Anna-Lou Weatherley - Chelsea Wives

For Alan

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page ANNA-LOU WEATHERLEY Chelsea Wives

Dedication For Alan

Our Three Heroines

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Epilogue

An interview with Anna-Lou Weatherley

Anna-Lou’s Guide to the King’s Road

Author Note

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Copyright

About the Publisher

Imogen Forbes

Ah, the beautiful, effortlessly chic and smart ex-model who looks like she’s stepped straight out of the pages of Vogue and who once had the fashion world at her Louboutin-clad feet. Imogen’s bright light has been hidden under a bushel for too long thanks to her jealous, possessive, control-freak of a husband, Sebastian who’s hell bent on keeping her all to himself – and firmly out of the spotlight at any cost.

When she discovers her husband’s cruel skulduggery has scuppered her chances of a successful career comeback however, Imogen takes matters into her own hands and with the unwitting help of her friends, Calvary Rothschild and Yasmin-Belmont Jones, plots her cunning revenge against the despotic, power-crazed man she regrets ever marrying.

Only it’s not just her malicious husband she has to worry about; her past is creeping up on her too, namely in the form of a man she once loved. A man she has never stopped loving…

Calvary Rothschild

Rampant social climber and fashion maven extraordinaire, ex-fashion magazine editor Calvary is a stylish aristocrat desperate to keep up appearances - whatever the cost. Thanks to her adulterous, philandering husband Douglas, who can’t seem to keep it in his trousers however, it’s proving to be a little tricky.

Having spent years turning a blind eye his latest, most sordid affair is the final straw and this time she vows to take action. Only divorcing him would mean losing all her vast privileges as a society wife, something Calvary can’t even begin to reconcile herself with.

Desperate and unhappy, relief comes in the form of an unlikely admirer and when presented with the chance to play her part in her friend’s bid for revenge, Calvary seizes the opportunity to stich her own husband up in the process. But can she get her own back on a man who has spent years humiliating her without losing it all, or will Douglas have the last laugh?

Yasmin Belmont-Jones

The young, brash and surgically enhanced wife of the bloated, unsavoury old Lord Belmont, Yasmin Jones, a paparazzi’s dream, may be sailing dangerously close to WAG territory and ostracised by the London society set for being nouveau riche but frankly she couldn’t give a damn – she has all the designer clothes, bags, and champagne a girl could wish.

Besides, it’s not Belmont’s money she’s really interested in. A dark, sinister secret and need for revenge has brought her into the Chelsea fold and Belmont’s bed – and now it’s pay-back time. It soon becomes apparent to the gossip mongers of SW3 that there’s more to Yasmin Belmont-Jones than just a gold-digger in a designer dress – much more….

Detective Inspector Mitch McLaren glanced around the magnificent library, casually perusing the literature that was neatly stacked inside the antique wooden bookcases. The fact that he had been kept waiting seemed to irk him more than usual, so much so that he had helped himself to a cheeky nip of cognac from a decanter on the sideboard. Something told him he was going to need it.

You could tell a lot about a person by the books they owned, he thought, as he threw back the cognac in one hit. Somehow he hadn’t had Sebastian Forbes down as a Jane Austen man. Must be his wife’s, he thought, smiling as he came across Milan Kundera’s The Unbearable Lightness of Being. Exhaling softly as he pulled it from the shelf, it immediately evoked a strong memory of her; her long, dark hair, shyly falling over her face like a silk curtain as she pretended not to notice him looking at her …

‘Detective Inspector McLaren?’ Sebastian Forbes’s clipped tones sliced through Mitch’s thoughts with all the subtlety of an axe as he stormed into the library, his face a crimson colour, veins protruding in his neck in what looked like protest.

‘Pleased to meet you, Mr Forbes,’ Mitch said, his hand outstretched in greeting.

Sebastian did not take it.

‘The Commissioner said you’re the best he’s got,’ Sebastian said, matter of fact, casting the Inspector a rather disdainful glance. ‘Well, I hope for your sake he’s right because I want this case solved pronto, do you understand me, Inspector? I said pronto .’ Sebastian poured himself an extra large champagne cognac and threw it back without offering Mitch one.

‘It’s a fucking disaster, that’s what this is,’ he growled, pulling his lips over his teeth as the alcohol hit the back of his throat. ‘That diamond is worth more than the national debt, and somehow those bastards knew exactly how to get inside my bank and get their thieving hands on it.’ Sebastian was incandescent, his hands shaking with rage. ‘I want them found , Inspector. I want you to find the scum that did this and I want you to throw the bloody book at them, do you hear me?’

Mitch watched Forbes carefully. It was immediately obvious that the man was a tyrant. It was written right through him like a stick of Blackpool rock. He hadn’t even asked about the unfortunate security guard, currently fighting for his life in hospital.

‘Mr Forbes, I need to ask you a few questions if that’s OK.’ Mitch cleared his throat. ‘Questions you might find impertinent, but are necessary nonetheless.’

Sebastian didn’t care much for the DI’s abruptness but given the circumstances had little choice but to comply.

‘You say you were the only one who knew the codes to the security system, that is right isn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ Sebastian snapped back, the irritation in his voice tangible. ‘I changed the codes myself, a few hours before leaving to catch the plane. Look,’ he said tightly, ‘that system is infallible, Inspector; it’s one of a kind, pioneering technology from America which I helped create.’ He thumped his chest, indignant. ‘Only I knew the codes to gain access to the vault and only I have access to the room where the diamond was kept. The Interlocking System has an in-built scanner that relies on facial recognition. My face, Inspector, is the key that unlocks it.’