from the
Northwaite valley like the ripples from a stone dropped into a pool of
water, she thought contemptuously.
What none of them would actually guess was the truth. Because that
defied belief.
Her drink arrived and she sipped it, glaring at the champagne and the
rose. How dared he? How dared he treat this as if it were some kind of
love tryst, a cause for celebration, instead of the vile, sordid
assignation that it really was?
She wished she had the guts to cause another sensation by throwing
the whole shooting match through the nearest window and then
marching out. But she knew that Cal Blackstone would be totally
unamused by such behaviour, and that any retribution would be
visited on Simon, not on herself. I can't risk that, she thought.
She'd hoped to see Simon when he came home from work, but he'd
eaten an early dinner and departed for the nursing home while she
was upstairs dressing. Clearly he was still in a profound huff.
She had left a message with Gresham that she was going to be out
overnight, staying at a friend's, and no one was to worry, then fled to
her car before Nanny could find her and start putting her through the
usual inquisition. If she lied, Nanny would know at once. Yet how
could she tell her the truth? In Nanny's book, unwed people courted in
a respectable manner, and did not share a roof, let alone a bed, before
the wedding ceremony, even in the nineteen nineties. Joanna's fall
from grace would be roundly and endlessly condemned.
She sighed inwardly. At best, she was only postponing a series of
awkward confrontations which would become inevitable when talk
got back to Chalfont House. She would obviously have Simon to
explain to as well. And no doubt Fiona and her ghastly mother would
have their say in addition.
There was a sudden stir in the restaurant, and with a sinking heart she
knew that Cal was on his way. Her fingers tightened achingly around
the tumbler.
'Darling, can you forgive me? My call from the States was delayed.'
She looked up, saw Gregory hovering attentively at his shoulder and
forced a poor imitation of a smile. 'It doesn't matter. I've been well
looked after.'
'You must be starving.' Cal sat down, signalling for menus to be
brought. 'What would you like to eat?'
The beautiful copperplate handwriting seemed to dance
meaninglessly before her eyes. Her throat was closing up suddenly,
and she was trembling all over. She put the menu down.
'I can't go through with this,' she said hoarsely.
'Come now, beauty, my chef isn't that bad.'
'This is not a joke.' She pounded a desperate fist on the immaculate
tablecloth. 'It is not funny!'
'No,' he said. He was still smiling, but his eyes were like chips of ice.
'It isn't. We have a bargain, Mrs Bentham, and by God you're going to
keep your side of it. Or does Brother Simon's welfare no longer seem
so important to you?'
'You know it does. But there must be some other way. You—you
can't want me like this—hating you.'
'You spent six months of your life sleeping with a man you didn't give
a damn about.' Cal shrugged a shoulder. 'At least hatred implies
passion—of a sort. I prefer that to indifference.'
'How dare you?' Joanna's violet eyes flared. 'You know nothing about
my relationship with Martin. You're not fit to mention his name!'
'Don't be silly,' he said wearily. 'I was at school with him. And you
and I both know perfectly well why you married him as you did. They
say "Marry in haste, repent at leisure", don't they? Well, you've done
your penance, Joanna. Now you can start to live again.'
'With you?' she threw at him bitterly.
'With no one else,' he said. 'And you'd better believe that.'
'If you take me, it will be rape.'
He studied her flushed, pleading face for a long moment, his firm lips
smiling faintly.
'No,' he said at last, 'it won't. I promise you that, Joanna.'
'What else can it be, when the very thought of you nauseates me?'
'Then stop thinking,' he said.
Northwaite valley like the ripples from a stone dropped into a pool of
water, she thought contemptuously.
What none of them would actually guess was the truth. Because that
defied belief.
Her drink arrived and she sipped it, glaring at the champagne and the
rose. How dared he? How dared he treat this as if it were some kind of
love tryst, a cause for celebration, instead of the vile, sordid
assignation that it really was?
She wished she had the guts to cause another sensation by throwing
the whole shooting match through the nearest window and then
marching out. But she knew that Cal Blackstone would be totally
unamused by such behaviour, and that any retribution would be
visited on Simon, not on herself. I can't risk that, she thought.
She'd hoped to see Simon when he came home from work, but he'd
eaten an early dinner and departed for the nursing home while she
was upstairs dressing. Clearly he was still in a profound huff.
She had left a message with Gresham that she was going to be out
overnight, staying at a friend's, and no one was to worry, then fled to
her car before Nanny could find her and start putting her through the
usual inquisition. If she lied, Nanny would know at once. Yet how
could she tell her the truth? In Nanny's book, unwed people courted in
a respectable manner, and did not share a roof, let alone a bed, before
the wedding ceremony, even in the nineteen nineties. Joanna's fall
from grace would be roundly and endlessly condemned.
She sighed inwardly. At best, she was only postponing a series of
awkward confrontations which would become inevitable when talk
got back to Chalfont House. She would obviously have Simon to
explain to as well. And no doubt Fiona and her ghastly mother would
have their say in addition.
There was a sudden stir in the restaurant, and with a sinking heart she
knew that Cal was on his way. Her fingers tightened achingly around
the tumbler.
'Darling, can you forgive me? My call from the States was delayed.'
She looked up, saw Gregory hovering attentively at his shoulder and
forced a poor imitation of a smile. 'It doesn't matter. I've been well
looked after.'
'You must be starving.' Cal sat down, signalling for menus to be
brought. 'What would you like to eat?'
The beautiful copperplate handwriting seemed to dance
meaninglessly before her eyes. Her throat was closing up suddenly,
and she was trembling all over. She put the menu down.
'I can't go through with this,' she said hoarsely.
'Come now, beauty, my chef isn't that bad.'
'This is not a joke.' She pounded a desperate fist on the immaculate
tablecloth. 'It is not funny!'
'No,' he said. He was still smiling, but his eyes were like chips of ice.
'It isn't. We have a bargain, Mrs Bentham, and by God you're going to
keep your side of it. Or does Brother Simon's welfare no longer seem
so important to you?'
'You know it does. But there must be some other way. You—you
can't want me like this—hating you.'
'You spent six months of your life sleeping with a man you didn't give
a damn about.' Cal shrugged a shoulder. 'At least hatred implies
passion—of a sort. I prefer that to indifference.'
'How dare you?' Joanna's violet eyes flared. 'You know nothing about
my relationship with Martin. You're not fit to mention his name!'
'Don't be silly,' he said wearily. 'I was at school with him. And you
and I both know perfectly well why you married him as you did. They
say "Marry in haste, repent at leisure", don't they? Well, you've done
your penance, Joanna. Now you can start to live again.'
'With you?' she threw at him bitterly.
'With no one else,' he said. 'And you'd better believe that.'
'If you take me, it will be rape.'
He studied her flushed, pleading face for a long moment, his firm lips
smiling faintly.
'No,' he said at last, 'it won't. I promise you that, Joanna.'
'What else can it be, when the very thought of you nauseates me?'
'Then stop thinking,' he said.
Similar Books
