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'Nick,' she said, her voice shaking. 'Nick—please.'
At the door, he turned. 'Having regrets, sweetheart?' His tone was ice. 'Save them for bedtime. You might just need them.'
Alone, Cally sat for an endless moment, staring at die closed door. She could still feel his anger in the room—an almost tangible bitterness, making the walls close in on her. Making it suddenly difficult to breathe.'
She rose and ran across the room, half stumbling in her haste, to die French windows and out on to the terrace, where she paused, gasping.
How dared he treat her like this—speak to her in that way? she demanded silently as she leaned against the stone balustrade, trying desperately to compose herself. She'd run from him on an impulse triggered by shock and grief, because her
Life had suddenly become unbearable, but he was the cause of that. It was his fault, not hers. She'd been forced to go. She'd had no other choice.
And even if she'd stayed—forced a confrontation—it would have led to the same result in the end.
Had he really believed he could keep his mistress a secret from her? she wondered. True, Southwood Cottage was in a sufficiently isolated spot to provide a discreet rendezvous. But even if Adele hadn't told her about the affair there'd have been gossip—hints—eventually. In a small locality that was inevitable. And the longer their marriage had existed, the worse the sense of betrayal would have become.
During lovemaking did he say the same things—do the same things as he did with her? Those were things she would have asked herself over and over again, torturing herself in the knowledge that she would never find an answer that gave either comfort or hope.
And did he draw comparisons between them?
Perhaps he'd thought she'd be so besotted with him by that time—so dazzled and indulged with sex and money—that she'd be unwilling or unable to give him up. That she'd be prepared somehow to share him.
She might also—heaven help her—have been carrying his child, which would have reduced her options still further.
But this was no longer a hypothetical situation, she thought, shivering. It was going to happen, and she would have to find some way to live with it. To endure...
Her fingers tightened convulsively on the stone ledge. 'Don't go there,' she whispered to herself.
At least this time around limits had been imposed on her unhappiness. And, as long as she could keep its root cause hidden, she had a chance of emerging from the whole disaster with her pride battered but intact, if nothing else.
There is something I have to tell you.
Not while I have breath, Cally thought fiercely. Confession may be good for the soul, but not when my heart has to be torn apart as a consequence. I don't need this belated honesty.
The bride's present to the groom—forgiveness and absolution. Was that really what Nick was hoping for?
Or had he simply realised the impossibility of maintaining the secrecy of his liaison for much longer? And was he crazy— or just cruel—to think that bringing the issue into the open would somehow make it easier to deal with? If so, how wrong could anyone be?
'Her name's Vanessa Layton.' The image of Adele's slow smile came back to haunt her as her mind went into free-fall. The confrontation had taken place in the hall, and for some strange reason Cally could remember a bowl of early roses standing on a side table, and the soft whisper as one of them shed its petals. There'd been a shaft of sunlight coming through the open front door, hitting her as if she was a small animal caught in the headlights of a car. Rendering her transfixed— immobile.
'She was an interior decorator in London, and a good one, by all accounts. Nick hired her to redo his flat, and that's when it began. It must have been a pretty torrid affair for her to abandon everything, and let him install her in a dead and alive hole like Southwood Cottage,' she went on, her eyes carelessly surveying the pale, stupefied face of the girl in front of her. 'Clearly they can't bear to be apart. And she doesn't pay rent like an ordinary tenant, besides which Nick picks up all her bills.'
From some unsuspected well of courage Cally recovered the power of speech. 'How do you know this?'
Adele shrugged. "The paperwork's all there in his desk, if you don't believe me. I happened to see it months ago, when I was looking for something else.'
'You were snooping.'
'Was I? Anyway, it's in the top right-hand drawer. Unless, now he's married, he's decided to move the evidence to somewhere less accessible. After all, he won't want to upset the apple cart.'
Cally said hoarsely, 'If it's all so wonderful, why hasn't he married her?'
'Because there's already a husband, apparently, but no one knows quite where. Maybe divorce isn't an option, for some reason.' Adele shrugged again. 'But for many reasons Nick needs a wife.' Her smile widened. 'And that, my pet, is where you come in, of course. Young, free, and clearly besotted. Central casting couldn't do better.'
