of her husband’s betrayal. They were sent anonymously of course. Not a single word accompanied them as though the photographs said it all; which indeed they did. They were from someone who didn’t so much care about her pain as showing Mark up for what he was. Allegra had always had the idea that person was a woman. Someone who may have been a former lover of Mark’s and now hated him.
Mark’s explanation when she had confronted him with them had been quite extraordinary. He had acted calm, as though he couldn’t quite grasp her devastating shock.
‘It’s long over, Ally!’ He’d assured her in his smooth, convincing stockbroker’s voice. ‘It meant absolutely nothing. All it did was relieve a physical ache at the time. Let’s face it, my darling, I don’t get as much sex from you, as I want, though I have to admit it increases your allure. Why do women make such a big deal about men having extra needs? It’s you I love. You’re my wife. No other woman can touch you. I’ll never leave you and you’ll never leave me. I’d be devastated if you did.’
She was the one who was devastated but, God help her, she had forgiven him. It was too early in their marriage to call it a day. She certainly couldn’t go home to Val to seek advice and comfort. She told herself lots of people make mistakes. She made herself believe it had been Mark’s only infidelity. In retrospect, of course it hadn’t been. Mark was addicted to sex like another man might have been addicted to golf. It was a necessary relaxation, a fix. Mark was handsome, charming, successful, generous. Especially with his favours.
In the beginning he had been a tender, sensitive, romantic lover, eager to please her. She realised now what he had been doing was gradually trying to break her in to his little ways she found vaguely demeaning, though she tried to understand where he was coming from. It wasn’t as though there was much harm in what he wanted her to do it. It wasn’t even over-poweringly sensual. But she couldn’t help feeling titillating little games were ridiculous. Certainly they didn’t turn her on.
‘Sweetheart, you’re not a bit of fun!’
Seeing how she felt, he backed off. Overnight he rectified his behaviour, which had never been evident during their courtship, returning to the considerate, caring lover. She’d believed like a fool they had come to an understanding. Nothing further was going to be allowed to disrupt their lives. Only Mark secretly moved back to the kind of women who were up for the kind of sexual kicks he craved. The other women turned out to be married women from their own circle. Why had she been so shocked? Faithless friends made faithless lovers. All of them had been exceedingly careful, not wanting exposure or even to break up their existing marriages. There was no wild partying, no staying out overnight, much less for long weekends. Their marriage might have survived for quite a bit longer only she had returned home from work unexpectedly early one afternoon only to find Mark and a married friend of theirs chasing one another around the bedroom.
Incredibly she hadn’t been laid low. She hadn’t screamed or cried or yelled at the woman to get dressed and get the hell out of her house. For a moment she had very nearly laughed. They looked so ridiculous staring back at her. Like a pair of startled kangaroos caught in the headlights of a four-wheel drive.
‘Goodness, Penny, I scarcely recognised you without your clothes!’
Then she had turned about and walked straight out of the house, booking into a hotel.
So here she was at twenty-seven, a betrayed wife. A betrayed ex-wife. And having a hard time coming to terms with what a fool she had been. She had truly believed Mark was a man of integrity. Yet love or what she thought had been love had flown out the window. Indeed it had all but taken wing when she had first received those compromising photographs with her clever handsome husband caught in the act, his unflattering position preventing her from seeing his partner-in-crime’s face. At one stage, as she bent over the photographs, she had the weirdest notion that partner could have been Chloe—something about the slight plumpness of the legs, what she could see of the woman’s body?—but quickly rejected the idea, disgusted with herself for even allowing such a notion to cross her mind. Chloe would never do such a thing. Chloe was far too honourable.
Incredibly Mark had tried desperately to save their marriage, saying she was making something out of nothing. Just how did one define nothing? A man wasn’t intended to remain monogamous, he said. Everyone knew that. Smart women accepted it; turned a blind eye.
He obviously didn’t want to consider the innumerable crimes of passion that hit the headlines. He continued to hold to the line he ‘adored’ her. He knew he had a problem of sorts, but he would seek counselling if that’s what she wanted. They would go together.
She had declined without regrets. She had to face the dismal fact Mark was highly unlikely to be cured. Sooner or later he would break out again. He had found it ridiculously easy up to date. Almost ten years her senior and well versed in the less laudable ways of the world, he had run rings around her. Even after their divorce became final he had stalked her, telling her how ashamed he was of his behaviour and how much he desperately needed her. Didn’t he deserve another chance?
Tell me. Whatever it is you want me to do, I’ll do it. I’ve already entered into treatment.
She knew it was a lie. The only thing Mark was sorry about was getting caught.
Why had she married him in the first place? He hadn’t exactly swept her off her feet, though he couldn’t have been kinder, sweeter, or more considerate. His intellect had reached out to her. He was a clever, cultured man, highly successful with powerful friends. She went from single woman with no real home—home with Valerie and had felt like enemy territory—to married woman with a beautiful home of her own and an extraordinarily generous husband who showered her with gifts. Was that what she had really wanted all along?
A home of her own?
She never told anyone about Mark’s little idiosyncrasies. She could well be confiding in someone who already knew. She didn’t blacken his name. She knew quite a few in their circle believed she was the one to bring what had appeared to be a marriage made in heaven to an abrupt end. Mark was ‘a lovely guy!’ Everyone knew he adored her. The age difference might have had something to do with it. Or Allegra had found someone else. In her work she was invited everywhere with or without her husband—there had to be lots of temptations along the way, men and women behaving the way they did.
Allegra knew people had been talking, but there was little she could do about it but take it on the chin.
CHAPTER THREE
RORY COMPTON had already arrived by the time she made her way downstairs. She realized with a prickle of something like discomfort and an irrational guilt she had taken a few extra little pains with her appearance. She was aware too of a quickening of excitement that was gathering in strength. She hadn’t expected anything like it. Not here, not now. Not when she wanted time to re-evaluate her life. She was a woman trying to recover from a recent divorce. Sad things had happened to her, leaving her feeling low, but the advent of Rory Compton into her life had sparked off some sort of revival. Without wanting to, or without planning it, he had somehow brought her back to life. Could it possibly have something to do with the rebound syndrome? She had actually seen it at work with a friend. Women were very vulnerable after the break-up of a relationship. Was she one of them?
Since she had met him she had started to ask herself that very question. She couldn’t stop thinking of him though she had willed herself not to. But like all things forbidden he had stuck in her mind. There was just something about the man that had penetrated the miasma of grief she had been battling since the death of her beloved father and the failure of
