An Unbroken Marriage Read online

  ‘Women like you amaze me. On the face of it you and Alison were getting on like a house on fire, and yet underneath you’ve been planning to steal her husband; I wonder how she would have treated you if she’d known that!’

  ‘It’s not true!’ India protested. ‘I’m not…’

  ‘No? Oh, of course,’ Simon agreed sarcastically, ‘you haven’t done anything to influence Mel; you haven’t made him aware of you; of your youth and vitality, or your body…’ His eyes slid down the slender length of her legs in the tight jeans. ‘What did you tell her when the two of you were alone?’ he asked abruptly.

  ‘Not that I was having an affair with her husband,’ India replied just as acidly. ‘As a matter of fact we talked most about you. She was telling me how close you were as children.’

  After that no conversation passed between them until Simon stopped the car outside India’s flat, by which time dusk was falling over the city.

  ‘Why did you decide to bring me back?’ India queried as she opened the door.

  ‘Not because I couldn’t trust myself to spend a night alone with you without wanting to possess you,’ she was told brutally. ‘What was the point in staying? The purpose of our visit had been accomplished. It was a stroke of luck that Mel should be home for the weekend, or don’t you agree?’ he asked sardonically.

  ‘As a matter of fact, I do,’ India agreed, exulting in the pleasure of having surprised him for once. ‘It means that I have to spend less time as your prisoner. Goodbye,’ she added formally. ‘I wish I could say that it’s been a pleasure knowing you, but we both know that I’d be lying.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘HOW was the party?’ Jenny asked her on Monday morning, while she examined the mail. ‘Umm, there’s a note here from Ursula Blanchard…’ she pulled a face. ‘I don’t know what it is about that woman, but she really gets my back up. She’s so unbelievably snooty!’

  ‘That’s what comes of being a top model who married money,’ India supplied dryly, glad of the opportunity to avoid discussing the events of the weekend.

  ‘Umm, she’s divorced, isn’t she?’ Jenny added, frowning suddenly. ‘Wasn’t she Simon Herries’ girl-friend before he took up with Melisande? I’m sure I remember reading an article in one of the glossies about her; in the days when she was pretty sure that she was going to be Mrs Simon Herries.’

  India, who had stiffened instinctively at the mention of Simon Herries’ name, relaxed, and forced a careless smile.

  ‘I honestly don’t know. What does she say?’

  In response Jenny passed the letter over. It stated quite simply that the ex-model intended to call on them to discuss the possibility of them designing a gown for her to wear to a charity gala to which she had been invited.

  ‘We’re honoured,’ Jenny commented to India. ‘All we’ve done for her before is the odd skirt, isn’t it?’

  ‘Umm, she normally goes for the big name labels.’

  ‘She would,’ Jenny opined nastily. ‘Shall I give her a ring and fix an appointment?’

  Agreeing, India made her escape before her secretary could question her further on the ‘party’-she was supposed to have attended. Now that she was back at work, enveloped in the relative security of routine, the weekend had taken on a hazy, almost unreal aspect, rather like a bad dream fuzzily remembered, with just the odd isolated incident remaining crystal sharp; like those moments in Simon Herries’ bedroom, before Alison had thrust open the door, when for the briefest measure of time India had actually felt her flesh react in instinctive female response to the masculinity of her captor.

  Dragging her thoughts away from Simon Herries, she tried to concentrate on her work, but this proved easier said than done. Against her will she found herself remembering what Alison had told her about his childhood. He didn’t deserve her pity, she chided herself, not after what he had done to her. He was not the only child to suffer from the effects of a broken marriage… and yet something in Alison’s telling of the plaintive story had touched an answering chord within her; a memory of how it had felt to realise that one’s parents were not the happy, united unit one had so carefully believed.

  Just before lunch the telephone rang. Jenny answered it, covering the receiver to whisper, ‘It’s Mel.’

  ‘I’ll take it in my own office,’ India told her. ‘Put him through, will you.’

  She had been dreading this ever since her return, knowing that Mel would never simply leave matters as they stood.

  ‘India?’ His voice, sharp with anxiety and shock, made her instantly aware of how he had looked at her on Saturday morning. ‘Are you all right?’

  The weakness which had filled her at the initial sound of his voice faded, a new strength of purpose taking its place as she grasped the phone so tightly that her knuckles showed white through her pale skin.

  ‘Of course I am,’ she replied lightly. ‘Why on earth shouldn’t I be?’

  There was silence, as though her reply had somehow thrown him, and then he said hoarsely,

  ‘For God’s sake, India, what the hell’s going on? One minute you’re telling me that there’s just no way that you would get involved with me, whatever your feelings, and the next I discover that you’re my brother-in-law’s latest conquest.’

  ‘But that’s quite different,’ India protested, purposely misunderstanding his question. ‘Simon isn’t married, and doesn’t have commitments elsewhere.’

  For a few seconds India thought she had got away with it, and then Mel said softly,

  ‘Come on, India, I’m not that much of a bad judge of character. I know you, and telling me that just won’t wash. You yourself told me your views on bed-hopping, and I know you well enough to bet all I own on the fact that you aren’t the kind of girl to change overnight.’

  Her palm was sticky, the receiver damp where she had been clinging to the phone. Here it was, her chance to tell Mel the truth and completely expose Simon. But if she did that mightn’t some of the blame—completely unjustifiably—rebound on to Alison, who India was quite positive had known nothing of her cousin’s machinations?

  ‘India, are you still there?’

  She thought quickly, and made up her mind.

  ‘Yes, I’m still here, but there’s something you don’t understand. I wouldn’t have an affair with you partially because you were married, and partially because I didn’t love you—not the way I love Simon.’

  There, it was out; done for better or for worse. She started to tremble with reaction, sensing Mel’s bitter frustration reaching out across the telephone wires to reach her.

  ‘You love him? I didn’t even know you knew him. I can’t believe it!’

  ‘It’s true,’ India said quietly. ‘Melisande introduced us. I suppose you could just say it was one of those things.’

  ‘It must have been, to have got you into bed with him so quickly,’ Mel said brutally. ‘Perhaps I ought to ask him what aftershave he uses. God, and to think I thought you were different!’

  India’s fingernails were digging into her palms, with the effort of forcing herself not to admit to the truth, the sarcasm in Mel’s voice lacerating her pride like a lash.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mel,’ she said quietly, adding mentally, more sorry than you realise, and I only hope to God I’m doing the right thing.

  ‘Not half as much as I am. No wonder you told me to stay with Alison!’

  ‘She’s a charming person.’

  ‘Yes,’ he agreed heavily, ‘and I’m just beginning to realise what I might have thrown away, and all for the sake of something my dear brother-in-law has had simply for the asking. India!’ he demanded sharply. ‘Are you still there?’

  ‘Yes,’ she answered bleakly, ‘but I don’t think we’ve got anything more to say to one another, do you, Mel?’

  ‘No. Just tell me one thing,’ he demanded harshly. ‘Does Simon know about us?’

  India thought hurriedly, wondering what to say for the best.

  ‘He knows
we know one another,’ she hedged at last.

  ‘And it never occurred to you how he might react if he discovered how I felt about you?’

  ‘I don’t believe it would make the slightest difference,’ she responded truthfully.

  There was a pause and then Mel said heavily, ‘I guess you’re right. Goodbye then, India. I can’t honestly say I’m happy for you, or that I believe that Simon is the right man for you. His affairs aren’t renowned for their longevity, you know,’ he told her curtly. ‘What will you do when it’s over?’

  ‘Worry about it when it happens,’ India said lightly.

  * * *

  She was still sitting staring into space ten minutes later when Jenny knocked on the door and said urgently,

  ‘Her Highness is here—Ursula Blanchard—and she wants to see you—now.’

  Lifting her eyebrows, India followed her secretary into the salon where a tall, elegant blonde was pacing the floor, her eyes hard as she swung round and stared at India.

  ‘I want to speak to you,’ she began without preamble. ‘Alone.’

  When Jenny had whisked herself out of the salon, India invited Ursula to sit down, but the blonde ignored the invitation, turning on India instead, her eyes blazing with rage, as she glanced disdainfully over India’s face.

  ‘My God!’ she exclaimed theatrically, giving another disbelieving look at India. ‘Even now I can’t believe it. It can’t be for real!’

  ‘Perhaps if you told me what you’re talking about,’ India suggested, hurriedly casting her mind back to the last outfit they had made for the ex-model. It was all of six months ago now, a very simple skirt, hardly the cause of all this emotion.

  ‘I’m talking about Simon!’ Ursula hissed at her. ‘As if you didn’t know. He must have lost his wits… He’s always been renowned for the beauty of his girl-friends.’

  ‘Thanks,’ India replied dryly, ‘but I’m not…’

  ‘Don’t lie to me!’ Ursula demanded furiously. ‘I bumped into Alison on Saturday and she told me all about it. How pleased she was that Simon had found a nice girl at last.’ Her lip curled. ‘A nice girl and Simon! You won’t be able to keep him,’ she told India. ‘You’ll see…’

  ‘Who says I want to?’ India interrupted mildly.

  Ursula’s eyebrows rose contemptuously. ‘Of course you do, all girls like you always play for keeps, but this time you’re playing in the wrong league, my dear. Simon wants a wife who can match him for sophistication; who moves in the same circles, not a little dressmaker, who knows no one.’

  India swallowed hard on her growing anger.

  ‘Don’t you think Simon himself is the best judge of what he wants?’ she asked in a deceptively soft voice.

  ‘I know what he wants,’ Ursula replied arrogantly. ‘He wants me. He always has done. Why else do you think Lee divorced me?’

  ‘What are you trying to tell me?’ India asked evenly. ‘That you and Simon were lovers?’ She shrugged coolly, marvelling at her own ability to play-act. ‘Simon’s a sophisticated man in his mid-thirties—I’d hardly expect to be the only woman in his life. But what is past is past…’ She was beginning to enjoy herself as she saw the ex-model’s face drop and then harden with determination. ‘And aren’t you forgetting about Melisande?’ she added lightly. ‘If I’m going to be visited by every single one of Simon’s ex’s, I can see that I’m going to have a very busy time indeed!’

  ‘You’ll be sorry for this!’ Ursula hissed as she flounced out. ‘Simon took up with Melisande to punish me, that’s all… You might have the approval of that idiot cousin of his, but Simon goes his own way—no one dictates to him.’

  ‘I know.’

  India said it with such quiet emphasis that the older woman went white with anger, her eyes as hard as pebbles as she directed a final bitter look at India before leaving the salon.

  ‘What was all that about?’ Jenny asked curiously later on. ‘I could hear Her Highness raising her voice…’

  ‘She wanted to warn me off Simon Herries,’ India said dryly. ‘She brings a whole new meaning to the words “predatory female”.’

  ‘Simon Herries is better off without her,’ Jenny opined. ‘Honestly, I can’t imagine what he ever saw in her.’ She did a double take. ‘What did you say? She wanted to warn you off? But…’

  ‘Don’t ask,’ India implored. ‘It’s a long and extremely complicated story, and suffice it to say that she was barking up the wrong tree; in fact there were moments when the sheer ludicrousness of the situation almost had me completely ruining Ursula’s big scene by bursting out laughing!’

  * * *

  The next morning, however, when Jenny silently pointed out to her an article in one of the gossip columns, laughing was the last thing India felt like.

  There in bold type was her name, and Simon Herries’. Simon Herries had found himself a new lady-love, the story read; and moreover one who was hotly tipped to become the first Mrs Herries. Family approval of the candidate had been sought, and all that was now awaited was a formal announcement.

  ‘Ursula!’ India groaned.

  ‘She didn’t?’ Jenny protested in awed accents. ‘My God, she must have been furious! Well, she’s well and truly burned her boats now.’ The phone rang and she reached for the receiver. ‘This will be your intended,’ she whispered mischievously to India. ‘He’s been on twice already, while you were on your way. Perhaps he wants to whisper sweet nothings!’

  ‘Whisper’ was hardly the operative word, India reflected as the ice-cold tones of Simon’s voice washed over her like water straight off a glacier.

  ‘Is this your idea of a joke?’ he demanded without preamble, ‘giving the gossip columns that choice item about our “relationship”?’

  ‘What makes you so sure it was me?’ India enquired, keeping a tight rein on her own anger, holding the receiver away from her ear as there was a sound like a combination of a snort and a curse.

  ‘Who else would have the motive?’

  ‘And if I were to tell you that it wasn’t me?’

  ‘Don’t waste your breath,’ came the hard reply. ‘I suppose this is your way of getting even with me, is it?’

  India was beginning to lose her temper—fast. ‘Look,’ she told him curtly, ‘if you don’t like it you can always print a disclaimer.’

  ‘Don’t think I wouldn’t—if it weren’t for one thing. By some misfortune my grandmother happens to have read the article. She was on the phone to me this morning demanding to know when she was going to get to meet the girl I’m thinking of marrying. It seems that Alison has already told her about you.’

  ‘Tough luck,’ India said coolly, without bothering to cloak her lack of sympathy. ‘What am I supposed to do? Burst into tears?’

  ‘What you’re going to do is to visit my grandmother with me,’ she was told tersely. ‘It’s all arranged. We’re to dine with her tomorrow night.’

  India had time to feel surprised that Simon Herries who had stamped roughshod over her feelings should have it in him to be so careful of his grandmother’s before everything else was obliterated in a rush of rage as he added contemptuously, ‘I’m quite positive that once she has met you, far from urging me to marriage as she has done these last five years, she’ll be giving me the money to flee the country.’

  In that moment India made up her mind. So Simon Herries wanted her to visit his grandmother, did he, and play the part of his supposed ‘girl-friend’, at the same time making quite clear his contempt and dislike of her personally. Very well then, she would play along with him, but if he thought she was going to allow him to get away with insulting her a second time, he had a shock in store! However, not wanting to make him suspicious, she forced doubt into her voice as she said slowly, ‘But I don’t understand. Why not simply tell your grandmother that it was all a mistake? After all, I’m not the first female to have her name linked publicly with yours.’

  ‘True, but it just so happens that my grandmother has been
trying to marry me off for years, plus the fact that she has a weak heart, and plus again that Alison has been singing your praises to her. So much so that I prefer her to see for herself exactly what you are.’

  ‘And if I refuse to play along?’

  She knew that he must have already anticipated her refusal and have come up with something to counteract it—a plea on behalf of his grandmother’s ill-health perhaps, but when he did speak, what he had to say shocked India into disbelieving silence, her earlier anger a pale shadow of the rage she felt now as she digested his threat. If she refused he would personally ensure that her business reputation was so smeared that within six months she would find herself bankrupt. He could do it, he assured her, and she knew he was right. Her fingers clenched round the telephone, she said icily, taking a very deep breath, ‘Very well, I agree.’

  ‘Wise of you,’ came the sardonic response. ‘I’ve already told Grandmother we’ll dine with her tomorrow night at seven-thirty, I’ll pick you up—be ready.’

  There was a distinct click as he hung up, leaving India staring at the now silent receiver, her face pale, and her eyes half glazed with rage.

  ‘You’re the one who’ll need to be ready, Simon Herries!’ she promised grittily under her breath, as she slowly-replaced the receiver.

  * * *

  India dressed for her meeting with Simon’s grandmother with great care.

  Since making her decision a strange calm seemed to have come over her, but India herself was not deceived, and she knew quite well that beneath her calm, the temper that few people realised she possessed was simmering and bubbling, just waiting for the opportunity to erupt into lava-like rage.

  She decided to wear one of her favourite black velvet dresses with a demure lace collar in soft cream. When she was ready she studied her reflection carefully. The subdued make-up she was wearing emphasised the green sparkle of her eyes, her hair brushing her shoulders in burnished curls, her mouth outlined in a warm burgundy coating of lip-gloss.

  Simon arrived sharp on the dot of seven. India opened the door in silence, her coat already on. He glanced at her briefly, eyes resting inscrutably on her legs in their sheer black stockings for a brief span of time before moving upwards to study her face.