The Token Wife

by Sara Craven

  ‘I might be.’ He slanted a swift grin at her. ‘Under the right conditions.’

  Well, she thought, biting her lip, she’d walked right into that.

  She said coldly, ‘To some women, perhaps. But not to me.’ She paused again. ‘If you really hate the idea so much, why get married at all?’

  ‘I wouldn’t,’ he said. ‘Only I’m being blackmailed.’

  Lou became aware that her jaw had dropped, and hastily adjusted her face. ‘By an irate husband, no doubt.’

  ‘Wrong sex.’

  ‘My God,’ she said. ‘Some woman you’ve refused to marry?’

  ‘I doubt if she’d have me,’ he said, deadpan. ‘She’ll be eighty-five in a few weeks, besides being my grandmother.’

  ‘Your grandmother?’ Lou echoed, then shook her head impatiently. ‘Oh, I don’t believe one word of all this. Are you involved in some insane practical joke?’

  ‘I only wish I were,’ he said, a note of grimness in his voice. ‘Unfortunately it’s no laughing matter. She wants me married, and she’s in a position to apply pressure.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘By disinheriting me.’

  ‘My God,’ she said contemptuously. ‘Are you really so desperate for cash? I thought you were supposed to be a wealthy man.’

  ‘It’s not a question of money.’ His tone was curt. ‘It’s a house.’

  She stared at him. ‘And it means—that much to you?’

  ‘I was born there,’ he said. ‘And so was my mother. I spent a lot of my childhood there, too, and I’ve always loved it—always known it would be mine one day.’ He paused. ‘And I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure that it comes to me and no one else.’

  ‘You mean that there’s someone who could cut you out?’

  ‘Some distant cousin,’ he said, ‘who’s turned up from South Africa, complete with bride. And my grandmother has a bee in her bonnet about Rosshampton being a family house.’ His mouth twisted. ‘So, she’s given me an ultimatum. Unless I put my neck on the wedding block, she’s going to change the arrangements. Only I have no plans to change my way of life. Or not on any permanent basis.’

  ‘You’re saying you want someone to pretend to be your wife until your grandmother dies?’ Lou said indignantly. ‘But that’s ghoulish.

  ‘Nothing of the kind,’ Alex said briskly. ‘For one thing, Selina has no intention of dying—ever. For another, she’s always meant to make a gift of the house in her lifetime, to avoid death duties.’

  ‘You have no compunction about making her give up her home?’ she queried acidly.

  ‘No one has ever made Selina do anything,’ he returned. ‘In any case, she finds life livelier in Holland Park these days,’ he added sardonically. ‘So ditch the image of the forsaken pensioner.’

  She flushed. ‘It’s really none of my concern. But no wonder Ellie wanted nothing to do with such a crazy scheme. Who in her right mind would even consider it?’

  ‘Actually,’ Alex said calmly, ‘I’m hoping that you might.’

  Shock made it suddenly difficult to breathe. She twisted in her seat, staring at him in total incredulity, her flush spreading—burning over her entire body.

  ‘You—have to be—joking,’ she managed at last.

  ‘On the contrary,’ he said. ‘I’m deadly serious. On your own admission, you need a job and a home. Step into Ellie’s shoes, and I’ll provide you with both. And as soon as Rosshampton belongs to me, you’ll be completely free again, with a cash settlement, to go where you please, and make a new life. Is that really such a bad deal?’

  ‘It’s nauseating.’ She was gasping. ‘Monstrous.’

  ‘A slight exaggeration,’ he said. ‘I prefer “practical”. Because you must admit it would solve major problems for both of us. I’d have a wife to dangle in front of Selina. And you would have somewhere to lick your wounds. Get your head together again.’

  She said thickly, ‘Living with you? I don’t think so.’

  ‘But you wouldn’t be living with me,’ he said gently. ‘Not in any real sense. We’d simply be sharing a roof. I thought I’d made that clear.’

  He paused. ‘You’d have all the space you need, Louise, with the added bonus that no one would feel sorry for you. Money has that effect.’

  ‘You disgust me.’

  ‘I’m sorry about that.’ He sounded infuriatingly unmoved. ‘I dare say your father will also have his regrets, now that the future of Trentham Osborne is seriously in question once more.’

  ‘You mean you’re going to cancel the re-financing?’ Louise stared at the cool profile. ‘But you can’t do that.’

  ‘Actually I can,’ he said. ‘Because it was always conditional.’ He lifted a shoulder in a faint shrug. ‘And the conditions are not being met.’ He paused. ‘You could, of course, change your mind—and persuade me to think again, too.’

  There was an endless, tingling silence. Lou found she was counting the seconds in her head, as if she’d seen the lightning flash and was waiting for the inevitable crash of thunder.

  At last, she said huskily, ‘Your grandmother must be very proud of you. Where blackmail is concerned, you’re a chip off the old block.’

  ‘You don’t have to accept my terms,’ he said coolly. ‘Considering the way your family appear to treat you, I think you’d be perfectly justified in allowing Trentham Osborne to go under.’

  ‘But you know that I won’t,’ she said, bitterly. ‘That I can’t.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I know. In fact I was counting on it.’ He shot her a swift glance, assimilating her pale, set face. ‘So, you accept my proposition? You’ll marry me—in name only? Until I get what I want?’

  It was her turn to shrug, hunching a defensive shoulder. ‘I don’t seem to have a choice.’

  ‘I’ll take that as an acceptance of my honourable proposal.’ He sounded amused. They were approaching a motorway junction. Before Lou knew what was happening, he’d signalled, changed lanes and was driving up the slip-road.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she demanded tensely. ‘This isn’t the exit we want. We’re miles away.’

  ‘Are your aunt and uncle expecting you?’

  ‘No—not exactly…’

  ‘Then we needn’t trouble them,’ Alex said, as he negotiated the roundabout. ‘I think we should go straight back to London, and make the necessary arrangements.’

  He paused. ‘Under the circumstances, I suggest a special licence, and a private ceremony with just a couple of witnesses. Present our friends and relations with a fait accompli. What do you think?’

  Her hands gripped each other so tightly in her lap that the knuckles turned white. ‘You—you don’t want to know what I think.’

  He had the audacity to laugh. ‘No—probably not.’ He became brisk. ‘We both missed breakfast, so I suggest we stop and have an early lunch. There’s quite a good place a few miles from here.’

  ‘I—I’m not hungry,’ Lou denied swiftly.

  ‘All the same, you need to eat.’ He was civil but inexorable. ‘You’ll feel better after a meal.’

  ‘I shall feel better,’ she said, ‘when your grandmother hands over the deeds of your precious house. And not before.’ She shook her head. ‘I still can’t believe I’m doing this. It’s madness.’

  The restaurant he’d chosen was part of a country hotel set deep in its own grounds. There were a number of vehicles already parked on the gravel sweep that fronted the pillared portico, and Alex slotted his own car neatly into a vacant space.

  ‘It’s busy,’ he commented. ‘I’ll go and make sure we can have a reservation.’

  ‘It looks lovely,’ Lou admitted, peering up at the mellow brick façade. ‘I didn’t even know it existed, so how did you find out about it?’

  ‘I stay here sometimes, at weekends.’ His tone was casual. ‘It’s comfortable, discreet, and the food is excellent.’

  He was telling her obliquely that this was somewhere he brought his girlfriends, Lou real
ised, her face warming slightly, as he walked away. And no doubt he would continue to do so, after their farce of a wedding had taken place. He’d warned her, after all, that he was not going to alter his way of life.

  And she didn’t want him to, she hastily reminded herself. In fact, as far as she was concerned, he could take a different lady to a different hotel every weekend that their non-marriage lasted. Anything that would spare her his company had to be welcome.

  He was only gone a few minutes, and when he returned he was holding a key card. ‘I’ve taken a room for you,’ he said. ‘I thought you might like to freshen up a little—wash away the tear stains at least. I don’t want people to think I’ve been ill-treating you.’

  ‘Of course not,’ she said. ‘After all, what’s a little blackmail and deception between friends?’

  ‘I’m glad you consider us friends,’ Alex said silkily. ‘That’s a step in the right direction at least.’ He paused. ‘Do you have a skirt in that bag of yours, because if so you might change into it?’

  ‘No.’ Lou faced him with a militant sparkle in her eyes. ‘I don’t. I was going to stay on a farm, remember.’

  He shrugged. ‘It doesn’t really matter. You’ll need a whole new wardrobe, anyway. We’ll deal with that next week.’

  ‘No,’ she said, ‘we will not. If I need clothes, I’ll buy them myself.’

  ‘You’re going to be dressing for a completely different life,’ he said. ‘And you’re going to need guidance. Not negotiable,’ he added swiftly, as her lips parted mutinously. ‘Oh, and you can get rid of that band round your hair, too. I prefer it loose.’

  Lou was quivering with temper. ‘And why should I pay any attention to your preferences?’

  ‘Because from now on, sweetheart, I’m calling the shots,’ he said. ‘And don’t you forget it.’ He gave her the key card. ‘When you look less like an orphan of the storm, you can join me in the bar.’ He paused. ‘What can I get you, by the way?’

  ‘If you’re calling the shots,’ Lou said icily, ‘then you should know.’ And she marched past him, up the shallow stone steps, and through the double glass doors, furiously aware that, if she looked back, she would find him laughing.

  It was a beautiful room, she had to concede unwillingly, with its wide, canopied bed and elegant furniture. And the bathroom was the height of luxury with its gleaming tiles and marble surfaces. The roomy shower cubicle was constructed in a pretty hexagonal shape, and the tub was enormous, and clearly intended for dual occupation.

  The perfect love nest, Lou thought with irony, inspecting the array of scented oils and lotions on offer as she dried her face and hands on one of the fluffy towels. Except that love would have very little to do with it.

  For a brief moment she had a sharp, disturbing image of that bed in the other room occupied. Of Alex Fabian, his mouth smiling as he bent over some naked, sinuous beauty.

  She closed her eyes swiftly, blotting the picture from her mind, bewildered at its sudden potency.

  Wondering why she had thought of Alex and not David, who was probably entwined with his Ellie in a similar room somewhere.

  She leaned against the cold edge of the marble for a moment, recovering her composure, then opened her eyes. She barely recognised the white, strained face looking back at her from the mirror. Her eyes were still slightly reddened, in spite of the cold water she’d splashed onto them, and her lips were pale and vulnerable.

  Reluctantly she took her cosmetics purse from her bag, and made use of the concealer and compressed powder before adding a soft pink lustre to her unhappy mouth.

  Finally, she took the band from her hair and shook it free, the dark, waving strands forming a silky aureole round her face.

  It was a slightly braver picture than before, she thought, but no more than that. The inner fire which had once lit her eyes and flushed her cheeks had been quenched.

  In just a few hours, she’d been transformed into a quiet grey shadow of her former self.

  And no one in this world, especially a shrewd, manipulative old lady, was going to believe that she would ever be the choice of a man like Alex Fabian. Not in a month of Sundays. Because she hadn’t even been enough for David, whom she’d loved.

  Ellie, the golden, the glowing, would have convinced everyone, of course. And she would have enjoyed spending the money, and having clothes and jewellery lavished on her. She’d relished the glimpse of the high life that Alex had shown her, and she had the charm and prettiness to make her mark in the circles he moved in. She’d have made him a trophy wife, rather than the token variety.

  He might even have fallen in love with her, given time, Lou thought, replacing her comb in her bag. But there had been no time. Instead there had been David…

  She drew a deep, painful breath, then turned away from the mirror. It was time she went down to the bar before Alex came looking for her.

  The long, low-ceilinged room was filled with people enjoying their aperitifs and looking at leather-bound menus, but she saw him at once, sitting at a table in the window, her gaze drawn to him like a magnet.

  And she wasn’t the only one. As she threaded her way towards him, she was aware of other glances targeting him with open avidity. Of women’s fingers nervously playing with their hair, their jewellery, as they watched him. Of laughter that was pitched a fraction too high.

  But why should she even be surprised? Alex Fabian was always going to be a man who would attract female attention without even trying, she thought. And he wasn’t trying now, just lounging on the cushioned seat, and staring out of the window.

  He rose politely as she reached him, the cool eyes scanning her, their expression unfathomable. ‘Did you find everything you needed?’

  ‘Thank you—yes.’ There were no spare chairs around, so she took her place beside him on the window-seat, maintaining a deliberate and cautious distance.

  Alex lifted a hand in a silent signal, and a waiter appeared from nowhere with an ice bucket containing a bottle of champagne, and two glasses.

  Lou’s brows drew together as she watched the man remove the cork with a flourish and fill the glasses. ‘What is this?’ she demanded in an indignant undertone, as soon as he’d departed.

  ‘Bollinger,’ Alex said. ‘Conventional, I know, but we do have our engagement to celebrate.’

  ‘I fail to see why.’

  ‘Then just regard it as a much-needed tonic,’ he said softly. ‘The wine for all seasons and all times of day.’ He raised his glass. ‘To us.’

  Then, as she made no move, he added mockingly, ‘Or would you prefer—absent friends?’

  ‘No,’ she said between her teeth, ‘I would not.’

  ‘Then choose your own toast,’ Alex said. ‘But drink to something—anything. People are beginning to look.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said with quiet fierceness, ‘because they’re wondering what the hell you’re doing with a—a nonentity like me.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry, but I’ve realised that I can’t do this after all. It just won’t work. We—we wouldn’t fool anyone. Your grandmother will pick up in seconds that I’m not in your league.’ She swallowed. ‘That we don’t care for each other.’

  He shrugged, his face suddenly hard. ‘She specified marriage,’ he countered. ‘Not a love match. And it’s too late for second thoughts, Louise. Our bargain stands. Now pick up your drink, and smile at me nicely for the audience. You need all the rehearsal you can get.’

  The wine was cold and clear, the bubbles exploding in her head as she obeyed him.

  And he smiled back at her, tiny, glittering devils dancing in his eyes, and reached for her hand, raising it to his lips and pressing a light, sensuous kiss into her palm.

  Shock ran through her like a flame. She tried to snatch her hand back, but his clasp tightened.

  ‘What—what do you think you’re doing?’ she demanded breathlessly.

  ‘I felt the occasion called for a gesture,’ Alex drawled. ‘That was it.’

&n
bsp; He paused, his gaze even as it met hers. ‘Understand this, sweetheart. Whatever does not happen between us in private, in public we’re the couple of the decade. I expect you to pretend—and pretend well.

  ‘You will smile at me. You will not pull away when I touch you, or shudder if I should feel obliged to kiss you. You’re getting well paid for a service, and that’s the service you’ll provide.

  ‘And if you find physical contact between us difficult, then that’s your problem,’ he added with a touch of harshness.

  She drank some more champagne quickly, trying to ignore the fact that her fingers were entwined with his, and that he was stroking the soft mound at the base of her thumb.

  She said in a low voice, ‘Is it—absolutely essential?’

  ‘We’ll be newly-weds. People will expect the occasional demonstration of affection. So what are you so uptight about?’

  She took another frantic sip. ‘Perhaps I’m not sure that—I can cope—with this kind of—intimacy.’

  ‘Really?’ His grin was cool and cynical. ‘But I’m not irresistible, darling. You told me so yourself—remember?’ He paused. ‘However, if the going gets tough, just keep reminding yourself of the money. That should provide some consolation.’

  ‘Yes,’ Lou said softly and stormily. ‘Because, one day, it will enable me to tell you to go straight to hell. And that will make it all worthwhile.’

  ‘I’m sure it will,’ he said silkily. ‘And I’m also beginning to think that married life won’t be nearly as dull as I expected.’

  He allowed her to absorb that for a startled moment, then passed her a menu. ‘Now—shall we order lunch?’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  LOUISE had ordered more or less at random, convinced that she would be unable to eat a thing, but discovered that the chilled cucumber soup and the perfectly poached salmon with its accompanying watercress salad were exactly what she wanted, and too delicious to resist anyway.

  She found herself, somewhat defiantly, ordering a crème brûlée to follow.

  Alex asked for cheese, after his choice of vegetable soup and rare roast beef sliced from the joint on the trolley.