by Lyn Cote
Trent chuckled. “I was wondering if I should wake you up. I called room service a while ago. I hope I ordered what you like for breakfast.”
Fierce embarrassment made it impossible for her to reply.
Trent came and sat down beside her on the bed. “You look beautiful when you blush like that.” He ran a finger down her cheek.
Her face flushed hotter, and she moved a bit away from him. “Trent, please, I—”
He interrupted her with a kiss. Then he murmured, “You’re so beautiful. I can’t wait to show you off.”
His words did not reassure her. She pulled away and grabbed at something to stop him from going any further. “Who were you talking to?”
Trent shrugged. “Family.” He ran a finger around one ear and down her neck to the top of the sheet she held against herself. His touch still had the power to move her, but she refused to give in to it. When she held tight, he chuckled again. “Why don’t you shower before breakfast? I can wait and shower afterward.” He stood up.
She felt distinct relief that he was leaving her to get herself together. And yes, she wanted and needed fresh clothing to face breakfast with him and the conversation they had to have. She must let him know that she wouldn’t fall from grace again. Once was already more than she could handle. The only thing that made this bearable was that she was sure Trent was a good person who had fallen in love with her and that he’d understand why it had to be that way. They’d just have to go back and begin dating, getting to know one another a bit better. She had no doubt that she felt love for this man. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have allowed him to make love to her.
So she gave him the key from her purse, and he told her he’d call the bellman to go out and bring up her overnight bag from her car in the hotel lot. That even an unknown bellhop would realize that she’d spent the night with Trent made her cringe. Then he left her, and she scrambled into the bathroom.
Later, fully dressed but with her long hair still wet from the shower, Leigh sipped her first cup of hot coffee. It did wonders for her slight headache. She looked over the rim of her cup at Trent and wondered how to begin to tell him of her regret over her lapse of judgment last night. She wasn’t the kind of woman who did this type of thing.
“I have to go back to Annapolis today, Leigh. I have a case coming up soon, and I have to meet with my staff.”
Leigh took in a deep breath. “We need to discuss—”
“Believe me,” he cut in, “I wouldn’t go if I had any choice. And I have to attend my son’s football game at 6:30 today.”
The word “son” startled her. “Son? You didn’t tell me you’d been married.”
He gave her an odd look. “Everyone knows I’m married.”
It was like a clawhammer to her head. She gaped at him.
“Didn’t you recognize me?” He lifted one brow quizzi cally. “My wife’s father is the governor of Maryland. How could you not know that?”
His words cut her in two. She could barely draw breath. She gaped at him. Finally, she managed to say, “But you said you’d never known love.” Was Trent teasing her or playing an awful joke?
He snorted. “There’s no love between my wife and me. It is purely a marriage of convenience, an open marriage for both of us. She wanted a husband who was able to impress her father, and I wanted his political connections. I’m building a reputation for myself, and when her father eventually retires, I’ll run for his office.”
Leigh was too stunned to speak. Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly. She realized then that she’d taken Trent at face value, never asking other women about him. She’d kept her distance from others at the town meetings and had never gone back to the McGovern headquarters in Washington or Maryland. Her grief had cut her off from the regular flow of getting to know people. She’d only talked to that girl Nancy and the man across from her.
He reached over and took her hand. “We can play this any way you want. I plan that our affair will last as long as you can put up with me. In fact, forever if you wish. You’re beautiful, intelligent, and I’ve never felt anything for a woman like what I feel for you. I didn’t think I was capable of falling in love. But I think this is the real thing this time.”
Leigh felt as if he were speaking a foreign language. This Trent was nothing like the Trent she’d known over the past few months. Which one was real—the caring, more mature man who’d been so understanding, or this cold stranger who spoke of a wife, a son, and political ambition?
He paused to sip his coffee. “Why don’t you come to Annapolis with me today and look for an apartment? I think you’ll find me very generous. Or—” He gave her a roguish grin. “—are you one of those liberated women who doesn’t want a man to provide for her?”
That Trent would even say the words to her appalled her. Her nerves felt as if someone had set fire to them. She wanted to lie down on the floor and writhe with the agony, the shame. This can’t be happening. I can’t have really done this. Oh, dear God, no. “I didn’t know you were married,” she said at last, her throat as dry as sand.
“Leigh, I really care for you, more than I’ve ever cared for anyone. And I’ve wanted you and waited longer for you than any other woman. But I am married. I can’t divorce her. I’ve put too many years into the marriage, and it’s part and parcel with my political ambitions. We have a son, too. This isn’t going to be a problem, is it?”
Yes, this is going to he a problem.She stared at him, feeling as if he had just yanked out her insides. Dear God, I’ve been such a fool
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Too shocked to react. Too horrified at her own foolishness. Too crushed by his assumption that she would knowingly, willingly enter into an affair with a married man. How Leigh had survived the rest of the minutes till Trent left her, she didn’t know. Finally, after a fast kiss on her forehead and a reminder for her to call him at his private office number so they could make plans for their future, he departed.
Alone at last, she stood in the center of the luxurious suite and stared around. “What do I do now?” she asked the empty, mocking room. “How could I have been so stupid?”
“ Everyone knows I’m married. You must have recognized me. My wife’s the governor’s daughter.”
But she’d lived in San Francisco and before that in New York City attending college. And before that, she’d lived near Arlington, Virginia. She hadn’t known who the governor of Maryland was or who was married to his daughter. And she hadn’t become chummy with any of the other McGovern campaigners except Nancy Hollister, who was from New York and wouldn’t have known, either. Leigh had kept to her self, and only Trent had pursued her. And now she knew why—he’d needed a new mistress.
Her knees suddenly weakened, and she staggered to the amber sofa. Staring at the smudged glasses left on the coffee table from last night, she moaned, feeling almost physically ill. How had she sunk this low? Was it only that she never drank and the rum had weakened her resistance? Her conscience refused to allow this excuse. She’d drunk the alcohol of her own free will. She’d consented to come to Trent’s room alone. She’d let him make love to her, knowing no vows had been spoken between them.
“I have no one to blame but myself.”
What kind of man married for political connections and then had affairs? It was hard to reconcile this kind of coldblooded behavior with the warm and caring man whom she’d spent hours with over the past few months. I must be a very poor judge of character.Or had he been busy seducing her and she hadn’t even realized it? Was she that naïve? Evidently she was.
Trent’s charming words played in her mind: “I’ve never felt anything for a woman like what I feel for you. I didn’t think I was capable of falling in love. “ Was that what men said to their mistresses? Did they try to dress up the relationship as a “love” affair so that the woman didn’t feel the full weight of the guilt of committing adultery?
That’s what I did. I committed adultery.She recalled memorizing the Ten Comma
ndments as a little girl in Sunday school. She remembered wondering why she’d had to because—of course—she’d never break any of those commandments. Without meaning to, she moaned again. She couldn’t ever remember moaning aloud in her life, not even when she’d lost Dane. But each one felt wrenched from deep inside her. What do I do now? How can I ever live this down? Oh, God, forgive me. Forgive me.
Minutes passed, and finally Leigh pulled herself together and left the hotel room. Downstairs, still wobbly, she saw a bank of public telephones off to one side of the lobby. It suddenly dawned on her that she hadn’t driven home to Ivy Manor last night or even called. Her grandmother might be worried. She got change for a couple of dollars from the desk clerk and went to the end phone, trying for some privacy. She dialed the long-distance number, deposited the requested number of coins, and heard the call go through. When her grandmother’s sweet voice came over the line, Leigh nearly burst into tears.
“Grandma,” she said, controlling her shaky voice, “I’m sorry I didn’t call last night. I was up quite late and then stayed with… a friend here at the hotel.” Pain twisted through her nerves again. A friend, right.Now she was lying to her grandmother.
“That’s what we decided had happened, dear. After all, you had taken an overnight bag with you,” Chloe replied as if this were just an ordinary day, not the day Leigh would regret for the rest of her life. “After McGovern’s defeat, it must have been a rough night for everyone there.”
Who cares about McGovern? “Yes.” This morning was the worst. Oh, Grandma, I didn’t mean this to happen.
“Are you coming home today?”
“I don’t know,” she lied. No, I can’t come home. If I did, I’d break down and tell you what I’ve done. I can’t face you or anyone else in the family. No one must ever know what I’ve done. Oh, Grandma, I hate myself.
But if she did not go back to Ivy Manor or her mother’s house, what was she going to do? She had no place of her own to limp off to and hide from everyone. But suddenly, grasping for straws, she remembered her conversation with her friend Nancy. Nancy’s parting words came to mind: “If you’re ever in New York City, give me a call. I’ve got a sleeper sofa.”
“Grandma, I think that I’m going to go up to New York City.” What possible reason could she give for this? Her frantic mind searched for a reason and came up with, “I might see about starting graduate classes in January. I’ve been at loose ends. Maybe I should go back to school.”
Her grandmother responded with the usual encouragement and request that Leigh call her when she reached New York City safe and sound. “Do you want me to call the Loveladys? I know they’d love to have you stay with them. Or you could stay with Minnie.”
“No.” Leigh’s denial came swift and strong. She couldn’t face anyone she knew well. “I—” She softened her voice. “I’m going to stay with a friend I met in D.C. in June. She lives in the Village.”
Within seconds, Leigh was able to end the phone call. With almost desperate determination, she dug out Nancy Hollister’s card, buried in her billfold. She dropped more coins into the slot and dialed her friend’s number. No answer. Leigh hung up and retrieved the change from the coin drop. She stood there. Should she go to New York? Did she have a choice?
In times of trouble, she’d always run to Ivy Manor and her grandmother’s open arms. Never before had she run away from Ivy Manor. But she’d never before broken the seventh commandment.
The drive to New York helped Leigh get hold of her stormy emotions. She couldn’t land on Nancy’s doorstep, burst into tears, and confess all. She suspected Trent would never tell anyone about their night together, and certainly she wouldn’t. And Trent would just have to figure out by himself why she didn’t call him. She had no desire to speak to him again, and there was no way, she decided with dark, bitter humor, she could leave a message with his secretary like, “Please tell Mr. Kinnard that I’ve decided not to become his mistress.” No, her absence would have to speak for her.
A heavy feeling weighed her down. She finally identified it as pure guilt, overwhelming regret.
It had been a long time since she’d prayed, but evidently, this event required confession, an act of contrition. She felt foolish somehow, but at the sight of a church spire, she pulled off the highway and drove up the street. She parked beside the white-frame church and turned off the motor. She couldn’t go in—if she met someone, what would she possibly say? I came to confess to committing adultery.
A large sign announced that the church was an historic one, dating from colonial times and with a cemetery beside it. Leigh got out of the car, pulling up the collar of her coat against the sharp November wind, and wandered around the cemetery, reading the weathered headstones. If anyone saw her, they’d think she was one of those people who visited old cemeteries to jot down dates and names of people long gone.
She looked over the gravestones, some leaning with age, some nearly illegible after years of torrents and winds had worn away their etched messages. One of the most common epitaphs was merely, “Beloved Wife.” None of them read, “Beloved Mistress.”
I was supposed to be Dane’s beloved wife. When I lost him, I allowed my grief to stop me from living. And I ended up easy prey for a calculating man. But that’s no excuse. I knew better.
She put a hand on a newer marble headstone and bowed her head. She recalled the biblical tale of David and Bathsheba’s adultery. Now she knew how David must have felt when he’d finally faced his sin—shattered and ashamed. God, You know I’m not very religious, but I feel terrible about what happened last night. I have no good excuse except human stupidity. Please forgive me. I’ll do my best never to be that brainless again. I guess that’s all. Amen.
She wished a dove would fly down from heaven and let her know God had forgiven her. Of course, she knew that was not going to happen. But her words were the best she could do in the way of a confession. The hymn “Amazing Grace” from Grandpa Roarke’s funeral came back to mind. She hadn’t believed that he was a wretch in need of salvation, but that was exactly how she felt right now. How did one stop the overwhelming wave after wave of guilt?
“Hello,” a little woman in white orthopedic shoes hailed her from the churchyard. “Can I help you?”
Leigh pulled herself together and walked toward the woman.
“Have you come to do some genealogical research?” the little gray bird of a woman asked.
“No, just needed to get out of the car for a few moments.”
“Our church dates from 1736. And keeping it and the cemetery in good repair is costly. Would you like a tour of the church? There is a box for donations next to the guest register.
Ah, a walk in the graveyard didn’t come free. Leigh put her hand in her pocket and drew out the change she had left from her morning phone calls. “Why don’t you put this in for me? I must be getting on.”
“Oh, thank you,” the woman called after her. “Have a nice day!”
Leigh wondered how many weeks, months, years would pass before she would “have a nice day” again.
After parking her car in a long-term lot across the river in New Jersey, she found a pay phone and called Nancy’s number again. On the very last ring, just as Leigh was about to hang up and look for a nearby hotel, Nancy’s breathless voice came on. “Hi! I heard the phone just as I was unlocking my door.”
“Hi, Nancy, this is Leigh Sinclair,” Leigh started, feeling more uncertain with each syllable. What if this woman didn’t even remember her? “We met in June—”
“Oh, the beautiful blonde. Hi. What’s going on?”
“I just got in, and I wondered if the offer to use your sleeper sofa was still—”
“Great! Can’t wait to see you.” Nancy gave Leigh the address and said to come over right away.
Leigh hailed a taxi, and in spite of the traffic, she soon stepped out of the cab in front of Nancy’s vintage apartment building in the Village. Just as she reached for the door to the vestibu
le, it burst open. “Hey! Great to see you!” Nancy crowed, looking as if Leigh were Stanley and she were Livingston. Leigh couldn’t help it. Tears filled her eyes. She blinked them away as she followed Nancy up the narrow staircase to the second story and into her apartment, which had obviously been decorated from thrift stores and sported rock band and travel posters on every wall.
“I only have one bedroom,” Nancy, with her long dark hair and denim bell-bottoms, filled her in. “And just a postage stamp of a kitchen and bath, but it works. How long will you be staying?”
The question yanked Leigh out of her misery and back into real life. “I’m going to look for a job. Can I stay during the job hunt? As soon as I have something, I’ll get my own place.”
“Sure,” Nancy agreed with easy humor, “I’ll love having you. With that long blonde hair, you’ll attract men like bees to honey and maybe I can commiserate with those you turn down.”
Leigh turned away, the horrifying events of this morning replaying in her mind, fiery remorse blistering her raw conscience. She couldn’t tell Nancy that. But how to explain her easy tears? “Maybe I should tell you that my fiance was… He died this spring.”
“Oh!” Nancy put an arm around her. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt—”
“It’s okay.” Leigh made herself smile. “I’m… just not in the market for romance right now.” Or an affair with a married man.Suddenly she wished she’d screamed at Trent this morning, slapped his face, raged at him. But, of course, she’d been too numb to react at the time. Stupid little fool,she scolded herself. Stupid, naïve, little blonde fool.
“Sure.” Nancy snagged her denim shoulder bag from a faded chintz chair that didn’t match the crushed-velvet avocado-green sofa. “Let’s go get something to eat. I’m an awful cook.”
Leigh followed Nancy out the door, silently sighing with relief. She’d found a haven.
Two days later, Manhattan
Since Leigh had finished her degree in English and journalism in California, she didn’t go to an employment agency, but instead to a career counselor—otherwise known as a “headhunter.” The day before, she’d filled out a long application that the agency would turn into a resume. Today she was keeping her appointment with the head “headhunter.” A tall, very business-major-looking man, he rose as she entered his compact office with its one small window. “Miss Sinclair.”
