‘I didn’t say that—’
‘Yes, you did. You said you didn’t believe me, won’t even listen to my version of what happened, and you talk about divorce with the greatest of ease. Is that how you regard marriage?’
His eyes burned into hers and his hands gripped her upper arms. ‘I repeat—is that how you view marriage? As something to be thrown out of the window as soon as there is a problem?’
‘I—’ Nena was taken aback by his sudden change in attitude, and the true and real anger she read in his eyes.
‘Answer me,’ he ordered, his voice cold and quiet, cutting the silence. ‘I want to hear it from your lips.’
Nena swallowed. ‘N-no. That is not how I think of marriage. It’s just that—’
‘Just that what? That you saw me with a woman and presumed I was still sleeping with her?’
Nena felt heat rush to her cheeks.
‘Yes.’
‘I see. And is there anything else you’d like to share?’
Nena hesitated. ‘I don’t trust you.’
Ramon drew back, and his face took on a rigid, hard expression. ‘I see. Then there is effectively very little for us to talk about. I’ll bid you good day.’ With a small bow he turned on his heel and marched from the room, leaving Nena standing alone, the wind completely blown out of her sails.
She hadn’t meant that—well, not exactly. Perhaps she’d worded it badly. Oh, what had she done? she wondered, remembering the forbidding expression on his face as he’d taken his leave. She hadn’t meant to hurt or insult him. And now it was too late. She’d thrown the dice and played her hand and now there was no going back.
A sob caught in her throat and she threw herself on the sofa, where she indulged in a long, stormy cry that brought little relief.
‘I want a full report on the Carvajal oil companies,’ Ramon told Morton, the late Rodrigo Carvajal’s personal secretary, who was now serving as his assistant at the offices of Carvajal Enterprises in Dover Street. ‘And get me an audit on the import-export firm too, please.’
‘Yes, sir. Will that be all?’
‘For the moment, yes. Thanks, Morton.’ Ramon looked up and smiled. ‘Is Sir Wilfred in yet?’
‘He should be in by ten, sir. Shall I tell him you’ve been asking for him?’
‘Please. And Andrew Trenton as well. Do they always come in so late?’
‘They usually appear by ten,’ Morton replied uncomfortably, sensing disapproval in the new boss’s tone.
‘Ah, well. That’s fine. Please advise them that I need a word, will you?’
‘Of course, sir.’
With that Morton withdrew, and Ramon set about going through several thick files. He needed to become totally familiar with all the Carvajal companies and their assets, their management and how they were run. Also, it helped take his mind off Nena.
After their disastrous talk the other day he’d driven back to London and discovered his mother alone in the drawing room in Eaton Square.
‘Well, darling? Have you seen Nena?’ his mother had asked casually, laying down a copy of Country Life.
‘I have.’
‘And?’
‘Not good, I’m afraid. She’s talking divorce.’ He sat down on the opposite sofa and swung an ankle over his knee. ‘I don’t know what’s the matter with her. It wasn’t that terrible after all.’
‘Oh? You think that a newly wed bride being faced with her husband’s mistress in a restaurant is an everyday occurrence of which she should take no heed?’
‘That wasn’t what I said,’ Ramon replied, irritated. He knew perfectly well he appeared to be in the wrong, and didn’t need salt rubbed in the wound.
‘Mmm. Then what exactly did you say?’
‘That there was no need to make such a to-do about it. She wouldn’t even let me explain properly.’
Doña Augusta sent him a long, speculative look. ‘Has it occurred to you how that young girl must have felt?’
‘Of course it has.’
‘Here she is, thrust into a marriage of convenience, having lost her grandfather, whom she adored, dropped into a new society of people she has never seen before, who are considerably older and more sophisticated than she, and from a different culture. And on top of that she’s expected to handle a situation like this? Don’t you think you’re expecting rather a lot?’
‘Actually, she handled it brilliantly,’ he said, staring at the oriental carpet gracing the hardwood floor. ‘She was so dignified and cool you’d have thought she dealt with things like this every day of the week.’
‘Good for her. That doesn’t mean she’s prepared to put up with your lifestyle.’
‘I never intended to keep Luisa in my life.’
‘You’ve told me that already,’ Doña Augusta said sharply. ‘The point is that you don’t seem to have made that clear to Nena.’
‘She won’t listen.’
‘If I were you,’ Doña Augusta said, rising and picking up her magazine, ‘I’d give it a little time and let the dust settle. Life has a funny way of taking care of things.’
Ramon watched her leave the room. He was damned if he’d wait. Yet…his mother had an uncanny way of being right. Oh, well. He would stay here in London and get on with familiarising himself with Don Rodrigo’s affairs. After all, he had a moral obligation where they were concerned. He’d given Don Rodrigo his word as a gentleman, and whatever the outcome of his marriage he would not renege on that.
Several days went by, but still Nena hadn’t picked up the phone to call her lawyers. She knew that was what she should do, and chided herself for not getting on with it. But somehow every time she was about to look up the number something inexplicable stopped her and she would start thinking about Ramon, about those wonderful, unforgettable nights spent in his arms.
It was absurd and ridiculous to think of them when she knew—perfectly well—that it could never be. She wouldn’t be able to live with him knowing he was doing the same things in another bed with another woman. She shuddered, the same mix of pain and anger assailing her. Why, oh, why had she let her heart get involved?
Nena sat at her desk and determinedly filled out applications for several universities. She must think of getting on with her life, of getting an education, instead of mooning over a man who had proved himself worthless and a cheat. But the prospect of college, which before had seemed so thrilling and which she’d longed for so dearly, no longer held the same allure. Plus the past few days she’d been feeling dreadfully tired and listless. Perhaps she should take some vitamins, or something, to boost her metabolism…
But next morning when she woke she felt no better. In fact quite the opposite. Just as she was getting out of bed she found herself rushing to the bathroom, feeling awful. Leaning over the sink, she retched.
The bout of nausea passed and Nena leaned back, staring at her pale face in the mirror. She looked like hell. Oh, well, what did it matter? She’d probably caught some bug in Argentina that had incubated for a while and had now decided to invade her system. As though the place hadn’t bugged her enough already. She was very glad to have wiped the dust of it from her shoes. Still, the image of the luscious, sophisticated Luisa gazing up possessively at Ramon kept flashing at odd moments. No wonder she felt sick, she reflected crossly, weaving her way back across the room and collapsing thankfully onto the bed.
At that moment the telephone rang. She very nearly let it be answered downstairs, but then thought better of it.
‘Hello?’
‘Hello.’
At the sound of Ramon’s deep, rich voice, Nena’s pulse leaped. How she wished she could get her feelings under control.
‘What do you want?’ she said, somewhat rudely.
‘I was just calling to see if by any chance we could get together for lunch—say tomorrow? I have a number of things I need to discuss with you.’
He sounded impersonal, almost cold, and Nena felt suddenly downcast. Deep down, he was probably glad
to be rid of her.
‘What sort of things?’ she asked warily.
‘Oh, paperwork, a couple of matters concerning the Carvajal oil companies that I think you should be aware of. Particularly if you’re going to take over running the companies yourself,’ he added coldly.
‘I—’ It had never occurred to her that if she and Ramon divorced he would hand over his duties. The thought was daunting. ‘Well, I suppose we could meet. Where do you want to go?’
‘Would Harry’s Bar suit you?’
‘Fine. What time?’ He sounded so dreadfully formal, so distant, as though all they’d shared was somehow in the past.
‘A quarter to one?’
‘Fine,’ she repeated, seeking any kind of change in the tone of his voice.
‘I’ll see you then.’
He rang off and Nena flopped back against the pillows, wondering why she felt so teary. It was she, after all, who’d suggested the divorce, wasn’t it? So what was she whining about? She’d made her bed and now she’d have to lie on it.
Letting out a long sigh, and fighting another bout of nausea, Nena turned on the pillow and buried her head in it. Right now all she wished was for the earth to swallow her up. She’d had enough of facing one wretched thing after another.
But her will got the better of her and soon she was in the shower, determined to remain calm and face whatever was coming with dignity and courage.
Harry’s Bar was busy. The waitresses in their pretty uniforms hurried hither and thither, and the sound of social chit-chat reigned as Nena made her way towards a corner table where Ramon was rising to meet her.
She wished he wasn’t so handsome, so utterly sexy in his light suit. It was not surprising that most of the women in the place were taking a peek at him out of the corners of their eyes. Some were even quite blatant about it.
‘Hello, Nena.’ Ramon looked her over, immediately noting how pale and thin she looked.
‘Hello, Ramon.’
They didn’t kiss, just sort of nodded formally.
‘How have you been?’ he asked, as though talking politely to a distant acquaintance.
‘I’m doing well, thank you. And you?’
‘Oh, fine,’ he responded.
‘And your parents?’
‘Fine as well. In fact my mother was wondering whether she could persuade you to come for dinner tonight at Eaton Square.’
‘Oh, I don’t think I—’ Nena said hurriedly, then, remembering how kind Doña Augusta had been, felt bad.
‘It would give them great pleasure,’ Ramon said, pushing every button he knew might pressure her into staying. ‘I can always pick you up, if it’s too long for you to remain in town all that time.’
‘All right, I’ll come.’
‘Then we could meet somewhere and I’ll drive you over there.’
‘That’s perfectly all right, thank you,’ she said, dismissing his offer. ‘I have a number of things to get done this afternoon. You can pick me up at Chester Square.’
‘Fine. At seven.’
The next few minutes were spent studying the menu. Nena wondered what she should eat. The nausea had passed, but she feared that should she make the wrong choice it might return, and the last thing she wanted was to make a scene. In the end she declined a starter and opted for some grilled chicken and vegetables.
Ramon quirked a brow. ‘No shrimp cocktail? I seem to recall you liked that.’
‘No—no, thanks,’ Nena replied hurriedly, the mere thought of the stuff making her queasy. ‘I’m not very hungry today.’
‘I see. Well, you must take care of your health. You look a little off-colour.’
‘Oh, it’s nothing. Just a bug I think I must have picked up somewhere. It’ll pass.’
He sent her a long, piercing look but made no comment.
‘What are the things you need to talk to me about?’ she asked, tentatively sipping her champagne, hoping it wouldn’t have dire effects upon her queasy system.
He frowned. ‘Talk about? Oh, yes. Well, there are a couple of matters that you should be aware of. In fact, if you are considering taking a participating interest in the Carvajal companies I think you should spend some time in the office becoming familiar with them. I was going to bring a couple of files with me, but then I thought better of it. Easier for you to come to Dover Street and look them over at a desk.’
‘I see.’ And she did, in more ways than one.
A tiny flutter circled her heart and she peered at him from under her thick lashes. He looked so cold, so formal, his mouth set in a determined line and that arrogant head held high. But she couldn’t help wondering if perhaps, despite the forbidding countenance, he hadn’t arranged this lunch as an excuse to see her. The thought sent a thrill coursing through her and she took another quick sip of champagne, surprised to see that her glass was almost empty.
Before she could protest Ramon had ordered another one. Oh, well. She might need it at this rate.
She was lovely. Though so pale and waif-like. Nena was a proud woman and he’d hurt her—not only her feelings, but her self esteem, Ramon realised. He of all people knew how much that could rankle. The good news was that she apparently hadn’t gone ahead with any phone calls to lawyers regarding the divorce she’d talked of. Perhaps she was thinking better of it. Living without her, spending his days cloistered in the office and nights alone in his bed in Eaton Square, recalling how they’d made love together, were not proving easy to handle.
He eyed her cool, calm and collected front. She was quite an adversary, he realised ruefully, but one he was determined to vanquish in the end.
But these thoughts he kept to himself.
By the end of lunch Nena was amazed that they’d ended up chit-chatting about this and that in a surprisingly relaxed manner. She pulled herself up with a bang. This man was dangerous, far too smooth an operator. She must be careful and try and know her own mind, she reflected crossly as she walked into the Harvey Nichols department store later that afternoon. After all, hadn’t she decided what she wanted?
With a sigh—because she obviously hadn’t—Nena headed to the designer floor, and without much interest began looking at clothes.
Dining at Eaton Square was a potentially embarrassing situation, Nena realised uneasily as she lingered in the bath. What did Don Pedro and Doña Augusta think about all that was happening? After all, it was obvious all was not right between her and Ramon, since they were living apart. Her mother-in-law had seemed very tolerant of the whole thing. But what about Don Pedro? Would he express recrimination at her abandoning the conjugal domicile?
But Nena’s fears were immediately allayed by the warm reception she received. Ramon had phoned and suggested he pick her up on foot, as it was just around the corner and the evening was lovely. And she’d agreed. She could think of nothing nicer than a walk before dinner.
Soon they’d arrived at the mansion on the corner of Eaton Square. Once again Nena was impressed by the exquisitely decorated rooms, the collection of paintings hung on the stairs and the more contemporary works in the vast living room.
‘How lovely to see you, Nena.’ Don Pedro welcomed her with a broad smile and drew her next to him on the sofa. ‘We have missed you the past few days. But I’m certain you must be very busy, with much to do at Thurston.’
‘Uh, yes,’ she said, grateful to him for making it look as if the separation were a natural one, forced by circumstance rather than the rift that existed between Ramon and herself. Eyeing her mother-in-law out of the corner of her eye, she wondered just how much she’d told her husband. And appreciated Doña Augusta’s obvious discretion, glad that she was proving to be the friend she’d professed.
Nena felt a rush of affection. There had been no older woman in her life since the untimely death of her grandmother four years earlier—no one to talk to or to seek advice from. Suddenly, knowing that Doña Augusta had really meant what she’d said the other day at lunch made her feel better. Perhaps she coul
d talk to the older woman about how rotten she was feeling physically. Of course she could always go to Dr Grainger, the family physician in Harley Street, but for some reason she didn’t want to. Perhaps the best thing, she decided as she chatted with Don Pedro, laughing at his jokes and feeling more at ease, was to let it cure itself.
Ramon was at his most charming. She could feel his eyes on her practically all the time, and she blushed. It was impossible not to remember, not to long for what he’d taught her, what he’d wakened within her.
By the end of an excellent dinner in such pleasant surroundings Nena felt positively sad that it was time to leave. She was very fond of Ramon’s parents, and appreciated the kind way they’d embraced her into their family. She wished—oh, how she wished—that things might have been different.
But they weren’t, she reminded herself as Ramon prepared to escort her back to Chester Square.
Night was just beginning to fall as they stepped outside, even though it was nearly ten o’clock. They began walking and Ramon slipped his arm in hers. Nena stiffened, then realised it would be churlish to reject what was probably nothing more than a gentlemanly gesture, and together they proceeded. Soon they were passing St Michael’s Church, and nearing her front door. Ramon slowed.
‘Nena, would you mind if I came inside and we had a talk?’ he asked, his expression softer than it had been all day. ‘I know you’re very angry with me, and I deserve that, but I think you owe me the courtesy of listening to my side of the story.’
‘Does it have to be tonight?’ she enquired, looking away, wondering how she could avoid the inevitable confrontation. It was bad enough having him so close, breathing the scent of him—musky cologne mixed with that unforgettable male scent she’d remember for as long as she lived.
‘Well?’ Ramon quirked his dark brow at her, eyes piercing hers, filled with determination.
He was not going to be fobbed off, Nena realised, giving in despite her reluctance. ‘Okay,’ she said with a shrug. ‘You might as well come in and have a nightcap.’
The Society Bride Page 9