he asked harshly once they were in the car as it moved smoothly down the narrow driveway to the road.
‘Grandy!’ she gasped.
He looked unperturbed at his uncharacteristic display of antagonism for the woman he barely knew. ‘You went as white as a sheet as soon as she spoke to you,’ he said grimly. ‘I couldn’t let that continue.’
Shay was still inwardly ricocheting from the shock of what Marilyn had just said. Oh, not the other woman’s insensitivity in questioning the relationship between her and Lyon now; Marilyn had never been known for her diplomacy, especially where Lyon was concerned. What shocked her so much was the last claim Marilyn made, about no longer wanting Lyon. Surely the other couple couldn’t finally be going to divorce each other? Six years ago she had believed that would never be possible, Lyon had convinced her that it wouldn’t.
The Falconer office grapevine had usually been correct, if sometimes slightly exaggerated in its information, but about the relationship between Lyon and his wife they had been completely wrong; the couple still lived together, were still married, and intended staying that way.
Shay hadn’t been able to understand the sort of marriage they had. A ‘modern arrangement’, they called it, each having their own ‘friends’, bringing those friends to meet the rest of the family at Falconer House, even sleeping with those partners there, but neither having the intention or inclination to end their own marriage. Unfortunately, Shay hadn’t discovered that until her love for Lyon had been such a fundamental part of her life that to rip him out of her heart had been to destroy herself.
And if the couple were finally to divorce, whose decision had it been to end their ‘modern arrangement’? Lyon had made it plain six years ago that he would never make that choice.
‘It was nothing, Grandy,’ she dismissed as she realised her grandfather still looked concerned. ‘Marilyn and I have never pretended to be friends.’ Shay’s tone was scornful, her composure back in place. ‘We never could be.’
‘Nevertheless—’
‘Don’t give it another thought, Grandy.’ She squeezed his arm reassuringly. ‘I’m not going to.’
He didn’t look convinced by her dismissal of the other woman, but he wisely didn’t pursue it any further. But he did stay close by her side once they arrived back at the house, glowering fiercely at any member of the Falconer family that dared to talk to her. Shay was amused by his protectiveness, grateful to have him there, knowing he had helped her get through a very difficult time.
Finally the guests began to leave, only the close family left; Shay and her grandfather, the three Falconer men, Marilyn, and finally the man Derrick. Shay had stopped feeling curious about him, the man was quite innocuous, in fact he barely spoke to anyone.
‘Thank God that’s over,’ Marilyn said in a bored voice once the final relative had left. ‘Perhaps now we can have something a little stronger to drink than sherry!’ She moved to the extensive array of drinks on the side table.
‘Isn’t it a little early in the day for that, even for you?’ Matthew drawled caustically.
She flashed him an angry look before turning to her husband. ‘Lyon?’ She snapped.
He gave a disinterested shrug. ‘Help yourself,’ he invited wearily.
She gave Matthew a triumphant smile. ‘Anyone else?’ she offered.
No one answered, and Marilyn helped herself to a liberal amount of whisky before making herself comfortable in one of the armchairs, crossing one silky leg over the other. ‘Now isn’t this cosy?’ she said to no one in particular.
‘I would hardly call it that.’ Once again Matthew was the one to answer her.
‘Civilised, then.’ Marilyn sipped her whisky with enjoyment. ‘Very civilised,’ she repeated thoughtfully.
‘Marilyn—’
‘I mean,’ she continued talking as if Lyon hadn’t spoken, ‘where else would you find a husband and wife, a wife’s lover, and the husband’s ex-lover all gathered in the same room?’ She looked guilelessly about the room at the stunned people standing there.
The silence was deafening; Shay had always thought that a contradiction in terms, but at that moment she understood what it meant perfectly. The silence was deafening, everyone speechless after Marilyn’s casually vindictive statement.
To Shay’s surprise it was Neil who answered Marilyn this time. ‘Your idea of civilisation would disgust even the animal kingdom!’ he spat out contemptuously, striding from the room.
‘One down, five to go,’ Marilyn taunted unconcernedly.
Shay felt her grandfather stiffen at her side. ‘Your behaviour, madam, at a time like this,’ he spoke coldly to Marilyn, ‘is enough to make a saint leave any room you occupy.’
‘Marilyn—’
‘Don’t look so worried, darling,’ she laughed lightly as the man called Derrick spoke warningly. ‘Patrick won’t really leave, will you?’ She turned to Shay’s grandfather. ‘I don’t believe you’ve been properly introduced to my fiancé,’ she continued brightly without waiting for him to answer. ‘Have you?’ she challenged.
‘No,’ he replied tersely.
Shay finally had her answer as to exactly who the man Derrick was, although she had guessed a few minutes ago that he had to be the lover Marilyn had spoken about; it certainly wasn’t Matthew or Neil! But she had had no idea of Derrick’s existence, or that Marilyn and Lyon were at last to divorce; Ricky had never mentioned it to her. Although in the circumstances perhaps that was understandable, she had shown little interest in any member of his family over the last few years.
Marilyn introduced her fiancé as Derrick Stewartby, a fellow lawyer.
‘We’ll be married as soon as my divorce from Lyon is complete, some time in the new year,’ she added with satisfaction. ‘Although, of course, you won’t still be here then, will you, Shay?’
‘Won’t I?’ Shay returned stiffly, irritated at the other woman’s almost triumphant tone.
Marilyn gave her a sharp look. ‘Surely you’ll be returning to America soon to resume your career?’
Shay wasn’t fooled for a moment by the other woman’s attempt at lightness; the thought that she might be here when Lyon was finally a free man bothered Marilyn very much. She needn’t have worried, Lyon could have been free years ago and it wouldn’t have mattered to Shay.
‘I can write anywhere,’ she said softly, sensing that Marilyn was far from the only person in the room that was tense as they waited for her answer. But she looked at no one else but Marilyn.
‘You intend staying on here?’ The other woman frowned her displeasure at that idea.
‘Not at the house, no,’ Shay dismissed the idea with a mental shudder. ‘But in England, yes. You see,’ she added softly, ‘I want my child to be born here.’
