in love,’ she said.
‘Most people are when they marry,’ Andreas said, taking another mouthful of wine.
A beat of silence ticked past.
‘Were you in love with Portia Briscoe?’ Sienna asked.
Andreas’s brows shot together. ‘What sort of question is that?’ he asked.
She tilted her head on one side, her finger tapping against her lips. ‘No, I don’t think you loved her,’ she said. ‘I think you liked her well enough. She ticked all the boxes for you. She comes from money, she knows what cutlery to use and she dresses well and never has a hair out of place. She never says the wrong thing or rubs people up the wrong way. But grab-you-in-the-guts love? Nope. I don’t think so.’
‘You’re a fine one to harp on about true love,’ he said. ‘You weren’t in love with Brian Littlemore. You barely knew him when you waltzed him down the aisle before his wife was even cold in her grave.’
‘Actually, I did know him,’ she said with an imperious air. ‘I’d met him well before his wife died.’
Andreas gave her a disgusted look. ‘And no doubt you opened your legs for him then too. Did he pay you? Or did you give him one for free to get him so hot and hungry the poor old fool couldn’t help himself?’
Sienna’s eyes flashed at him with undiluted venom. ‘You have a mind like a sewer,’ she said. ‘You sit up there in your diamond-encrusted, gold-inlaid ivory tower of yours, passing judgement on people you don’t even know from a bar of soap. Brian was a decent man with a big heart. You haven’t even got a heart. All you’ve got inside your chest is a lump of cold, hard stone.’
Andreas took a measured sip of his wine. ‘Your loyalty to your late husband is touching, ma chérie,’ he said. ‘But I wonder if you would be so loyal if you knew he had another lover the whole time he was with you.’
Her eyes flickered before moving away from his. He watched as she moved back to where she had left her glass of wine. She picked it up and cradled it in her hands without drinking any of it. ‘We had an open marriage,’ she said, still not looking at him. ‘It gave us both the freedom to do what we wanted as long as we were both discreet about it.’
Andreas wondered if he should have been quite so blunt with her. There had been nothing in the press about her late husband’s affair. He had heard it secondhand and not from a particularly reliable source. But if she was hurt or upset by the news she was doing a good job of concealing it. Admittedly, she was standing stiffly, almost guardedly, but neither her expression nor her tone showed any sign of emotional carnage.
‘You knew about his mistress?’ he asked.
She turned to look at him, a little puzzled frown pulling at her brow. ‘His … mistress?’
‘The woman he was seeing,’ he said. ‘His lover.’
She gave a little laugh that seemed totally out of place. It sounded almost … relieved. ‘Oh, her …’ she said. ‘Yes, I knew about her right from the start.’
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