was for teenagers, he’d pointed out sensibly. True love was based more on companionship than passion. They could grow to truly love each other once they were married. He was sure of it. He had also promised her at least one child—another winning argument with Judith. She would never have seriously considered a childless marriage. Not at her age.
Raymond’s wealth had not been a major factor in her decision at all, yet when she’d finally consented to his proposal his sister had accused her of being a fortune-hunter. It was ironic that Margaret herself had, the previous year, married a much younger Latin-lover type with more looks than money, the complete antithesis of Margaret, who had more money than looks. Though Margaret pretended to be happy with Mario, Judith was convinced Raymond’s sister was as miserable as ever.
Raymond’s most convincing argument for Judith’s marrying him, however, had been that she could keep her own bedroom. He was not a highly sexed man, he’d explained. Not sexless, mind. Just not one driven by carnal needs. He’d confessed to Judith that for some years he’d had an arrangement with a lady-friend of his, whom he visited every couple of weeks. They were not in love, he’d assured her, and he would naturally terminate this intimacy once he was an engaged man.
It suited Judith very well not to have a husband driven by carnal needs. That kind of passion was something she could well live without. It made her shudder just to think of it. All Judith wanted from life these days was a peaceful existence. The last thing she wanted was emotional upheaval and traumatic confrontations. But seeing Alex again would bring both!
‘This party Margaret’s throwing tonight,’ Raymond said, ‘is her way of holding out an olive branch to you, Judith. You must come,’ he ordered, ‘no matter what.’
She looked up and studied Raymond. He was leaning back in the bulky armchair, a quietly autocratic figure, his pipe resting in the corner of his mouth.
He was not a handsome man. His sandy hair was receding, his face was long, his nose sharp, his eyes pale grey and piercing. On either side of his mouth deep grooves ran from his cheeks to his chin.
Despite these unprepossessing physical features, however, Raymond exuded a certain attraction which had nothing to do with his looks. Perhaps it came from the power which went hand in hand with wealth. Raymond was a very rich man. He also had a strong and decisive character which Judith both appreciated and had learnt to rely upon.
‘You really can’t avoid the issue, Judith,’ he insisted logically. ‘Why, exactly, are you so upset at the prospect of meeting Alexander Fairchild again? And why do you call him a rotten bastard?’
Raymond removed his pipe and gazed steadily at her, waiting for an answer.
Judith was silent. She sat stiffly, shifting her eyes towards the fire to avoid his penetrating regard. The flames danced before her but she did not see them.
‘Were you lovers at some stage?’ he asked.
‘No!’ she denied hotly while throwing him an apprehensive glance.
‘There’s no need to shout. I don’t expect you to be a virgin, Judith, at the age of twenty-nine.’
Her blush took them both by surprise. She’d meant to tell Raymond; had been waiting for the right moment. But it hadn’t presented itself yet.
‘Good God,’ he muttered. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
Judith’s chin lifted in an odd defiance. ‘Does it matter? I thought men of your generation liked their brides to be virgins on their wedding night. I mean...I thought you’d be pleased.’
‘To be honest, I’m more surprised than pleased. You’re such a good-looking woman. And you were engaged once before, weren’t you? And not to a man of my...er...generation. I always imagined most young couples slept together before they married these days.’
‘Well, Simon and I didn’t,’ she said quite sharply, piqued that Raymond seemed to be finding fault in her virginity. ‘Our courtship took place while he was in hospital, recovering after a car accident. By the time he was fit and well and able to make love, we were engaged, and I...I wanted to wait. It was only going to be for another short month and Simon said he didn’t mind. He said it would make our marriage all the more special.’
Tears pricked at her eyes as she remembered him saying that, and the warm, understanding kiss which had followed. She knew he’d been frustrated by then, but he’d been prepared to wait. She’d been the one who hadn’t been able to wait in the end.
And it had cost Simon his life.
That overwhelming sense of guilt swamped her, fiercer than it had been for years. Dear God, would she never forget? Or forgive herself?
One thing was for certain. She would never forgive Alexander Fairchild. The man was as good as guilty of murder in her opinion. She hated him with a passion, hated him for doing what he’d done to her, and to Simon.
A silence had fallen in the room, the only sound the flames crackling in the hearth.
‘You must have had some sort of relationship with Fairchild,’ Raymond resumed at last with relentless logic, ‘or he wouldn’t be able to turn you inside out like this.’
‘He was Simon’s best friend,’ she choked out, as though that explained everything.
‘So?’ Raymond was clearly puzzled. ‘That doesn’t make much sense, Judith. Look, I know you were engaged to this Simon person, and that he was killed in a motor accident a couple of days before your wedding. But what does Fairchild’s being his best friend have to do with that? Your fiancé was alone in the car, wasn’t he?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then I don’t understand. Why don’t you try to make me understand, Judith?’
Shame compelled her to lie, plus the knowledge that Raymond would never understand or condone the truth. Not that she could blame him. She’d never understood or. condoned it herself.
‘Simon and Alexander had a violent argument that night,’ she explained, running her tongue over dry lips. ‘When Simon sped off crazily in the car, Alexander knew he was drunk and upset, but he...he didn’t try to stop him. He was directly responsible for the accident and Simon’s death, and I’ll never, ever forgive him!’
A frown creased Raymond’s high forehead. ‘What was the argument about?’
‘What?’
‘The argument between Fairchild and your fiancé.
What was it about?’
‘Oh...er...I don’t really know. There was a lot of shouting and a scuffle, then Simon drove off. What does it matter what it was about now? All I know is that Alexander was to blame for Simon’s death.’
‘You really think so?’
‘I know so! Why do you think I don’t want to go tonight? Why I can’t bear to be in the same room as him?’
Two totally exasperated eyes looked straight at her. ‘I never thought you were a fool, Judith, and I’m sure you’re not. I can well understand how distressed you must have been at the time of your fiancé’s death. But distress does have a way of distorting things in one’s mind. With the
