Jack Riordan's Baby. Anne Mather
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here.’
‘I know that, Mrs Riordan.’ The confidence was back, and if she’d been surprised that Rachel should recognise her so easily she managed to hide it. ‘He’s in Bristol, signing the contract for the new shopping development.’
So she knew his schedule, thought Rachel, striving for indifference. No doubt Jack kept her informed of his movements. ‘You’re right,’ she said casually, although Jack rarely told her where he was going these days. ‘Which makes me wonder why you’d come here, Miss Johnson. I don’t think you and I have anything to say to one another.’
‘Oh, we do.’ Karen didn’t wait for an invitation before subsiding onto the sofa again. ‘Why don’t you join me, Mrs Riordan? What I have to tell you may cause you some distress.’
Rachel wondered idly how much it would cost to replace all three of the sofas. Several thousand pounds—but it might be worth it not to have to remember this scene. ‘I’ll stand,’ she said, hoping the other woman would take the hint and make this—whatever it was—brief. She had no desire to get cosy with her.
‘As you please.’
Karen shrugged her shoulders, but before she could say anything more Mrs Grady bustled into the room with a tray containing two tall glasses and a jug of iced tea. Rachel remembered asking the housekeeper to provide the tea in the first few moments after learning Karen was here. Now she wished she hadn’t, but it was too late to have second thoughts.
‘There, now. Is there anything else I can get you, Mrs Riordan?’ Mrs Grady asked, eyeing her with some concern.
‘No, that’s all.’ Rachel managed a terse smile. ‘Thank you.’
‘Well, you sit down and take it easy,’ advised the housekeeper shrewdly. ‘You’re still looking peaky. Are you sure you’re feeling all—’
‘I’m fine, Mrs Grady.’ The last thing Rachel wanted was for Karen Johnson to think her arrival had caused her to feel ill. Or distressed, she added silently, giving the housekeeper a meaningful stare. ‘If I want anything else, I’ll let you know.’
Mrs Grady arched her brows, but she had the sense not to argue, and after she’d gone Rachel gestured towards the tray. ‘Help yourself,’ she said, refusing to put herself in the position of having to serve her. ‘You must be hot,’ she continued. ‘I hope you didn’t wear that suit for my benefit.’
She had the shabby pleasure of seeing how Karen bristled at this comment. But what the hell? Rachel thought defensively. She deserved worse than that for having the nerve to come here. What did she want, for God’s sake? Wasn’t the fact that she was sleeping with Jack enough for her? Did she have some notion of splitting them up as well?
‘I always dress for the occasion,’ Karen replied at last, having considered her argument. ‘Clothes are so important, don’t you think? Particularly if you want to please a man.’
‘I dress to please myself,’ retorted Rachel, not altogether truthfully. But she’d used to, she reminded herself staunchly. Before Jack Riordan had entered—and subsequently ruined—her life.
‘I can see that,’ Karen said now, leaning forward to pour herself a glass of the cool beverage Mrs Grady had provided. Ice chinked and Rachel wished she could pour one for herself. But she didn’t trust her hand not to shake as she did so, and that would be a dead giveaway. No, better to remain where she was until the woman had gone.
‘Mmm, delicious.’ Whether she’d detected Rachel’s ambivalence or not, Karen raised the glass to her lips and deliberately savoured her first mouthful. A pink tongue appeared to collect every drop from her glossy lower lip and she sighed with pleasure. ‘Are you sure you won’t change your mind, Mrs Riordan? I’m sure you must be feeling as hot as me.’
Rachel shifted to stand beside the sofa opposite. Then, resting one hand lightly on the soft cushion, she said calmly, ‘I’ll survive. Why don’t you get to the point, Miss Johnson? If your intention was to shock me with your existence, then, as you can see, you’re wasting your time.’
Karen set the glass back on the tray and folded her hands together in her lap. Then she looked up at the other woman with malicious eyes. ‘You think you’re so secure, don’t you, Rachel?’ she mocked, obviously using her name to show she wasn’t intimidated by her attitude. ‘I wonder how you’ll feel when I tell you I’m expecting Jack’s baby?’
A pain sharper than a rapier seared through Rachel’s stomach at her words. It took every ounce of will power she had not to cry out at the agony it caused. It couldn’t be true, she told herself. The woman had to be lying. After all the misery she’d suffered trying to give Jack the child he wanted, surely he had more compassion than to make his mistress pregnant?
She became aware that Karen was watching her with a shrewd, assessing gaze, and despite what she’d been thinking she instinctively sensed that the other woman knew about her three miscarriages. Had Jack told her? He might have done. Though Rachel preferred to believe that someone in his office was responsible.
It wasn’t a secret, for God’s sake. In the beginning Jack had been only too eager to broadcast the fact that he was going to be a father to the world. It was only after she’d lost two babies a few weeks into the first trimester that he’d chosen to keep her next pregnancy a secret. Which was just as well, because she’d lost that baby, too.
But this wasn’t the time to be having thoughts like these. With Karen’s eyes on her face, watching for any sign of weakness, Rachel knew she had to hide her real feelings until after the woman was gone.
All the same, she couldn’t help sinking down onto the arm of the sofa. Her legs were definitely not strong enough to support her at this moment, and she just hoped she didn’t look as horrified as she felt.
She knew she was pale, but she couldn’t help that. She was probably as white as a sheet, but somehow she had to force her frozen features into speech.
Before she could say anything, however, Karen shifted forward in her seat and poured some of the iced tea into a second glass. ‘Here,’ she said, holding it out, but although the gesture seemed considerate enough Rachel knew there was no real sympathy in the act.
‘No—thanks,’ she muttered, almost choking on the word, and Karen shrugged before setting the glass down again.
‘Suit yourself,’ she said carelessly. Then, arching her dark brows, ‘So—what are you going to do about it?’
Rachel stared at her in disbelief, realising she hadn’t the first idea what to say. Questions like: How many months are you? and Have you told Jack? were totally beyond her. The truth was, she didn’t want to know the answers. Obviously Karen’s pregnancy had been confirmed or she wouldn’t have come here. But surely if Jack had known about it he would have told her, warned her? Or perhaps not. Oh, God, she didn’t think she could handle this.
Moistening her lips, she took the only course open to her. ‘What am I going to do about it?’ she echoed, amazed that her voice sounded so normal. ‘I don’t think I understand that question. I have no intention of doing anything, Miss Johnson. If you’re pregnant—and I only have your word for that—then surely it’s up to you to deal with it in whatever way you choose?’
‘Oh, no.’ Karen surged to her feet, anger thickening her voice. ‘You’re not going to get away with that, Mrs Riordan. I didn’t come here to be dismissed like some charity case.’
The one-liner Where do you usually go? rose like hysteria in the back of Rachel’s throat, but she fought it down. This was no laughing matter, and not for the first time she wished her mother were still alive.
But she wasn’t. She’d been dead for over ten years. No one could help her now except herself, and as Karen geared herself up for another offensive, she said firmly, ‘I’m sorry you feel like that, Miss Johnson. But there’s really nothing I can do.’
‘Like hell!’ Karen glared at her across the wide