“Can I help you, madam?” A man in the trademark Harrods uniform appeared beside her.
Imogen stared at him for a moment longer than normal and shook her head. “Not unless you happen to be a lawyer?”
*
“What do you mean you’ve ‘lost’ her?” Theo looked from his mother to Raquel, his temper only kept in check by the absurdity of the idea. “She’s a person, not a bag. How can you have ‘lost’ her?”
Raquel returned his look with equal confusion. “She was here, and then she wasn’t. No one’s seen her.”
Concern pounded in his chest. He lifted his phone from his pocket and dialed Imogen’s number. It went straight to voicemail, which could mean one of four things.
Her battery was flat. Unlikely; he knew she charged it religiously. She was on the phone – definitely possible. Or she was underground, on a tube? Maybe, but why? The fourth he didn’t particularly want to contemplate but it was there on the periphery of his mind. What if something had happened to her? He was high-profile. Though their relationship had still – miraculously – escaped the notice of gossip columnists, it didn’t follow that someone hadn’t learned of Imogen’s existence… Oh, God.
The thought was anathema to him.
“How do you lose the guest of honour at her own damned party?” He demanded, his mother’s gaze flushing to the floor.
“Technically,” she responded, obviously mistaking the depth of her son’s concern, “it was a party for your child.”
A muscle jerked in Theo’s cheek. “She is the mother of that child and it’s about time you start realizing that.”
Raquel could see interested gazes turning their way and she spoke quietly in an attempt to defuse the situation. “She must be somewhere. Perhaps she went shopping?”
Theo turned frustrated eyes on her and Raquel nodded urgently. “I know. Stupid suggestion. Forget I said that.”
“When did you last see her?” He prompted, trying to keep cool even as a sense of dark foreboding spread through him like spilled lava.
“Around the time desserts came out,” Raquel said softly. “She went to the bathroom and I got us some treats and then she never came back.”
The noise that came from Elena was half-groan, half-cry. She lifted a hand to her lips and her fingers were trembling. “The bathroom?”
“Yes, mother, she is human too you know.” Theo snapped tersely, dragging a hand through his hair and trying her number again. It went straight to voicemail.
“What is it, Elena?” Raquel’s attention was focused on the older woman and she saw something akin to guilt on her beautiful features.
“I … Oh, God. I think I know what might have … where she might have gone.” And Elena reached behind her, moving slowly until she connected with a chair and sat in it heavily. “Oh, God.”
“What? What happened?” Raquel prompted, her eyes zipping to Theo’s. He was ashen, barely-contained fury masked by his features.
“What did you say to her?”
“Nothing. I didn’t say anything to her.” She squeezed her eyes shut, sucking in a deep breath. “I didn’t mean anything by it. Only, I was upset. Angry.”
Theo moved closer, crouching down purely so that their conversation would remain private. “What happened?”
Elena met his eyes but there was not so much as a wink of defiance in her guilt-ridden expression. “I had no idea she was in there,” Elena promised. “But now, I think I do remember a door being shut. I should have checked. I should have…”
“What happened?” Theo interrupted, the words cold and thick with impatience.
“Marie followed me. She was upset. We talked and I think, it’s possible, that if Imogen was in the stall and she overheard, I think it’s possible, highly likely, actually, that she might have been offended by what we discussed.”
Fierce, red-hot fury soared in his chest but he contained it. He focused on his goal. He needed to get to Imogen and arrest this damage but he could only do that if he knew exactly what he was up against. “Tell me everything.”
It was patently obvious that Elena would rather lick dog excrement off the pavement but she stayed where she was and, to her credit, relayed the conversation in its entirety.
Theo listened, his mind taking the information and processing it first from his own perspective and secondly from Imogen’s.
“How did you know I’d drawn up a custody agreement?” He asked at the end, his expression impassive. Only the flare of his nostrils showed the depth of his feelings.
“Alfie’s secretary called me on another matter. It … slipped out,” Elena murmured.
“That is seriously unethical,” he snapped angrily, but then, he looked at Raquel and concern overrode every other emotion. “What should I do?”
The simple question, combined with his uncharacteristic look of uncertainty, pulled hard on Raquel’s heart strings.
“Find her,” she said, reaching out and squeezing his arm. “And fix it.”
Theo nodded, spinning on his heel and stalking through the restaurant.
It was excellent advice but he feared it would fall squarely into the Easier Said Than Done column.
CHAPTER TWELVE
A WEEK LATER, AND he knew his first instinct had been right.
Imogen was impossible to find. How could he fix the situation if he couldn’t even speak to her? He drummed his fingers along the leather inlay of his desk, staring out at London Bridge, trying to remember everything she’d ever told him. He had replayed their every conversation ad infinitum, looking at them for clues of where she might have gone to. Friends she’d mentioned? Spots she liked to visit?
And drew blank after blank after Goddamned blank.
How could he know so little about her?
How had he listened to her without joining the dots? Why hadn’t he paid better attention?
He swore under his breath and stood roughly, stalking across the office and staring out of the enormous window. It was a bitterly cold, grey day; it matched his mood perfectly.
His phone rang and he thought about ignoring it, but then, there was hope.
The hope that maybe Imogen would be on the other end. He snatched it up impatiently, barking a harsh ‘hello’ into the receiver.
“Mr Trevalyen?”
His heart dropped. “Yes. What is it?”
“Sir, you’re in the paperwork as next of kin.”
His body flooded with adrenalin. He was both hot and cold. He gripped the edge of the desk, his view unwavering. “Yes?”
“Imogen Harper was brought in an hour ago.”
He hadn’t vomited since he was a boy, but he felt the rise of bile in his esophagus now. “Is she..?” The words came out as a horrible croak. The thought of harm befalling Imogen was impossible to bear.
“She’s fine. About 8cm dilated so it should be any time now. Though of course, you never know. Babies are stubborn little creatures, coming of their own accord. But if you want to be here for her, I’d suggest you make your way to us sharpish.”
“What?” He sat down in the chair, the after-effects of shock making his fingers tremble. “You’re saying …”
“She’s about to have the baby, sir.”
He disconnected the call and stood in one swift motion, grabbing his jacket as he jogged out of his office.
*
“I’m sorry, sir. You’re not to go in.”
He had never hit a woman in his life. Hell, he’d only hit a man once, in college, and the bastard had hit him first. But staring at the matronly nurse with her bright red hair and pink painted lips, he wanted to shove her aside, or roar in her face. Anything to remove the impediment the woman was creating.
“I just got called and told to come down.”
“Miss Harper has been quite adamant on this point,” the nurse softened the words with what Theo presumed to be an attempt at a smile. The lipstick had smudged onto her two front teeth.
“Tell her I’m here,” he said th
ickly. “Please.”
“Sir, have you ever had a baby?” The nurse spoke slowly, as if he was dim-witted.
He compressed his lips in a gesture of impatience that came across as pure arrogance.
“Because, let me tell you, it’s not the time to start questioning what a woman wants. If Miss Harper says she wants to do this alone, then that’s what’s going to happen.”
“Please, would you at least tell her I’m here. That I … I came as soon as I heard. Please, tell her that. Please tell her we need to talk.”
The nurse’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t I know you?”
Theo groaned. “No,” he shook his head. “We’ve never met.” Then, wondering if his loose claim to fame might actually work in his favour in this instance, he relaxed. Tried to smile. “I’m Theo Trevalyen.”
“I thought you were,” she nodded. “Okay, Mr Trevalyen…”
He held his breath, waiting, hoping. Refusing the childish impulse to correct her with his title, Lord Trevalyen.
“I’ll let her know you’re here. Take a seat in the waiting room.”
Mentally, he swore every single curse he knew in every single language he spoke. “Tell her now. If there’s even a chance she wishes I was in there with her… I’d never forgive myself. Please.”
The nurse reached out her hand, touching his forearm lightly. “There isn’t. As I said, she was adamant about this.”
“But…”
“Mr Trevalyen, the hospital takes patient care very seriously. I’m sure it’s what Miss Harper had in mind when she chose to deliver her baby here.”
My baby, Theo amended inwardly. And he’d chosen that hospital to guarantee Imogen’s privacy and comfort. The idea of her being hounded by paparazzi all because of him had been abhorrent, and he’d heard along the grapevine that the patient care offered here was second to none.
It was a decision that was coming back to bite him in the most unappreciated manner. A loud cry tore him out of his angry reverie and his heart throbbed, twisted and split into thousands of pieces. Imogen. Crying out. She sounded like she was being murdered or skinned or worse.
“Sir?” The nurse prompted with a sense of urgency. “I have to get back in there.”
He nodded, but as the door pushed inwards, he heard Imogen cry out out again and every fibre of his being tore at him, begging him to go to her.
The nurse popped her head through the doors. “Don’t even think about it, or I will call security.”
More curses littered his mind. His stride was long as he paced towards the waiting room. But he didn’t sit down. He strode up and back, up and back, slowing outside Imogen’s door, waiting, listening, and praying. What would he say to her? Where had she been? Was she okay? How could he explain the Godawful mess his mother had unwittingly got him into? After all, it wasn’t all a complete misunderstanding. He had drawn up watertight custody arrangements. He swore under his breath, pacing a little more.
Finally, after two long hours, he heard it.
The cry of a newborn. A baby.
Their baby. His heart squeezed and tears filled his eyes. He stopped walking and stared at the doors, his heart in his throat as he waited, waited, waited. Seconds felt like hours. Time stopped.
Eventually, the nurse was there, a distracted smile on her face as she burst through the doors and turned towards the waiting room. But she saw Theo and adjusted her course.
“Well?” Theo asked, his face rich with emotion.
The nurse nodded. “The baby’s here.”
“Is it … is everything …”
“Mum and bubs are both fine.” Theo expelled a long breath of relief. “I’m going to tend to Imogen and then I’ll ask if she’s happy for you to come through.”
Imogen now, not Miss Harper. He supposed helping someone deliver a baby eroded the formal professionalism of last-names only.
“Thank you. Nurse? Is it a boy or a girl?”
“A girl,” she smiled kindly and turned around, moving back into Imogen’s delivery suite.
The wait was interminable and Theo was on the brink of overpowering every rational impulse and barging into the suite when, an hour later, the nurse reappeared.
“She’s asked you to come in,” the nurse said. “But she’s tired. I’m giving you five minutes.”
“Five fu--- five minutes?” He repeated, all the ice in his body sledging into the nurse.
She was unaffected. “Five minutes.”
Theo ground his teeth together and pushed into the room.
And froze. Time was still refusing to budge; it was thick around him, so too the air. He was wading through reality, and Imogen was an anchor he needed to get close to.
She was sitting, propped by at least four pale pillows, in the middle of a hospital-issue bed, her face flushed, a small, pink bundle in her hands. She held it clutched to her breast. She was wearing a soft, violet nightgown and her hair sat around her face in total disarray. A white blanket covered her from the waist down, and there was a tray of food beside her.
He stared at her and emotions he’d never known threatened to fell him; to bring him to his knees. He hadn’t seen her in a week but it felt like so much longer.
“Hey.” It emerged as a husky croak. He cleared his throat and took a step towards her but the fierce, angry resentment in her face made him ache for her.
The blame for her anger stood squarely at his feet.
“Theo.”
So cold.
Rejection was heavy in the one small word. And something else too, that vibrated through the air.
Palpable tension.
He swallowed, needing to moisten his throat, and the eyes that held Imogen’s were awash with emotion.
“May I see her?”
The fear that flashed in Imogen was unmistakable. Theo groaned inwardly. He was messing everything up. He’d had no clue what to say to her, but this, evidently wasn’t what she wanted.
“I’m … I need to try to feed her,” she said, tightening her grip on the baby as though she actually thought he might be about to swoop in and lift her up, take her far away.
“We need to speak.”
Imogen nodded, tears sparkling on her eyelashes. “I know that.” She closed her eyes, as if fortifying herself. “But not now.” She reached a finger down, curling it over their daughter’s downy, fair head. “I’m too tired for that now.”
Of course she was. She must have been exhausted. And in two hours of pacing, he hadn’t even thought to go to the damned hospital gift shop and get her flowers. He cast a glance around her empty room, and it was as though he’d been stabbed through the chest. Everything about the room seemed to scream ‘alone’. There was one bed – no chair. No gifts. Just Imogen, and now, their baby.
He moved closer, drawn almost without his realizing it, until he was hovering right beside her, his eyes dropping to their baby. And everything else evaporated from his mind. He stared down at her, at the child they’d made, his body held in place with relief, joy, and so much love he couldn’t fathom it.
“She’s beautiful,” he said thickly, not caring now that emotion was visible on his face, in his eyes. “Just like her mum.”
Imogen visibly startled; the eyes that met his were disdainful – full of rejection. “I haven’t named her yet,” she said primly.
“Not Cruella, then?” He teased, and her eyes lifted to his with sadness and accusation. Sadness at what they’d been, and with accusation because he’d let her think there was so much to them than there had been. He’d fooled her into loving him; into hoping for a future.
When had he planned to leave her? So soon after having the baby? Or had he at least intended to wait a few months? And would that have been worse? She sucked in a pained breath, shaking her head in response to his attempted joke.
“No.” Imogen didn’t feel like joking. In the space of minutes, she’d gone from jubilant joy to desperate pain. The chasm between how this moment should have been – how she’d thought
it would be only a week earlier – and how it actually was, seemed cataclysmic.
“Listen, Imogen,” he dropped his hand to her leg, rubbing her lightly through the blanket. “I know what you heard. What my mother and Marie said.”
Imogen closed her eyes. “So they knew I was there?” She had wondered about that, in the week since running out of the restaurant, and Theo’s life.
“My mother didn’t. Marie, I’m almost certain, planned for you to hear their conversation.”
“Did she know you’d drawn up a custody agreement?” Imogen asked stiffly. “Had you discussed it with her?”
“No one was supposed to know,” he said.
“Including me.”
“Yes, including you. Until I explained. I have to explain.”
“But it’s true?” She asked, looking away from him, turning her attention back on their baby. Tears clogged her throat and she felt like she was about to cry. Not to sob silently either, but to indulge in a proper cathartic meltdown. Her breath was labored and pain was spreading through her.
“It’s not … as bad as it sounds,” he muttered finally.
“Oh, really?” She choked on the word and lifted their daughter higher, breathing her in, kissing her little head, but the pain didn’t disappear and she did sob properly, a loud, cracking noise in the delivery suite. “I’m not going to let you take her from me.”
Her pain was tangible and Theo knew that, for the rest of his life, he would never forgive himself for putting her through this. He crouched down, bringing his face level with hers. “Please, agape, calm down.”
“How can I?” She fixed him with a watery stare, pain thick in her chest. She looked at the man she loved – the man she’d loved from the minute she’d met him – and then she blinked heavily. “I’ve spoken to a lawyer as well. Until I stop nursing, I’ll have full custody of her.” The words were bleak. Speaking about the little one as a commodity was misery inducing.
“Imogen,” he groaned, reaching for her hand. “I have no intention of taking her away from you. Ever.”
His Nine Month Seduction Page 14
