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'Then look on it as a business meeting,' Kit urged. 'They say half the deals in the country are done in restaurants."
She bent her head. 'You really think he's going to offer any concessions?'
'Why not? He didn't have to agree lo talk lo us. He could have insisted on seeing you alone. That's a hopeful sign,
'Nick likes to manipulate people,' she said. 'And he always has his own agenda.'
'Nevertheless,' he said stubbornly, 'it has to be worth a try.' He paused, and his tone altered. "Cally— did you ever intend to tell me you were married?'
She gave him a straight look. 'I didn't plan to be around long enough for that to be necessary. Anyway, it’s not an episode I'm proud of. I'm just thankful it will soon be over and done with.'
'Why's he a sir?' asked Tracy.
'Because he's a baronet. He inherited the title from a distant cousin.'
'With loads of land and money?' Tracy was clearly intrigued. 'That's dead romantic'
'Most of the land had been sold off,' Cally said wearily. 'And he was already a millionaire several times over. So all he really got was a rather rundown house.'
'Was it love at first sight?' Tracy persisted. 'When you met him? I mean, you obviously fancied him enough to marry him.'
'Actually,' Cally said in a clear, bright voice, 'it was just a business arrangement. Only I decided rather late in the day that I couldn't go through with it after all. And I'd rather not talk about it any more either,' she added.
Except that she almost certainly wouldn't have a choice in the matter, she told herself, grabbing a glass of champagne from a passing tray and swallowing some of it down her dry throat.
Because she was faced at last with the confrontation she'd have given anything to avoid.
She tried not to look—to see where Nick was in the busy room, or if he was alone. Particularly that. She strove hard not to wonder what he was thinking—or what he might have to say to her later. Because there was bound to be some kind of reckoning.
Even if he agreed that a quick and quiet divorce was the best way out of their situation— and as far as Cally was concerned there was no possible alternative— she was still unlikely to escape totally unscathed.
I left him with a lot of explaining to do, she told herself tautly. Made him look a fool. Something he's unlikely to forgive or forget.
And now she would have to come up with an explanation for her headlong flight from him.
Not the truth, of course. That was locked away deep within her, and she would not go there. But something— anything— that would carry a modicum of conviction.
She put down her glass and with a murmured excuse went out of the room, down a flight of stone steps to the women's cloakroom. She had it lo herself, which she was grateful for because one glance in the mirror told her that she looked as if she was running a temperature. Her eyes were feverishly bright, and there was a hectic flush along her cheekbones, so the last thing she wanted was for someone to ask if she was all right— especially if Nick was around to hear it.
I need lo look cool, calm and collected, she told herself, as she ran the cold tap over the pounding pulses in her wrists and applied a damp tissue lo her temples. 1 have to keep the emotional temperature low, no matter how difficult it may get later, because I can't afford any sign of weakness.
And if they could only agree lo conduct the eventual divorce in a rational, equable spirit that would be a bonus.
She supposed divorce was the solution. She couldn't imagine Nick accepting the annulment that represented the true stale of affairs between them. Not good for his all-powerful male image, she thought wryly.
Although it would be her lack of sex appeal that would probably be blamed. What else could it be? Because, where women were concerned, Nick Tempest didn't have to prove a thing.
Whereas she-she had little to offer. She was still too thin, she admitted, and under normal circumstances too pale. Her features were generally nondescript, with that thick, glossy fall of hair her only real claim to beauty. Although even that was brown. The whole picture was dull and duller, underlined by a blouse, skirt and jacket that didn't hold a scrap of allure between them.
No change there, she thought, her mouth twisting.
The witnesses at their wedding must have imagined they were watching a peacock mate with an ugly duckling.
But then Nick hadn't married her for her attractions, or her charm. He'd had his own reasons... as she'd finally discovered, she thought, tension lancing her as those hidden memories stirred again.
Not that it mattered, she told herself vehemently. It was all past and done with, and soon that would be a matter of law.
I want nothing from him, she thought, but my freedom. And surely that isn't too much to ask? He should be glad t o be rid of me at so little cost.
