell her that she, at least, was on her side.

  But when she got outside, there was no one about. As she went past the dining-room window she glanced in, and saw Ellie sitting next to Alex Fabian at the candlelit table, talking and laughing as if she didn’t have a
care in the world.

  The Samaritans must do a wonderful job, Lou thought with a resigned sigh, and went to her rehearsal.

  The carrier bags were seized on joyfully by the female cast members and taken off to the women’s dressing room. Lou found a chair and sat down to watch while she waited for David to arrive. He didn’t act in any of the village productions but he helped with scenery and lighting, and he was coming to discuss the design of the set with Ray, the producer.

  Lou hadn’t attended any rehearsals for a couple of weeks, and she was amazed to find what progress they’d made. Even Ray who was also playing Noël Coward, was far better than she’d expected.

  Then the girls came back in the evening dresses she’d brought, and paraded them on stage for Ray to make a final choice, and it was only when she was re-packing the rejected ones that she realised how late it was getting.

  ‘Where on earth is David?’ she asked Ray.

  For a moment he looked blank, then, ‘Oh, he phoned earlier, just before you got here, love. Said something had cropped up, and he couldn’t make it.’

  Lou frowned. ‘He didn’t call me.’

  ‘He probably took it for granted I’d tell you,’ Ray said peaceably. ‘Which I now have.’

  ‘He didn’t say what the problem was?’

  ‘No,’ Ray admitted. ‘But I expect his mother’s thrown another wobbly. He’d hardly want that generally known.’ He paused. ‘You haven’t got any tailcoats or top hats in that loft of yours, by any chance?’

  She forced a smile. ‘I didn’t notice any, but I’ll have a good look tomorrow.’

  She took the long route back to Virginia Cottage, going through the square, but David’s house was all in darkness, so she drove on without stopping.

  Perhaps Ray had been quite right about his mother, she thought. And once David had managed to get her calm again, he’d decided to have an early night. Well, she couldn’t blame him for that, and nor would she.

  But all the same, it was disappointing not to have seen him, and she wished very much that he’d rung her to explain. No doubt he’d ring in the morning, and they’d arrange to spend the day together then.

  To her surprise, all the lights were out at Virginia Cottage too. She’d expected to find a party going on, but perhaps there was nothing to celebrate after all.

  She parked at the rear, beside the low, sleek sports car that looked so alien in the cobbled yard, and went in through the back door. Her immediate intention was to make herself a hot drink, but that was before she saw the state the kitchen was in.

  Clearly Marian had decided the dishwasher was unknown territory after all, she thought grimly, because all the plates, cutlery, dishes and pans used for the meal were piled haphazardly on every surface.

  She was half tempted to leave them there, except for the knowledge that they would still be waiting for her in the morning, and she hated that.

  David is quite right, she thought, smouldering. They do use me. But this is the last time.

  She filled the kettle and set it to boil, then began the dreary task of rinsing the crockery, and putting it in the dishwasher.

  The running water disguised the sound of the kitchen door opening behind her, and she only realised she was no longer alone when Alex Fabian said, ‘Good evening, Cinderella. Did the ball end early?’

  He was standing just behind her. Close enough, she thought, to touch.

  Her whole body clenched in sudden, uncontrollable panic, and the dish she was holding slipped from her hands, and smashed into fragments on the quarry-tiled floor between them.

  Then there was silence.

  CHAPTER TWO

  A SILENCE that Alex Fabian was the first to break.

  He said, ‘I seem to have startled you. I’m sorry. I hope the breakage won’t be stopped out of your wages,’ he added smoothly.

  Lou glared at him. He’d discarded the jacket and tie he’d been wearing at dinner, and his white shirt was half-unbuttoned, revealing more than she wished to see of a brown, muscular chest. His cuffs were undone and turned casually back over equally tanned forearms.

  She said, ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing—creeping around at this time of night?’

  ‘This time of night?’ he echoed derisively. ‘Lady, in London the evening would just be beginning.’

  ‘Well, we don’t go in much for big-city nightlife round here,’ Lou said curtly.

  ‘I gathered that,’ he said drily. ‘On the stroke of midnight, everyone turns back into pumpkins.’

  ‘You should have made it clear you wanted to be entertained.’ Lou went over to the broom cupboard in the corner, and extracted a dustpan and brush. ‘I’m sure my family would have turned cartwheels for you.’

  Alex Fabian whistled softly. ‘I get the distinct impression, Miss Trentham, that you don’t like me very much.’

  ‘Fortunately, I don’t have to.’ She began to sweep up the broken pieces. ‘We inhabit totally different worlds, Mr Fabian.’

  ‘Worlds which seem to have collided,’ he said. ‘I’m about to become part of the family. Aren’t you going to congratulate me?’

  She emptied the dustpan into the rubbish bin with a clatter. ‘On having got what you want? I imagine that’s the norm for you. Besides, with all you have to offer, how could Ellie possibly resist?’

  ‘I admit I thought she’d respond better to the carrot than the stick.’ He seemed amused, rather than offended. ‘I’m glad you agree.’

  ‘Well, I’m not glad about any of it. And where is Ellie, anyway?’

  ‘She opted for an early night, and the others followed,’ he said. His mouth twisted. ‘I think the excitement was all too much for her.’

  Lou went on loading the dishwasher. She said in a low voice, ‘I think you’re too much for her. Don’t you know that she’s frightened of you?’

  ‘No,’ Alex Fabian said quietly, after a pause. ‘I didn’t realise that. But she truly has nothing to be scared of. Maybe I didn’t make that as clear as I should have done.’

  ‘Ellie’s a beautiful girl, but she’s also fragile. She needs kindness, Mr Fabian. I’m not sure you have much of that to spare.’

  ‘Then maybe that’s a trait we share, Miss Trentham.’ His voice was suddenly harsh. ‘You’re very ready to condemn on very little evidence. I promise you on my word of honour that Ellie has nothing to fear from me. That I will look after her as my wife, and treat her well. Does that satisfy you?’

  ‘Perhaps it’s her that you should reassure.’

  His mouth tightened. ‘I would have done, if I’d had the chance to be alone with her before she scuttled off to bed. As a matter of fact, I tapped on her door just now and spoke to her in case she was still awake, but there was no answer.’

  ‘She probably thought you wanted more than conversation.’ The words were out before she could stop them.

  ‘Oh, God,’ Lou muttered under her breath. ‘I’ve done it now.’ And she bent swiftly to put the detergent tablet in the machine to disguise the fact that she was blushing.

  He said quite mildly, ‘Now, why should she think any such thing? As you’re so much in her confidence, you must know I’ve made no demands of that kind.’

  ‘Yes, but you’re engaged now. Officially. That—changes things.’ Lou, having dug the hole and fallen into it, was now sinking rapidly. She shut the machine door, and switched on the programme. Anything not to have to look at him. Or hear him. Or even share the same universe with him, she thought detachedly.

  ‘Does it indeed?’ he said, and she could hear the unholy amusement quivering in his voice. ‘Well, I’ve never been engaged before, so I bow to your superior wisdom. Should I rush upstairs and ravish her now, do you think, or can it wait until tomorrow night?

  ‘You see, I’d actually planned to make myself some coffee, and do a couple of hours’ work on my laptop, but I’m prepared to make the sacrifice, if necessary,’ he added piously.

  ‘This is all a big joke to you, isn’t it?’
Lou swung round and faced him stormily.

  ‘Think what you want.’ He shrugged. ‘If I told you the truth, you wouldn’t believe me. And the kettle’s boiling. Shall I make us both some coffee?’

  ‘I’m having herb tea.’ If it was an olive branch, Lou didn’t want it. ‘I don’t drink coffee at this hour. It keeps me awake.’

  ‘How naughty of it,’ Alex Fabian said gravely. ‘Of course, there are a lot of far more pleasurable activities that have exactly the same effect, but perhaps you haven’t tried those.’

  Helplessly, Lou felt her face warming again. She went over to the cupboard, produced two beakers, set them on the worktop, and pushed the coffee jar towards him without a word.

  ‘Before you flounce out of the room, slamming the door behind you,’ Alex Fabian said pleasantly, spooning granules into his beaker and adding boiling water, ‘I should tell you that was a magnificent dinner you gave us tonight.’

  ‘Thank you.’ The beguiling aroma of coffee seemed to fill the kitchen. Biting her lip, Lou dropped a camomile tea bag into her beaker, and let it infuse.

  ‘Have you ever thought of cooking professionally?’ he went on. ‘Private lunch and dinner parties in people’s homes? I should think you’d make a fortune.’

  ‘On the contrary,’ Lou said. ‘In future, I intend to cook only for my husband.’

  He gave her bare left hand a fleeting glance. ‘Does this fortunate guy exist, or is he simply an erotic fantasy in your caffeine-free dreams?’

  ‘Of course he’s real. I—I thought you knew I was engaged.’ Her flush deepened.

  ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Our brief debate on sexual etiquette. I thought you knew that was a wind-up.’

  ‘And Ellie didn’t tell you?’

  ‘Ellie,’ he said, ‘has told me very little. But I haven’t exactly been forthcoming myself, so I can hardly complain.’ He paused. ‘So, who is he?’

  ‘Someone I’ve known forever. He lives in the village, and works for Galbraiths in their regional office.’

  ‘Does he have a name?’

  ‘He’s called David Sanders.’ Her tone was short. ‘Why do you ask?’