‘Why did you have to get involved, Jack?’ she asked, swinging round to face him, her cheeks pink and her eyes wild with a mixture of embarrassment and anxiety.
The sight of it stopped him in his tracks. Even in his state of agitation he was acutely aware that she was still a heart-stoppingly beautiful woman. If anything she was even more beautiful now than when he’d last seen her six years ago, with those full wide lips that used to haunt his dreams and those bright, intelligent green eyes that had always glowed with spirit and an innate joy of life.
Not that she looked particularly joyful right now.
Shaking off the unwelcome rush of feelings this brought, he folded his arms and raised an eyebrow at her.
‘I wasn’t going to just stand by and watch Fitzherbert manhandle you like that,’ he said, aiming for a cool, reasonable tone. There was no way he was going to have a public row in the middle of Sloane Square with her. What if there were paparazzi lurking behind one of the trees nearby?
He shifted on the spot. ‘I would have done the same for any woman in that position.’
There was a flash of hurt in her eyes. ‘Well, for future reference, I can take care of myself, thanks. It wasn’t your place to get involved, Jack.’
The muscles in his shoulders tensed instinctively. ‘I’m your husband. Of course it was my place.’
She sighed, kicking awkwardly at the ground. ‘Technically, maybe, but nobody knew that. I certainly haven’t told anyone.’
He was annoyed by how riled he felt by her saying that, as if he was a dirty secret she’d been keeping.
It was on the tip of his tongue to start demanding answers of her—about what had happened in the intervening years to make it necessary for her to work for a man like Fitzherbert and why she hadn’t contacted him once in the six years they’d been estranged, even just to let him know that she was okay.
But he didn’t, because this wasn’t the time or place to discuss things like that.
‘Why did you shout about us being married in front of all those people?’ she asked, her voice wobbling a little now.
He took a deep breath, rubbing a hand over his forehead in agitation. ‘I reacted without thinking in the heat of the moment.’
That had always been his problem when she was around. For some reason she shook him up, made him lose control, like no one else in the world could.
To his surprise the corner of her mouth quirked into a reluctant smile. ‘Well, it’s going to be round Chelsea society like wildfire now. That crowd loves a bit of salacious gossip.’
Sighing, he batted a hand at her. ‘Don’t worry, people will talk for a while, then it’ll become old news. I’ll handle it.’
She looked at him for a moment, her eyes searching his face as if checking for reassurance.
Jack stared back at her, trying not to let a sudden feeling of edginess get to him. As much as he’d love to be able to brush the problem of them still being married under the carpet he knew it would be a foolish thing to do. There was no point in letting it drag on any more now he was back. It needed to be faced head-on so they could resolve it quickly and with as little pain as possible.
Because, inevitably, it would still be painful for them, even after all this time.
Emma tore her gaze away from him, frowning down at the pavement now and letting out a growl of frustration. ‘I could have done with keeping that job. It paid really well,’ she muttered. ‘And who knows what the knock-on effect of embarrassing Jolyon like that is going to be?’
He balled his fists, trying to keep a resurgence of temper under control at the memory of Fitzherbert’s treatment of her. ‘He won’t do anything—the man’s a coward.’
‘Jolyon’s an influential man around here,’ she pointed out, biting her lip. ‘He has the ear of a lot of powerful people.’
She stared off into the distance, her breath coming rapidly now, streaking the dark night air with clouds of white. ‘Hopefully Clio at the agency will believe my side of the story and still put me forward for other jobs, but people might not want to take me on if Jolyon gets to them first.’
‘Surely you don’t need a job that badly?’ he asked, completely bemused by her anxiety about not being able to land another waitressing role. What had happened to her plans to go to university? She couldn’t have been working in the service industry all this time, could she?
The rueful smile she flashed him made something twang in his chest.
‘Unfortunately I do, Jack. We can’t all be CEO of our own company,’ she said with a teasing glint in her eye now.
He huffed out a mirthless laugh and shook his head, recalling how it had been through Emma’s encouragement that he’d accepted the prodigious offer for a highly sought-after job at an electronics company in the States right after graduating from university, which had enabled him to chase his dream of setting up his own company.
It had been an incredible opportunity and one he’d been required to act on quickly. Emma had understood how important it had been to him to become financially independent on his own merits, rather than trading on his family name as his father had, and had urged him to go. In a burst of youthful optimism, he’d asked her to marry him so she could go with him. She’d been all he could think about when he was twenty-one. He’d been obsessed with her—every second away from her had felt empty—and the mere suggestion of leaving her behind in England had filled him with dismay.
In retrospect it had been ridiculous for them to tie the knot so young; with him only just graduated from Cambridge University and she only eighteen years old.
They’d practically been children then: closeted and naïve.
She coughed and took an awkward step backwards and he realised with a start that he’d been scowling at her while these unsettling memories had flitted through his mind.
‘It’s good to see you again, Jack, despite the less than ideal circumstances,’ she said softly, her expression guarded and her voice holding a slight tremor now, ‘but I guess I should get going.’
She seemed to fold in on herself and he realised with a jolt that she was shivering.
‘Where’s your coat?’ he asked, perhaps a little more sharply than was necessary.
‘It’s back in the house, along with my handbag,’ she muttered. ‘I can’t go back in there for them now though. I’ll give one of the girls a ring when I get home and ask her to drop them over to me tomorrow.’ She paused as a sheepish look crossed her face. ‘I don’t suppose you could lend me a couple of pounds for my bus fare, could you?’
The tension in her voice touched something deep inside him, making him suddenly conscious of what a rough night she was having.
‘Yes, of course.’ Taking off his overcoat, he wrapped it around her shoulders. ‘Here, take my coat. There’s money in the pocket.’
She looked up at him with wide, grateful eyes. ‘Are you sure?’
