Lindsay Armstrong - When Enemies Marry

But a moment later she discovered herself feeling a sense of righteous indignation—talk about her come hither smiles! Had he not noticed that despite two of their female guests being partnered there had been throughout the evening a discreet summing up of Justin taking place, an awareness—yes, very subtle, but there. Of course it was always there with Sasha and he must be blind not to notice it. Why didn’t he? But not only that, her thoughts ranged on, a subtle summing up of herself had been taking place all evening, in the direct context of her suitability for Justin.

She stood in the middle of the dining-room deep in thought, wondering if it was all part of the games people with a bit of age and maturity played, wondering if he played it himself, or wondering finally if he just had this devastating effect on women and had got so used to it that he didn’t notice it any more!

‘Lucy.’

‘Oh!’ She turned with a start to find the object of her deep, dark musings regarding her with some amusement. ‘You—I didn’t hear you,’ she said lamely.

‘I gathered that. You seemed to be a hundred miles away.’

‘Not really,’ she replied ruefully. ‘Well, that’s all done. I think I’ll go to bed now—goodnight.’

‘I’m coming up myself.’ He strolled beside her to the foot of the staircase. ‘It was a very successful evening, by the way.’

Lucy paused with her hand on the banister and tried to think of something to say but ended up unsuccessfully trying to smother a huge yawn. ‘Sorry, I—’

‘You’re exhausted. Come,’ he said, and without further ado he picked her up and started up the stairs.

After a moment of supreme surprise, she lay quiet and composed in his arms, her lashes fanning her cheeks, her only thought to wonder what was coming.

But all he did was to put her down on her bed and turn away to stoke up her fire. She lay quite still, watching him and feeling an odd little sense of loss, which translated upon a moment’s thought to the realisation that she hadn’t felt quite so lonely or strung up in his arms as she did lying alone on her bed the way she was... She bit back a husky exclamation and sat up, feeling unreasonably annoyed and stung to retaliation.

‘It’s a pity we couldn’t have done that for the benefit of the gallery,’ she said ironically. ‘Justin, is it important to you the kind of impression I make on these people? I mean, are they going to judge you on me, sort of thing?’

He straightened and came over to the bed. ‘Why?’

‘Why what?’

‘Why are you asking me that, Lucy?’

She stared up at him. ‘Why shouldn’t I? I’m curious, that’s all.’

He looked faintly sceptical but said, ‘I guess it’s human nature to wonder what people see in each other and make some sort of judgement.’

‘So,’ she said slowly, ‘were I to be judged—if they were to think for example, well, she’s pretty enough and all that but mightn’t she bore Justin to tears after a while?—how will that affect how they think about you?’

He frowned. ‘Lucy, if I knew what was behind this I might—’

‘You’re the one who wanted me to make a good impression and not look as if I’d been snatched from my cradle,’ she broke in tartly.

He smiled. ‘Is that how you’ve been feeling tonight? A little out of your depth? I thought you were a bit wrought up about something.’

The accuracy and the inaccuracy of his words brought a faint blush to her cheeks and a further sense of maltreatment to her heart. ‘You can’t have it both ways, Justin. You did marry me, even if it was for all the wrong reasons, but they don’t know that, so—’

‘Lucy,’ he interrupted gravely, ‘let me set your mind at rest. I don’t give a damn what people think about my private life; I never have. My concern about how you might behave this weekend was motivated by this—when you invite people to spend time with you, especially way out in the backblocks like this where they can’t get up and go that easily if they want to, I think you’re fairly obliged not to make them feel uncomfortable and as if they’re in the midst of a domestic brawl. Don’t you agree?’

She opened her mouth, closed it then said scathingly, ‘Of course! That doesn’t explain the cradle bit, though.’

‘Well, as to that,’ he said musingly, and picked up a strand of her hair, ‘I wondered if it mightn’t be part of your strategy, that’s all.’

Lucy blinked at him. ‘I don’t understand.’

‘Don’t you? I thought since I’d made it plain that your femme fatale act—your words, not mine, but not inappropriate—was something I wouldn’t approve of you might—change tack.’

Lucy closed her eyes. ‘Funnily enough, it didn’t occur to me at all,’ she said bleakly.

‘You wouldn’t be losing your grip on this—war, would you, Lucy?’ he queried, slipping her hair through his fingers then smoothing it back into place and standing back a step.

For the briefest moment Lucy wondered if she was. But she said, ‘I’m rather tired, Justin, that’s all.’

‘Is it, Lucy?’

The way he said it, on a different note entirely made her open her eyes. ‘What more could there be?’

‘Unless you tell me, I don’t know.’ His eyes searched hers.

She looked away and found herself considering telling him that she didn’t have Mrs Milton and her sister, only one flustered and anxious substitute—and Adrian, and that if the rest of the weekend went well it would be something of a miracle—he’d probably find out soon enough, anyway. But almost immediately she decided she couldn’t stand his scorn, not tonight, so she said wearily, ‘There’s nothing,’ and lay back exhaustedly.

‘Perhaps you’re trying too hard, Lucy.’

She stretched her throat and rubbed it. ‘I really don’t know what I have to do to make you approve of me, Justin.’

He moved so his face was in the shadows and she couldn’t read his expression. ‘Just the one thing you won’t do.’

For the life of her she couldn’t help it, couldn’t stern the images that flooded her mind, of lying in his arms and being made love to, of not being lonely, at least. Images of surrender in the most complete way a woman could to a man, but... ‘But then I might not approve of myself. It’s a real dilemma, isn’t it?’ she whispered, and sat up suddenly with her hands to her face as hot tears sprang to her eyes. ‘Please, just go away, Justin. I can’t cope with you and all this at the same time.’

He stared down at her shaking shoulders for a long moment, then he said evenly, ‘All right, I’m going. But if there is a problem you don’t have to—’

‘There’s nothing!’ She raised her tear-streaked face abruptly. ‘Other than that you’ve now managed to undermine my self-confidence.’

‘Why, Lucy, I never thought to hear you say that. Goodnight, my dear. Don’t do anything stupid, will you?’

She didn’t, not then, but before the weekend was over she seriously interfered with Adrian’s freedom and committed a social solecism of considerable proportions.

CHAPTER THREE

IT WAS Sasha, who else, who broke the news on Sunday morning.

She came into the veranda room where everyone was lounging around comfortably just prior to getting ready to leave, still commenting on the great dinner party last night and lovely day they’d had yesterday, and she said into a lull in the conversation, ‘Justin, there’s a child handcuffed to a fence outside. He says Lucy did it and that she threatened to shoot him.’

Everyone sat up with wide eyes and turned to Lucy.

‘Oh,’ she swallowed, ‘that’s Adrian. He’s only been there for about ten minutes. I...’ She stopped and blushed bright red.