A Wife on Paper. Liz Fielding
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from his arms, making things worse as she hugged him tight, frightening him. ‘What is it with you? You think just because Steven’s dead you can walk into his home as if you own the place, pick up his son—’
‘The boy overbalanced, Francesca. I caught him before he fell.’ About to add that he was fine until she’d shouted, he thought better of it. She’d just suffered one terrible loss and it was only natural that she’d be protective. ‘I was looking for you to let you know I’m leaving.’
‘You’ve said it. Now will you please just go.’
Distraught, grieving, she wasn’t about to listen to him and he wasn’t about to try and justify his absence from their lives. ‘I simply wanted to let you know that you don’t have to worry about the paperwork, Steve’s business. I’ll handle it, and if there’s anything you need—’
‘You won’t,’ she declared, lifting her chin a little. ‘It’s my concern, not yours. And I don’t. Need anything.’
Her rejection felt as physical as a slap. He took a breath. ‘All you have to do is call my office. Speak to my secretary—’
‘Your secretary? Well, thanks. It’s good to know where I stand in your priorities.’
‘I thought…’ He’d thought that dealing through an intermediary would be easier for her, but the truth was that in the face of her complete refusal to see him as anything other than her enemy he felt utterly helpless.
Matty appeared in the kitchen doorway. ‘I’ve made a pot of tea if anyone fancies a cup,’ she said, then glanced from him to Francesca and back again. ‘I can make that Scotch if you’d prefer?’
‘Another time. I have to go.’ He crossed to her, bent to take her hand, then taking the opportunity to slip her the card with his mobile number on it, the one he’d been planning to give Francesca. ‘It was a pleasure to meet you, Matty.’
‘Well, don’t say it as if was the first and last time.’
‘I’m sure Guy has more pressing demands on his time, Matty. A potential oil field or three needing his expertise.’
‘I’ll be staying in London for a week or two.’
‘That long?’ The scorn in Francesca’s voice would have withered crab grass. ‘Oh, well, then we’ve got absolutely nothing to worry about, have we…?’
She was near the edge of hysteria, he thought, and his presence wasn’t helping. Maybe Matty realised that too because she caught his eye and said, ‘I’ll see you out.’
‘It’s all right. He knows the way. This used to be his house until he sold it to Steven at the top of the property boom.’ He looked up and, seeing the shock on his face, she said, ‘What’s the matter? Did you think I didn’t know how much he paid you?’
What could he say? Tell her that she was wrong? That the man she loved, nursed, cared for, had lied to her?
‘He adored you, Guy,’ she said, as he turned to leave. ‘Worshipped you. He was always making excuses for you. In his eyes you could do no wrong…’
How he wished that was true, but wishing helped no one. Instead, he smiled at the child who had stopped crying and was peering up at him from beneath long wet lashes.
‘Goodbye, Toby,’ he said, through what felt like a rock in his throat, and the child thrust the ball he was still holding towards him.
He didn’t know what was expected of him and he got no help from Francesca. Feeling helpless was becoming repetitive. He wasn’t used to it. He didn’t like it. Choosing action, he took the ball and said, ‘Thank you, Toby.’ The child buried his head in his mother’s shoulder.
‘I’ll call you tomorrow, Francesca.’
‘Don’t bother.’ She didn’t wait to see how he reacted. She swept from the hall, taking Toby with her, and he forced his unwilling feet towards the door.
‘Shall I leave this with you?’ he asked, offering the ball to Matty.
‘Toby gave it to you because he wants you to come back,’ she said.
‘His mother doesn’t feel the same way.’
‘Possibly not, but I don’t see anyone else crossing continents and oceans to be at her side—’
‘Steve was my brother,’ he said.
‘—or leaping to her rescue when she was being hounded by men anxious about their invoices,’ she continued as if he hadn’t interrupted. Her face, thin, plainly marked with everything she’d suffered, was bright with intelligence and he sensed an ally.
‘Have they reason to be?’ he asked. ‘Anxious?’
‘Steven didn’t confide in me but he hasn’t been in any state to run the business himself for the last six months.’
‘I wish she’d let me know.’
‘He wouldn’t let her. At the end she called your office anyway, but it was too late. All you can do now, Mr Knight Errant, is stick around and help her pick up the pieces.’
CHAPTER TWO
FRANCESCA was shaking so badly that she had to sit down before her legs gave way. Toby struggled to free himself, but she clutched at him as if he was the only thing standing between her and some dark chasm that yawned in front of her.
She’d been so sure that Guy wouldn’t come today. It had been pure relief when his secretary rang to tell her that although she’d finally managed to get the news to him he was unlikely to make it home in time, even for the funeral. Easy enough to assure the woman that she understood, decline all offers of assistance.
She should have known he would move heaven and earth. Steven had once told her that his brother was a man who simply refused to contemplate the impossible, that only once had he backed down, retreated from the challenge to get what he wanted. Guy Dymoke was a dark, unseen shadow that had seemed to haunt Steven. She should have, could have, done something to change that, she thought guiltily. Made an effort to bridge the gulf that had opened up between them, but an uneasy sense of self-preservation had warned her to leave well alone.
‘Why don’t you go and put your feet up, Fran? You look done in.’
Grateful to Matty for distracting her, she finally allowed Toby to escape. The one thing she mustn’t become was a clinging mother, weeping over her child. ‘I’m fine, really. Where’s Connie?’
‘She’s tidying up the drawing room.’
‘You’ve both been wonderful. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’
‘I wish I could say that the worst is over.’
‘It is. I just have to see the solicitor tomorrow. Sort out the will.’ She didn’t anticipate any difficulty. Steven had told her that he’d made sure she and Toby were taken care of; he must have known he was dying then, despite the fact that neither of them had ever acknowledged it and she had to believe he meant it.
Her real problem was his business. What was going to happen to that?
‘Just remember that you’re not alone,’ Matty continued, distracting her. ‘I’m here, and Connie will hold the fort with Toby—’
‘It’s not necessary, really.’ She’d been forcing her mouth into a smile, her voice into soothing tones of reassurance for so long that it did it on automatic. But she was determined not to worry Matty. She’d made an amazing recovery but she was still far from strong.
‘She wants to help, Fran. To be honest I think she’s terrified you’ll move away and won’t take her with you.’
‘No! I couldn’t… I wouldn’t…’ Even as she said it she realised that Matty was appealing for reassurance too. ‘She’s