The Naked Room by Diana Hockley

discovered I was pregnant and broke my heart.
    My heart rate rose, as the car swept through imposing wrought-iron gates and along a tarmac driveway and came to a halt in front of the house. Stone steps led up to a door grand enough to have been the entrance to a castle, its forbidding facade seeming to reflect its owner’s heart.
    The chauffeur turned off the ignition, climbed out, came around the car and opened the door for me. I took a deep breath, stepped out of the car, hitched the strap of my handbag over my shoulder and tweaked my skirt to make sure it wasn’t caught up behind my knees.
    The castle door creaked open and James appeared in the entrance, one large square hand tucked into his pocket, the other holding the door half-open, as though he was still deciding whether to invite me in.
    ‘Eloise.’ He nodded dismissal to the chauffeur, then stood aside and gestured for me to enter, his lemony aftershave wafting into my nostrils as I passed. He scanned me from head to toe with a sweep of his eyes as I stepped inside, limbs quivering, feeling like a hunted animal.
    The entrance opened into a foyer where a large landscape hung on one wall and a couple of urns of flowers graced pedestals. He grasped me impersonally by the elbow and steered me through to an octagonal office, the walls lined with bookshelves. Files and papers were stacked on a table and piled up on the floor; two armchairs rested before the fireplace. The room was comfortable without being outright messy. A black and white border collie lying on a rug grinned and flapped its tail at me. I smiled weakly down at it. At least the dog was happy to see me.
    James moved behind his desk and watched, making no attempt to put me at ease. Twitters of fearful excitement scampered a mad game through my stomach. I perched on the edge of an upright chair facing him and placed my handbag on the floor beside me the silence was broken only by the ticking of a grandfather clock standing in a corner.
    Twenty-six years had left their mark, but he was still beautiful. His warm brown hair was flecked with grey and impeccably groomed, but there was no trace of the carefree lover of my youth in this intimidating man. His dark blue eyes coldly assessed my appearance.
    My long-held dreams of being within touching distance of him vanished and now my carefully rehearsed speech disappeared like Scotch Mist. Jumbled thoughts wittered through my mind, moths released from a disused cupboard. Somehow I needed to tell him I’d given birth to his daughter and beg him to use what influence he could to help find Ally. This meant convincing him I hadn’t betrayed him and that the child I carried was his.
    ‘James—’ my voice came out in a croak. He stood up, moved to a tray near the window on which there were tumblers and a jug of water, poured some and handed it to me. My hand shook and the glass clacked loudly against my teeth as I took a mouthful. He cleared a spot on the desk and thrust a coaster forward as I attempted to put it down again with trembling fingers.
    ‘Let’s get one thing clear, Eloise. Whatever you’ve come for, don’t beat around the bush. I haven’t the time or inclination for this.’
    His mouth settled into a hard line, accentuating the grooves running down his cheeks. He didn’t actually glance at his watch, but managed to give the impression that his time took precedence over my own. ‘Yes, of course,’ I acknowledged, glowing with embarrassment. Whatever you do, don’t cry. Remember, he was the one who bailed out.
    ‘My daughter is twenty-five years old. I gave birth to her after I came back from England.’
    He stared at me. ‘So? I know how long it is since you left me, Eloise,’ he said dryly, not having twigged what I was on about.
    ‘She’s your daughter too, James,’ I reminded him.
    Shocked, he stared at me. ‘What? What do you mean? You had my child?’
    ‘You know I did. You dumped us, remember?’ I couldn’t believe this.
    His