His Wedding-Night Heir (26 page)

had a prayer. For him, my only plus mark is that I've turned

out to be fertile.

She found suddenly that she was fighting for breath. Nick

wasn't even supposed to be in Clayminster today, she thought

wildly. He was scheduled to visit Wellingford. checking on

the progress of Gunners Wharf.

In fact, she'd asked if she might go with him, but he'd re-

sponded briefly that it would be pointless as he only intended

a flying visit.

'Want to send anyone your love?' he'd asked with faint

mockery as he rose from the breakfast table.

Cally had lifted her chin. 'Yes,' she'd responded coolly. 'Tracy,

if you happen to see her.'

Had Vanessa gone with him? she wondered. Was that why

she herself had been turned down? Or had the planned visit

been subordinated to some alternative scheme of his lover's

making?

She came slowly out of the arcade and leaned for a moment

on the corner of the window, struggling to regain her equilib-

rium. After all, she derided herself, what had the last few mo-

ments told her that she didn't already know?

I could just do with not having my nose rubbed in it quite so

publicly, she thought, swallowing.

'Caroline? Cally, my dear, are you all right?' Cecily Tempest

appeared beside her, her face concerned.

Cally was aware of an almost overwhelming urge to bury her

head on her mother-in-law's shoulder and sob out her hurt and

heartbreak. But that, of course, was impossible. She'd given

her word to keep silent on the situation, and she couldn't break

it, whatever emotional damage she might be suffering.

She gave Cecily a wavering smile. 'You were quite right about

the heat. It's sweltering.'

'Then let's forget about lunch here and go home,' the older

woman said decisively. 'Margaret will be able to rustle up a

salad for us.'

Cally was glad to find herself in the car, being quietly driven

back to Wylstone through the lanes. She leaned back, closing

her eyes, trying to erase today's least welcome image from her

memory.

'So,' Cecily Tempest said at last, 'would this be a good time to

tell me what's really the matter? Because something un-

doubtedly is.'

Startled, Cally sat up and prepared for defence. 'I don't know

what you mean.'

Cecily sighed. 'Cally, please don't take me for a fool. You're

young, you're in love, and having your first baby. Life should

be perfect. Instead, you're so determinedly bright that you al-

most dazzle me into thinking you're happy. And Nick, on the

few occasions that he lowers his guard these days, looks as if

he's living through some personal nightmare.'

'Perhaps—perhaps he's having business worries.'

'Nonsense,' his mother said tartly. 'His companies are making

an obscene amount of money. If he never worked another day

he'd still be a wealthy man. So why is he pushing himself, as

he undoubtedly is, when he could be relaxing for a while and

enjoying this unique time with you?'

Cally shrugged. 'I don't know. We haven't really discussed

it...'

Or much else, from what I can see. There was another silence,

then Dr Tempest said, more gently, 'Cally, I'm aware that you

spent your first year of marriage apart. I realise I'm not

supposed to know, but Nick's godfather, a very dear friend,

got to hear of it, and wrote me a concerned letter. My son's

own correspondence made no reference to the fact that he was

living alone, so when I discovered that you were now together

again I decided not to pursue the point. To let sleeping dogs

lie.

'And I would still,' she went on candidly, 'except that the dogs

appear to have woken up, and are circling each other, gearing

up for a fight. I don't want to be forced to send for a bucket of

cold water.'

'Nick would never fight with me.' Cally permitted herself a

reluctant smile. 'He's far too civilised.'

'Don't count on it,' Dr Tempest advised. 'One day he might

surprise you. Or you might surprise him,' she added thought-

fully. 'If the facade ever snaps.'

She became brisk again. 'But I won't press you any further,

dear girl. I just can't believe Nick isn't taking steps to remedy

the situation. He was appalled when he realised what was hap-

pening in my marriage to his father, and swore to me that he

would never marry unless he could make his wife so happy

that she'd never know an anxious moment.'

She added drily. 'He seems to have fallen well short of that

ideal, but I'm damned if I can see why.'

Cally turned away to look out of the window. Oh, God, she

thought, if you knew—if you only knew... But at least you

still have your illusions about him, whereas I—-I have none.

When they arrived back at the Hall, Cally said mendaciously

that she wasn't hungry and went up to the bedroom,

supposedly to rest. But she was unable to settle. Her thoughts

were far too busy—and too wretched.

Instead, she decided to take a shower, then change into the

coolest of the new dresses she'd acquired that morning. It was

made from a thin cotton material, in an attractive pale

turquoise colour, and the style was button-through, with a

discreetly high waist.

Designed to conceal a multitude of sins, Cally thought, view-

ing herself in the mirror.

She'd go downstairs, she thought next, and try to convince her

mother-in-law that the marriage was just experiencing a few

teething troubles which would soon be resolved. It was what

she wanted to hear, and she just might believe it.

But the house seemed deserted, although the remains of lunch

were still laid out in the dining room. Cally helped herself to a

plate of cold chicken and potato salad, and took it out on to

the terrace, seating herself at a table with a sun umbrella. The

baby, she told herself, would not appreciate her skipping

meals, whatever the reason.

She was just finishing a dish of strawberries when she realised

with a sinking heart that she wasn't alone any more, and that

Adele was sauntering across the lawn towards her. She was

wearing a smart figure-hugging dress in cafe au lait linen, and

carried a broad-brimmed straw hat, which she was using to

fan herself.

'Hi, there.' Her tone was casual, but her eyes were sharp as

they flicked over the younger woman. 'All alone? No happy

little family gathering today?'

'As you see,' Cally said shortly.

'I see that you're putting on weight, certainly. Heavens. Cally,

you're going to be the size of a house if you don't watch it.'

'My weight gain,' Cally said levelly. 'is absolutely normal.'

Adele shrugged. 'If you say so. But it's hardly any wonder that

Nick prefers to spend his time elsewhere these days.' She

paused. 'I suppose he's told you that I'm going?'

'No,' Cally said slowly, still smarting from the previous jibe.

'He hasn't mentioned it.'

'Then you heard it from me first.' Adele sat down on the chair

opposite. 'I'm moving down to an apartment near St Tropez,

my dear. Far more my style than that dreary Dower House,

and more than I can actually afford, but Nick s stirred himself

to be generous for once.

She smiled. 'I gather he needs the Dower House vacated for

some purpose of his own. I thought you might know what it

was.'

'Why should I?' Cally found the last of the strawberries over-

sweet, and pushed her plate away.

'Well, it's always been the place where the Tempests dump

their unwanted women—once they've served their purpose.'

Adele yawned. 'I'd say you'd make the ideal candidate, once

you've produced the heir and Nick pensions you off.' Her

eyes, bright with malice, met Cally's. 'That is what he's

planning— isn't it?'

'I wouldn't know,' Cally said quietly. 'I don't have your genius

for intelligence-gathering.'

'Oh, it won't happen quite yet, naturally,' Adele went on

languidly. 'The place isn't ready for immediate occupation,

particularly as I'm sure your taste in decor and mine are poles

apart. But I guess Nick will be putting in his personal design

consultant for the makeover.' Her smile was sly. 'I wonder

what colour she'll pick for the nursery? Green, I dare say. You

must drop me a postcard and let me know.'

She got to her feet. 'Well, I have things to do before I leave in

the morning, so perhaps you'll make my farewells for me.'

'Of course.' Cally said, her voice wooden. 'Goodbye.'

'Adieu to you too.' Adele lingered for a moment. 'You know, I

feel quite sorry for you, Cally. You've been dealt a rotten

hand, and no one's told you the rules of the game, but you're

still putting up your own pathetic fight. It's almost—

admirable. So, good luck with the Dower House. I think you'll

need it.'

Cally sat motionless, watching her walk away across the lawn,

her figure dwindling into the distance. When she was sure the

other woman was out of sight, and out of earshot, she rose

slowly and stiffly from her chair and went back into the

drawing room.

She stood for a moment, looking round, until her eye fell on a

large Worcester bowl reposing on a small table.

She picked it up by the rim. She said aloud, quietly and

conversationally, 'I think I've had enough.'

Then she drew back her arm and sent the bowl flying towards

the fireplace.

Her aim, for once, was unerring. The bowl hit the heavy stone

mantelshelf and shattered, sending a hundred noisy fragments

cascading on to the hearth.

She stood, panting a little, regarding the havoc she'd created.

Aware at the same time that there were footsteps in the hall,

approaching fast. The drawing room door was flung wide as

Nick strode in. He'd clearly been back for some time, because

the dark business suit he'd been wearing earlier had been re-

placed by jeans and a casual shirt.

'What the hell...?' he began furiously, then checked, his

narrowed gaze scanning his wife, who was standing with her

hands clenched and her eyes blazing out of her pale face, then

moving to the debris on the hearth.

'Another accident?' he asked.

'No,' she said, the word swift and staccato. 'And what are you

doing here?'

'I live here,' he said. 'Or I have what passes for a life.'

'But you were supposed to be going to Wellingford.'

He shrugged. 'Something happened that I needed to attend to.

I'll go tomorrow.' He looked back at the hearth. 'So how did it

happen?'

'I did it on purpose.' Cally lifted her chin stormily. 'Because I

felt like it,' she added for good measure.

'Really?' Nick's brows lifted. 'And did you find it therapeutic?

Maybe I should try it.' He walked to the fireplace and took a

porcelain figurine from the mantelshelf. 'I've never liked this,'

he said, almost conversationally. He took a couple of long

strides backwards, then shied it. It broke with a satisfying

crack, and the small head rolled sadly across the hearth.

Cally found she was holding her breath as she watched.

No, he said, after a second s pause. Sadly, that doesn’t do it

for me. But don't let me stop you wrecking the place in your

quest for fulfilment,' he added, too pleasantly. 'In the mean-

time, perhaps I can find mine in other ways.'

The next moment Cally found herself scooped up into his

arms and dumped down on to the yielding softness of one of

the sofas, while he stood over her and made to unfasten the

belt of his jeans with stark and unmistakable purpose in his

dark face.

Something froze inside her. 'Oh, God.' She struggled upright.

'Are you mad? Don't—don't you dare touch me!'

'Why not?' His tone bit. 'What have I got to lose?'

She didn't look at him. She said with difficulty. 'Maybe— the

woman you're supposed to love.'

'The woman I do love.' The bitterness in his voice made her

flinch. 'The woman I shall love to the end of my life, God help

me.'

The pain of that made her voice falter. 'And, besides, you—

we—might hurt the baby.'

'Ah, yes,' he said harshly. 'Our child.' He turned and moved

away to the sofa opposite. Sat down. 'However, I think any

lasting damage might well be to each other.'

There was a pause, then he said, 'I was actually coming to find

you when I heard the crash. It seems to me there are matters

we need to discuss.'

'Let me guess,' Cally said. 'Could one of them be the Dower