Mistresses: Blackmailed With Diamonds / Shackled With Rubies
Page 80
To her surprise, Richard Henderson stood there, looking very personable in a smart grey suit, a carnation in his buttonhole.
‘You look absolutely beautiful,’ he told her. ‘Edward’s a very lucky man…And, speaking of Edward, I see he didn’t warn you.’
‘No, he didn’t.’ Feeling not quite so alone, she smiled at him. ‘But I’m so glad you could come. I think you may well be our only guest.’
‘Ah, but strictly speaking I’m not a guest. You see, Edward mentioned that you’d lost your father, and, knowing I was going to be in London this week, he asked if I could find time to give you away. Naturally I said I’d be only too pleased. You’ll find I’m quite experienced,’ he added, ‘having given away two daughters of my own.’
Then, as she didn’t speak, he asked a shade anxiously, ‘I hope you don’t mind?’
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she assured him, ‘Of course I don’t mind. In fact I’m delighted. To tell you the truth I was just starting to feel a little…overcome…’
‘Then may I offer you an arm to lean on, or a shoulder to weep a few happy tears on? Whichever is the more appropriate.’
‘An arm will do fine,’ she told him, pulling her veil into place.
‘In that case—’ he presented a crooked elbow ‘—your carriage awaits you. A hackney carriage, admittedly, but it has a certain air about it.’
The ‘certain air’ proved to be white ribbons and flowers, and a smiling driver with a carnation in his buttonhole.
On the short journey to All Saints Fran found Richard’s presence comforting and reassuring, though neither spoke, and silently thanked Blaze for having been thoughtful enough to arrange it.
The September day was a golden one, and they were bathed in sunshine as they walked up the paved path to the church door, where an elderly priest with a kind face was waiting to greet them.
Inside, though virtually empty of people, the church was full of flowers and incense and organ music. Sun shining through the stained glass windows made jewel-bright patterns along the backs of the polished pews and across the red carpet.
But, walking up the aisle on Richard’s arm, Fran was conscious of little but the man who was standing alone by the chancel steps.
Blaze turned at her approach, and just for an instant his face seemed to hold the look she’d always longed to see there. Then a shutter came down, and he was once again a cool and distant stranger.
As she took her place by his side the priest cleared his throat, and the short, simple service began.
Both made their responses quietly but clearly, Richard played his part with aplomb, and at the appropriate time Blaze produced two gold rings: one exquisitely chased, the other quite plain.
He slid the chased ring on to Fran’s finger, and, though her hands were icy cold and not quite steady, she managed to put the thicker, heavier ring on to his finger without fumbling.
A few moments later they were declared man and wife, and the priest advised, ‘You may kiss the bride.’
Blaze turned back her veil and, an expression in his eyes that she couldn’t read, kissed her perfunctorily on the lips.
The two elderly ladies who had agreed to be witnesses, both smiling broadly and both dressed in their best, came forward to sign the register.
In no time the formalities were completed, and, after receiving everyone’s congratulations and good wishes, the newlyweds said their thanks and walked down the aisle to Mendelssohn.
In the church porch, Blaze turned to Richard and asked, ‘Have you time to join us for a glass of champagne?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ Richard said regretfully. ‘I was due back in chambers ten minutes ago. But I’ll make up for it when I come to Balantyne Hall.’
The two men shook hands.
‘Please make it soon.’ Fran kissed his cheek.
A moment later she and Blaze, enthusiastically showered with rice by the two elderly ladies, were making for the waiting taxi.
Having helped her in, he gathered her skirt into a manageable pile before getting in beside her. They sat a good foot apart, and neither spoke on the journey back to the hotel, where the manager was waiting to wish them joy.
By the time Blaze had escorted her up to the penthouse, taking care neither to touch her nor look at her, Fran was feeling anything but joyful.
A quick peep at his face showed he looked scarcely any happier.
As though aware of her glance, he asked abruptly, ‘What would you like to do? Stay here the night or go home?’
Unusually for him, he seemed tense and restless, and she wondered what to say for the best.
Making up her mind, she answered, ‘Go home,’ and saw by his expression that she’d made the right choice.
‘Then as soon as you’ve changed I’ll have everything put in the car and we’ll get off.’
‘You’ll want this.’ She fumbled to unfasten the necklace.
He shook his head. ‘Leave it on. It’ll be safer that way. Tomorrow I’ll make arrangements to have it returned to the bank.’
Within ten minutes of her taking off her wedding finery and putting on a stone-coloured silk suit they were on their way.
Tired, and emotionally exhausted, she dozed on and off for most of the journey to Balantyne Hall, only waking fully as they drew up outside.
They were scarcely out of the car when the door opened and the butler appeared.
‘Have everything brought in and the car put away, will you?’ Blaze instructed tersely.
‘Certainly, sir.’ Then, with due deference, ‘May I, on behalf of myself and the staff, wish you and madam every happiness.’
Blaze merely nodded, while Fran managed a smile and, ‘Thank you, Mortimer.’
The butler cleared his throat. ‘What time will madam require dinner?’
Flustered at being referred to, Fran glanced at Blaze. Getting no help from him, she answered as steadily as possible, ‘The usual time, please, Mortimer.’
Decisively, Blaze added, ‘Please tell Cook to keep it light, and we’ll eat upstairs in preference to the dining room.’
The butler bowed, and moved sedately away to do his master’s bidding.
Looking like a pair of distant strangers, rather than newlyweds, Fran and Blaze made their way upstairs in silence.
Showing he’d given his permission for the suite to be cleaned, everywhere gleamed with elbow grease and polish, and there was a large bowl of fresh flowers on the bureau.
Though a fire burned cheerfully in the big grate, the evening air coming through the open windows made the room decidedly cool.
But no cooler than the atmosphere between Blaze and herself, Fran thought, her spirits at rock-bottom.
She shivered, and apparently in response to that involuntary movement he went to close the windows. Then, his back to the room, he stood staring out.
There was a discreet tap at the door.
When Blaze neither moved nor spoke, Fran went to open it.
Hannah and two of the menservants were outside, their arms full of the morning’s shopping. ‘Where would you like it all put, miss…I mean, madam…?’ the maid asked.
Fran glanced across at Blaze for guidance, but, still staring out of the window, he appeared oblivious.
The previous night he had made it plain that he intended them to share a room, but in the face of his present coldness she hesitated to invade his privacy.
Coming to a decision, she said, ‘In here, please,’ and led the way to what had been Melinda’s room. ‘You can leave it all on the bed.’
The various boxes and packages duly deposited, the maid asked, ‘Would you like me to put everything away for you, madam?’
Needing something to occupy her, Fran answered, ‘No, thank you, Hannah. I’ll do it myself.’
As soon as the door had closed behind the servants, with a heavy heart she began to hang her new clothes in the now empty wardrobe.
When she got to the wedding dress she had a job to hold back
the tears. It seemed only too clear that, almost before the ceremony was over, Blaze had been having second thoughts.
But why? What had she done to make him change his mind?
Everything put away, and the room tidy once more, she stood irresolute. Now what was she to do? How was she to get through the remaining minutes and hours of the day, alone with a man who was virtually ignoring her existence?
Well, if he was going to treat her that way, she thought with a sudden determination, at least she was entitled to know why.
Chin high, she marched back into the living room to find that Blaze had removed his jacket and was sitting in his shirt-sleeves, staring morosely into the fire.
She sat down opposite, and, taking her courage in both hands, said quietly, ‘I’d like to know what I’ve done?’
He lifted his head and looked at her. ‘Done? You haven’t done anything.’
‘Then what’s wrong?’
Heavily, he said, ‘Marrying you was a mistake…’
Feeling as though she was mortally wounded, she stared at him.
After a moment, his face full of self-disgust, he went on, ‘If I hadn’t been so damned selfish, things might have worked out for you.’
‘I—I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Though I’m certain Varley only meant to use you, after the way Melinda treated him he would have been mad not to have appreciated a woman who loved him and would have stuck by him. Along with loyalty and integrity you have a lot of spirit, and if I’d let well alone you might have made a go of things. But I couldn’t bear to think of you going back to him.’
As Fran began to shake her head, he said, ‘You asked why Melinda decided to stick with him…It was because I paid her to. You asked why they left for South America…It was because I agreed to take care of all Varley’s debts and provide them with enough capital to start a new life…If they stayed together.’
Dazedly, she said, ‘You did all that to stop me going back to him?’
‘I knew that in spite of everything you wanted to.’
‘But I didn’t—’
‘There’s no point in denying it. You were hoping I’d take Melinda back so it would leave Varley free for you.’
‘You’re quite wrong.’
‘I don’t think so. When Varley said Melinda had never intended to have my children you knew it was the truth, I could see by your face. But you kept quiet.’
‘Only because I thought you wanted her back. And you had been warned—’
‘And when I hinted that Varley might end up in gaol you were so upset I thought you were going to faint…’
‘I couldn’t stand you being so deliberately cruel—’
‘Then later, when I got back to the hotel I could see you’d been crying over him—’
‘It wasn’t him I’d been crying over—’
As though she hadn’t spoken, he went on, ‘That’s what made me so angry…Why I treated you the way I did…I’m sorry about that…’
He rubbed a hand over his eyes, as though to erase the disturbing memory.
‘And I’m sorry I forced you to marry me. I tried to tell myself that on some level you wanted to, but if I’d been honest I would have admitted it was only sexual attraction.’
‘But it wasn’t just sexual attraction.’
Disregarding her denial, he said bleakly, ‘I shouldn’t have been blaming you for still loving him. I’m only too aware that no one can stop loving to order…God knows I’ve tried.’
She knew he’d once loved someone, because when she’d asked, ‘Then you’ve never been in love?’ he’d answered, ‘Oh, yes, I have.’ Now, watching the naked pain on his face, her heart bled for him.
There was a long pause before he went on, ‘After Sherrye had staged her coup, I did my utmost to find you. When I was unsuccessful, I tried to put you out of my mind, tried to stop loving you…That’s the reason I gave up my flat. It held too many memories…’
So it was her he’d loved…Warmth spread through her, bringing fresh life and dispelling all the previous desolation.
‘Then, when I’d abandoned all hope,’ Blaze went on, ‘you suddenly came back into my life. I tried to tell myself that I no longer cared. All my plans were made. Everything was cut and dried. But I took one look at you and I knew my feelings hadn’t changed…’
Hands clasped together, she stayed motionless while gladness bubbled inside like a fountain of pure joy.
‘Only it wasn’t that simple…I could no doubt have paid Melinda off, but you were in love with your fiancé…That’s why I was pleased when Melinda and Varley ran off together. I told myself that he was no good, and you’d soon stop loving him. I convinced myself that I could make you love me.
‘It wasn’t until the ring was on your finger and it was too late that I realised I’d only been fooling myself. A marriage where neither partner loves the other has a fair chance of success, but one-sided loving seldom works.’
‘I’m forced to agree with you,’ she said.
He sighed deeply. ‘If you want an annulment…?’
‘Why should I want an annulment?’
‘You’ve just agreed that one-sided loving is unlikely to work.’
‘Who said anything about our loving being one-sided? If you’d listen to me for a change, instead of telling me…’
The grey eyes so dark they looked almost black, he stared at her.
‘I loved you three years ago, that’s why I couldn’t bear to stay, and I love you still. There’s never been anyone else but you.’
As, his face alight with hope, he opened his mouth to speak, she said severely, ‘Will you please not interrupt? For a while I thought I loved Kirk. But that night you carried me up to my room and I kissed you I knew it was you I loved, and I could never marry Kirk. What little feeling there was between us had been all on my side, a kind of infatuation.’ Without bitterness, she added, ‘An infatuation he made use of for his own ends.’
Seeing the way Blaze’s jaw tightened, she said hastily, ‘No, I don’t mean in that way. When I told you we were sleeping together, it wasn’t the truth. The night we got engaged I’d almost expected him to want to take me to bed. But he drove me home and kissed me goodnight without even coming in…Of course, though I didn’t know it then, he had Melinda.’
Hoarsely, Blaze demanded, ‘If you’ve never been to bed with him, why did you lie about it?’
‘Just at that minute I was angry with you for making fun of him…’
Suddenly Blaze was on his feet. Gripping her upper arms, he hauled her out of her chair. ‘I could cheerfully turn you over my knee and spank you…If you knew how much torment that lie has cost me. I was so damned jealous that every time I thought of him touching you I felt like breaking his neck.’
Looking up at Blaze through long lashes, she said demurely, ‘Well, if we’re staying together, I hope you’re not going to turn into a wife-beater?’
‘I’ll probably be able to come up with some other way of keeping you under control.’
‘Such as?’
‘Well, there’s one that springs to mind. I’ll no doubt be able to think of more while we’re on our honeymoon.’
‘Are we having a honeymoon?’
‘We certainly are. A honeymoon that starts with a month in Hawaii and, I’m prepared to bet, will last for the rest of our lives.’
‘I won’t argue with that,’ she said pertly. ‘But I have one question. When does this honeymoon start?’
‘When would you like it to start?’
‘There’s no time like the present.’
As he glanced towards the bedroom, she shook her head. ‘I’m in no mood to be conventional.’
He raised a quizzical brow. ‘What mood are you in?’
‘Adventurous…that is, for me…’
Leaning against him, and punctuating the words with teasing baby kisses, she suggested, ‘I’d like you to make love to me in front of the fire, while I’m still wearing the Balantyne r
ubies.’
‘Brilliant thinking, my heart’s darling.’
He caught her roving lips and kissed her deeply, making her body melt and her toes curl, before adding, ‘I’d hoped to keep up the Ballantyne family traditions, but I hadn’t expected to be starting a new one.’
Her Secret Bridegroom
Kate Walker
Kate Walker was born in Nottinghamshire, but as she grew up in Yorkshire she has always felt that her roots are there. She met her husband at university and originally worked as a children’s librarian, but after the birth of her son she returned to her old childhood love of writing. When she’s not working, she divides her time between her family, their three cats and her interests of embroidery, antiques, film and theatre and, of course, reading.
You can visit Kate at www.kate-walker.com
Chapter One
‘THERE has to be some mistake!’
Amy stared up at the imposing building before her, her nerves, already tightly knotted, taking on an extra twist of tension as she took in its size and elegance.
‘This can’t be right!’
Her answer was a stream of incomprehensible Italian, the water taxi driver nodding his head emphatically, his tone indignant. The only words she picked out were ‘Ravenelli’ and ‘palazzo’, which seemed to confirm that he had indeed taken her to the destination she had requested.
But not to the place she had anticipated. When she had last been in Venice, the home of the particular Ravenelli male she was looking for, the home she had shared with him for so brief a time, had been a far less awesome structure.
‘But…signore,’ she managed hesitantly, ‘I…’
The driver’s response was another string of fast, indignant eloquence, accompanied by much hand-waving and animated gesturing.
‘Please!’ she tried again. ‘I wanted the home of Signor Vincenzo Ravenelli. He—’
‘And you have found it,’ another voice broke in. A deep, delightfully accented voice that still, much to Amy’s annoyance, had the power to send shivers of sensual reaction running down her spine. ‘You have found my home, and at last you have found me, my sweet wife.’