The Token Wife. Sara Craven

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The Token Wife - Sara Craven Mills & Boon Modern

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that was the final straw,’ Alex told him calmly. ‘She and David Sanders had been in love for some time, but they’d tried to behave nobly for Louise’s sake—or some such maudlin nonsense. She went out with me to try and forget him, but when she realised marriage was on the agenda she decided she couldn’t go through with it after all, and appealed to Sanders to rescue her.

      ‘And—they eloped last night.’

      Louise felt totally numb. Presently, she knew, there would be pain. But now there were images passing through her mind like some nightmare slide show. Ellie’s frantic phone call. Click. The dark house. Click. The empty space where David’s car should have been. Click. Until she wanted to scream.

      ‘Well, they won’t get away with it.’ Mr Trentham’s voice shook. ‘I’ll have them found. Make her come back.’

      ‘I hope you won’t do anything of the kind,’ Alex Fabian said coldly. ‘She’s not a young child. She’s a woman, and quite capable of making her own choices. Something we overlooked in our negotiations.’

      ‘Ellie?’ Marian Trentham had joined them now, her face ashen, her eyes blazing. ‘My beautiful girl with that—that buffoon? It can’t be true.’

      Lou made a small sound in her throat, and Alex glanced at her sharply. He said, ‘Mrs Trentham, I think you’ve forgotten that Louise was engaged to David Sanders.’

      ‘I haven’t forgotten a thing,’ the older woman said shrilly. ‘It’s all her fault—encouraging him to hang round here, where he could meet my lovely Ellie. Of course he preferred her. What man wouldn’t?’

      ‘No,’ Alex said, studying her with cold dislike, ‘according to her letter, they met up in London when he was on some course. So Louise can’t possibly be blamed. In fact, she’s been subjected to the worst kind of betrayal by both of them.’

      Betrayal. The word made Louise shiver, but it brought her back to life. And to unpleasant reality.

      She heard herself say, ‘Mrs Sanders must still be waiting on the phone. I’d better go and talk to her.’

      ‘No.’ Alex halted her, his hand on her arm. ‘Your father can do that for you. Or your stepmother,’ he added curtly. ‘There’s no reason why you should be exposed to any more recriminations.’

      Her father said hoarsely, ‘Yes, of course. I’ll go now. Though God knows what I can say…’

      As he departed, muttering distractedly, Marian Trentham moved forward, her hands outstretched. ‘Alex, my dear.’ Her voice throbbed. ‘What you must be suffering.’

      ‘I don’t appreciate being made a fool of,’ Alex said tersely. ‘And your daughter’s defection is going to cause me immeasurable trouble and inconvenience. But please let’s drop the pretence that Ellie and I were ever in love with each other.’

      For a moment she faltered, then she returned to the attack, forcing a smile.

      ‘You’re hurt,’ she said. ‘As you have every right to be. I do understand. But all is not yet lost. I think we should go downstairs and have some breakfast, and decide what to do next.’

      ‘I know exactly what I’m doing next,’ Alex said coldly. ‘I’m going back to London, and I’ll forgo your kind offer of breakfast. I’d prefer to be on my way as soon as possible.’

      ‘But there are matters outstanding,’ she said rapidly, her voice beginning to shake. ‘Things we need to discuss.’

      ‘You mean the re-financing plan? But that was dependent on certain conditions being met, so there is really very little to talk about.’

      Louise could hear the words, but she could not grasp what they meant. They seemed to float past her. The room, too, suddenly seemed to be swimming.

      She said in a stifled voice, ‘I—I think I’m going to be sick.’

      During the miserable and humiliating minutes that followed, Louise was dimly aware of an arm supporting her as she retched violently into the lavatory bowl, of a hand smoothing back her hair, and wiping her face with a damp flannel.

      ‘You,’ she said shakily as she sat up at last, the tiles on the bathroom walls still swooping dizzily around her. ‘Oh, God, it’s you.’

      ‘Well, who else would it be?’ Alex Fabian retorted crushingly. ‘Your father’s still on the phone, being screamed at, and your stepmother’s shut herself into her bedroom. You needed help.’

      ‘You’re the last person I’d turn to for that.’ She got painfully to her feet. ‘If you hadn’t pressured Ellie to marry you, none of this would have happened.’

      ‘It would have eventually. A different set of circumstances, perhaps, but the same result.’ He shrugged. ‘They’re in love. They were always going to end up together. I was just the catalyst.’

      She glared at him. ‘Is that supposed to make me feel better?’

      ‘That’s up to you. But I’d say it would be a pretty refined kind of hell to find you’d married a man who wanted someone else. Here, drink this.’

      Unwillingly Lou accepted the glass of water he held out to her. She’d just caught a horrified glimpse of herself in the bathroom mirror—her ghost-white face streaked with mascara, her lipstick smeared. The pretty, confident picture she’d painted for David totally ruined. Like her life.

      Not only did she look like hell, she thought, writhing inwardly, but she’d just thrown up in front of a man she detested.

      She said stiltedly, ‘I think I’d like to be alone now.’

      ‘Just as you wish.’ He paused. ‘I’ll have some tea brought up to you.’

      ‘Tea?’ Her voice rose. ‘My heart is broken, and you offer me—bloody clichés.’

      ‘It’s also the classic remedy for shock,’ he returned, unperturbed. ‘And hearts are more resilient than you think. Would you like me to help you to your room?’

      ‘No,’ she said. ‘And stop behaving like someone out of a medical drama. Because the best thing you could do for me would be to get out of my sight, and my life.’

      ‘I think,’ Alex Fabian said quietly, ‘that’s something that could be open to discussion. But possibly not at this moment.’

      ‘Not ever,’ Lou said fiercely. ‘So—please go.’

      She turned away, and began to run hot water into the basin, and when she glanced around again she was alone. Which was something she would have to get accustomed to, she realised, wretchedness stabbing her as she washed her face.

      With the worst ravages removed, she went back to her room and threw herself across the bed, digging clenched fists into the coverlet.

      Love must indeed be blind, she thought, because she’d never had the slightest idea that David might be looking elsewhere. She’d always felt so happy and comfortable with him, and on the surface everything had seemed just the same.

      Yet, she supposed, there had been clues

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