Bride for a Price

by Stephanie Howard

  ‘I know. I’ve spoken to her since.’

  Yet why should he act otherwise? she tried to tell herself. She was the one who was reacting illogically to the situation. No bonds, no commitment—that had been the deal from the very start. This marriage of theirs was nothing but a front. It was never intended to be more.

  And they were still married—no more talk of annulment—so there was still a good chance that she would get Garland’s back. Plus she had the additional bonus that Matthew was hardly ever there.

  So why, when she should be feeling hopeful, was she so unutterably miserable? Why did she resent his absences? Why did his uncaring comments hurt? And above all, why was she virtually eaten alive by jealousy every time Celine’s name cropped up?

  With an effort, she swept such questions from her head, knowing in her soul what the answer must be, yet knowing also that she was too afraid to face its brutal implications.

  It was a couple or weeks after the episode with Celine at the Regent’s Park flat that Olivia found herself involved in another, equally tacky, confrontation.

  It was early afternoon on the housekeeper’s day off, and Olivia had taken a sun-lounger out on to the front terrace to enjoy a bit of early June sun. Hearing the phone ring, she laid down her magazine and hurried inside to the drawing-room to answer it.

  It was Matthew, and he came straight to the point. ‘I left in something of a hurry this morning,’ he told her, ‘and I seem to have left a file of papers behind.’ His tone was businesslike but polite as he requested, ‘Do you think you could do me a favour, please, and just check that it’s there? It should be on the bureau beside my bed.’

  ‘Of course. Hang on while I check.’ Just the sound of his voice had set her pulses fluttering, and as she laid down the phone and hurried upstairs she was aware of an excited tightening in her chest. That brief but, for once, quite civil exchange had warmed the cold, empty quarters of her heart, and there was something quite illogically pleasing in the way he had requested this small favour of her.

  A moment later, with a squeeze of emotion, she pushed open his bedroom door. It was the first time she had been inside it since the day that Richard had left. And suddenly the memory of that sweet night together went flooding through her, pinkening her cheeks. Silly, she chided herself, as she darted past the bed to the bureau, noting with satisfaction the big blue file that was sitting there.

  She picked up the phone extension by the bed. ‘It’s here,’ she told Matthew, keeping her tone cool. ‘What would you like me to do with it?’

  ‘Just hang on to it, if you don’t mind. I’ll be over to collect it in about half an hour.’

  With the file clasped safely to her bosom, Olivia made her way downstairs again, aware of an unmistakable lift in her spirits at the thought of seeing him. In the hall, she paused briefly before the big bronze mirror to fluff her fingers through her loose, shiny hair, glad that she was wearing one of her more flattering white tops and a particularly pretty, flouncy summer skirt.

  The prim image Matthew had once accused her of was something she had almost unconsciously discarded over the weeks since their return from Paris. Not that Matthew had ever commented. He was rarely around to see her, for a start. But, even without his seal of approval, she found her new, more stylish, yet more relaxed way of dressing lent her a new inward poise and pleasure in herself.

  Little did she know that, in just a moment, her precious poise was about to be shattered.

  She was back on the terrace, trying to look casual, sitting on the sun-bed flicking unseeingly through the pages of her magazine, when the Rolls appeared at the end of the drive. With a flash of nerves she straightened and touched her hair, allowing a light smile to hover around her lips. Welcoming, but cautiously so.

  A moment later her smile fell apart and every muscle in her body went painfully rigid. For, as the big midnight blue car came sweeping towards her, she could see all too clearly that it was not Matthew at the wheel. With an effort she gritted her teeth, fighting back a wave of helpless hurt and anger, as the car door swung open and Celine stepped coquettishly out on to the drive.

  She was wearing a skimpy, bright green tube dress that moulded the shapely contours of her generous bosom and softly curved thighs, the blonde hair carefully teased into a mane that framed her cleverly made-up face. In bitter dejection, Olivia watched as she sashayed the short distance to the terrace. Small wonder Matthew was forgetfully leaving things behind when he had such a voluptuous creature on his mind!

  A smug smile curved the shiny red lips as, on perilously spindly heels, the blonde girl approached the immobile figure sitting stiff and straight-backed on the sun-lounger. ‘I’m afraid Matthew got caught up in a meeting,’ she cooed, the geisha eyes scanning Olivia’s taut, drawn face, totally devoid of colour now. She fluttered darkly mascaraed lashes. ‘So he sent me over to pick up the file.’

  With fingers whose trembling she could barely control, Olivia reached for the file on the little table at her side and, without rising, handed it to her. ‘This is it, I think,’ she said.

  The shiny lips parted to reveal perfect pearly teeth. ‘Is it all there?’ Celine wanted to know.

  Olivia hesitated. ‘I don’t know.’ She didn’t even know what the file contained.

  Another pearly smile. ‘I’d better check.’ Then, clearly relishing every minute of this humiliating scenario, Celine proceeded to lower her curvy hips on to the edge of the sun-lounger next to Olivia, clearly feeling as much at home here as she evidently did in the Regent’s Park flat. Elaborately, she crossed pale-stockinged legs, the hem of her dress riding up to mid-thigh as she unhurriedly opened up the file and in leisurely fashion examined its contents.

  Olivia had a sudden flash of her sitting alluringly in Matthew’s office, taking instructions for the day, and was seized by an almost overpowering desire to snatch the file from her hands and fling it in her face. Somehow she restrained herself, forcing herself to breathe calmly and deeply, even managing the faded semblance of a smile as, slowly, Celine uncrossed her legs and began to get to her feet again.

  ‘It appears to be all here,’ she confirmed, tossing another pearly smile at Olivia as she smoothed the green dress down over her hips. ‘I’ll go now and leave you to get on with your sunbathing. Matthew’s in a dreadful hurry for this stuff.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I wouldn’t want to keep you,’ Olivia assured her with deadly sincerity as she headed off towards the car.

  But Celine had the smilingly poisonous last word. As she reached the Rolls, she paused and turned, the geisha eyes fixed triumphantly on Olivia’s pale face. ‘Oh, by the way… Matthew and I will be away for a couple of days. Brussels. Strictly business, of course.’ She pulled the car door open and added as she slid inside, ‘I’m sure he’s already told you, of course, but I thought I’d better mention it, just in case it had slipped his mind.’

  Next minute the Rolls was whispering silently down the drive, while, dry-mouthed, Olivia watched it go. Of course she had known nothing of the ‘strictly business’ trip to Brussels, as Celine had undoubtedly been fully aware.

  Stiffly she clambered to her feet and staggered indoors, feeling sick and sore inside. Surely this must be my ultimate humiliation, she was thinking. But, sadly, she was wrong.

  ‘I reckon it’s time the two of us sat down and had a little talk.’

  For the first time in nearly a month Matthew had come home for dinner. He had phoned from the office to let Olivia know, and she had spent a nervously excited afternoon in the kitchen preparing something special for their meal. She had no idea what was behind the move, but she was hopeful it might have something positive to do with them. Perhaps even at this late stage, she was praying, some more amicable arrangement could be worked out between them.

  Her fond hopes had withered slightly the moment he’d walked through the door. The grim, unsmiling expression on his face was not that of a man bent on reconciliation. But throughout the meal—that he had ba
rely touched and Olivia had barely tasted—he had failed to reveal what was on his mind. Only now, as she poured coffee in the drawing-room and nervously handed him his cup, did he finally come out with what their little talk was to be about.

  ‘I’ve finally managed to unravel the mystery of my uncle Roland’s deal with your mother.’

  She met the dark eyes with a stab of disappointment. So it was not their own relationship that was to be the subject of their discussion. ‘Oh?’ was all she could think of to say as she waited for him to elaborate.

  He did not continue immediately, but stared for a long and thoughtful moment into the fine porcelain coffee-cup. As Olivia watched him, she could not help but notice the lines of tiredness and the pools of dark shadow that seemed to tug at his mouth and eyes. Too many late nights with Celine, she thought bitterly to herself, as at last he glanced up at her and, seeming to change the subject, asked, ‘Have you heard from Ottley recently?’

  Olivia frowned. ‘Lewis? No. I tried to phone him a couple of weeks ago, but I was told he’d gone off on holiday.’

  An ironic smile played round the wide, carved lips. ‘Holiday?’ Matthew repeated, apparently amused. ‘Something of an extended holiday, I suspect.’ Shrewd hazel eyes looked into hers. ‘Don’t expect to see your Mr Ottley back.’

  What a peculiar thing to suggest! ‘Why ever not?’ Olivia asked.

  The frown between the dark brows deepened as Matthew stared into his coffee-cup again. ‘To put it crudely,’ he told her, ‘your dear Lewis Ottley has done a bunk.’

  Now he was talking in riddles. ‘And why on earth should he do that?’

  Matthew sighed. ‘I realise that what I’m about to tell you may be a little hard for you to take in, but I assure you I wouldn’t be saying it if I didn’t have incontrovertible proof. The reason you won’t be seeing Ottley again is that he’s finally been found out. He’s been fleecing Garland’s for years, but it took McKay to finally pin him down.’

  Olivia was listening, open-mouthed. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she told him, patently disbelieving. ‘And what has any of this got to do with your uncle Roland and my mother?’

  ‘I’ll explain.’ He leaned back in his chair, drained his coffee-cup and laid it to one side. ‘The story goes back a very long way—to immediately after your father died. There’s no evidence that Ottley was stealing while your father was alive, but when your mother put him in charge of operations, he apparently found the temptation too much. And he’s a clever man. An accountant who knows his stuff.’ He paused to hold her eyes for a moment before going on, ‘He might have got away with it forever if your mother hadn’t married Uncle Roland. Unfortunately for Mr Ottley, Uncle Roland was just as clever.’

  He took a deep breath and ran long, tanned fingers across his thick, dark hair. ‘Uncle Roland apparently suspected that something not quite right was going on—for the simple reason that it seemed to him that, considering its turnover, Garland’s wasn’t making quite the profits it should have been making. He made preliminary investigations, but came up against a brick wall. As I told you, your Mr Ottley is a very clever crook. So—and this is the bit that will interest you most—with your mother’s approval, Uncle Roland arranged to take Garland’s under Jordan’s wing for a while, partly to see if he could uncover what was going on and partly to help your mother’s company recoup some of the losses it was unaccountably making.’

  ‘However,’ he smiled and raised one dark eyebrow at her as he elaborated with evident pleasure, ‘written into the agreement that your mother and my uncle made was a special clause designed specifically to protect Garland’s from old Uncle Julius’s inheritance clause—the one that prohibits any part of Jordan’s passing into non-family hands. This special clause set out quite clearly that Richard had the right to have the company returned to him at the age of twenty-one—or to remain as part of Jordan’s and opt for a deal not dissimilar to the one I was proposing,’ he added pointedly.

  Olivia was poised on the edge of her seat. It was like listening to a fairy story. ‘So how come we didn’t know all this before?’ she put to him, still openly sceptical.

  Matthew nodded. ‘I’m coming to that.’ Then he leaned towards her as he carried on, ‘The merger was kept a secret to avoid raising Ottley’s suspicions—for, like me, Uncle Roland suspected Ottley from the start. And, as it happens, his tactics paid off. Back in January he finally laid hands on conclusive proof of now Ottley was cooking the books. He was getting ready to make criminal charges when, tragically, he and your mother were killed in that skiing accident.’

  As Olivia’s gaze flickered and she lowered her eyes, Matthew went on in a more sympathetic tone, ‘By this time Ottley had wind of what was up, so this was when he made his truly inspired move. He broke into the Jordan computer and erased all evidence of the charges against him, along with all the details of the merger. He was greedy, you see, and that was his downfall. If he’d allowed the details of the merger to remain on record, he would have had to wait till Richard was twenty-one before he could get control of Garland’s again—and even then he couldn’t be sure that Richard might not opt to remain as part of Jordan’s.’

  A wry smile curled around his lips. ‘That’s why he was so keen to back you up in your bid to get Garland’s back, even to the extent of encouraging you to marry me.’ He sighed and leaned back heavily in his chair again. ‘McKay managed to find all this out through a recently retired secretary who used to work for my uncle Roland. Not being of a generation totally dedicated to computers, she’d kept some paper files on my uncle’s findings regarding Ottley and the merger as well. On a hunch, McKay dug her out of retirement, and suddenly all the evidence fell into our hands…’

  He paused in his monologue and shook his head. ‘Unfortunately, Ottley’s spies must have been looking out for him, for, as you discovered for yourself, he conveniently disappeared off on holiday just a couple of weeks ago. My guess is we’ve seen the last of him. He’s probably taken off for Brazil or somewhere to live out the rest of his life in comfort on his ill-gotten gains.’

  Olivia felt as though her brain had turned to papier mâché. How could any of this be true of a man she had trusted so implicitly? Still suspicious, she squinted at Matthew. ‘Why did you say that you suspected him right from the start?’

  Matthew shrugged. ‘It was instinct, largely. I had an instant feeling about the man.’ Then a half-serious smile tugged at his lips. ‘Besides, my mother always warned me never to trust a man who wears a ring on his middle finger.’

  So he was making a joke out of it! Somehow that was typical! But before she could come back at him, he continued, resuming his former sober tone, ‘Now that we know the details of the agreement between my uncle and your mother, the choice of what happens next is entirely up to you. We can go ahead with our current plan to hand Garland’s back to you in a few months’ time He paused and deliberately held her eyes. ‘I had the official transfer documents drafted shortly after our return from Paris. All they’re waiting for now is a signature.’

  So the annulment threat had been just that, a threat. Matthew had never really intended reneging on their deal. As Olivia dropped her eyes, peculiarly relieved, he carried on with what he’d been saying.

  ‘Or, if you like, we can forget about that and stick with the solution Uncle Roland proposed —that Garland’s remain under Jordan’s wing until your brother reaches twenty-one. I know which option appears more sound to me, but I intend to offer no advice.’ He folded his arms across his chest. ‘The decision is entirely yours.’

  Olivia leaned back in her seat and looked doubtfully across at him. If all his story about Lewis was true, then she really didn’t have much choice—for if she insisted on Garland’s being handed back now, who would run it till Richard was ready to take over? It would be utter madness to run the risk of landing themselves with another Lewis Ottley. Whereas, if she left things as they were, the company would continue to benefit from the und
oubted expertise of Jordan management, and when Richard was finally old enough he would have a company worth taking over.

  She shook her head and admitted reluctantly, ‘I think it would be wisest to leave things as they are.’

  Matthew nodded. ‘I think you’re right. Contrary to what you originally believed, I would say my uncle had your mother’s and her family’s interests very much at heart when he arranged the merger…’

  Olivia glanced away. It indeed looked very much as though that were true. She had been wrong in her judgement of Roland. And even more wrong in her judgement of Lewis.

  ‘Oh, by the way…’ Matthew was saying, almost as though he was reading her thoughts, ‘your Mr Ottley may have been clever, but not quite as clever as he thought he was. That little clause he found out about—the one that required me to marry—I’m afraid it was a little bit out of date…’

  Now, what was that supposed to mean? She frowned at him. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Simple.’ He paused and leaned back in his chair, watching her through lowered lids. ‘That clause was removed from the Jordan charter quite a number of years ago. It no longer holds today.’

  Olivia’s brain was still reeling from all his other revelations. This additional piece of information was somehow more than she could absorb. In baffled silence she stared at him as he went on to inform her calmly, ‘Such a restriction on the head of Jordan’s was considered both unreasonable and unviable in today’s more volatile marital climate. My uncle Roland had it removed more than fifteen years ago.’

  ‘But—’ None of it still made any sense. With a growing sense of dissociation, Olivia gaped across in bewilderment at the composed dark figure opposite. ‘Then why on earth did you ask me to marry you?’ she asked.

  Matthew shifted slightly in his seat and ran a long, tanned finger down the side of his nose. ‘As I told you at the time, I had my reasons. Maybe I just wanted to do you a favour. Or maybe I thought I was doing myself one.’ He let out breath sharply and started to rise from his chair, sudden impatience etched darkly across his face. ‘But whatever it was that possessed me, I realise now I made a big mistake.’ He stood over her and added harshly, ‘Since this so-called marriage of ours no longer serves any useful purpose to either of us, I suggest we take the next logical step.’