Ruthless Husband, Convenient Wife Read online

  ‘People know about Tom,’ Ryan said. ‘I’ve made enquiries. He’s wrecked a lot of students’ careers—and lives, in some cases.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she replied, her beautiful mouth twisting. ‘People in the faculty know about Tom—but nobody does anything, Ryan. He’s too respected.’

  ‘That may change, one day,’ Ryan said quietly.

  ‘I doubt it. Famous professors who publish trendy books are practically bulletproof, my dear.’

  ‘True,’ he agreed. ‘What happened in your second year?’

  ‘Looking back,’ she said slowly, ‘I suppose I had a nervous breakdown. It all just went on too long for me. It was Aubrey who rescued me—my stepfather. He came down and took me away. I couldn’t study any more, anyway. I would never have got through my second-year exams. I was just crying all the time.’ She shuddered as she remembered that awful time. ‘So I came to London to find a job.’

  ‘And met me,’ he said.

  ‘And met you,’ she agreed. ‘I’d been in London less than a year when I met you.’

  Ryan was watching her with intelligent eyes. ‘Hmm. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, some might say.’

  She smiled at him. ‘Some might say that, yes.’ She reached for the plastic packet the porter had given her and took out the envelope. ‘Ryan, I don’t know what I wrote in this letter. I can’t remember. But I wrote it for you, and you never received it. When I didn’t hear from you again, I assumed you just couldn’t forgive me for what I had done. I thought your silence was your answer. I was so hurt that I deliberately hid myself in case you ever changed your mind! I’m sorry it happened that way. I didn’t mean to leave you dangling all this time. Whatever is in this letter, maybe it will explain how I felt, and why I did what I did. Maybe it’s just silly nonsense. But either way, I want you to have it.’

  She passed Ryan the letter. He took it, his eyes never leaving hers. ‘Thank you. It means a lot to me to know that you wrote to me. Even if it is silly nonsense.’

  He opened the envelope and took out the letter.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  PENNY stared out of the window, her eyes drifting across the snowbound landscape, while Ryan read the letter. She did not know what the letter contained. All she remembered was that what she had wanted to say to him then had been overwhelmingly important to her, yet, by some quirk of fate, he had never received it.

  He finished reading the letter, and turned to look at her.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ he asked her.

  ‘Oh…I was just replaying my life,’ she told him. ‘I was remembering that day with Tom, when it all started. The eighteen months of misery that followed. The way I ran to London, like Dick Whittington. The first time I set eyes on you, and knew that you were someone very special in my life.’

  ‘I remember that day, too,’ he said gently.

  ‘It was so overwhelmingly strange to enter your world, Ryan. The way you live is so magical, so different from anything I’ve ever known. I remember how I felt, that first time you made love to me, in Mexico. Do you have any idea what a revelation that was for a woman who had never dreamed that physical love could be anything like that?’

  ‘It was a revelation to me, too. I never knew what it was like to love like that, either.’

  ‘I remember Milan so vividly. How things started to fall apart when we got back. The way I panicked when I finally had to accept that I was pregnant. How sick I felt as I ran back to Exeter. The feeling of being swallowed up by the encephalitis, and being spat out a fortnight later, weak and forlorn.

  ‘And I remember how you arrived one cold, bright morning and opened my door again. Ryan, it’s taken me weeks to realise that you were opening my door to another chance. Another shot at happiness. That impossibly rare chance to start again, and this time make it work.’

  ‘And do you think it is working?’ he asked her.

  ‘Yes, I do think it’s working,’ she said. Their eyes met. ‘It’s not just working for me, Ryan,’ she said quietly. ‘These past weeks, I’ve been happier than I ever believed possible—happier than I ever deserved to be. It has taken me all this time to begin to understand who you are.’

  He smiled at her. ‘And who am I?’ he asked.

  ‘Lucinda once told me that you were a very special man,’ she said. ‘She called you a magician. She said that you made wonderful things happen. That’s all true. But you’re much more than that. You’re the man who loves me.’

  ‘Yes,’ Ryan said, ‘I am.’

  ‘And I’m the woman who loves you,’ she went on. ‘I hope you can forgive me for all my silliness and confusion. I hope you can forgive me for the way I’ve hurt you.’

  ‘Penny, I hope you can forgive me for trying to bulldoze you into loving me. That was unforgivable. You gave me a second chance, too. A second chance to see just what a precious, what a wonderful person you are.’

  She felt a hot lump in her throat. She swallowed, but it would not go down. ‘What does the letter say?’ she asked him. ‘Is it silly nonsense?’

  ‘Read it,’ he said, passing her the sheets, ‘judge for yourself.’

  Penny took the letter from his fingers. She recognised her own handwriting. In places the lines were weak and rambling, ending in blots or confused scratchings-out. In others the words were regular and measured.

  My darling Ryan,

  I am writing to you from St Cyprian’s Hospital, in Exeter. I’ve been here for two weeks. When I left you in London, I was already sick with encephalitis, a brain inflammation. Though I did not know it, I was very ill. For several days I was in a coma. When I came out of it, they told me that I had lost our baby.

  Ryan, I am so sorry to give you this sad news. I know how happy you were when I told you we were going to have a child. And, although I seemed to hate the thought, deep inside I wanted your baby so much.

  I feel so desolate. I am like a tree which has been stripped of all its leaves. I don’t know if I will ever recover. Right now, it seems to me that I was a being who lived in heaven, and then inexplicably chose to fall down into hell. I no longer know why I behaved as I did, why I felt the way I did, why I could not see things straight.

  I do know that I love you, and that I will never love like this again. I have hurt you intensely, I know that, too. I, at least, deserve my suffering. You don’t. If I had not been so impetuous, if I had listened to you, and gone to a doctor earlier, I might not have lost the baby. I feel that what has happened has been a terrible punishment for my selfishness.

  I don’t know if you can find it in your heart to forgive me. If you can’t, I will understand. You tried your best with me. I was too wild and too hurt to fit into what you expected of me. I have lost the great love of my life and it is all my fault.

  I am being discharged from hospital tomorrow or later today. My parents want me to go to convalesce with them, but I cannot face them. I am going to stay with a friend here in town, Amanda John. Her address and phone number are at the top of this letter.

  If you want me, I will be there. Please come to me, my love. I don’t care if you rage at me, and call me every bad name you want to. I have earned them all. But come to me, and help me deal with this pain, because I don’t think I can deal with it without you.

  I love you always.

  Your

  Penny.

  Reading her own stark words was like reading the final chapter of her own story, the tale of a woman whose pride was sometimes stronger than her love, and who had eventually found a love stronger than pride.

  Her eyes blurred with tears.

  ‘Do you remember writing those words?’ he asked her.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I remember now. I remember how I hated myself for my stupid pride. But Ryan, perhaps even then my pride was what stopped me from posting it—my inability to show you my true feelings and tell you how much I loved you.’

  ‘We both needed time.’

  ‘If I’d posted this letter, would you hav
e come to me?’ she whispered.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ he replied. ‘You know I would have come.’

  ‘Then things would have turned out very differently.’

  ‘Yes, very differently. But perhaps not for the best.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ she asked, wiping the wetness from her cheeks.

  ‘Perhaps we both needed that year apart to understand what we had lost,’ Ryan said. ‘I needed to learn that I had to listen to you. Give you space. Respect your ambitions, and help you try to achieve them, not insist you did things my way.’

  ‘And I needed to learn that sometimes you do know what is best for me,’ she said, smiling through her tears. ‘That you are older and wiser, and that you understand me better than I understand myself.’

  ‘Most of all,’ he said, ‘I think we both needed to understand how much we loved each other.’

  Penny was in his arms and he was holding her tight. She kissed his mouth, whispering fiercely between kisses, ‘I will never let you go again, my darling, never—never—never!’

  ‘And I will never lose you again,’ he said, his voice husky. ‘I’ll do whatever it takes to show you that I love you, adore you, worship you!’

  ‘I love you so much, Ryan. I’m not going to mess it up again. Not this time!’

  The things they had bought in Yorkshire arrived the following week. It was a hectically busy day, as Penny had not only to supervise the removals crew, and tell them where each piece was to go, but she was also in the middle of preparing for the Christmas dinner party at Northcote.

  It was to be held in the formal dining room, a candlelit meal with all the trimmings—and Penny had decided that on this occasion she no longer wanted cooks or caterers to provide the food. She was going to make the meal herself in the glorious new kitchen—the first time it was being used for its intended purpose.

  So when Ryan found her in the dining room, she was standing on a chair, issuing instructions to the butcher on one cellphone, talking to Ariadne on the other, directing the handyman on where to hang the two magnificent oil paintings, and keeping an eagle eye on the movers, who were carrying a priceless set of Hepplewhite furniture through to the drawing room.

  ‘The transition to domestic goddess is complete,’ he grinned. ‘Have you got a moment for a humble mortal?’

  ‘No requests for eternal life or the touch of gold,’ she replied, ‘I’m too busy. What is it, O beautiful mortal?’

  ‘I wondered if the Daily Echo reaches Mount Olympus.’ He passed her a copy of the newspaper. She glanced at the article he pointed to. It was headlined ‘Professor Resigns University Post’.

  She read through the brief item, then came down from her chair slowly.

  ‘It says Tom has resigned his chair.’

  Ryan nodded. ‘He was fired. They’ve appointed a top American academic in his place. A woman. I don’t think he’ll be sorely missed.’

  She recalled something Ryan had said to her recently, and looked at him. ‘Did you have anything to do with this?’

  ‘I don’t think anybody should be able to destroy so much happiness and get away with it,’ he replied. ‘I think Tom got away with what he did because nobody wanted to talk about it. Well, I made sure that the right people did talk about it. That is all I did.’

  ‘I’ve said it before—you are so machiavellian that it frightens me!’

  ‘If I’d been in a different line of work, he might be sleeping with the fishes right now,’ Ryan commented grimly. ‘He should be grateful he’s merely out of a job.’

  She put her arms around his neck and kissed him on the lips. ‘Thank you for being my knight errant. But I feel a little bit sorry for him.’

  ‘Don’t,’ he advised. ‘He won’t be able to prey on young women any more.’ He glanced round the room. ‘Those paintings are wonderful. You were right. This room is becoming spectacular.’

  ‘Wait till Christmas Day,’ she said. ‘I’ll show you spectacular!’

  If she had really been a goddess, she could not have arranged the weather better.

  There was a fresh snowfall just in time for Christmas Day. It covered the slush, leaving the world pure, holy and white.

  By the evening, when their guests started to arrive, it had stopped snowing and cleared, and the sky was a glowing mass of stars shining down on a winter wonderland.

  The great house had changed over the past days. It was not just that the treasures Penny and Ryan had put into it had made it look beautiful; it was something more subtle. The house, as Ryan had predicted, had become a home. Their home. A place for their dreams to be born, grow and mature.

  The table glowed with flowers and candles. Penny had made a central display set out in one of the things they had bought at Havelock Hall, a huge silver tray. Because of its size and strange shape, the bidding had been low, despite the obvious value of the piece.

  She had arranged a display of fruit, berries, flowers and green leaves around the base of a massive cluster of Christmas lilies. Rising from the centre were the tall, elegant necks of bird-of-paradise flowers.

  Wreaths of holly and ivy were hung on the candelabra. She had also arranged posies of scented things—lavender, wild thyme and rosemary—at each place setting. There were crackers from Fortnum & Mason, party favours from Mappin & Webb and presents for everyone under the tree. The room looked and smelled delicious.

  Penny checked swiftly to make sure everything was under control—full glasses, enough wine and champagne, a smile on every face.

  It was a crowded table—there were twenty-four guests, some famous, some not, all people whom she and Ryan loved. Sitting beside her was Lucinda Strong. In the soft light, signs of age had been erased, and her face looked timeless and lovely.

  ‘Do you still think that love consumes people?’ she asked Penny in a low voice.

  Penny shook her head. ‘No, Lucinda. I’ve learned that true love replenishes and nourishes the soul. It can only make a person grow.’

  Lucinda smiled. ‘And have you learned who you are, yet?’

  Penny hesitated before answering. ‘No. But I’ve learned something more important. I’ve learned that I don’t know who I am. I’ve stopped trying to pretend that I do, and making big decisions based on a silly idea of who I want to be. I’m learning to become myself.’

  ‘Ah, then you’ve found wisdom since I saw you last,’ Lucinda said. She laid her warm hand over Penny’s. ‘You and Ryan are so happy together. It’s the two of you who are providing this wonderful light tonight. I’m so glad for you both.’

  ‘I can’t live without him,’ she said simply.

  ‘I don’t think he can live without you,’ Lucinda replied, glancing at Ryan across the table. ‘Sometimes it’s the things that cost us the most to achieve which are most important, in the end.’

  Penny kissed Lucinda’s soft cheek and slipped away from the table to check on the kitchen. The turkey had been taken out of the oven and was resting for the obligatory twenty minutes before being presented and carved. It looked perfect. Tara, who was one of the guests but who had elected to help, was garnishing the serving dish with vegetables.

  ‘I think we can take it in any time now,’ Penny said.

  ‘It looks wonderful,’ Tara said. ‘I’ve never seen such a spectacular Christmas turkey!’

  ‘Hope it tastes as good as it looks,’ Penny said, decorating the golden skin of the bird with holly.

  Strong arms slipped around her waist and held her close.

  ‘Everything you make tastes as good as it looks,’ Ryan murmured in her ear.

  She closed her eyes and leaned back against his broad chest. ‘You’re supposed to be back at the party, playing the genial host, entertaining our guests,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t worry, they’re having the time of their lives,’ Ryan said. ‘I just wanted to thank you for this wonderful night. You’ve worked so hard. Everything is so beautiful.’

  ‘I’m happy that you’re happy.’ She turned t
o face him, and kissed him lingeringly on the lips. ‘You’ve worked hard, too, my love.’

  ‘Maybe that’s the key,’ he said. ‘Both of us working hard. Making beautiful things happen, all our lives.’

  ‘Are you going to tell them tonight?’ she asked him.

  ‘If you think so.’

  ‘It’s a good moment.’

  ‘All right. I’ll tell them now.’

  They smiled into one another’s eyes. No more words were necessary; they were talking to one another with their hearts and minds.

  ‘What shall we do about the turkey?’ Tara asked awkwardly, embarrassed by the silence.

  ‘We’d better take it in,’ Penny said, disengaging reluctantly from Ryan.

  They carried the turkey in to applause from their guests. Ryan made a great show of sharpening the carving knife, to laughter from their friends.

  But before he began carving, he held up his hand.

  ‘Penny and I want to thank you all for being here tonight,’ he said. ‘We want to wish you all a merry Christmas, too.’

  There were happy words of response. When they had died down, Ryan held out his hand to Penny. She rose from her chair and took his hand.

  ‘There’s something else Penny and I want to say tonight. It’s an announcement.’ He smiled. ‘You’d better tell them, Penny. They might not believe that I’ve been so lucky.’

  ‘I’m the lucky one,’ Penny said in a soft but clear voice. ‘The most wonderful man in the world has asked me to be his wife. Ryan and I are going to be married in the New Year.’

  There was a moment of silence. Then every single guest rose from his or her chair, applauding, and came to embrace them in turn.

  ‘This is the loveliest Christmas present you could have given me,’ Lucinda said, and there were tears in her eyes. ‘God bless you both.’

  They were married at Northcote in the spring. Big as the house was, it seemed too small to contain the number of guests who arrived to see them joined.

  Yet the ceremony was simple. Were it not for the depth of love on both sides, which everyone assembled there could see at a glance, it might have seemed a plain wedding.