In Love Again (Unruly Royals)

by Mulry, Megan

  He pulled her back to the couch. “Sit down for a few more minutes. You’re in shock. Think of the baby.”

  She gasped. “Oh god. The baby. I need to call Max and Devon. Right away. They’ll know what to do.”

  “Do? Claire, he’s your ex-husband. He’s not your mortal enemy. You don’t need to do anything.” She lifted her eyes and the cold hatred there said he might be wrong about the mortal enemy part. “Okay. Let’s go. I don’t want to have this conversation in public.” He helped her up and placed her hand on his arm. “My place, okay?” he asked kindly.

  “Sure, that sounds great.” But she sounded like she would have given the same response if he had suggested they jump in the East River.

  He hailed a taxi, and they were back in his apartment about fifteen minutes later. Claire had been silent the whole trip. Before he’d finished locking the deadbolt, she was on the phone to her brother, Max, the Duke of Northrop.

  Ben followed Claire into the living room, where she sat down heavily on one of his two brown leather sofas. (“Divorced-Man Furniture,” she’d declared when she first came to his place a few months ago.) Veering to the left, Ben went into the open-plan kitchen and set some water to boil. He pulled out a box of chamomile tea and a tin of hot cocoa. He held them both aloft while she told her brother Max about Freddy being in the United States. She pointed at the hot chocolate and smiled, then turned her attention back to the call.

  “But he is not supposed to be here, Max. I did everything the solicitors told me to do. I provided years of records. Years of evidence. I did everything they said. He should be in jail! He shouldn’t be staying in expensive hotels in New York City with some…trollop.” Her voice was strained, but measured. Ben had noticed that she always had a certain controlled resistance about her whenever she spoke to anyone in her family, other than her American sisters-in-law. She hummed her assent to a few things Max was saying on the other end of the line, then cried out, “No!”

  Ben stopped what he was doing in the kitchen and went to sit beside her, but she turned her shoulder, effectively cutting him out of the conversation. He touched her arm softly; she looked up and shook her head no. He stepped back to the kitchen and gave her the space she needed.

  “Pay him? No, Max!” Another silence. “But why should anyone pay another dime? This is so wrong!” She hummed again and tried to keep it together, but Ben saw the slow tear roll down her cheek. The kettle whistled, and he pulled it quickly from the heat to silence it.

  “Okay.” She nodded as if Max could see her. “Okay. Anything to divorce him once and for all.”

  Ben almost poured boiling water on himself as he listened in shock. No, he thought. He must’ve said it aloud because Claire turned to look up at him. She was devastated, and he probably should have been supportive or empathetic or something, but all he could think and feel and say was, “No!” He put the kettle down so he didn’t add first-degree burns to all of his other problems.

  “Yes, I’m at Ben’s,” Claire answered. Max started talking again and Claire stared over the back of the couch at Ben. Whatever Max was saying forced more tears from Claire’s eyes. “Okay,” she whispered. “How much does he want?”

  Ben gripped the edge of the marble kitchen counter. Alice’s marble kitchen counter, he thought, out of nowhere. He was so tired of living other people’s lives. He and Claire deserved their own damned life together.

  Claire ended the call and sat staring out the windows of Ben’s apartment. “I have to go back to London after the New Year,” she said to no one, as if she were alone in the room and thinking aloud. “I need to call Boppy.” She reached for her phone, but Ben grabbed her wrist.

  “Claire. Stop. What is going on?” He sat down next to her, keeping her wrist in his firm hold.

  “It’s such a mess, Ben. I don’t even know where to begin. Freddy is now saying he is going to sue Max. As the current duke, Max is technically responsible for fulfilling the terms of my marriage contract.”

  “Marriage contract? What the hell? Are we in Elizabethan England or something?”

  Claire tried to smile at his black humor. “Nearly. It feels that way sometimes. Freddy and my father drew up a traditional marriage contract before we got married. I just thought of it as a prenup, I guess. You know, the usual bits about the Heyworth money going to our children.”

  Ben kept looking at her. “And? What else?”

  “Well,” Claire said, “I guess it was more than a regular prenup. Apparently it contains all sorts of arcane language that my father’s attorneys must have thought was some sort of medieval boilerplate or something.”

  “Fucking Brits.”

  “Thanks a lot.” She gave him a weak smile, but her brow knit almost immediately.

  “So it’s about protecting Lydia’s inheritance then? Max wants to make sure…”

  Claire stared at him and bit her upper lip. “Not exactly…”

  “Well, what then?”

  “He wants my money. Lydia’s trust from my father is ironclad.”

  “But how can Freddy come after you now…after you’re already divorced…” he said. She stared into his eyes and shook her head slowly. He felt it like a pummeling into his chest. “Claire. You’re divorced,” he repeated, as if saying it often enough would make it true.

  Sobs racked her shoulders at that point and she spoke in choppy, desperate words. “My solicitors—kept saying—any day now, any day now,” she gasped out between inhales.

  He didn’t know whether to comfort her or crush her. “Why couldn’t you just tell me?” He supposed he should have been angry, but after a few seconds, once the initial shock abated, all he could feel was sorrow that she was still so alone. He pulled her against him.

  “I don’t know…it sounds like I was being all secretive and withholding and all that, but honestly, when I moved here, when I decided to take back my name, I just sort of made this mental swipe.” She gestured with her forearm to indicate a sweeping motion and rested her cheek against his chest. “I wanted a fresh start. I was willing to work and do whatever I had to do to begin again.”

  “But with me? You should have told me, Claire.”

  She stood up abruptly and pulled her hair into a knot at the base of her neck with the rubber band she pulled off her wrist, then began pacing around his living room. She stopped near the fireplace and glared at him. “Don’t you think I know that? Especially now?”

  “I’m not trying to punish you or anything, I just meant, you could have told me. Because you can tell me anything, remember?”

  She tilted her head slightly to one side, assessing him, then let out a long sigh. “How in the world did you get to be so kind?”

  He gave her his best arrogant-man smile. “I’m just that good.” He patted the empty sofa next to him. “Get over here.”

  Claire crossed the room and curled back into the space he made with his spread arm. The two of them sat quietly for a few moments in each other’s arms.

  “But there’s nothing else, right?” he asked.

  She looked up at him with a slow smile. “Hmm. Let me think. Other than the bastard husband, the recovering drug addict daughter, the racist mother, and the meddling siblings?”

  “Yeah, other than that,” he added, slowly tracing his fingers along her neck and cheek.

  She leaned up and kissed him. He felt the slight touch of her lips like a match to an oil spill, like her love was spreading through every part of him. She pulled away slightly and whispered, “No. That about covers it. I’m a real prize.”

  He looked into her soft gray eyes. “You are.” He kissed her hard and then pushed her back onto the sofa and let his body show her what his words had only begun to convey.

  After, Claire rested against his chest. Good, strong, wonderful Ben, whom she’d dragged into her sordid, disgusting life.

  He took her head in his hands. “Claire. Look at me.” She sniffed a few times, then straightened.

  “Yes?”

>   “I will never leave you. It’s just a piece of paper, remember? Same thing applies to the piece of paper that Freddy is using to manipulate you, right?”

  She nodded and took a calmer breath. “But it’s bad, Ben.”

  “My ex-wife is a divorce attorney. I’ve seen bad, I promise.”

  “British law is…difficult.”

  “So we’ll get you a new team of lawyers—the most contentious, difficult, vicious team we can assemble.”

  She gave him a weak smile. “You’re unbelievable.” She leaned her forehead against his shoulder. “I can’t believe I lied to you. I know it sounds terrible, and I’m so sorry, but I just… I think I was lying to myself more than anyone. I didn’t want to admit it to myself most of all, but I am technically still married to Freddy…” Saying the words aloud actually fortified her. Claire sat up straighter, rebuttoned her shirt, and looked at Ben, then leaned in and gave him a tender kiss of gratitude. “Thank you.”

  “I know, I’m pretty amazing.”

  She gave him a light punch on his upper arm.

  “What?” He smiled then looked up at the ceiling. “But I’m really not at all. I’m really a bit of a violent mess right now because all I want to do is go back to that hotel and beat the crap out of that guy.”

  “Oh god. Don’t even joke about that.”

  “Fine, I won’t, but I’m just saying, with you, it’s true I feel this really deep well of understanding or forgiveness or whatever, but when I think of anyone else coming between us, I feel a bit like the Hulk with my seams straining and my skin taking on a faintly greenish hue.”

  She kissed his neck, then near his ear, on his cheek, then full on the mouth with a promising wet kiss.

  When she pulled away and they were both breathing a little harder and pressed up against each other a little tighter, Ben’s voice had a hint of wonder as he said, “That seems to set everything to rights, doesn’t it?”

  “It does,” she agreed in a soft voice. They lay in each other’s arms a few minutes longer, then Ben suggested he start a fire and order in some Chinese food for dinner. After he’d made the call and got the logs and kindling going, he sat back down beside her on the sofa.

  “So why don’t you just stay here in New York and let him try to extradite you or something? Let’s be fugitives! I’ve always wanted to be a fugitive. We could be like Billy Joe and Bobbie Sue.”

  “Who?” Claire asked, looking at him with a curious, tentative smile.

  “Never mind,” Ben said, slowly wrapping his strong fingers around the base of her neck.

  “It could get a lot worse,” Claire whispered, somber again. “Max said if I got pregnant, Freddy could try to claim the baby, since we’re still technically married.”

  That put Ben over the edge. His raw anger and disbelief somehow morphed into a fit hysterical laughter. When he finally started to calm down, he sputtered, “I’ll kill him before he ever declares any rights to our child.”

  Claire’s eyes widened.

  “I don’t mean I’ll actually kill him!”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “I mean, unless you want me to?” Ben offered, wiping his eyes and settling down.

  She shook her head. “Too risky,” she said with a wink. She took a deep breath and relaxed into him. “And, trust me, he wouldn’t want to declare the baby as his. He would just use the legal snafu to threaten Max with as much public humiliation as possible so he can extract more money from my family.” Claire shook her head at the irony. “He hates children.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, since we’re putting it all on the table, as you like to say, that’s the real reason I petitioned for the divorce. Because obviously, I’d put up with the questionable visits to London and the depleted bank accounts for years without considering it.”

  “What happened?” Ben asked, the concern showing in his eyes.

  “It turns out Freddy had a vasectomy right after Lydia was born.”

  “But I thought you always wanted more kids?”

  “I did. He lied and told me his sperm count and everything were totally normal. For years, he led me to believe the fault was mine…” Her voice trailed off.

  “Oh dear god. This man is such a pathetic excuse for a human being. Why in the hell would he do such a thing?”

  Claire shrugged. She’d come to accept Freddy’s bland form of cruelty many months ago. “He probably wanted to make sure he didn’t leave a trail of his illegitimate brats in every posh neighborhood between Chelsea and Hampstead.” She let her head lean back on the sofa and exhaled. “I was his wife in name only, I guess. He never loved me or cared about me. It was an arrangement, nothing more. To him, at least. Lydia and I basically played house all those years while he popped in whenever he felt like it. I just trusted that his work in London was his work in London.”

  Ben shook his head again. “What a prick.”

  “I mean, if we’re really being honest, it wasn’t entirely him.” She reached for Ben’s hand and held it. “I’m not going to wallow or blame myself or anything, but the truth is—now that I can see the past twenty years for what they really were—there was a part of me that was perfectly happy to be left alone. I had my house. I had my daughter. I desperately wanted more children, but even that…I convinced myself that I was an ingrate, that I needed to accept my life as enough. I thought hoping for more was a form of spoiled grasping.”

  He leaned in and kissed her again, then said, “I kind of know what you mean. I stayed with Alice all those years for a lot of the same reasons. I just kept thinking, this should be enough or that I had unrealistic expectations of something. I guess it’s a natural response to a lifetime of being taught to be grateful for what we have and all that.”

  The doorbell rang and he got up to pay the deliveryman from the Chinese restaurant, then set out the food on two plates and brought it into the living area. They ate on their laps and talked about the week ahead. Claire had been given two new projects to work on and Ben listened and smiled as she imitated Boppy’s commanding voice telling her, “Just fix them like you fixed Ben Hayek!”

  After they’d cleaned up and settled into bed for the night, Ben turned to Claire and asked, “Do you want to tell Max about the baby?”

  “No. I really don’t want to tell anyone just yet. Do you mind? I know you’re probably dying to tell your parents next weekend when we’re down there.”

  He smiled. “I am sort of bursting with it, but I totally understand.”

  “Please let’s try to get my divorce settled before we tell either of our families. I’m sure they’ll understand.”

  He was stroking her shoulders and calming her into sleep with the light, consistent touch. “Of course we don’t have to tell them. I’m just worried all my nosy sisters with their voodoo intuition are going to suspect the truth regardless of what we say or don’t say.” He let his hand trail down to Claire’s belly—as he had for most of the weekend—reminding them both over and over about how much they had to be grateful for.

  “Oh lord,” Claire said, her voice already laced with impending sleep. “I’m so nervous about meeting them all.” She rested her hand over his. He loved the feel of both of them cradling the new life growing inside her body.

  “Come here,” Ben whispered as he pulled her closer and kept up the rhythmic soothing motion until she fell asleep in his arms.

  Ben looked down at her elegant profile. She was breathing gently, the slow rise and fall of her naked body a balm to his jangled nerves. Whatever happened, they would figure it out together. He leaned deeper into his pillow and Claire nestled more comfortably against him. He shut his eyes and smiled at the irony: even in the face of the thousand-year-old British court system coming down on their heads, Claire was almost more worried about whether or not his persistent—if loving—family would find her wanting.

  Chapter 20

  “So, is this okay?” Claire gestured down at her practical outfit of pressed gray trousers an
d a pale blue cashmere sweater. “Do I look too conservative?” Claire was a nervous wreck. It was the Wednesday before Christmas and they were getting ready to take the train down to Philadelphia to spend a few days with Ben’s family before heading to the Bahamas to be with the Heyworths for Christmas and New Year’s.

  “You look gorgeous as always.”

  Claire pulled the door wider to let him into her apartment. She’d slept alone last night, needing the time to pack and get all her things together before being away for the two-week holiday. Having Ben in her bed had become the norm, and she’d felt the empty space around her all night long as she tossed and reached for his warmth, only to have her hand fall into nothingness. As a result, she’d woken up a jittery mess.

  He pulled her into a tight hug, enveloping her in his strength. “They’re just my stupid sisters. You have to stop worrying.”

  She spoke into the front of his navy blue overcoat. “They’re not stupid. That’s the problem.”

  He held her a few inches away from him to look into her eyes. “Claire, honey. Let it go. You’re not in love with my family—you’re in love with me, remember?” His face bloomed into a delighted smile. “I love saying that. You’re in love with me… It’s such a wonderful fact, don’t you think?”

  She nodded and stood on the balls of her feet to kiss him slowly on the lips. It quickly changed from a tender bit of gratitude to the usual leaning and moaning mess that landed them in bed for six hours.

  She wrenched herself away. “We have to get to the train station.” He was kissing along her jaw, then near her ear, ignoring her words.

  “What train station?” he whispered.

  She contemplated the temptation of seducing him in order to avoid their family obligations, but she hadn’t quite reached that level of sexual manipulation yet. “If I were a truly selfish cow, I would let you get carried away so we would miss the train and have to spend the next three days in bed…” she said softly, rubbing her fingers greedily through his short hair.