The Society Wife by India Grey

shake.’
    A hot tide of nausea instantly erupted inside Lily’s stomach as her newly heightened senses picked up the sweet-sharp scent of alcohol and rebelled against it. God, why hadn’t she brought a ready supply of ginger biscuits to keep the sickness at bay? She felt the sweat break out on her upper lip as her throat tightened convulsively.
    â€˜Lily? Are you all right? What’s wrong?’
    Mutely Lily shook her head. In front of her Scarlet’s face was a blur of concern and regret sliced through her. For the first time since she was ten years old she was keeping something from her best friend and it didn’t feel right. But how could she possibly break the news that she was pregnant when she hadn’t even told Scarlet about what had happened that night?
    So much had happened so quickly, she thought wearily. She hadn’t told Scarlet about Tristan simply because she hadn’t had a chance. She’d gone straight to Africa the day after the costume ball, and when she’d returned it had been to find Scarlet starry-eyed and utterly preoccupied with her engagement to Tom Montague. He’d proposed, she told Lily dreamily, at the culmination of the firework display at the party.
    Somehow Lily hadn’t felt it was tactful to mention what she had been doing at that precise moment…
    â€˜I didn’t think you looked well,’ Scarlet was saying now as she put her arm around Lily’s shoulders and guided her towards the door. ‘In fact, you haven’t been yourself since you got back from Africa. I think it’s more than just being affected by the stuff you saw there. You need to see a doctor and get some blood tests done or something.’
    â€˜I have,’ Lily muttered weakly. They had reached the wide stone stairs in the entrance hall and as they slowly began todescend the cool air from the open doors to the courtyard touched her face and dispersed the suffocating feeling of nausea a little. She took a deep breath, realising that she couldn’t really put off telling Scarlet any longer, but not quite knowing how to say it. Pausing to lean against the balustrade at the foot of the stairs, she turned her face towards the doorway and felt the chill September breeze lift her hair.
    Scarlet shot her a worried look. ‘And? What did he say?’
    â€˜Nothing. I mean, I’m not ill.’ She faltered, unable to meet Scarlet’s eye and looking over her shoulder as she began hesitantly, ‘The thing is, I’m—’
    She stopped, her mouth open. The crimson walls of the great room billowed and swayed and the vaulted ceiling seemed to rush towards her as someone came in through the huge doors from the blue evening outside. For a moment she thought it was her mind playing tricks on her, conjuring up the image of the tall, effortlessly elegant figure, the perfect, impassive face, in the same way that someone lost in the desert might imagine a verdant oasis in the distance. But then he looked up and she was plunged straight into the pools of his eyes.
    This was no mirage.
    Frowning, Scarlet turned her head in the direction of Lily’s gaze. ‘Oh, Tristan’s here. Tom’ll be pleased,’ she said vaguely before turning her attention back to Lily. ‘So, what did the doctor say it was, then? The old “too much travel, too much work” thing again? Lily?’
    â€˜It doesn’t matter.’ Lily’s voice had dried up to a husk of a whisper. Tristan was coming towards them, one hand loosely thrust into the pocket of his trousers. Every beautiful inch of him, every relaxed, graceful movement declared his utter self-assurance and complete ease, while she felt as if her insides were slowly being fed through a paper shredder. She wondered whether she might actually be about to pass out cold. The idea of blissful oblivion was remarkably appealing.
    â€˜Congratulations, Scarlet.’ Tristan spoke gravely as he