August
âOF COURSE WE didnât bribe Jean-Luc to marry you!â Sarah Dyer said crisply, âalthough I admit there was some financial incentive.â
âOh, God.â Emily swung away from her mother as a wave of sickness gripped her. Sarah always spent a few weeks of the summer with friends in Hampstead and, although mother and daughter had never been particularly close, she was the first person Emily had turned to in her hour of need. But rather than sympathising, Sarah had unwittingly added the final nail to the coffin. She couldnât stay with Luc now.
âDarling, you have to understand that Jean-Luc Vaillon isnât like other men. You donât amass a multimillion-pound fortune without a ruthless streak, and your husband is first and foremost a businessman.â
âI know,â Emily murmured dully. She didnât need anyone to remind her of Lucâs dedication to work, but she was prepared to put up with the endless business trips and the long hours he spent shut away in his study if she thought there was any hope that he might love her.
âThe trouble with you, Emily, is that youâre a romantic,â Sarah went on, after another glance at her daughterâs pale face. âPerhaps Jean-Luc is having a fling with his personal assistant, but youâre his wife and itâs in everyoneâs best interests that you remain so. Pregnancy can place a marriage under huge strain,â she added, eyeing Emilyâs swollen abdomen, âand, to put it frankly, I imagine your husband is an extremely virile man. Once the babyâs born, everything will return to normal, youâll see.â
But what constituted normal? Emily wondered bleakly as she trudged across the heath, after assuring her mother she would do nothing rash. She had realised soon after her marriage that her role in Lucâs life was designated almost exclusively to the bedroom. The fierce sexual attraction that had existed from the moment they had first met was their only real form of communication. Their passion for each other had made them equal but without it they had nothing.
It was busy on the heath. The air rang with childrenâs high-pitched laughter as families took advantage of the late summer sunshine, and as Emily watched a man and a little boy flying a kite, something snapped in her head. She gave a low moan, like an animal in pain, and swiftly covered her mouth with her hands as if she could push the sound back inside. She couldnât fall apart now, not here, but her legs gave way and she sank onto a bench as she faced the reality that her son would never enjoy such an innocent pastime with his father.
She could stay, she thought desperately. For the sake of the baby inside her she could turn a blind eye to the fact that her husband was an unfaithful liar. But Jean-Luc did not want their child any more than he wanted her. His look of horror when he had learned of her pregnancy still haunted her, and his coldness towards her ever since only reinforced her belief that he viewed their marriage as a mistake.
How long had his affair with his personal assistant been going on? she wondered miserably. Robyn Blake had worked for him for years and right from the start she had never missed a chance to emphasise the special relationship she shared with Luc. She was his brotherâs widow, not just a member of his staff, and Emily had tried to banish her feelings of jealousy at the obvious affection that existed between her husband and his PA. But now she had irrefutable proof that Robyn was Lucâs mistress and her sense of betrayal was unbearable.
What about her baby? her mind argued. Her excitement when the ultrasound scan had revealed she was carrying a boy had been overshadowed by misery that Luc hadnât been with her. Of all the hurt he had inflicted on her, that had been the worst, she acknowledged bitterly. He hadnât even bothered to turn up at the hospital to see the magical, grainy image of their child, and she had to face the agonising truth that he just didnât care. Even if she told him he was going to have a son it would make little difference to his attitude. He seemed to grow more and more distant with each passing day and his polite indifference tortured her. Surely it would be better to go now, before her baby was born, and envelop him in her love rather than let him suffer the pain of realising his father had a lump of ice where his heart should be?
Leaving Luc would break her heart, Emily accepted bleakly, but to stay with him now would kill her, and with a muffled sob she stumbled towards the road.
âWhere to, love?â the taxi driver asked cheerfully as she climbed into the cab, and for a split second she was torn by indecision, the address of Lucâs Chelsea penthouse hovering on her lips.
Maybe she should give him one more chance? Maybe there was a rational explanation why he had spent the night heâd arrived back from Australia with Robyn, rather than returning home to her? But she could not dismiss the images that tortured her mind of Luc making love to his beautiful assistant, and despair overwhelmed her.