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Maddy shook her head. ‘I’m so excited about tonight, that’s all. I’m finding it hard to sleep,’ she murmured, fingering the silk, not quite able to look Ruth in the eye.
She put the teacup down carefully on the tray, felt the emotions that had been so close to the surface for two weeks well up inside her. Who was she kidding? Her lack of sleep had nothing to do with the charity gala and everything to do with her relationship with Rye.
At first she’d tried to persuade herself it was her imagination—and the stress caused by the manic preparations for the show. Just because Rye had insisted they go out every single night and seemed reluctant to spend any time alone her.
They still made love every evening and often in the morning as well. And he had been a charming and considerate host, planning a series of outings and excursions. He’d taken her ice skating one evening at the rink at Somerset House, bought box seats for a show in Shaftesbury Avenue, wined and dined her in a number of swanky restaurants and nightclubs.
But gradually she’d begun to feel as if the whirlwind of social engagements he kept insisting on were really just more of the diversionary tactics he’d employed so skilfully all along. She’d hoped that their relationship would deepen, strengthen while she was in London but, honestly, the reverse seemed to be happening.
‘Does Rye know you’re in love with him?’
Maddy’s head jerked up at Ruth’s softly spoken question. ‘I’m sorry—what?’ she said, but the flush was already creeping up her neck.
Ruth crossed her legs and smoothed her skirt over her knees. ‘You haven’t told him, have you, my dear?’
She could try to deny it, but somehow the concern on Ruth’s face had the emotion swelling in her throat. She dipped her head, gave it a little shake. ‘How did you know?’ she asked, twisting her hands together in her lap.
Ruth’s hand covered hers and squeezed. ‘I recognised the symptoms. Six years ago, I went through the same thing myself. And I’m sure I looked as unhappy and as unsure of myself as you do right now.’
Maddy looked up, the sympathy and total understanding in Ruth’s gaze making tears prickle the backs of her eyes. ‘You and Rye were lovers?’
Ruth nodded. ‘We had a brief fling. As I suspect you guessed when we first met.’
Maddy nodded, desperately embarrassed. She had guessed it, but she’d gone into denial about that as well as everything else in the past few weeks.
‘There’s no need to feel awkward,’ Ruth remarked, sending Maddy a warm smile. ‘It only lasted a few weeks. I was forty and had just gone through a particularly bitter divorce when Rye came along. He was fifteen years younger, impossibly gorgeous and devastating in bed—and of course I fell stupidly in love with him. But it meant absolutely
nothing to him.’
Delivered in an amused tone, Ruth’s candid confession didn’t bring on the jealousy Maddy would have expected.
‘I’m sorry. Rye didn’t say anything,’ Maddy murmured.
Ruth patted her hand. ‘Of course he didn’t. Why would he? Rye left me as soon as he realised I was getting serious about him. And there have been a string of women since, who I’ve watched go through the same unhappy experience. I’m grateful that we managed to remain friends, but much more grateful that episode of my life is over. Heartache can be hell on the complexion, you know.’
Maddy huffed out a laugh, but her own heart felt as if it were being torn out of her chest, because Ruth’s words had brought her face to face with exactly what it was that had been so wrong in the past weeks. Rye had been shutting her out and she’d been too scared to even admit it to herself, let alone confront him about it.
Maddy’s palms dampened as her heartbeat began to hammer like a pneumatic drill. She should have told Rye two weeks ago how she felt. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t be a pushover any more, that she’d stand up for herself. And she hadn’t. Because she’d been scared to risk the sort of confrontation she’d spent her whole life avoiding.
‘I have to tell him how I feel,’ she murmured.
‘I’m afraid so,’ Ruth said quietly. ‘Rye has a pattern that won’t allow him to get close to anyone. And he’s far too pigheaded to change it on his own.’
Maddy nodded. She’d suspected as much all along—that he’d never recovered from the loss of his parents and he’d been protecting himself in the only way he knew how ever since.
‘But how can I change it, if he won’t let me?’
‘I’ve seen the way he looks at you, my dear.’ Ruth sent her a reassuring smile. ‘I believe you already have.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
‘SUCCESS agrees with you, Maddy. You look gorgeous tonight.’ Rye cupped her cheek as he leaned across their table. ‘But I’m not waiting much longer to find out what you’ve got on under that gown.’
Maddy smiled, the familiar flirtation helping to stem the apprehension that had been building inside her ever since her conversation with Ruth that afternoon. ‘Ruth promised me she only has one more set of buyers to introduce me to. Then we can make a run for it.’
Hearing the orchestra in the ballroom next door strike up a slow, seductive waltz, her smile became wistful. ‘Did you know, we’ve never danced together,’ she murmured before she could think better of it.
Standing up, he tugged her gently out of her chair. ‘That’s easily remedied.’
