by Sara Craven
Nor was there any guarantee that the woman he’d been with was unknown to her. Because, ever since their brief meeting, Cindy Crosby’s beautiful face and voluptuous figure had never been far away from her mind.
She had realised almost at once that it must be that particular liaison which had attracted the attention of the gutter Press. The Crosbys were news, his political career seriously on the move. Not long ago, there’d even been a full-colour spread about them in one of the gossip magazines, showing them in their Surrey home, the picture of marital devotion, complete with manicured lawns and the obligatory Labradors.
‘Lucinda’s my rock,’ her husband had gushed. ‘Always there for me.’
Except, Louise thought cynically, when she was elsewhere, and not alone.
Alex’s sudden marriage might have thrown Ed Godwin and his like temporarily off the scent, but one hint that he was still involved with the lovely Cindy would bring them back in full cry, and Louise could only imagine the kind of scandal that would ensue—and its ruinous consequences.
But she had told Alex to his face that she did not care what he did, or where he went, and now, somehow, she had to live up to those brave words, whatever the personal cost. Hide the fact that the vividly sensuous pictures in her imagination were tearing her apart, giving her no peace. Present a façade of indifference when her entire being seemed to be one silent scream of jealous misery. And fear…
She moved round the kitchen like an automaton, trying to put these thoughts from her mind, collecting the ingredients for a salad dressing from the store cupboard she’d begun to build during her shopping expeditions.
‘Is there anything I can do?’ He appeared beside her so quietly and suddenly that Louise jumped, nearly dropping the mustard on the floor.
‘Everything’s under control.’ She mustered a taut smile. ‘Andie’s done us proud. There are baby new potatoes to go with the steak, and a tarte au citron for pudding.’
He leaned against the refrigerator. ‘May I watch, or will it disturb you?’
Everything about you disturbs me, she thought with sudden, savage longing. Even when you’re unshaven, hung-over and exhausted, as you were this morning. Even when I know you’ve just climbed out of another woman’s bed. And I can’t help myself.
The way your hair grows back from your forehead disturbs me. The line of your jaw. Your hands. The way you move. How you laugh with your eyes when your mouth stays solemn. Your mouth—oh, God—your mouth most of all…
Aloud, she said, ‘Be my guest.’
‘Can we talk, or do you want me to keep quiet?’
‘Not at all,’ she said. She paused. ‘Is there anything particular you want to say?’ Or confess?
‘No,’ he said, ‘I don’t think so.’
She summoned a forced smile. ‘Then why don’t you tell me about Rosshampton?’
‘What do you want to know?’
She began to mix the dressing. ‘Maybe—why you love it so much.’
He said slowly, ‘I suppose because it’s always represented comfort, safety—and security.’
‘All the things I wanted from David.’ She reached for the olive oil.
‘True,’ he said. ‘But bricks and mortar tend to be more reliable.’
She bit her lip. ‘Why did you spend so much time there?’
‘My parents had a fairly chequered marriage.’ His tone was brusque. ‘My father was abroad a great deal on business when I was young. Although he loved my mother, he never regarded fidelity as a major issue, which did not endear him to Selina. My mother did, so she decided it was safer to travel with him. Therefore I stayed at home with my grandmother at Rosshampton.’
‘That must have been hard on you,’ Louise said in a low voice, her mind wincing away from this confirmation that unfaithfulness was a Fabian trait.
‘Please don’t regard me as a lonely waif.’ Alex spoke with a certain asperity. ‘Believe me, I never lacked for a thing, including affection. Even when my mother died, Selina was there for me, like a rock, although she must have been dying inside herself at the loss of her only child.’
‘Yes,’ she said slowly. ‘I—I’m so sorry.’
Alex stared at the floor. ‘It was a brain haemorrhage,’ he said too evenly. ‘She was only ill for a couple of hours. They were in New York, and my father had just come back from the pharmacy with some painkillers for the headache she’d complained of, and she smiled at him and simply—went…’
He shook his head. ‘He was very withdrawn for a long time. Eventually, he started going out—meeting up with friends and, of course, seeing women. Everyone said it was only a matter of time before he married again. But they were so wrong. She was the one—the real thing in his life. Everything else was just a trivial diversion. And still is, as far as I know.’
She said quietly, ‘Thank you for telling me.’
There was a silence as she rinsed the potatoes, and placed them in the steamer.
‘Is that new?’ Alex enquired.
‘Well, yes,’ she admitted. ‘I hope you don’t mind.’
His brows lifted. ‘Do I look as if I mind?’
No, she thought bitterly, the breath catching in her throat. He looked as he always did—tanned, tawny and too damned sexy for his own good…or hers.
She said hurriedly, ‘Tell me something about the house itself.’
He shrugged. ‘It’s just a big country house, surrounded by trees. Said to date from Queen Anne’s time, but much added to since. Has a ballroom at the rear and ten bedrooms, not including the Royal Suite.’
‘Royal?’ Louise turned the salad leaves into a bowl, and added the dressing. ‘That sounds very imposing.’
‘It’s extremely comfortable,’ he returned. ‘Two bedrooms, with a sitting room in between, plus dressing room and bathroom. Apparently Queen Victoria stayed there once or twice with Prince Albert.’
‘Then why two bedrooms?’ Louise lit the grill for the steaks. ‘I thought she was crazy about Albert—couldn’t get enough of him.’
‘Perhaps he liked the occasional night off,’ Alex suggested blandly. And, heaven help her, he was doing that thing with his mouth and eyes again. ‘Whatever, that’s where we’ll be sleeping. Selina always puts me in there when I stay—which is convenient.’ He paused. ‘Shall I set the table?’
‘All by yourself?’ Louise asked dulcetly. ‘Or will you ring for someone?’
‘You, my sweet,’ he said softly, ‘are asking for trouble. Less of it.’
When she carried the food to the dining room, she found to her surprise that the dining room looked a picture, the polished table set with linen place-mats, gleaming cutlery and glassware, and lit by tall candles in polished silver holders.
She whistled. ‘Isn’t this a little OTT?’
‘Perhaps,’ Alex said. ‘But it could be the first and last time we ever do this, so let’s go for it.’
She flashed him a too-bright smile. ‘You’re right. Let’s.’
She would never forget this evening as long as she lived, she thought later as she sat across the table from Alex in the candlelight. The food and wine were delectable, but, even better, she found suddenly that they were chatting like old friends. In a strange way, even the occasional silences were companionable.
‘Do you realise,’ she said, ‘that I don’t even know when your birthday is?’
‘It’s not a closely guarded secret.’ Alex finished his slice of tarte au citron. ‘Try August the fifth.’
‘Ah,’ she said. ‘Leo. I should have known.’
He sighed. ‘I see someone’s told you my nickname.’
‘Does it bother you?’
‘Not in the slightest.’ He paused. ‘Do you like the wine?’
‘It’s wonderful,’ she said. ‘I can taste cherries.’
‘Well done.’ Alex smiled at her. ‘Maybe I should take you on a tour of the French wine regions.’
‘You forget,’ Louise said. ‘I already have my future itinerary all
mapped out.’
‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I almost did forget. But thanks for reminding me.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘Would you like brandy with your coffee?’
She shook her head. ‘Nothing more for me, thanks. I’ll clear away, and then I think I’ll have an early night.’
‘You’re allowed to stay up until midnight, Cinderella.’
Not, she thought, when you’re trying to catch up on last night’s sleep.
She shrugged. ‘All the same…’
‘As you wish,’ he said. ‘But don’t worry about clearing away. I’ll do it.’
‘You will?’ Louise regarded him with suspicion. ‘Or will you just stack it up in the kitchen for the maid?’
‘My name,’ he said gently, ‘is not Marian Trentham.’ He shook his head reprovingly as he refilled his glass. ‘One of these days, I’m really going to have to teach you to trust me.’
She offered a constrained smile. ‘Well—I’ll be off, then.’ And rose.
‘Run away, if you must.’ He raised his glass. ‘Sweet dreams, Louise.’ He paused, looking at her meditatively. ‘I suppose you do dream?’
She halted in the doorway, looking back at him. He was leaning back in his chair, his face in shadow. ‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Every night. I believe everyone does.’
‘And what do you dream about?’ he asked softly. ‘Or is it a secret?’
Yes, she thought. My deepest, most intimate secret. Because I dream about you, Alex. About your arms around me, and your lips on mine. I dream that our marriage is a real one, and we’re happier together than we could ever have imagined.
I dream that you want me, passionately.
And I know, at this moment, that if you were to give me just one sign—hold out your hand, speak my name—then I’d come to you here and now—tonight—and give myself forever.
But I also know that’s the last thing on earth that you would ever want. So I am indeed running away. Away from temptation. And heartbreak. Away from you.
She gave him a cool smile. ‘I dream,’ she said, ‘about the Taj Mahal. At sunset. What else? Goodnight, Alex.’
And went, not hurrying, down the corridor to the solitude and safety of her own room.
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘ARE you really sure about this?’ Andie asked dubiously.
‘If you mean—have I discussed it with Alex, then no,’ said Louise, composedly tucking the card from the catering company in her bag.
‘Well, don’t you think you should?’ Andie frowned a little. ‘After all, he might not be too pleased to find his wife going round the City serving food to rival banks. Or even Perrins itself, God forbid. And he could have a point.’
Louise sighed. ‘I have to do something,’ she objected. ‘I can’t sit around all day wondering whether to have nail extensions or Botox.’
‘Especially when you don’t need either of them,’ Andie agreed cordially. She paused. ‘Of course, if you really want a time-consuming occupation, you could always take a leaf out of my book.’
‘And become someone’s PA?’ Louise shook her head. ‘I don’t think I’m cut out for that.’
‘It wasn’t what I meant either.’ Andie sat back in her chair, smiling. ‘I wouldn’t mention your proposed career in cooking to Alex until next week,’ she added musingly. ‘He’s jumpy about this party you’re going to tomorrow for some reason, and he’s had one piece of bad news today already. We don’t want an explosion, do we?’
‘Bad news?’ Louise was signalling to the waiter to bring the bill for their lunch. ‘Why, what’s happened?’
‘I handed in my notice.’
‘Oh, no.’ Louise’s distress was genuine. ‘I thought you liked working for him. And, anyway, what am I going to do without you?’
‘I do like working for him, and nothing’s changed there. And I hope you and I will continue to see each other.’ Andie’s sudden smile was shy and impish at the same time. ‘Especially if you agree to be godmother.’
‘Godmother,’ Louise repeated on a rising note. ‘You mean you’re having a baby. Oh, Andie, that’s wonderful.’
‘I think so,’ the other girl agreed. ‘All I have to do now is convince Alex. I mean—he congratulated me and everything, but he looked as if he’d been poleaxed, and he’s been really quiet all morning.’ Her smile widened. ‘Perhaps he’s never associated marriage with babies before.’
‘Probably not,’ Louise agreed quietly.
‘But now that he has, maybe he’ll have his own ideas about your career path.’
Louise flushed at the other girl’s teasing tone. ‘Are—are you leaving the bank very soon?’
‘Not really. I just thought I ought to warn him, so he can start looking for someone new. He is notoriously picky about close staff.’ Andie glanced at her watch. ‘I’d better get back before he fires me.’
‘And I need to go home,’ Louise added. ‘My dress for the party is being delivered later on.’
‘You sound as if they were bringing your shroud.’ Andie patted her shoulder. ‘You’ll have a great time. After all, Alex is showing you off to the second most important woman in his life.’
‘Really?’ Louise smiled with an effort.
But who is the first? she asked herself with a pang as they emerged into the street, and the mini-heatwave that London was sweltering under. The one who shared our wedding night with him? Or someone else completely?
Aloud, she said brightly, ‘Oh, good, there’s a taxi coming. Shall I drop you at the bank?’
She chatted and laughed with Andie about her wonderful news until they reached Perrins, but once she was alone again Louise sank back into the corner of her seat, her face and thoughts equally wistful.
Lucky Andie, she told herself wearily. Married blissfully to a man who adored her, and now expecting his child.
The contrast between that and her own situation was almost too wretched to contemplate.
She had hoped so much that things might ease between Alex and herself after the night they had dinner together. That they might even be able to enjoy some kind of tenuous friendship. It wasn’t what she wanted, of course, but it would have been better than nothing at all.
Yet, it seemed, she saw even less of him than before. He went out early each day, and came back very late each evening. But at least he did come back, she thought wryly.
And when their paths inevitably did cross, he was politely, even charmingly aloof. He could hardly have told her more strongly that there was no place for her in his life. That the rapport she’d thought was developing between them was simply a figment of her imagination.
I was a fool to hope, she thought with a silent sigh.
However, she might soon be put out of her misery. If things went well at the party this weekend, she might not even be around to be godmother to Andie’s baby. She could instead be on the other side of the world, trying to put her life back together.
And her friendship with Andie would be another tie she would have to sever, she realised with real regret.
‘Traffic’s a nightmare, love,’ the driver called back to her suddenly, breaking into her unhappy reverie. ‘I’m going to try a short cut.’ And he swung the cab down a narrow street lined with antique shops, and small galleries.
It was as the taxi slowed to negotiate its way round a delivery van that Louise caught sight of Alex.
For a moment, she thought she was dreaming. That he was so much in her thoughts that she could, apparently, conjure him up at will.
And then she saw he was not alone. That a woman was beside him, smiling up at him, her hand on his arm. And that they were standing on marble steps under the shade of a striped awning belonging to a hotel called the Belmayne, discreet and clearly exclusive.
It was like living through her worst nightmare, Louise thought, her throat contracting, as she recognised his companion’s red hair. Registered the beautiful face with its confident, self-satisfied smile. And realised that her most terrible fears were final
ly being confirmed.
He said it was over, she thought with anguish. And I wanted to believe him, in spite of all the evidence to the contrary. Yet here they are together. And I can’t fool myself any longer, or dream that I’ll ever be of anything other than marginal importance to Alex.
Because he can’t give Cindy Crosby up, no matter what the risk. Which proves how much he must care for her.
She wanted to cower down in her seat as if she was somehow the one in the wrong. The one who needed to escape attention.
He mustn’t see me, she thought frantically. I can’t bear it if he sees me. If he knows that I know…
It was a ludicrous reaction, and she knew it, but it was also totally instinctive.
She didn’t want to provoke a confrontation in which she would almost inevitably come off the worst. In which she might break down and cry, or be guilty of some other act of self-betrayal.
After all, he had never promised to be faithful. Nor was he aware that he had the power to break her heart, she thought, swallowing back the tears burning in her throat. So at least she still had a measure of pride to sustain her through the remainder of their marriage. Which, she could only hope, would be mercifully brief. Because she was no longer sure how much more she could take.
She was thankful when her cab turned the corner, resisting the temptation to take one last look back.
Now she had to find the strength of will from somewhere to get through the coming weekend. To smile and pretend she was a happy, fulfilled wife. And the better she played her part, the sooner she might have her freedom, she reminded herself and paused, pain slashing at her.
Because she knew all too well that, no matter how many miles or months she was able to put between Alex and herself, she would never really be free of him.
That her unhappy, thankless love would keep her in his thrall for the rest of her life. And that was the secret burden she would have to bear, now and always.
Quite apart from the fevered state of her emotions, Louise felt unbearably hot and sticky when she got back to the flat.
Something cold to drink, she thought, kicking off her high-heeled sandals. And after that she’d take a shower.