“Elana. It’s a triumph,” Imogen heard as she walked into the room, wishing now she’d chosen something slightly more … pastel … to wear. The black floor-length dress was classy enough, in an understated way, and she’d teamed it with a dark grey pashmina and a string of baroque pearls her mother had given her for her sixteenth birthday. But her nails were unpainted, her shoes sensible flat ballet slippers and she’d been too uncomfortable to go to much effort with her hair, so she’d made do with a simple, high bun, mainly to keep it out of her face.
“You missed your calling as an Event Planner,” another society baroness cooed as Imogen slid her sunglasses into her handbag. She wished she’d let Theo come in after all, instead of being brave and agreeing to face the lions solo. And they were lions. Or lionesses. Her eyes skimmed the assembled guests. Perhaps fifty or sixty women, all the last-word in elegance and haughty haute couture.
Imogen stood out like a weed on a golf course.
“Ah, here she is,” Elana murmured, not bothering to attempt to hide the way her eyes glossed over Imogen from head to toe, her tight frown showing clearly what she thought of the outfit.
Imogen fought a pathetic impulse to apologise. She was eight months pregnant and the last thing she could be bothered doing was giving two hoots how she looked. Besides, she didn’t look that bad, did she?
“You’re here,” Elana said as she came closer, kissing the space an inch wide of Imogen’s cheeks.
“Yes,” Imogen was nervous. She hated that. “Thanks for doing this.”
“Of course, dear. How are you?”
“Fine,” Imogen lied.
“And the baby?”
“Fine,” Imogen nodded, her mouth dry. “This is a lot of people.”
“Just a few friends,” Elana contradicted. “Come. I’ll introduce you to Raquel. She’s a primary school teacher, like you.”
“I work in childcare,” Imogen clarified, falling into step beside the fast-moving Elana. A twinge pulled low in her abdomen and she slowed her pace, even though it meant incurring the visible impatience of Theo’s mother. She waited though, and then walked more slowly the rest of the way, pausing at a table of women who were closer to Imogen in age.
“Raquel, this is Imogen. Theo’s… friend.” She said the word with a pointed look to Imogen’s belly. A look that made Imogen’s heart stammer and her pride falter and made everything wobble and worry inside of her.
“Hi,” Raquel stood, casting a smile at the other women she’d been sitting with. “It’s so nice to meet you finally.”
Elana stepped back, apparently feeling she’d done her duty and affected an introduction.
Imogen felt that she’d been hit by a truck. So many people, so many of them staring at her with either curiosity or hostility. Her eyes were enormous when she turned back to Raquel.
“Don’t be nervous,” Raquel’s smile, at least, was kind. “Elana acts like she’s got a huge stick up her you-know-where but really she’s just desperate for Theo to be happy,” she said. “Let’s sit down.” She nodded to a small table to the side.
“How do you know Theo?” Imogen asked as she settled her hefty weight into the bentwood chair. The scent of flowers was overpowering. She tried not to react visibly but Raquel reached for the vase and settled them on the next table.
“Do you mind? I get hayfever.”
Imogen shook her head, not sure if the explanation was true, or if the other woman was just incredibly tactful and kind.
“Theo’s my cousin. My mother is Elana’s sister.”
“Oh,” Imogen was surprised and it showed. She looked more closely at Raquel now, trying to see any family similarities.
“I take after my father,” Raquel explained.
“So do I.”
It was an ice breaker and both women smiled.
“You’re a school teacher?” Imogen asked after a moment. A waiter appeared and took their order.
“I’m a tutor of behaviourally poor students,” she said with a soft smile. “My aunt doesn’t approve.”
“Why ever not?” Imogen’s surprise showed.
“Because I spend ninety percent of my time in Brixton and Clapham and I think she’s convinced herself I’m smuggling drugs.”
Imogen burst out laughing, the soft sound reaching the ears of a woman only two tables away. A woman who turned and stared at Imogen with pure, undisguised hatred.
“But it’s a good job.” Imogen hadn’t noticed the laser-like beam of resentment coming her way, but Raquel had, and she spoke quickly. “I like it. Even when it’s really, really hard.”
“It’s an important job,” Imogen said. “And not enough people doing it, I’ll bet.”
“No, we’re chronically understaffed. And you? You’re a teacher?”
“I work in childcare,” Imogen corrected. “I suspect your aunt doesn’t entirely approve of that either.”
“She doesn’t much like anything to do with kids,” Raquel explained.
“How strange. Was she always like that?”
“Always,” Raquel nodded. Their drinks appeared and they were quiet as the waiter placed them carefully down on the table. “Theo probably jokes about it, but his childhood was pretty shocking.”
“In what way?” Imogen asked, leaning forward, curiosity thick inside of her.
“Oh, I presumed he’d spoken to you about it…”
“I know how hard his parents’ divorce was on him,” Imogen said softly. “But you’re right. He does joke. I always imagined his life to be a pretty spoiled, awesome one.”
“It wasn’t.” Imogen’s eyes moved across the room, landing on her immaculately dressed aunt. “Elana loves him, but they’re very different people. I think it caused a lot of waves when he was growing up.”
Imogen was almost certain there was more to it, but she didn’t want to push Raquel to speak out of turn, so she let the conversation drift onto safer, less-controversial ground, and was thrilled to discover they actually had two friends in common. Women Imogen had gone to school with who’d gone onto study in London and had met Raquel through university.
Almost an hour later, and Imogen was having a good time.
But her bladder had been used as a trampoline by the baby and she was far from comfortable. “Would you excuse me a moment?”
“Of course.” Raquel’s smile was warm. “Why don’t I get us another serve of cake?”
Imogen grinned, pleased to meet someone as willing to indulge in a second serve of dessert as she always was. “Perfect.”
She made her way to the bathroom, marked by a discrete bronze sign on the far wall, pulling her phone from her bag as she went.
How’s it going? The text from Theo had been sent thirty minutes earlier.
Imogen tapped out a quick reply. Better than expected. Met Raquel. Lifesaver. She’s normal, at least.
Imogen slid her phone back into her bag and pushed into a cubicle. She’d just sat down when the external door banged inward and she heard two women’s voices.
One, she picked instantly.
“I’ll say this for you, you know how to throw a fabulous party, even under these circumstances.”
Elena’s voice came next. “Yes, well, one has to mark these occasions, doesn’t one?”
“I don’t know.” The other woman’s voice was wobbly. “You and I know the truth of the situation. It’s hard to sit here and smile through it.”
“She’s pregnant with my son’s child, Marie. I have to smile through it, even when it kills me to think of him being used in this way.”
Marie. Imogen froze, biting down on her lip and wishing the ground could open up and swallow her whole.
“I can’t believe Theo would fall for something like this. Has he even had a paternity test?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” Elena muttered.
Silence fell and Imogen held her breath, hoping against hope that it was over. That their conversation would shift to less incendiary grounds.
“She’s using him,” Marie pressed. “Come on. He’s richer than Croesus, a Trevalyen, gorgeous…”
“It’s not impossible that he’s using her too, Marie.”
“What do you mean?”
Silence stretched between them. Imogen wished she could see their faces, meet their eyes. But when Elena spoke next, it was with the sense of guilt – of wanting to move a conversation onwards. “Your divorce was a tragedy,” Elena said finally. “You and Theo belonged together.”
“He thinks so too,” Marie spoke with urgency. “If she hadn’t got pregnant, he’d be with me.”
“He told you that?” Elena whispered.
“He told me he wished, more than anything, that I’d had his child. That we hadn’t divorced. She’s pregnant and we both know Theo is not a man to shirk his responsibilities. He wants this baby. But he also wants me back. As much now as ever before.”
Imogen’s eyes fluttered shut as the words pilfered through her, slashing her nerves anew with each moment. Every nerve ending in her body shouted at her that it wasn’t true! It wasn’t!
“Do you love him?” Elena asked softly.
“You know I do. I always have.”
“And you think he still loves you?”
“Of course he does. I should never have divorced him. I hurt him and I wish I hadn’t.” Her voice was thick with emotion and Imogen genuinely believed the other woman’s suffering. Only her own heart was too full of pain to extend sympathy to Marie. “He’d never turn his back on their baby even though I’m the one he wants.” Marie paused, and Imogen had to dig her nails into her hands to stop from breathing too loudly. “What can I do? He’s told me he wouldn’t be with her if it weren’t for the baby. And yet…”
Imogen’s very worst fear had just been expressed by Theo’s ex-wife. The woman he had loved. Did still love, according to her. And why would she lie? Why would Theo’s ex lie to his mother? Neither of them knew Imogen was in the cubicle.
“Yes, yes. She is going to have the baby.” A clicking sound rang through the bathroom as Elena snapped her compact closed. “But once she has the baby, who knows?”
Silence landed heavily in the rest rooms, and Imogen’s breath snagged in her throat.
“Theo told me …”
“Yes?” Marie’s breathy voice was unmistakably desperate.
“He told me that he had no choice but to be with her,” Elena said firmly. “He was terrified of what might happen if she had the baby and they weren’t ‘together’. I got the distinct impression that he was using her – he told me it was the only way to stop her from getting involved with some other man who might end up raising his baby. You know how possessive he is.”
Silence fell like cling-wrap over all three of them. Imogen struggled to breathe.
“Poor Theo. How terrified he must be!”
“Perhaps. But he is also smart. He knows how to look after his interests. Our interests.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” A pause, in which Imogen was sure her heart might snap. “I know he’s had custody papers drawn up,” Elena said finally, a hint of reluctance in the statement – but not enough. Imogen shook, her body trembling all over. “Why would he do that if he’s planning to stay with her?”
“Custody papers?” Marie’s voice was higher in pitch. “You’re kidding?”
“No, I’m not kidding. He set the wheels in motion months ago, making sure his legal claim to the child is established from birth. He’s no fool, even if he’s acting like one.”
Tears stung Imogen’s eyes and she dipped her head forward, catching it in the palms of her hands.
“He’s doing it for us,” Marie whispered. “I couldn’t have children, Elena. That’s why we broke up.”
Elena gasped. Imogen didn’t. She was numbed by the conversation, incapable of anything. Perhaps she was having a stroke?
“You couldn’t… I never knew.”
“No,” Marie continued. “We didn’t discuss it publically. It took a long time for me to accept that I wouldn’t be able to give Theo the family he desperately wanted. And a longer time still to do the right thing and set him free. But don’t you see, Elena? He’s going to have a baby. And I would bet every last penny I own that he’s planning on raising it with me.”
*
The lighting was strangely eerie when Imogen burst out of Claridge’s ten minutes later. She’d had to endure several more minutes of anguishing conversation and then she’d had to wait to regain the ability to use her legs. But finally, she was able to think clearly.
And none of her thoughts led her in a good direction.
She pushed aside memories of how good it felt to be held by Theo.
She pushed aside memories of his beautiful face, his genuine eyes, his sweet laugh.
And she forced herself to look at the situation without the veil of her own love.
To see the facts as an outsider might.
They had slept together at her instigation.
He’d sneaked out while she’d slept, leaving no way for her to contact him.
He hadn’t even remembered her and he’d been dismissive and disinterested. Hell, he’d flat out told her he wasn’t interested in being with her!
Until she’d told him about the baby.
Imogen’s heart twisted and she lifted a hand, calling a cab. She could almost have felt sorry for him, if what Marie said was true. And it must have been; why would she lie? They’d been married and couldn’t have children. And Theo wanted a child. Imogen experienced a bolt of sympathy for the other woman – how awful to have wanted children, to have tried for children, and then accepted it would never happen. To have loved someone so much – as Marie had loved Theo – that you gave up on your own happiness to ensure theirs.
And now they could have their cake and eat it too!
With Imogen’s baby.
“Where to?” The driver asked, his eyes meeting hers in the rear-view mirror. And even in her angst-filled state, she knew he was worried she was about to have the baby. She didn’t care.
“I don’t mind.”
“What’s that, love?”
“Just take me… take me…” where? “Knightsbridge,” she said finally. “Harrods.”
She settled back in the cab and watched as he beetled towards Park Lane. She swept her eyes shut but it couldn’t block out the realities that were finally shifting around her.
He’d been an impeccable support to her during the pregnancy, but hadn’t he manipulated it perfectly so she was absolutely under his control? She was living with him. Not working. Dependent on him in every way. And he’d set up their baby’s nursery in his own home, so that it was a foregone conclusion that the baby would be in his apartment.
What if Marie and Elena were right? Once he had the baby, what then?
An image of Theo and Marie raising her child turned her blood to ice. How happy that would make Elena!
A part of her wondered if she was being unreasonable; judging him too rashly. But, no. It all made sense. Besides, the other women could have had no way of knowing she was in the cubicle, overhearing every awful, awful word. Should she call Theo and confront him with what she’d heard?
What for? A voice angrily jeered in her mind. So that he could lie and make her feel silly for doubting him? So that he could trick her some more, make her think she was truly in love with him?
“Oh, God,” she groaned softly. But not softly enough. The driver’s eyes flicked to hers once more.
“Y’all right?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” she lied, reaching for her phone and pulling it out of her bag.
She is normal. Is it over yet? I miss you.
Imogen closed her eyes, instantly rejecting the idea. She couldn’t see him.
She couldn’t.
It was bad enough that she’d fallen in with his plans so easily, worse was that she’d fallen in love with him. Completely.
Her hand curled over her stomach and a war
m tear rolled out of her eye, landing on her belly. She dashed at her cheeks.
“Here’s fine,” she said to the driver, craning her neck as soon as Harrods loomed into view.
The driver pulled over, and she handed him a twenty-pound note before alighting onto the busy sidewalk. She was almost immediately swept up into a young family but she side-stepped and ducked her head down, moving quickly towards the lights that would allow her to cross.
As a child, she’d loved Harrods. On the trips she’d made into London with her father, he’d brought her to the ancient, proud shop, letting her buy afternoon tea from the food court and then select a toy from the toy hall. They hadn’t had a lot of money and so these small luxuries had been all the more impressive.
She moved through the revolving door and bypassed the food court. Her stomach churned nauseously at the gentle odour of seafood she could smell as she passed. Instead, she headed to the nursery section.
It was enormous, and as with the store she’d been to with Theo, it was full of the finest pieces. She propped her shoulder against a marble column, her eyes focused on the prams without really seeing them.
And there, in the privacy of a packed store, surrounded by happy couples on their way to becoming families, she replayed the conversation again and again, each time, tripping on Elena’s certainty that he’d consulted with a lawyer regarding custody.
Custody.
The word was instantly unpalatable and ugly to Imogen, for it implied ownership of an object. Was her baby truly to be born into a world that demarcated it as an item of possession from the moment of birth?
A shiver of revulsion trembled on her spine as she shook her head, rejecting everything about the idea.
She couldn’t let it happen.
And a sense of spirit and strength, the same determination that had brought her to London to tell Theo the truth, flooded her again now.
She would not meekly fall in with Theo’s plans. She was this child’s mother, and she had a duty to act in his or her best interests.
Dreams of her own Happily Ever After with Theo Trevalyen faded into the background as she knew with all her heart what she needed to do.
His Nine Month Seduction Page 13