Нина Харрингтон – In Bed with Her Ex: Miss Prim and the Billionaire / Mardie and the City Surgeon / The Boy is Back in Town (страница 13)
‘Yes, I think we should head there as soon as possible. My lawyer here can deal with the formalities. When you’ve seen what there is in Paris you’ll be better placed to take charge in London.’
‘I must warn you that my French is very poor.’
‘Really? I thought such an efficient lady must be an expert.’
‘I know a few words—very limited—’
Words of passionate adoration that she had learned from him, and repeated with all her heart. To please him, as a surprise, she’d started to learn the language properly, but their parting had come before she could tell him.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said now. ‘There are so many English tourists in Paris that I insist that all my employees speak the language.’
‘How long will I need to be in Paris?’
‘Several weeks at least. Is that a problem?’
‘No, but I shall need to sort out my affairs here. Perhaps I can take tomorrow off to make my arrangements.’
‘Very well. Do you have other relatives? I assume you have no children since your sister and her family take so much from you. But what about Mr Henshaw? Does he have no claims?’
‘None,’ she said shortly. She held out her glass. ‘Can I have another champagne?’
When Marcel had filled her glass she rose and went to the edge of the roof, leaning on the wall and looking down at London, where the lights had come on, glimmering in the darkness.
Mr Henshaw had never existed, although there had been a husband, one who still haunted her nightmares. She tried never to think of him and mostly succeeded, with that inner control that had become her most notable characteristic. But now events had brought him back so that he seemed to be there, infusing the air about her with fear and horror.
And there was no escape.
LIFE with Jake had been a nightmare. He’d set his heart on marrying her and pestered her morning, noon and night. She’d refused, clinging to the hope that Marcel would come looking for her. Even after the agony of their last meeting she thought it might happen. He would suffer, lying in the darkness for long, sleepless nights, and during those nights the memories would come back to him. He would relive the joy of their youthful love, and at last he would realise that such love could never end in the way that theirs had seemed to. Then he would search for her, rescue her, and they would be together again.
But it hadn’t happened. Days had become weeks, weeks passed into months and the silence stretched ahead endlessly. At last she’d faced the truth. Marcel hated her. For him she no longer existed. There would be no reunion, no hope of future happiness.
In this state of despair all energy had seemed to leave her. She no longer had the vigour to fight, and when Jake had marched in one day, seized her hand and slid a magnificent engagement ring onto it, she simply stared and left it there.
After that he was shrewd enough to move fast, arranging the wedding for the soonest possible date and never letting her out of his sight. In only one matter did she find the strength to oppose him, declaring that she would not be married in church. It must be a civil ceremony only. She refused to insult any religious establishment with this mockery of a wedding. Jake didn’t care. As long as he claimed her it didn’t matter how.
The ring he gave her was a spectacular creation of diamonds and sapphires, clearly designed to be a trophy. It was Jake’s proof that he owned her.
The three years of her marriage were strange and haunted. He swore a thousand times that he was madly in love with her, and she came to believe that, in his own way, he was. He was cruel and egotistical, grasping whatever he wanted and careless of whom he hurt. But, like many selfish brutes, he had a sentimental streak. Cassie had a hold on his heart that nobody else could claim, and he took this as proof of his own humanity.
It gave her a kind of power, and she discovered that power could be enjoyable, especially when it was all you had. Jake’s eagerness to please her was ironic, but she could use it to make him give money to charity. She supported two particular charities, one for children, one for animals, and for them she extracted as much as she could from Jake.
Afterwards he expected to be repaid. ‘Now you’ll be nice to me, won’t you?’ he’d say, and she would yield to the night that followed, trying not to show her revulsion. What Jake called ‘love-making’ was so horribly different to what she had known with Marcel that it came from another universe, one where she had to endure being slobbered over and violated.
At first she tried to pretend that she was back in the arms of her true love, but the contrast was so cruel that she gave it up in sheer self-defence. Otherwise she would have genuinely gone mad.
It was almost a relief to become pregnant, and have an excuse to banish Jake from her bed. Slightly to her surprise he accepted her decision without argument. At the thought of producing the next generation his sentimental streak was asserting itself again, and he withdrew to protect her.
And now she could at least feel that life held out some hope for her. She would have a child to love, a purpose in life.
But after five months she miscarried. No doctor could tell her why. There had been no accident, no trauma. It had simply happened, leaving her staring into a blank future.
Hope came from an unexpected source. By chance she discovered that Jake had been playing around.
‘It’s not my fault,’ he defended himself. ‘It’s months since we could … well, it’ll be different now.’
‘Yes, it’s going to be different,’ she agreed. ‘I’m divorcing you.’
His howls of protest left her unmoved, and so did his threats.
‘If you want to destroy me, Jake, go ahead. What do you think is left to destroy? Do your worst. I don’t care.’
Perhaps it was the thought of how many of his disreputable secrets she’d learned that warned him to be cautious. But something made him cave in. Before he could change his mind she hurled back at him every expensive gift he’d ever given her, including the engagement ring. Then she moved out the same day.
He made one last attempt to persuade her to remain his wife. When that failed he tried to get her to accept a financial settlement.
She agreed to very little for the sake of her family, but took nothing for herself. ‘If I live off your money you’ll still think you control me,’ she told him. ‘And I want to forget that you ever existed.’
He paled. ‘You’re breaking my heart,’ he choked.
And he meant it, she thought afterwards. Oddly enough, this unpleasant man had a heart to break, where she was concerned.
But it left her untouched. She no longer feared him. All she felt was a heady sensation of power at having brought him down.
She rejected his name, calling herself Henshaw because it had been her mother’s maiden name, and using the ‘Mrs’ because she thought it made her sound older and more serious.
Refusing to live off Jake’s money satisfied her but left her penniless. There was no chance of returning to modelling, even if she’d wanted to. Most people would still have called her beautiful, but she felt her magic ‘something’ had vanished for ever. She’d taken any menial job she could get, using her free time to go to evening classes, studying business to the point of exhaustion. She’d emerged triumphant, going to work in a bank and climbing fast. She had never looked back.
Now she was near the top of the tree, trying to believe it had all been worth it.
But as she looked back at Marcel, sitting quietly, watching her, she was filled with such a rush of hostility that she could have struck him down and enjoyed doing it.
‘What’s the matter?’ Marcel asked, rising and coming beside her. ‘You look upset.’
‘Not at all,’ she said brightly. ‘I was just enjoying the view and the fresh air.’
‘Come away from the ledge.’ He led her firmly back to the table and stood over her until she was seated.
‘Go on telling me about your life,’ he said. ‘What happened to your husband? Did you walk out on him?’
‘Yes, I left him,’ she said. ‘But only because he was sleeping with someone else.’
‘I hope he made some financial provision for you,’ Marcel said politely.
‘I wouldn’t let him. It would have given him a hold on me, and no man has that. Ever.’
‘When you finish with a man you really finish with him,’ he murmured.
‘It’s the only way.’ She gave a sharp, defiant laugh. ‘When I’ve finished with him, he no longer exists.’ ‘No looking back?’