Never A Bride. Diana Hamilton
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of being the first, and discarded, Mrs Jake Winter.’
Hearing the rising note of bitterness in her voice and not having any way of understanding it, she slumped back against the soft cushions and waited to hear how he’d get out of that. And she went into a state of shock, or something very like it, when he simply turned the power of his wide white smile on her, explaining lightly, ‘I won’t even try to pretend I’m a stranger to your sex. However, much as I enjoy female company I know myself well enough to avoid making any long-term emotional commitments. To make a marriage happy, secure and stable you have to work at it. I wouldn’t find the time. My business gives me all the challenge I can handle. It’s as addictive and demanding as playing chess at the highest level—I’m not looking for anything more. I could handle a paper marriage—I’ve neither the time nor the inclination to work at a proper one. Inevitably I’d get bored and restless. And, as I’ve experienced, paid secretaries and housekeepers can be a pain. I need someone who will be emotionally undemanding, always there when needed, wherever I happen to be. I hate hotel life as a general rule, so have my own apartments in most of the major capitals around the world, and I need someone there to organize some kind of home life as well as business breakfasts, lunches or dinners, put on her secretary hat when needed and, as I mentioned—’ his grin was sapping all her strength ‘—buy my socks. Or whatever. And as far as I’m concerned, unless and until I make a family of my own—which, at this moment in time, I can’t see myself ever contemplating—any children my sister and her husband might have would become my heirs. And I suppose there should be an opt-out clause,’ he clipped, his change of tone suddenly making her see how seriously he was taking this plethora of alarming nonsense. ‘In the unlikely event of my deciding I wanted to be free to remarry, you would receive a substantial settlement in money and property. If you wanted out, for the same reason, then I wouldn’t stand in your way. You would, however, forfeit the settlement.’
The smile he gave her was chilling, sending shivers riding down the length of her spine, and, shifting uneasily against the cushions, she was about to decline his offer politely when he forestalled her, knocking the breath out of her lungs as he added, ‘About Liz. As an added and, in my opinion—having spoken at length to her consultant—necessary inducement, I guarantee to keep her in comfort for the rest of her life. In a house of her own and your choosing, with a resident companion—medically trained—to keep an eye on her health and well being, keep her company, do all the little jobs around the place she shouldn’t be allowed to tackle. Think about it, Claire. Think carefully, and give me your answer in the morning.’
He stood up, terminating the crazy interview, and Claire, her legs feeling unbelievably unsteady, tottered off to the study, finishing up there and driving home in a daze, not able to bring herself to say goodnight to him because everything inside her head had gone on hold.
It was the promise he had made regarding Liz’s future that tipped the balance. True, the actual job he was offering was a challenge that was difficult to resist, and she could live with the marriage part of it. She would look at it as a strange type of job description, the utter sterility of the relationship a secret between Jake and herself. But it was the thought that her mother would at last be able to relax, live a life of comfort and ease, having a cosy home of her own and the lush country garden she had always dreamed of—with the added bonus that wherever Claire found herself she would know that Liz had someone close at hand to keep her from being lonely, watch that she didn’t overtire herself, make her go for regular check-ups—that brought Claire to Jake’s London apartment, an acceptance of his offer of marriage firmly lodged in her head.
Jake received her acceptance with a calm, ‘Thank you. You won’t regret it,’ but persuading Liz to accept his charity was a different matter.
She had met Jake, of course and, although bemused by the suddenness of it, was delighted by the prospect of the marriage. Her darling girl had fallen in love with a man who would care for her, provide handsomely for her, for the rest of her life. What mother could ask for more? But living on charity was something else altogether.
Not until Jake was brought in to fight Claire’s corner were matters resolved. He simply told her, ‘In three weeks’ time I am marrying your daughter. That makes you, like it or not, part of my family. And what type of man—especially one who has more money than he can count—leaves a valued member of his family to mooch around in a mediocre flat in an unlovely London backstreet?’
And so Lark Cottage was found, furnished with every comfort and convenience, Sally Harding, an ex-nurse, forthright but kind, employed, everything—even their paper marriage—running smoothly until now. Until her mother’s legacy had set her free.
An impatient rapping on the bedroom door had Claire dragging her eyes from the window-pane. The winter darkness had descended. She’d been looking at nothing. Blinking, she watched Jake enter the room, his impressive height and sheer physical presence seeming to diminish everything in it. His features were expressionless, yet his eyes pierced her, his voice harsh as he said, ‘Liz is presiding over the tea-table, staring with longing at the teapot. As is Sal. Might I suggest you join us and put them out of their misery?’
She rose slowly to her feet. She’d lost count of time. Eating her share of one of Sal’s massive teas—three different types of dainty sandwiches, mountainous sponge cakes, slab cake, a wild selection of home-made biscuits—was not, at the moment, very appealing.
She sighed, and he heard it. His eyes narrowed. He made an ‘after you’ gesture as she reached the door and his tone when he spoke, silk cloaking iron, rasped on her strangely jangled nerves.
‘Liz’s delight in finding herself so unexpectedly and independently wealthy was so transparent, I hadn’t the heart to insist that she continue to live off my allowance. However,’ he added, his mouth straightening in a grim line, ‘that doesn’t give you an opt-out, grounds for terminating our agreement. Only one thing can do that, so don’t you ever forget it.’
CHAPTER THREE
“ONLY one thing”. The only opt-out Jake would accept was if one or other of them fell in love.
Claire fastened her seat belt as Jake slid into the driver’s seat. She didn’t look at him, concentrated instead on waving goodbye to Liz and Sal, doing her best to look relaxed and cheerful.
For some reason the couple of days they’d spent at Lark Cottage had been a strain. Normally, it was no such thing. Claire valued any time she was able to spend with Liz, and her pretend marriage hadn’t been a problem before because Jake had the ability to make everyone relax. When it suited him, that was. And it always suited him when he was around Liz.
So she couldn’t put her edginess down to him, or only obliquely. The only reason she’d agreed to marry him had been to secure her mother’s future welfare. But, for him, the fact that he’d no longer be supporting Liz didn’t count. He’d made that abundantly clear. And what troubled her was the stupid, surging relief she’d felt when he’d slept it out!
‘Still adamant about not staying on at Lither ton until I join you for Christmas?’ Jake asked tautly as he smoothly negotiated the big car through the tangled network of narrow country lanes that would, in around twenty minutes, bring them to the Winter family home.
She shrugged, biting down on her lip, staring fixedly ahead. She was all churned up inside, her emotions warring. She didn’t want to stay on at Lither ton without him; she had already acknowledged that much. And when she’d believed that Liz’s legacy would inevitably lead to the end of their marriage she had been—well, ‘disconsolate’ was the word she thought she was looking for.
It would be madness to allow herself to become dependent on his company. Sooner or later the marriage would end, and probably sooner, if his indiscreet relationship with the principessa was anything to go by.
Without being aware of it she had allowed herself to be drawn into the false security of dependency. It was time she did something about it. And so she told him with a lightness she was far from feeling, ‘No, I’ve had second thoughts. Long walks in the fresh air, coming