Ivan dropped me off at the apartment and went to a friend's house. He would get ready there and meet me at the registry office. Angela was going to come to the apartment and we were both supposed to be together at the registry. Ivan had planned it so I would only have ten minutes to myself before the hairdresser came around at twelve.
As soon as he arrived he did not even want a quick coffee. I offered him champagne.
'Well,' he said with a grin. So we opened a bottle. 'This is nice,' he said as we settled on an armchair by the window.
Sipping champagne, he set about putting my hair up into a complicated twist-plait hairstyle with delicate seed pearl pins in it. He was very chatty and a balm for my frayed nerves. Or maybe it was the champagne at midday.
When he finished we were both a little tipsy, and he seemed extraordinarily pleased with his creation. I had to admit it looked the business.
After he left I pulled on sheer nude tights and dressed in my new cream two-piece St. Laurent suit and matching cream shoes. I carefully applied my make-up and went to stand in front of the mirror. Well …
I looked the part.
A widow marrying for the second time.
I was a believable gold digger striking it rich the second time around.
Hello magazine would be there because Ivan said he could think of no better way to spread the news. In return for exclusivity they promised that all the photos would belong to us, and Ivan would have the last say as to what they printed and which photos were used in their spread.
I looked at my reflection in the mirror and suddenly felt tearful. When I was a young girl I used to dream of a white wedding. A happy, giggly occasion. With my mother, my grandparents, my relatives, all my friends, bridesmaids in matching outfits, cute little flower girls, and a wonderful man who loved me with all his heart.
But here I was. In Ivan's flat getting ready on my own to marry a man who did not love me. The future stretched out strange and foreign.
I blinked hard.
It's OK, Tawny. Maybe one day he will come to care for you. Or most probably he never will, but you'll survive. You overcame everything else and you will again.
I walked to the middle of my room. So many things were up in the air. I didn't even know if after today I would be officially moving into Ivan's bedroom. The doorbell rang and I quickly went to the door. It was Angela.
'Oh, Tawny. You look beautiful,' she said with a catch in her voice as soon as I opened the door.
'Thank you,' I replied automatically. I felt quite light-headed as I closed the door and turned towards her. 'The driver should be here soon.'
'Good, because I wanted to say something to you before he comes,' Angela said quickly.
'OK.'
She took a deep breath. 'I just wanted to say that I realize it's really soon after Robert that you're marrying Ivan, but I think it's right.'
I gave a short surprised laugh. 'You've never even met Ivan.'
She bit her bottom lip. 'I know, but once Robert said to me that Ivan was the man he would have chosen for you.'
'What?' I exploded.
She put both her hands up, palms facing me. 'He didn't say it in a bad way. He just meant that in an ideal world Ivan would be the perfect husband for you.'
I walked to the wall and leaned against it. 'Why did he never tell me that?' I whispered.
'Look, I'm sorry. I should never have said anything. I feel as if I've ruined everything.'
I put my hand to my forehead. Oh Robert. Have you done something behind my back?
'I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to spoil your wedding day. I'm just stupid. I thought you'd want to know that Robert wouldn't mind,' Angela said.
I took a deep breath. 'It's OK, Angela. You haven't spoiled anything. I'm glad you told me. I'm just like a cat on a hot tin roof at the moment.'
The doorbell rang.
We both looked at each other.
'Robert was a good judge of character. He could see right through people and he liked Ivan,' she whispered.
'Thank you for telling me that,' I said and went to answer the door. The driver was downstairs. It was time to go.
I walked towards Ivan in a daze. Angela had brought a bouquet and I was conscious of my hands gripping its stem hard enough to snap it. There were only a handful of people. I could not even look at them. The photographers from Hello were there too. My legs felt shaky.
There he was! So straight and tall and …
A thought popped into my head, would a day ever come when I could look at him and not fall all over myself at how hot he was? The answer was immediate and cruel. Sure honey. When he leaves you.
I looked into Ivan's face and my vision blurred. My eyes were filling with tears. What the hell? I wasn't going to cry in front of these people and Hello photographers for God's sake! I felt so stupid. I didn't even know why I was crying. I had no tissues, and tears started rolling down my cheeks.
When I reached his side someone had already passed him a scrap of tissue. He gently brushed my cheeks with it.
'Don't cry, babe. Marriage to me won't be that bad,' he teased, his eyes kind and warm.
I laughed shakily.
He took my hand. I clung to it like a life jacket in a swirling sea. His hand was warm and strong. He would never know how much strength I took from it. The ceremony began. I dutifully parroted everything I was told to repeat.
'I do solemnly declare that I know not of any lawful impediment why I, Tawny Maxwell may not be joined in matrimony to Ivan de Greystoke.'
The registrar asked. 'Are you, Ivan de Greystoke, free lawfully to marry Tawny Maxwell?
'I am,' he replied.
Then he smiled and made his vow.
'I, Ivan de Greystoke take you, Tawny Maxwell to be my lawful wedded wife.'
The registrar looked at me.
'I, Tawny Maxwell take you, Ivan de Greystoke to be my lawful wedded husband.'
That was the end of the statutory declarations. We slipped rings on each other's fingers and Ivan pressed his mouth on mine while flash-bulbs went off. He lifted his head and I looked dazedly into his face. He was like a stranger. Yet I loved him. He was my first love. He was my first for everything. At that moment I loved him so much I couldn't even imagine ever loving anyone else. He curved his hand around my waist and turned me towards the small group of people gathered there.
His mother was the first to congratulate us. She was immaculate in an apricot dress suit.
'Well done, darling,' she said to her son. Kissing me on my cheek, she whispered, 'You look absolutely beautiful, my dear. I wish you every happiness.'
There were more photos at the steps outside before we were driven to the Ritz. In the car, Ivan took my hand. 'Are you OK?'
'Yes,' I said.
'Good. We only have to down a couple of glasses of champagne and eat a few canapés then we can escape.'
'Where will we escape to?' I asked, not expecting the kind of answer that he gave me.
'It's a surprise.'
'Oh?'
'I'm giving you a wedding night you will never forget no matter how long you live.'
No matter how bad I felt, a few minutes in his presence always made me experience the truth of the saying, it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. No matter what happens I will never regret how he has made me feel. I smiled at him.
'Are you bigging up your cock again?' I mocked.
He laughed. 'No, I'm taking you to a very special place. It's a secret club and it's by invitation only.'
I raised my eyebrows. 'And they invited you?'
'Obviously.'
'Is it another sex club?'
'Sort of. It was set up by a reclusive, mysterious, billionaire Duke. It is not a sex club in the way you are thinking. People go there to have sex, yes, but you can't go there if you don't already have a partner to have sex with, and while you are there you will never see another patron of the club.'
'Hmmm. Where is it?'
'The Square Mile.'
'Where all the money is.'
He glanced at me and flashed a smile. 'Exactly.'
'What is it called?'
'The Blue Butterfly.'
'I like the name. Pretty.'
'The name comes from Puccini's opera adaptation of Madame Butterfly. Do you know the story of Madame Butterfly?'
I shook my head.
'It's based on a Japanese tragedy. In 1904, U.S. Naval Officer Pinkerton rents a house on a hill in Nagasaki, where he intends to live with a fifteen year old girl called Cio-cio san, which means butterfly in Japanese. He meant it only as a temporary marriage of convenience. His real intention was to leave her once he found himself a proper American bride but, of course, poor Butterfly falls deeply in love with him, and it all ends tragically with her slitting her own throat behind a curtain, and Pinkerton taking their small son back to the states.'
'And they based a sex club on that? I'll tell you now you better not be expecting me to slit my throat over you.'
He gave me a dry look. 'The club is structured on the premise of the many sexual arts Butterfly, if she had been older and more sexually savvy, could have employed to seduce and entice her American lover into staying with her.'
'That's quite clever for a sex club.'
He smiled. 'Yes, I thought so too.'
'Well, it sounds extremely expensive,' I said lightly.
'It's worth every penny.'
I looked sideways at him. 'Have you been to it many times?'