CATHY WILLIAMS - A Reluctant Wife

“What?” Sophie replied. “Are you crazy?”

“It makes perfect sense,” Gregory told her calmly.

“It makes no sense whatsoever. You seem to forget that I’ve already had one bad marriage.”

Gregory flushed darkly. “Why do you assume that ours would be bad?”

“Because it takes more than good sex to make a good marriage,” Sophie told him roughly. “Marriage isn’t a business deal.”

CATHY WILLIAMS is originally from Trinidad, but has lived in England for a number of years. She currently has a house in Warwickshire, which she shares with her husband, Richard, her three daughters, Charlotte, Olivia and Emma, and their cat, Salem. She adores writing romance fiction and would love one of her girls to become a writer, although at the moment she is happy enough if they do their homework and agree not to bicker with one another.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

EPILOGUE

‘EVERYONE’S talking about him, you know.’ Katherine Taylor—curly blonde hair, brown eyes and a mouth that seemed destined to smile at the slightest opportunity—was perched on the corner of the kitchen table, idly picking on a celery stick because this week was Diet Week, as opposed to last week which had been Eat-All-I-Want-Since-All-Diets-Are-Useless-Week and watching with interest while her friend did amazing things with vegetables, a wok and some herbs. ‘Rumour has it that he’s going to be moving here.’

‘So?’ Sophie had her back to her friend and she could picture the glint of sheer pleasure at this little titbit of gossip. In a small village, and she didn’t think villages got much smaller than theirs, gossip was the oil that made the wheels of daily life turn smoothly.

‘So? So? Is that all you’ve got to say on the subject?’

‘Pretty much.’ Sophie drizzled a few herbs onto the concoction in the pan and liberally poured in some cream. Kat might well be dieting, but woe betide anyone who was foolish enough to encourage her in her efforts. She adored food and would have felt hard done by if she had been offered anything remotely calorie controlled when she was supposed to be eating out and having a good time—even if the meal in question was only a home-cooked meal shared between two.

‘How can you not be bursting with curiosity?’ Katherine asked in an accusing voice, as if Sophie’s indifference was a deliberate ploy to sabotage the conversation. ‘Everyone’s talking about Gregory Wallace. Annabel and Caroline and all the other Great and Good have already plotted his entire social life if the rumour turns out to be true and he does move here.’

‘Poor man. Anyway, food’s up.’

Which diverted the conversation for a few minutes, but as soon as they were sitting in front of their plates of pasta and vegetables Katherine returned to the topic with the relentlessness of someone determined to elicit a response.

Sophie listened to Kat and her endless speculation, but she found the whole thing boring. She would be the first to concede that Gregory Wallace was doing tremendous things for the village. He had been the man behind the building of the new housing estate, which, despite all the initial suspicions, had proved to be tasteful and thoughtfully done, and, of course, all those displaced Londoners in their new executive commuter style homes would boost the economy in their little village no end.

Already there was talk of one of the major supermarket chains opening up, which would do away with the half-hour drive to the nearest one, and the one hotel, which had been growing sadder and shabbier by the year, had suddenly seen fit to have a long overdue face-lift so that it now looked quite elegant, instead of being the local eyesore. But still. Anyone would think that the man was a knight in shining armour, charging in on a white steed to save the poor inhabitants of Ashdown from rack and ruin, instead of a wealthy businessman who was simply out to make a bit more money for himself.

‘I can’t see why the man would want to move here, of all places,’ Sophie finally said, as she placed her knife and fork on her empty plate and watched indulgently as her friend spent a few seconds resisting the temptation of a second helping, then succumbing. ‘Those types need the cut and thrust of living in a big city like London. Don’t tell me that he intends to settle down here, plant his own vegetable patch and take up bird-watching in his spare time.’

‘You’re so cynical, Sophie.’ Katherine took a generous sip of wine and eyed her friend with jaundiced familiarity.

‘I’m realistic. Gregory Wallace is supposedly an eligible bachelor so why would he choose to live in Ashdown? It’s hardly noted for its parade of beauty queens.’

‘Don’t let Annabel and her lot hear you say that. Besides…’ Katherine sat back, cradling the wine glass in her hands and looking at Sophie seriously. ‘There’s you. You’re not exactly a bag lady, are you, Soph? Despite the fact that you spend half your time dressing as though you’d like to look like one.’

Sophie felt colour steal into her cheeks and she hurriedly began to clear away the dishes, stacking them in the sink and then filling the kettle with water.

‘Please don’t start on this old subject again, Kat.’ She hated being reminded of her looks. Everyone seemed to think that good looks could only be a blessing in life, that they opened doors and turned locks and altogether made life a whole lot easier. No one ever seemed to understand that good looks could shut as many doors as they opened, and Sophie was tired of trying to explain that to Katherine.

‘Why don’t you stop wearing all those long, dreary skirts and baggy jumpers? It’s not as though you haven’t got the money.’

‘No,’ Sophie said bitterly, ‘it’s not as though I haven’t. After all, Alan left us more than well provided for.’ She turned and faced her friend. ‘A guilty conscience can be a very expensive commodity, can’t it?’ It still stuck in her throat. Even after five years his name still stuck in her throat and made her want to retch. ‘Anyway, I don’t want to talk about this.’

‘Why not?’ Katherine asked bluntly. ‘If you can’t talk to me about it then who can you talk to?’

‘I don’t want to talk about it to anyone, Kat.’ Her fists were curled into balls, and she made an effort to unclench them. ‘Jade and I are both fine. We’re happy. There’s no need to dig up the past.’ At the mention of her daughter’s name Sophie’s eyes flicked automatically to the staircase, but she knew that Jade would be sound asleep.

‘OK.’ Katherine shrugged and watched as Sophie brought two mugs of coffee over to the table and resumed her place. ‘But I think you’re wrong. You’re beautiful, Soph. And I don’t mean beautiful with the help of bottles of hair dye and face paint. But you still insist on burying yourself here.’

‘You’re here. I haven’t exactly seen you rushing out to the train station to purchase a one-way ticket to London.’

‘Point taken.’ She grinned, and Sophie felt herself relax a little.

At least the evening hadn’t ended on a sour note. She would have hated to fall out with Katherine. They had been friends since the days of Barbie dolls and pretend teddy-bear picnics but, even so, the subject of Alan was still too raw to be discussed openly, and normally Katherine respected her reticence.