The hallway was small, but very nicely furnished. Red-carpeted stairs led up to a long landing, with two closed doors.
As he drew her inside, she glanced at him, made uneasy by his manner. ‘What—?’
He put a finger to her lips and said softly, seriously, ‘For everyone’s sake I was hoping to avoid this, but as I can’t think of any other way to convince you… Go up the stairs and open the right-hand door.’
Seized by a sudden apprehension, she found herself pleading, ‘Won’t you come with me?’
Shaking his head, he said decidedly, ‘My presence would only make things worse.’
As, not liking the situation at all, she hung back, he gave her a little push and whispered sternly, ‘Go on, where’s your fighting spirit?’
With the greatest reluctance, she began to climb the stairs. When she reached the landing, she glanced back.
The hall was empty and the front door was closed.
Her feet noiseless on the thick carpet, she approached the right-hand door. Gritting her teeth, she turned the knob and pushed the door open.
With a feeling of déjà vu, she saw two people in the big double bed. Propped up on pillows, they were lying in each other’s arms. Mark’s eyes were closed in sleep, but the woman was staring straight back at Loris.
The little scene brought back such bitter memories of Nigel and his paramour that Loris felt gall rise in her throat, and thought for a moment she was going to be sick.
But it was immediately obvious that this woman was no brazen slut. She was young, little more than a girl, dark-haired and dark-eyed, with a kind of fragile dignity and a pretty, gentle face.
Though she sat quite still, cradling Mark’s dark head against her breast, her expression revealed a tumult of feeling. She looked uncomfortable and apprehensive, yet oddly determined…
The only thing she didn’t look, Loris realised, was surprised. She had been expecting the door to open, waiting for it.
As though the tension had communicated itself to the sleeper, he stirred and grunted.
Pulling herself together, Loris quietly closed the door and, hurrying down the stairs, let herself out. As the latch clicked gently behind her, she heard a baby start to cry.
By the time she reached the pavement Jonathan had turned the car round and was waiting by the kerb. Desperate to leave that painful little scene behind her, she jumped in and fastened her seat belt.
Responding to that unspoken urgency Jonathan let out the clutch, and in a moment they were pulling out of the cul-de-sac and joining the main traffic stream.
With a glance at her white face, he queried, ‘Sure you’re all right?’
Unable to tell him that it was being reminded of Nigel that had upset her far more than seeing Mark in another woman’s arms, she answered obliquely, ‘I will be when I know the full facts.’
Jonathan looked doubtful. ‘Are you sure you want to talk about it just yet?’
‘Why not?’ she asked bitterly. ‘Seeing my fiancé in bed with another woman is starting to lose its sting. In fact it’s getting to be a habit.’
‘I’m sorry it was necessary to put you through that.’ His regret sounded genuine. ‘If you hadn’t still been determined to marry Longton I would have spared you that shock.’
It had been a shock, but nowhere near the shock it might have been if she had continued to believe she was in love with Mark.
Taking a deep breath, she asked, ‘How did you manage to engineer it?’
‘It wasn’t a set-up,’ Jonathan denied quietly.
‘It must have been. I could see from the girl’s face that she was expecting me, and you had a key to the door.’
‘Yes, she gave me a key, and, yes, she was expecting you about that time. But she didn’t lure Longton there especially, if that’s what you’re thinking. Apparently he enjoys what he calls “a spot of afternoon delight”, and makes a habit of going to his love-nest two or three times a week. For one thing, it’s easier to cover his tracks in the daytime. All he needs to do is say he’s out on business, and who’s to know he’s spent most of the time in bed with his mistress? Take today, for instance. You thought he was away on business. Well, he was. He simply caught an earlier flight back to give him a few hours free.’
‘I still don’t understand how you know all this. How you became involved. Why you went to all this trouble. Why it matters to you. It has to be something more than mere disapproval, or even enmity…’
‘It matters to me because the girl who was with him is Linda Marchant, Jane’s sister-in-law, and Jane cares about her.’
CHAPTER NINE
THAT simple fact explained everything—why Jonathan had seduced her after the St Valentine’s party, why he’d kissed her in BLC’s foyer, why he’d lured her down to Fenny Manor…
In short, it explained why he’d been so determined to prevent her marrying Mark. It was for the sake of the woman he loved.
It even explained why Jane Marchant had been so willing to help him…
Loris felt as though a giant fist had closed around her heart and was squeezing the life out of it.
‘What did you think of Linda?’ Jonathan’s tense question broke into her thoughts.
‘Does it matter what I thought of her?’ she asked wearily.
‘Yes. It matters to me.’
Sighing, she answered truthfully, ‘I thought she looked young and sweet, and surprisingly innocent.’
Jonathan’s expression relaxed a little. ‘She’s far from being a tart. She was just seventeen and a naïve schoolgirl when he first seduced her. She’s only nineteen now, and a really nice person. It’s a great pity she’s so crazy about that lying—’ He broke off abruptly.
After a moment he continued more mildly, ‘Believe me, both she and Jane were sincerely sorry to do this to you. They only agreed to my plan because Linda was desperate to keep the father of her child and Jane wanted to help. I hope you’ll be able to forgive all three of us.’
‘I suppose I should be thanking you for saving me.’ Picking up the irony in the words, he frowned.
When she said nothing further, he asked carefully, ‘Have you decided what you’re going to do?’
Unhesitatingly, she answered, ‘I shall give Mark back his ring.’ And without too many qualms.
There was no mistaking Jonathan’s relief.
‘When I left you to go upstairs on your own I wondered if he’d succeed in talking his way out of it… But you weren’t in the house for more than a minute, so I presume he either didn’t try to make excuses or you didn’t stay to listen to them?’
‘He didn’t even see me. He was asleep.’
‘That might save a great deal of trouble. Linda was worried to death about having to try and explain how you came to know enough to be there at just the right time, and also how you got in… Unless you intend to tell him everything when you give him back his ring?’
‘No, I don’t. I shall merely tell him that I know he lied to me. Then as far as I’m concerned the whole thing’s over and done with. I just hope she manages to find some happiness with him. I know now I never could have.’ In spite of all her efforts, her voice sounded forlorn.
Jonathan reached over and gave her hand a quick squeeze. ‘You’ll find your share of happiness, I promise.’
It seemed unlikely, to say the least, when the man she had fallen in love with had merely used her to help the woman he loved.
She took a deep, shuddering breath and began, ‘Tell me something…’
When she paused, trying to think how best to phrase it, he gave her a sidelong glance and asked encouragingly, ‘What would you like to know?’
‘I was wondering if your coming over to England with Cosby’s was just a coincidence, or did you choose to come?’
‘It wasn’t a coincidence.’
‘So you came over purposely to stop me from marrying Mark?’
‘You could say that.’
A little edge to her voice, she said, ‘Well,
your mission’s succeeded.’ Then, with concern, ‘But in the process you’ve lost your job… Unless Cosby’s would let you work for them in the States?’
‘I’m sure they would. But, having just acquired Fenny Manor, I don’t happen to want to go back to the States. In any case, I’m hoping to be married quite soon.’
‘Of course.’
And, as Jane Marchant obviously had money, he was under no immediate pressure. Though she couldn’t believe he was the sort of man who would be content to let a woman keep him for any length of time…
Slanting her a glance, he remarked, ‘You don’t sound too happy about it.’
‘Why shouldn’t I be?’ she said desperately. ‘But I was just thinking that when you’ve got a wife to support it might be as well to have an income. What if I can persuade Mark to give you back your London job?’
His voice suddenly cold as ice, Jonathan queried, ‘And how would you do that?’
‘Not the way you’re thinking.’
‘I’m glad about that. I should hate to have to break his neck after all. So how?’
‘A spot of blackmail.’
Looking amused now, he said, ‘I hadn’t figured you as a blackmailer. But do go on, you intrigue me.’
‘Well, I could save his pride by telling my father and all his posh friends that we’ve decided we just aren’t compatible… Or I could threaten to tell them exactly why I’d decided to end the engagement.’
Jonathan laughed. ‘Simple, but I dare say very effective.’
Reaching for her hand, he raised it to his lips and kissed the palm. ‘Thank you, my love, I’m grateful. However, it’s not necessary. I’ve no intention of working for Longton.’
Shaken by the endearment, Loris bit her lip. If only she was his love…
Perhaps, subconsciously, she’d wanted that since the moment they’d met. It had been so short a time, a matter of days, yet his effect on her life had been powerful.
But so much of it had been for the good.
If she’d married Mark she would have ended up as bitter and disillusioned as her mother. Jonathan, albeit for his own ends, had saved her from that, and she should be grateful.
Rather than have a husband like Mark, it was better not to marry at all. Though it was sad when, for the first time, she felt a whole woman and longed for the warmth of a loving relationship.
But not just any relationship.
She knew now that Jonathan was all she’d ever wanted, a man she could have been happy with, and she envied Jane Marchant with a wrenching envy that felt as if it was tearing her apart.
But envy wasn’t a pleasant emotion, she reminded herself, and Jane Marchant—after having one failed marriage—was entitled to a second chance of happiness, to a husband who loved her, and a family.
The very things she herself wanted.
But unless, some time in the future, another man came along that she could love—and in the light of what had happened so far that seemed extremely unlikely—her career would have to take the place of a husband and family.
For once, the thought of her career failed to cheer her.
The Friday-night traffic proved to be unduly heavy, and, roadworks causing a bottleneck on the route Jonathan had chosen, they found themselves crawling along in a stop-start queue for several miles.
Refusing to get stressed, he put on some relaxing music and whistled quietly to it, while Loris, tired from the previous night’s lack of sleep and a veritable turmoil of emotions, leaned her head against the padded headrest and closed her eyes.
She was just rousing when Jonathan’s voice said cheerfully, ‘Here we are at last.’
Refreshed, she opened her eyes to find they had reached the block of flats where she lived and were turning into the underground car park.
Wondering how he’d known exactly where to bring her, she informed him, ‘I’m afraid you’re not allowed down here. It’s for residents only.’
Taking not the slightest bit of notice, he drove down the long steep ramp until he reached the barrier.
In her smuggest ‘you should have listened to me’ voice, she said, ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to back up now.’
Green eyes glinting, he asked, ‘Oh, why’s that?’
‘Because you have to have a resident’s swipe card to raise the barrier.’
‘You mean like this?’ Producing a blue and white plastic card from his pocket, he swiped it through, and obediently the barrier rose.
A moment later he was pulling into one of the numbered parking bays. Catching sight of her expression, he asked innocently, ‘Isn’t this allowed either?’
‘Not unless you’re a resident, and this happens to be your bay.’
‘I am, and it is.’
‘What?’ she said, failing to understand.
‘I said I am a resident, and this is my parking bay.’
‘But this is where I live,’ she objected stupidly. He put on a thunderstruck expression. ‘Gosh! Does that mean we’re actually neighbours?’
‘I do wish you’d be serious,’ she said, not for the first time.
‘While we’re living in the same building I’ll be the soul of gravity,’ he assured her, and, jumping out, came round to open her door.
As they crossed to the lifts she tried to make sense of it. ‘How do you come to be living here?’
‘Simple. One of the service flats became vacant and I took a short lease on it.’
Strange things did happen, but with all the accommodation available in London surely this was too much of a coincidence? However, seeing by the gleam in his eye that he was quite prepared to go on teasing her, she decided to let the matter drop, merely asking, ‘Which floor do you live on?’
‘The same as you.’
‘In a minute you’ll be telling me you have the next-door flat.’
‘I’m afraid not,’ he said regretfully. ‘We’re at opposite ends of the building.’
When the lift stopped at the seventh floor he followed her out and turned to walk with her.
‘I thought you lived at the opposite end?’
‘So I do,’ he agreed, unperturbed.
On reaching her door, he waited while she fished in her bag for the key, then opened the door for her.
‘Thank you.’ As steadily as possible, she added, ‘I suppose, unless we meet by chance, this is goodbye.’ She held out her hand.
‘How very formal,’ he mocked gently. Ignoring the proffered hand, he tilted her chin and kissed her lips.
A lover’s kiss, it was bestowed with a possessive ardour that knocked her off balance and made her feel giddy. It seemed to offer a commitment and ask for a response.
When finally he raised his head, she lifted heavy lids and gazed up at him. Her golden eyes looked dazed, the pupils large and black.
Putting an arm around her waist, he urged her inside and closed the door behind them, before following her through the tiny hall and into the living-room.
Trying hard to regain her equilibrium, she queried thickly, ‘If you intended to come in, why did you kiss me goodbye?’
‘Oh, I didn’t kiss you goodbye. I just took the opportunity to kiss you.’ Glancing at her from beneath long gold-tipped lashes, he confided, ‘I enjoy kissing you.’
Feeling she ought to scold him, but unable to, she stayed silent.
Looking around the living-room, with its beige and cream colour scheme, he remarked casually, ‘All these flats are alike. Quite pleasant, but impersonal and far from exciting.’
Vexed that, while she was still shaken to the core, he could sound so unmoved and prosaic, she asked tartly, ‘Did you follow me in for the sole purpose of criticising the decor?’
‘Certainly not. There are much more important things to be done…’ Then, with a hint of satisfaction, ‘You told me Longton was coming at six-thirty, so if he didn’t get held up he should be arriving any minute…’
A sudden suspicion made her ask, ‘You weren’t thinking of being here when Mark come
s?’
‘Of course.’
Fearing trouble, she cried sharply, ‘No, I want you to go now! I don’t want you to be here.’
‘I’ll keep out of it and let you handle things, if that’s what you want, but I’ve no intention of leaving you alone.’
Knowing he was thinking of the slight bruise on her wrist, she said, ‘No, really, there’s absolutely no need to stay.’
His face serious, he asked, ‘Just suppose Longton lost his head and decided to use a little force to get what he’s always wanted?’
Shocked, she whispered, ‘No, he wouldn’t.’
‘Can you be certain of that?’
Could she?
Seeing the doubt on her face, he said grimly, ‘Well, I’ve absolutely no intention of chancing it.’
The peal of the doorbell cut through his words.
‘Stay here,’ she hissed at him and, closing the door between the living-room and the hall, went to answer it.
Wearing a dark, well-tailored business suit, Mark was waiting. Looking a little surprised when she didn’t immediately invite him in, he bent to kiss her.
She turned her head sharply away, so that his lips just brushed her cheek.
He frowned. ‘Something wrong?’
‘Yes.’ Pulling off her engagement ring, she handed it to him.
Surprised into taking it, he stood staring down at the sparkling half-hoop of diamonds, before demanding angrily, ‘What’s going on? Why have you given me back my ring?’
‘Our engagement’s over,’ she told him flatly.
‘Don’t be a fool. We’re getting married in a week’s time.’
‘We’re not getting married at all. You can tell everyone that we realised just in time that we aren’t compatible.’
‘Aren’t compatible? Of course we’re compatible! I don’t know what’s brought this on…’ Then, a shade guiltily, ‘Unless it’s my sacking Drummond…? Look, let’s go in and talk about it…’
Her heart in her mouth, she stood her ground. ‘There’s nothing to talk about. Unless you’d like to tell me where you spent the afternoon?’ Watching some of the colour leave his face, she said, ‘No, I didn’t think you would.’
Marriage on the Agenda Page 14
