Harry smiled and she knew his smiles well enough now to know when it wasn’t genuine . . . just how he was smiling this moment. ‘Then let me extend an invitation. You’re most welcome at my club as my guest.’
‘Really? How generous.’ Matthew replied, only slightly mocking because she could tell he was interested. ‘Which one?’
‘White’s. It’s in Westminster.’
‘Oh, indeed, I know where White’s is,’ Matthew assured. Harry had impressed, it seemed.
‘One good turn deserves another,’ her lover continued conversationally, which surprised her because Harry was not the polite exchange type. And if she were honest, Harry had been staring at Matthew as if he were fighting the urge to wrap his large hands around her husband’s neck and throttle him. ‘Your father-in-law kindly invited me to his club a couple of evenings ago. He had probably intended to introduce me to you, but as it turned out that particular evening you were not there. I presumed you were still in London as your wife had mentioned but Charles was told by a waiter at the club that you were back in York.’
Now, why on earth would he be offering that information? Alex wondered, frowning slightly at Harry. He was up to something – she knew him intimately enough to appreciate that Harry had turned aggressive. It struck her that he was trying to trap Matthew in a lie and she was caught in her surprise even more intently by how Harry’s seemingly casual remark about the visit to the club with her father seemed to startle her husband. And startling Matthew was a rare event; she had never known him to respond like a man cornered.
‘You were at the club? In York?’ he qualified, his voice taut.
Harry nodded and Alex noticed an intense quality to the way he regarded Matthew. His eyes had a new glitter of . . . what was it? Hostility? Yet he didn’t know Matthew, and she didn’t think fury would be his position on meeting him. Disappointment, sadness, hopefully some envy . . . but not what appeared to be umbrage. Alex felt lost. If she could, she would have laid a hand on Harry and suggested he not pursue this conversation. Instead she tried to interrupt with a breezy remark but Harry ignored her, continuing on his path.
‘Yes. Excellent staff – very well-informed waiters.’
‘Is that so?’ Matthew’s voice had turned from taut to rigid.
Alex moved, convinced this discussion could turn sour.
‘Mmm, yes,’ Harry said as they followed her lead and stood. ‘I was most impressed that one of them could inform your father-in-law of your movements between London and York. We shared a chuckle in fact that he seemed better informed than your family.’
Alex gasped inwardly. What on earth was Harry doing?
‘I see,’ Matthew replied, as if taking stock. ‘Well, I’m sorry we missed each other.’
‘Actually it was probably wrong of me to presume anything,’ Harry continued, oh so casually. ‘I’m right that you weren’t in York?’
‘That’s correct.’ Matthew cleared his throat lightly. ‘I was held up in London but finished my business quicker than expected. Then this business came up in Harrogate and it just seemed easier to attend to it, before I came home,’ he said, turning attention to Alex before adroitly changing topics. ‘I’ll bet old Norma wasn’t at all pleased at me missing dinner.’
‘Yes, well, I’m going to leave you to apologise for that,’ she admonished as she watched them eye each other off as though they were both about to stand back to back, walk a dozen paces and take aim. ‘Matthew? Shall we?’
‘After you, my darling.’
Alex noticed her husband cast a few shillings onto the table as Harry made an effort to catch their pretty waitress’s attention and thank her. Another unexpected arrow of jealousy shot through her; even the waitress would get more attention than she could rightfully hope for as she now had to take Matthew’s arm and be guided out into the cold. Its shock stung the guilty burn of her cheeks and the confused thoughts over why Harry had risked drawing so much attention.
‘Darling, I’d really rather you didn’t drive. That car can be a bit sluggish on wet roads and it’s turning icy.’
She didn’t have the strength to argue with him.
‘I’ll drive the car, if you’ll permit me, Alex?’ Harry offered and she wanted to hug him for asking her instead of making the statement to her husband.
‘Excellent, Blakeney,’ Matthew answered as if she had lost the ability to speak. ‘Give him the keys, darling. You can drive with me.’
‘Oh, I thought I’d . . .’ Alex could see her husband’s expression was open and controlled but she sensed in the tense way he held himself – so uncharacteristic of Matthew, normally able to deflect any situation with his charm – that he did not expect to be defied.
‘I’ll be fine,’ Harry assured. ‘I’m sure you’d prefer to have some time together.’ He took the keys she retrieved from her handbag.
‘The gears can be sticky, the brakes a tad sluggish on bends.’
‘I’ll work it out.’ Harry smiled. ‘No need to wait for me – I can find my way back.’
‘Thank you, Blakeney. I’ll have a driver return to your accommodations once in York.’
Matthew said this to his back because Alex noted that Harry had already turned away and she couldn’t read his expression or mood. But there was definitely an undertone between the two men and it seemed to have nothing to do with her.
Inside the car, Matthew flapped irritably with the keys and the ignition button.
‘What’s wrong with you?’ she asked.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know what I mean. What’s made you so defensive all of a sudden? I’ve never known you to be quite as possessive.’
‘Don’t be absurd, Alex, although now you mention it, maybe I should be concerned about my wife gallivanting around the county with a handsome bachelor, a stranger to the family.’
The car jerked forward and Matthew sped off.
‘Don’t go too fast.’
‘He’s a soldier, you say?’
‘A former captain, why?’
‘Then you can be sure he has a good sense of direction.’
‘That’s rather churlish of you, Matthew.’
‘Is it, darling? Is it also churlish of me to wonder why my wife is indeed in the company of a man like that?’
‘A man like what?’ she snapped. She knew she was playing into his trap.
‘Ah, now, perhaps I could accuse you of being defensive.’
She pursed her lips and stared out of the window but the silence got the better of her. ‘I won’t dignify that couched barb by justifying myself.’
‘I can be more direct if you wish. I was seated between you. I saw it.’
‘Saw what, for heaven’s sake?’ she demanded, feeling ripples of fear. ‘I barely looked at Mr Blakeney.’
‘That’s my point. Both of you were so busy trying not to make eye contact that it was blatantly obvious.’
‘Oh, don’t be so damned ridiculous, Matthew. You should spend more time at home and then perhaps you and I can make more eye contact!’ Her fury was being driven by fear of discovery – he was so close to the truth now – she desperately wanted to tell him all of it but she did her utmost to channel her anxiety into sounding indignant.
It appeared to work. ‘All right, look, I’m sorry. That’s unfair of me.’
‘Oh, really? Do you think so?’
‘He’s already well ahead of us. Now, I’ve said I’m sorry.’
‘You should be. He’s a very decent man, doing something that’s kind. The least I could do was help.’
‘But you haven’t, apparently. While you were talking to your old friend . . . what’s her name, by the way?’
‘Eloise,’ she snapped, hoping her irritation would dissuade him from further probing, but she added just in case: ‘You don’t know her. She harks back to childhood days, as I explained.’
‘Anyway, he told me he is no closer to finding Kitty than the day he came up here. And tell me, darling, who g
oes hunting for the writer of a note, without the bloody note?’
‘That’s not how it is. He and I had already looked at the damn note,’ she lied. ‘It gave no clues, other than her name. Nothing at all.’ She didn’t need to see the note to recall it with vivid clarity.
‘Well, the handwriting alone might help.’
‘So you mean he should go around the county like Prince Charming holding the glass slipper? You suggest that Mr Blakeney should test every young woman’s handwriting in case she’s hiding that she is the Kitty from the note?’
He gave a sheepish shrug that seemed to answer that it was a ludicrous notion. ‘He certainly looks like Prince Charming. Very dashing, isn’t he?’
‘Matthew, it doesn’t matter which way I answer that, you’re going to trap me. If I say yes, then you’ll have something to say about that. Should I say I hadn’t noticed, you’ll howl I’m fibbing. Whatever has got into you?’ His silence infuriated her. ‘Yes, Mr Blakeney is extremely handsome, quite a catch – in fact, Eloise begged me to introduce her to him. I’m sure she’ll look him up anyway without my introduction, but I failed to mention to her and I don’t suppose you got around to learning about Mr Blakeney’s fiancée, did you, while you were jumping to all the wrong conclusions?’
‘Fiancée?’ He sounded choked.
She refused to look at him. ‘Yes, he’s about to go home and marry the woman who has loved him since childhood. He simply had to carry out this errand so he could sleep in peace at night.’ In her private shame Alex realised that was the most truthful sentence she’d said to her husband today.
‘That’s romantic.’
‘Yes it is,’ she ground out, hating to admit it. ‘For someone who is more away from home than in it, I could turn the same lens of suspicion on you,’ Alex challenged. It was the first time since their wedding day that she had taken him to task about his lack of emotional involvement in her life.
‘Darling Alex,’ he said, without hesitation, without even looking her way, but he did place a hand across his chest. ‘I promise you, with all I hold dear, that you are the only woman my heart belongs to. I have never once since I took vows with you been unfaithful to you with another woman. You have nothing to worry about there . . . ever.’ He waited but she remained silent. ‘Please assure me you understand that when I’m away there are no other women for you to ever concern yourself with. Why would I, when I have you to come home to?’
‘I don’t know. You’re home for such short periods it’s hard to work you out.’
‘Why are we having this conversation? We made an agreement to give each other independence and freedom. I have not put constraints on where you go, what you do, whom you entertain.’
‘Until now,’ she remarked, unable to hide the sarcasm in her tone.
‘Not even now, to be honest. But given the tension between you both and the fact I don’t trust his intentions, it’s reasonable as your husband to protect you.’ Alex tried hard not to snort her disgust. ‘And you promised me you would extend a similar courtesy of freedom. We were friends before we were anything else, yes? And I’ve been faithful to you in those promises, haven’t I?’
‘You have. The problem is, Matthew, I want independence but I don’t want to be lonely. I want freedom, but I never wished it to feel like I existed on an island without a soulmate. Us getting married was convenient for both of us at the time – please don’t deny that – and yes, we agreed to give each other space to follow our dreams but I don’t remember agreeing to living as a spinster within that marriage.’
‘I don’t follow.’ He frowned but she sensed he was simply buying himself time for his agile mind to work a new charm upon her.
‘All right, let’s make it plainer for you. Sex, Matthew. Would you like to know the last time you shared my bed? I have the date imprinted on my memory because there are so few occasions I can remember each over the past couple of years.’ He opened his mouth to deny her but she pressed her point. He hadn’t seen this conversation coming and he was driving, so he couldn’t just get up and leave the discussion. ‘And even if you don’t care so much about my physical needs, how about emotionally, Matthew? How about simple affection? You might as well kiss the air for the polite way you kiss my cheek. And when we have shared a bed it all felt rather dutiful. You make me feel at times as though you detest me.’
He looked at her now and his features were contorted into annoyance and something else . . . a quality of fear lurked; she had never witnessed this in his expression previously. His exclamation sounded deeply wounded. ‘But I do love you, Alex!’
‘You don’t show it. You love possessing me. You love to call me your wife. But, Matthew, you have no idea about loving me and showing that love through how you speak to me, spend time with me, treat me; forget all the gifts, too. They’re meaningless.’
He made a scoffing sound.
‘No, really. I can buy myself gifts if that was what made my world turn. It doesn’t, though. You know full well that I have never been one for parties or jewels, or keeping up with so and so. I am no socialite. I don’t need that big house to rattle around in alone. I don’t need new pearls or diamonds for parties I am not attending. I don’t want to unwrap presents that are your way of apologising for your absence.’
‘This argument is absurd and unfounded. You told me the single driving force in your world was being able to make chocolates, and as we turn the corner into a new year that’s exactly what we’ve set up for. You shall have your own shop, your own tiny factory and warehouse. I’ve promised to help you with distribution when the time comes. I mean, without my backing your parents would never —’
‘Matthew . . . Matthew . . . stop talking. Stop telling me things I already know. Let’s leave my parents out of this. If I wanted to I could always have had exactly what I wanted. I just didn’t want to achieve my goals at the expense of their happiness. Yes, my mother adores you and couldn’t have selected a more suitable husband if it were left entirely to her choice. But you are presuming too much if you think I was not always in a position to open my shop myself. Understand that you have not made my future possible by marrying me. Please don’t expect me to accept that I should be in a state of wedded bliss simply because you enabled my career. You helped me, yes. You introduced me to the Rowntree family, got me that foot in the door, but everything since then has been because of my endeavours, my hunger for knowledge. I have spent years learning, but without formal training . . . I had to steal my education by hanging around the right people, watching, spending hours and hours long after the factory had closed to learn from people generous enough to share their knowledge. You were not involved in any of this. You were never there anyway! You had already begun gallivanting around the country and leaving me to my own company.’
‘Galliv—!’ He turned to her, his complexion reddening with infuriation. It was the angriest she had seen him. ‘You do understand I work; I’m not playing at the position I hold for —’
‘Indeed. But I also understand this, Matthew. A day or so ago you rang me to say you were about to play a game of chess but it was obvious you were in some sort of bar. I could hear voices, glasses, distant music. No one plays chess to music. I have no issue that you have a social life when away from home – you can’t be expected to live the life of a monk – but I do take issue with your lies. And I know now you have always been lying to me. I’m not sure what it is you are hiding from me. I’ll be honest, I have thought for some time now that you are being unfaithful with other women but curiously I trust your promise. I’ve learned enough about you to know when you are being genuine and your oath just now was persuasive. So if not other women, what is the secret that keeps you from my bed, from our home, from starting a family, from wanting to be around me and our life in York? What is it, Matthew?’
‘And so this is why you keep the company of people like Blakeney?’ he accused, doing his utmost to turn focus back on her behaviour.
‘He is not a reas
on for our problems. All of our problems are right here in the tiny space of this car. Nothing out there is in our way. The obstacle is between us. We are not getting on.’
‘I thought we were.’ He sounded suddenly contrite, scared even at where this conversation was leading them.
‘No.’ She sighed, for the first time in a long time possessing a sense of clear-headedness. ‘We exist. You’re ever charming and I’m gracious, not wishing to create problems when you do come home, but I’m tired of it. I need more from you.’
‘Henry Blakeney has a lot to answer for.’
‘Leave Harry out of this, Matthew. You’re looking for a target. He’s blameless.’
He blinked at her. ‘You slept with him, didn’t you?’
She held his gaze for an instant and in that moment found the courage she needed. ‘Yes.’
He swerved the car to the side of the road, skidding loudly as the tyres lost traction and slipped onto the soft verge. Curiously, she felt nothing but weightlessness.
‘Only once,’ she continued, ‘but once was enough to open the floodgates on all the emotion that has been banking up behind this controlled façade since we met.’
‘I will kill him,’ Matthew growled, apoplectic.
Alex was surprised by how calm, even detached, she sounded when she spoke. ‘I doubt you could, to be honest. But he’s really not to blame, I assure you. I chose the affair, if you can call a few hours of infidelity that. I chose where and when. I also seduced him. He tried to dissuade me.’
‘Am I supposed to admire his chivalry?’
‘I’m simply stating that he did all he could to avoid my advances.’
‘Not enough, it seems,’ Matthew spat. He glanced to the mirror. ‘I thought you said he’s getting married.’
‘He is.’
‘So he used you!’
‘Quite the reverse, actually, and while finding some affection in the arms of Harry, I have discovered genuine clarity about us. We’re finished, Matthew. I know now that I always needed someone like Harry in my life; nothing about you can come close to making me feel how special he made me feel. You’ve had four years. He’s seen me three times in a few days, both of those occasions with others around us. And still I felt more affection from him and towards him across a room than you’ve been able to achieve in all our time together. Before you say it, I know you love me in your own way. I remember now your careful wording when you proposed your idea that we should marry. You admitted it would be friendship first and foremost. I didn’t pay enough attention. You were being desperately honest, weren’t you? Meanwhile I was being dazzled by your amusing way, your gallant manner and the door that was opening to offer a most suitable marriage and the perfect escape from men I knew I definitely did not want to marry.’
The Chocolate Tin Page 30
