The Society Bride

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The Society Bride Page 8

by Fiona Hood-Stewart


  Ramon drove furiously back to the hotel. His leave-taking from Luisa had been cold and angry. She’d set him up, and for that he would never forgive her. Maybe she hadn’t known Nena would actually be in the restaurant—that was simply an added bonus—but she must have calculated that it would be jam-packed with every curious Tom, Dick and Harry. And he was even more to blame; he should have known better.

  Now he had to deal with explaining to his wife just what he’d been doing, lunching there with his former mistress. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to imagine what was going through Nena’s mind. Of course someone—probably Elisa—would have told her who Luisa was by now. He could hardly blame his cousin’s wife. It had been blatantly obvious by the manner in which Luisa communicated with him that there was intimacy between them.

  ‘Damn, damn, damn!’ he exclaimed as he rode the elevator up to the suite, glancing at his watch, wishing he could have put off his meeting at the Casa Rosada with the President. But that, of course, would have been impossible. And naturally the President had been late, and the meeting had lasted longer than he’d expected.

  And just as everything was going so well, he reflected furiously, when Nena was finally opening up to him like a blooming flower, this had to happen.

  He opened the door carefully.

  The sitting room of the suite was empty. Then he moved towards the door of the bedroom and stood in the doorway. But that room was empty too. Hurrying towards the closet, he flung it open, only to have his suspicions confirmed as he confronted a row of empty hangers. She’d gone, he realised, glancing at his watch again and seeing that it was too late to reach the airport in time to impede her flight.

  Two minutes later he’d confirmed it with the concierge. So she was off to London. Well, at least that was home territory for her and he knew where to catch up with her. Still, the rift that now loomed between them would be hard to bridge.

  Several minutes later he decided the best course of action was to warn his mother and then get himself to London as soon as he could.

  Upon arrival at Heathrow Nena went straight to Thurston Manor. The servants were surprised, but glad to see her, and after getting through their greetings and the inevitable congratulations Nena sank onto her old bed, content just to lie there, eyes closed and let go a little of the tension that had travelled with her from Buenos Aires.

  She was exhausted, she realised. Not just by the trip, but from the rollercoaster of emotions she’d been through in the past few hours. She hadn’t slept during the journey, her mind too taken up with the events of the afternoon to allow her to relax sufficiently to close her eyes. But now, at least, she was home. Really home. Not on his territory but on hers, where she called the shots and no one, least of all Ramon, could force her to do anything.

  She’d made up her mind what to do on the plane. Tomorrow, once she was more rested, she would phone the lawyers and find out how to go ahead with a divorce. She would not stay married to this man a moment more than necessary. He’d played with her feelings, her heart and her pride and she’d had enough.

  For a moment her grandfather flashed before her. But she braced herself. It was too late to worry about her word, which she’d given him. Anyway, she doubted he would have expected Ramon to behave in such a callous, ungentlemanly manner. She could not be expected to just back down, lower her eyes and accept his infidelities like a doormat, could she?

  Nena shifted on the bed, too agitated to sleep, too tired to get up and do anything. If only they’d had more time to get to know one another none of this would have happened. Or perhaps she should have paid real attention to that magazine article, shown it to her grandfather. Certainly, she should have asked a few questions before entering naïvely into this wretched arranged marriage.

  Finally, after much tossing and turning, Nena managed to fall into a troubled sleep. But her dreams were filled with visions of a tall, dark and handsome man, whose hands created magic when they touched her and for whom, despite all her anger and ire, she still felt desire.

  Doña Augusta was a practical woman, and it was frankly no surprise to her when she heard of Nena’s sudden return to England. What did surprise her—actually encouraged her to harbour new hopes for her son—was Ramon’s obvious discomfort at the fact. Truth was she had never, in the course of his thirty-two-years, heard him so discomfited.

  Well, Augusta thought, as she laid down the telephone receiver, it would do him no harm at all to stew in his own juice for a few days. She was secretly thrilled to know that his relationship with Luisa was terminated. She had never approved of it from the beginning, and had feared that Ramon might, like so many of his peers, get married and continue to live the same life as he had before, paying small heed to his lovely young wife.

  But apparently that was not the case.

  Gleefully Doña Augusta set about advising her husband of the facts. Not all of them, of course. Just the essentials. There was no earthly use interfering, she pointed out firmly to Don Pedro; it was just important to let Nena know that she had Doña Augusta’s friendly ear, should Nena need it. Don Pedro agreed. The couple must, they decided, work it out for themselves.

  After having said this, the first thing Doña Augusta did was to invite her daughter-in-law to lunch at Mark’s Club à deux, where she determined to discover exactly what was going on between the pair. Ramon had been irritatingly vague and Nena excruciatingly polite on the phone. But Doña Augusta sensed that things were in a worse state than she’d let her husband believe. It was time for a little probing, she decided. Not that she meant to interfere, of course, but a little well-placed adjusting could do no harm.

  She could hardly refuse the invitation, Nena decided with a sigh. Not that she had the least desire to go to London. As far as she was concerned she could wallow here at Thurston Manor for ever and never show her face again. She felt stupid, ugly and unkempt, and had refused to take any of Ramon’s numerous calls. She hadn’t washed her hair in days, and her nails needed a serious manicure.

  She looked at herself in the mirror, disgusted. Look at what you’ve become, she threw at herself. With a weary sigh she realised that she couldn’t go to lunch looking like this and would simply have to go and have a makeover before meeting her mother-in-law. Reluctantly she picked up the phone and made the necessary appointments.

  ‘So,’ Doña Augusta said, settling on the moss green velvet bench of Mark’s select dining room, near the window, with Nena seated beside her, ‘I hear that you and Ramon have found an apartment in Buenos Aires?’

  ‘Uh, well, we did look at something,’ Nena said hesitantly, not wanting to tell Doña Augusta about her decision to get a divorce without first speaking to Ramon. She still hadn’t contacted her lawyers, but that, she’d persuaded herself, was because she hadn’t had time. After all there had been all those thank-you letters to write for all those wretched wedding presents that she would have gladly packed up and returned.

  ‘Oh, but I thought it was definite?’ Augusta raised a perfectly plucked brow.

  ‘Yes—no. Well, it’s all rather complicated, to tell you the truth,’ Nena conceded. Somehow it was very difficult to look Doña Augusta—the woman who had been so wonderful to her during her grandfather’s illness—straight in the eye and tell a blatant lie.

  Touching her beautifully coiffed silver hair with a bejewelled hand, Doña Augusta patted Nena’s with the other. ‘I have the feeling,’ she said, taking a sip of crisp champagne, ‘that perhaps all is not perfectly harmonious between you and Ramon.’

  ‘Yes, well, no—I mean, it’s not really—’

  ‘Nena, I would like you to consider me as a friend rather than your mother-in-law—such a daunting term, isn’t it?’ she added with a low conspiratorial laugh. ‘After all, you have neither your mother nor your grandmother to guide you, querida. Let me add, before we go any further, that I have a very realistic view of my son. I am not one of those doting parents who believe their child can do no wrong,’ she added
firmly. ‘I am very well aware of Ramon’s—er—faults.’

  Nena took a long gulp of champagne. She’d been turning the problem over and over, back and forth in her own mind now for several days. But to open up to Ramon’s mother? Would it be right? Would it be wise? Yet as she looked into the other woman’s clear grey eyes she suddenly knew she must confide in someone before she went crazy.

  ‘I don’t know how to tell you,’ she began, staring down at her napkin. ‘I thought everything was all right. I was beginning to believe that perhaps the whole idea of our marriage was not such a bad one, and then—’ Just the thought of Ramon in Buenos Aires, looking down into Luisa’s face as she’d been walking down those steps, left Nena seething, another rush of hot tears ready to be shed.

  As though sensing her torment, Doña Augusta laid a hand gently on hers.

  ‘Nena, dear, why don’t you just tell me what happened? Keeping it to yourself is far worse. We are women; we need to talk when things bother us. I assure you that what you confide in me will go no further.’

  ‘Well—’ Nena took a deep breath ‘—he has a mistress.’

  ‘Ah! Luisa, I suppose.’ Doña Augusta gave a knowing nod. ‘Most unsuitable and a thorough nuisance. I had the impression she was on her way out.’

  ‘Not from where I was sitting,’ Nena said with a sniff.

  ‘Sitting? You mean you’ve seen her?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Nena answered bitterly. ‘Rather, I saw them.’

  ‘I see.’ Doña Augusta’s expression turned to consternation. ‘Where was that, Nena?’

  ‘At Santi’s. Ramon was supposed to be in Cordoba,’ she blurted out. ‘I went to lunch with Elisa, who’d kindly taken me shopping. I like Santi’s, so we went there. It was at the end of the meal, as we were having coffee. I looked up and there he was staring down, smiling at this woman. I knew who she was—I saw them together in that magazine you brought over for Grandfather—I just thought…just imagined that now he was married…’ Her voice trailed off and she took another long sip of champagne to ease the pain, though talking about it had made her feel slightly better.

  ‘I’m very sorry you were subjected to that,’ Doña Augusta replied, her expression concerned. ‘I know from experience that these things are sometimes difficult to deal with. Pedro was quite a Don Juan when we were married, and I had a few run-ins myself. I suppose that is why you came back to London in such a hurry?’

  ‘What else could I do,’ Nena replied defensively.

  ‘I’m not criticising,’ the older woman responded with a gentle smile. ‘In fact I think you did exactly the right thing. It will do Ramon no harm to realise how silly he’s been.’

  ‘Doña Augusta, I think it is only fair to warn you—though I wanted to tell him first—that I plan to get a divorce.’ Nena held her head up and Doña Augusta noted the determined line of her mouth.

  ‘That is quite a radical decision to take,’ the older woman replied carefully.

  ‘I see no future for us under the present circumstances.’

  ‘Of course. But tell me, Nena, what exactly are the present circumstances?’

  Nena hesitated. What could she say? That she thought she loved a man who obviously saw her just as a convenience? That to know he was leaving her to see another woman would quite simply kill her?

  ‘Nena, I am much older than you, and so perhaps am able to have a better inkling of what is going on,’ Doña Augusta said in a smooth, soothing voice. ‘Please correct me if I’m wrong, querida, but would I be right in assuming that you have feelings for my son?’

  Swallowing once more, Nena nodded. ‘Which is why it would be impossible to bear,’ she murmured, clasping her hands tight. ‘Totally impossible. I know some women do it, but I couldn’t stand seeing him leave every day, never knowing if—if he was going to see her.’

  ‘And neither should you have to go through any such thing,’ the older woman replied briskly.

  ‘The best thing is to put an immediate end to the whole thing,’ Nena said with a sigh. ‘We never should have been forced into this situation. It’s not natural. I suppose there was a lot of pressure on Ramon as well.’

  ‘Rubbish. You are both in it now, and I think you at least owe each other a chance. A divorce at the first sign of adversity is for the faint-hearted, Nena, and I have the impression that you are anything but that,’ she finished shrewdly.

  ‘I don’t want to run away, if that’s what you mean,’ she replied, squaring her shoulders and sitting up straighter. She hadn’t actually thought of the problem in this light before.

  Doña Augusta contemplated telling Nena what her son had said on the phone, that the affair with Luisa was most definitely over. But after a short moment’s reflection she decided not to. It was up to them to work things out. Still, she considered it time for Ramon to put in an appearance and start fighting for what she was certain he truly wanted. She could hardly wait to see his face when Nena told him she wanted a divorce. It would do him a world of good not to have everything going exactly his way.

  It would, indeed.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘DON RAMON is in the library,’ Worthing announced two days later as Nena thankfully finished the last wedding thank-you note.

  ‘Show him in, Worthing,’ she said, swallowing, aware that the meeting had to take place and that the sooner she told him of her decision the better.

  A minute later Ramon marched into the room. In spite of her resolve, Nena felt her heart lurch when his tall, dark, handsome figure, clad in an immaculate grey suit, entered.

  She stood by the window and waited while Worthing closed the door.

  ‘Good morning,’ she said, as formally as she could, head held high, her body rigid.

  Ramon could read all the tension in her body language. Nena was a little trooper, he realised. She had carried the whole restaurant thing off with such grace and dignity, like the true lady she was. Now, as he watched her across the drawing room, he experienced a surge of admiration—and something else so strong it made him stop and hesitate. It took his breath away and for a moment he remained silent, watching her, thinking what an extraordinary woman she was turning out to be, despite her youth. Then he cleared his throat.

  Nena looked him over coldly, hiding her racing pulse, eyes ablaze.

  ‘Why did you run away?’ he asked, breaking the silence, with a flash of anger at her sudden disappearance without either his knowledge or permission.

  ‘I should have thought that would have been blatantly obvious,’ she replied icily.

  ‘I don’t see why you should have gone anywhere.’

  ‘Don’t you?’ she asked sweetly. ‘Well, I’m afraid I disagree. There was obviously not room for me and your mistress in Buenos Aires. Apparently we frequent the same establishments,’ she threw. ‘How very unfortunate.’

  ‘That was bad luck.’

  ‘Really? Well, I’m afraid I don’t know the rules of this game, Ramon, and I can’t say that I want to learn them. Now that you’re here we can discuss the terms of the divorce, once I’ve seen my lawyers.’

  ‘Divorce?’ Ramon took a shocked step forward.

  ‘Yes, divorce. You can’t truly expect me to stay married to you after what happened. Surely even you can’t imagine that I would tolerate that kind of behaviour?’

  ‘Nena, we need to talk about this.’

  ‘No, we don’t. The least said the better.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘I’m not being ridiculous. I’m being realistic—something that I apparently haven’t been over the past few weeks,’ she added bitterly, turning away and staring out of the window, through the summer rain and across the lawn.

  ‘Nena, mi amor, please—give me a chance to explain.’

  ‘Explain what?’ she exclaimed, spinning on her heel. ‘That you keep a mistress, a woman who you’ve been having an affair with for the past couple of years?’

  ‘It’s all over.’

  ‘Really?
Well, you could have fooled me. I may look young and stupid, Ramon, but I have a minimal amount of brain cells. I find it impossible to believe that you would abandon a woman that you’ve even been photographed with in Hola! magazine, and whom you still see fit to lunch with in the most fashionable restaurant in town, despite the very unimportant fact that you’re married,’ she replied witheringly.

  ‘Nena, this is absurd,’ he said, moving forward and grabbing her arms. ‘It was not as you imagine. I had to see Luisa—explain to her. I hadn’t advised her properly of our marriage. I owed it to her to take a proper farewell.’

  ‘At Santi’s.’ Her eyes blazed up at him. ‘How dare you treat me like a simpleton?’ she threw, pulling away from him, tears burning despite her every effort to quell them. ‘How dare you, Ramon?’ Before she could stop herself Nena brought the force of her hand across his cheek, then backed off, horrified at her own lack of control.

  Ramon stood perfectly still, then raised his hand to his cheek. His face broke into a rueful smile. ‘I deserved that. But now, please, calmly, let me explain.’

  ‘No.’ She burst into tears. ‘I don’t want to hear another word about it. Go on—go back to her. She obviously satisfies your every need. I was a fool to think that we—that I—that—’ She turned again to the window, shoulders shaking, unable to contain the flow of tears rushing down her cheeks.

  ‘Mi niña,’ he said, coming up behind her and slipping his arms around her shaking body. ‘There is no need for all this agitation. If only you’d listen to me, let me tell you how things really are—’

  ‘I don’t want to know,’ she said stubbornly, trying to get out of his arms. ‘I don’t believe a word of what you say. You’re just trying to placate me. Well, I’m not going to be fobbed off.’

  He spun her around and faced her, his face set in hard, determined lines. ‘I am not a liar, Nena. What happened is unfortunate, but I will not have my wife questioning my word.’

 

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