‘Mr Danning and Miss Kellow to see Mr Ward,’ said Talek looking past the housekeeper.
‘Your visit has been expected. Please, follow me to the drawing room.’ The housekeeper led them through the hall to a door set slightly ajar. Grace realised that this room was larger than the one she had visited before. Sunshine beamed into the room by way of two large south-facing windows adorned with thick damson drapes. Ornately carved chairs and an elegant chaise longue, cushioned with vibrant reds and gold fabric, provided a welcoming ambience, while a side-table with a white lace trimmed tablecloth provided the humanity of silver framed photographs and trinkets. A large, intricately framed mirror hung over the mantel reflecting the smooth elegant lines of the woman standing on the far side. Henry’s raven-haired cousin, dressed in scarlet, stood next to it, waiting for the moment Talek finally noticed her. He looked about him, his eyes skimming over the furnishings, until they came to rest on her.
A heavy silence followed. A feeling of unease stirred in Grace. There had been no greeting, no introduction and no questions as to Henry’s whereabouts. This silence was unlike the man she had come to know.
‘Talek?’ asked Grace.
He did not reply. The woman walked towards the fireplace and, in a swish of red taffeta, turned to face them. She is exquisite, thought Grace. A stab of jealousy caught her in the chest as she realised Talek thought the same. His gaze had been drawn to her curves too and, she suspected, his senses to her floral perfume and his basic needs to the swing of her hips. This woman had managed to consume his thoughts and make him forget the reason he had come here today. Grace felt that she no longer existed to either of them.
‘Hello, Talek. How are you?’ the woman asked in a voice smooth as velvet.
Talek’s expression hardened. ‘What are you doing here?’
The woman raised an eyebrow. ‘This is my home. I live here.’
‘I didn’t know. You, on the other hand, don’t seem too surprised that I’m here. Did you wear that dress for my benefit?’
‘You always did like me in it.’ The woman smiled at him. ‘How are you, Talek?’
‘You know each other?’ asked Grace, looking from one to the other.
The woman’s smile softened. ‘We were engaged once.’
‘We were . . . until you changed your mind.’
‘You are Margaret?’ asked Grace.
‘He has told you about me then?’ replied the woman, addressing Grace for the first time. ‘I’m glad to hear that his memory of me has not been dusted under the carpet.’
‘It was not for the want of trying,’ retorted Talek.
‘I know that you were engaged. I didn’t know that you were Henry’s cousin.’
‘I’m not,’ replied Margaret, lifting her elegant jawline. ‘I’m his wife.’
Time stood still, accentuating every sound in the room so there was no hiding their surprise as the wood crackled and splintered in the grate. Grace was the first to move. She placed a comforting hand on Talek’s arm, instinctively knowing how this news would affect him. The love of his life was married to the man he called his friend and business partner.
‘You are married?’ he asked, confused. ‘When?’
Margaret tilted her jaw still higher, exposing her elegant neck. A neck that, no doubt, Talek had once kissed, thought Grace. Was she deliberately taunting him to add to his pain?
‘November, two years ago.’
Talek shook his head. ‘A month after we were meant to be married?’
‘Yes. I discovered that I was carrying his child so I could not possibly marry you.’
‘You were seeing him? You lay with him?’ Talek swore under his breath. ‘Why did you not tell me? Instead you left me waiting at the altar like a lovesick fool!’ He took a step forward and would have taken another if Grace’s hold had not remained firm. ‘What sort of woman are you?’
‘A woman that fell for Henry’s lies of love when in reality he just wanted me because I was yours. Henry has always been jealous of you, right from the moment you became a partner and quickly knew more about clay than he did. He tried to keep up, with his stupid suggestions to increase the profit. You knew they wouldn’t work and so did he, in his heart, but that does not help a man’s pride.
‘And I fell for his charms. Henry has no head for business, but he can ooze charm when he wants to. Everyone likes Henry.’
Talek nodded as if he had thought that once himself.
‘I only realised I was just another one of his one-upmanship when I told him I was expecting his baby. He was stricken, like a child who had seen his pet die. He knew you would never forgive him and was afraid it would mean the end of Celtic Clay. He begged me to still marry you and pass his child off as yours. I couldn’t, of course. I think he still hoped I would and only realised I meant what I said when I left you standing at the altar. To be honest, I wasn’t sure I could carry out my threat until an hour before the ceremony.
‘It did not take long for him to call on me. I threatened to expose him as the reason I jilted you if he did not give me his name. We married soon afterwards. It was a quiet affair. Rushed. Just us, the vicar and a witness. No one else knew.’
‘But that was two years ago. How has Henry kept this from me?’
‘Because he is a good liar. Because I have only recently returned to Cornwall.’ She looked at Grace. ‘It is easier to keep a marriage quiet if there is no wife to see.’ Margaret returned her gaze to Talek, instantly dismissing her from the conversation once again. ‘We were meant to move to Bath after the wedding, but he changed his mind at the station. He wanted to live where the clay was, he said. I should have seen it coming; he had brought no luggage with him. He knew I could not stay. At that point my name had been dragged through every sewer and reporters were on my tail. I was the disgraceful woman who had jilted a gentleman at the altar. I knew that the truth — that I had so quickly married another and had his child in my belly — would only provide more fodder for the reporters to gorge themselves on. My reputation was in tatters . . . so I went to Bath . . . without him.’
‘But you are here now,’ stated Talek.
‘It takes money to raise a child and I needed more than Henry promised. So I came back to get what is rightfully due me . . . as Henry’s lawful wife.’
‘Where is Henry?’ he demanded, his muscles tensing as he fought to control his rising anger.
Margaret’s earlier self-confidence faltered. ‘I don’t know,’ she muttered, dropping her gaze. ‘I woke this morning to find him gone.’ She turned to the mirror, braced herself and patted her hair into place.
Talek shook Grace’s hand away and reached for her arm. He spun her round to face him. Margaret was tall and statuesque in her beauty, meeting his challenge with an arrogant arch of one brow. Grace held her breath. How beautiful they both looked. Well suited in their dark confidence and rising passion.
‘He has led my sister to believe he is interested in building a future with her. He has stolen and cheated me in business. Henry is a liar and a thief,’ ground out Talek, ‘and must pay for what he has done.’ He drew Margaret closer, so close that their breaths became one. The rise and fall of Margaret’s breasts quickened, as her passion rose to meet his. ‘If you know where he is,’ Talek whispered as his gaze raked her face, ‘tell me now or—’
‘Or what?’ purred Margaret, arching herself against him.
Grace could not bear to watch — yet she could not drag her eyes away. Watching the two former lovers, sparring as they had once done, twisted her stomach inside.
