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'I wouldn't know,' Cally said quietly. 'I don't have your genius for intelligence-gathering.'
'Oh, it won't happen quite yet, naturally,' Adele went on languidly. 'The place isn't ready for immediate occupation, particularly as I'm sure your taste in decor and mine are poles apart. But I guess Nick will be putting in his personal design consultant for the makeover.' Her smile was sly. 'I wonder what colour she'll pick for the nursery? Green, I dare say. You must drop me a postcard and let me know.'
She got to her feet. 'Well, I have things to do before I leave in the morning, so perhaps you'll make my farewells for me.'
'Of course.' Cally said, her voice wooden. 'Goodbye.'
'Adieu to you too.' Adele lingered for a moment. 'You know, I feel quite sorry for you, Cally. You've been dealt a rotten hand, and no one's told you the rules of the game, but you're still putting up your own pathetic fight. It's almost— admirable. So, good luck with the Dower House. I think you'll need it.'
Cally sat motionless, watching her walk away across the lawn, her figure dwindling into the distance. When she was sure the other woman was out of sight, and out of earshot, she rose slowly and stiffly from her chair and went back into the drawing room.
She stood for a moment, looking round, until her eye fell on a large Worcester bowl reposing on a small table.
She picked it up by the rim. She said aloud, quietly and conversationally, 'I think I've had enough.'
Then she drew back her arm and sent the bowl flying towards the fireplace.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Her aim, for once, was unerring. The bowl hit the heavy stone mantelshelf and shattered, sending a hundred noisy fragments cascading on to the hearth.
She stood, panting a little, regarding the havoc she'd created. Aware at the same time that there were footsteps in the hall, approaching fast. The drawing room door was flung wide as Nick strode in. He'd clearly been back for some time, because the dark business suit he'd been wearing earlier had been replaced by jeans and a casual shirt.
'What the hell...?' he began furiously, then checked, his narrowed gaze scanning his wife, who was standing with her hands clenched and her eyes blazing out of her pale face, then moving to the debris on the hearth.
'Another accident?' he asked.
'No,' she said, the word swift and staccato. 'And what are you doing here?'
'I live here,' he said. 'Or I have what passes for a life.'
'But you were supposed to be going to Wellingford.'
He shrugged. 'Something happened that I needed to attend to. I'll go tomorrow.' He looked back at the hearth. 'So how did it happen?'
'I did it on purpose.' Cally lifted her chin stormily. 'Because I felt like it,' she added for good measure.
'Really?' Nick's brows lifted. 'And did you find it therapeutic? Maybe I should try it.' He walked to the fireplace and took a porcelain figurine from the mantelshelf. 'I've never liked this,' he said, almost conversationally. He took a couple of long strides backwards, then shied it. It broke with a satisfying crack, and the small head rolled sadly across the hearth.
Cally found she was holding her breath as she watched.
No, he said, after a second s pause. Sadly, that doesn’t do it for me. But don't let me stop you wrecking the place in your quest for fulfilment,' he added, too pleasantly. 'In the meantime, perhaps I can find mine in other ways.'
The next moment Cally found herself scooped up into his arms and dumped down on to the yielding softness of one of the sofas, while he stood over her and made to unfasten the belt of his jeans with stark and unmistakable purpose in his dark face.
Something froze inside her. 'Oh, God.' She struggled upright. 'Are you mad? Don't—don't you dare touch me!'
'Why not?' His tone bit. 'What have I got to lose?'
She didn't look at him. She said with difficulty. 'Maybe— the woman you're supposed to love.'
'The woman I do love.' The bitterness in his voice made her flinch. 'The woman I shall love to the end of my life, God help me.'
The pain of that made her voice falter. 'And, besides, you— we—might hurt the baby.'
'Ah, yes,' he said harshly. 'Our child.' He turned and moved away to the sofa opposite. Sat down. 'However, I think any lasting damage might well be to each other.'
There was a pause, then he said, 'I was actually coming to find you when I heard the crash. It seems to me there are matters we need to discuss.'
'Let me guess,' Cally said. 'Could one of them be the Dower House?'
His brows lifted. 'Well—yes. But how did you know?'
'I've had a visit from Adele,' she said. 'She came to tell me she was leaving. She even made it sound as if you'd paid her off.'
'Really?' He sounded politely interested. 'Then for once she was actually telling the truth.'
