Jed was bent over the table beneath the window, clipping sheets of paper together. Her eyes flicked to the briefcase propped against the table-leg. He must have fetched it in from the car. Very early this morning, or late last night? Hadn’t he been able to sleep, either?
She loved him so much, her heart felt as if it would burst with the aching pressure of it. And there could be no relief from the awful pain. Her love for him had to be her sad secret.
‘There’s breakfast if you want it,’ he said coolly, pushing the papers into the briefcase and snapping it shut. ‘Help yourself.’
Striving for a semblance of normality, she walked over to the heated trolley. Beneath the covered dishes Room Service had provided enough to feed a small army. From the untouched state of everything, Jed obviously wasn’t hungry.
Neither was she.
He turned to face her then. Dressed in narrow dark grey trousers, crisp white shirt and a sober blue silk tie, he looked remote and totally unreachable. His face could have been carved from stone, his mouth compressed in a hard, tight line.
She had never seen him look so drained, so utterly world-weary. She upturned the two cups briskly and poured coffee for them both. He needed something.
But he accepted the china cup and saucer with a slight frown, as if he wasn’t too sure what it was, put it down on the table-top and told her, ‘I’ll go down and settle the bill, then I’ll pick up a cab on the street. The suite’s yours until midday, and be sure you eat something before you drive back to Netherhaye. You’re happy about handling the Jag?’
And if she said she wasn’t, would that make any difference to the plans he’d obviously made? She wouldn’t put bets on it. She put her own untouched coffee back on the trolley. Ignoring his question, she asked, ‘Where are you going?’
‘Head office. I’ll put in a few days’ work and stay at my club.’
He dropped a set of car keys on the table and glanced at his watch. He was leaving. He couldn’t wait to get away from her. Was he remembering what she’d said last night? Was he disgusted with himself for allowing things to get that far? The gulf between herself and the man she knew she would always love had never seemed so wide.
She couldn’t let him walk away like this. They had to talk, discuss the situation properly. The problem of their ruined marriage and far from happy future had to be resolved. They couldn’t continue in this painful limbo.
‘Do you think that’s wise?’
He gave her a bored look.
‘What will Catherine think when I return from my glitzy night of triumph on my own and tell her you’ve cut our supposed honeymoon short so you can get back to work? She’ll expect to see us together, looking deliriously happy, you know she will. It was your idea to keep her fooled.’
That did get his attention. She saw his straight brows pull down in a frown and knew he’d registered the implications of what she’d said. She picked up her cup and carried it over to one of the white leather-upholstered armchairs.
‘You didn’t find your own bunking off a problem,’ he reminded her tersely.
‘That was entirely different. Even you must see that.’ She crossed her long legs at the ankles, took a sip of coffee and tried to keep calm. His bag was already packed, she noticed, ready and waiting by the main door to the suite. ‘She’s a woman. She knew how important it was—shopping for the perfect dress. She couldn’t wait to see every last purchase I’d made. She won’t see your “bunking off’ in quite the same light.’
‘Then what do you suggest?’ he snapped through his teeth, and pushed his hands into his trouser pockets, his feet planted apart. He looked about as moveable as a mountain, and she narrowed her eyes at him. Why did she love him so very much? He was arrogant, intransigent, stubborn...!
‘Nothing at all.’ Elena held his coldly bitter eyes. ‘I’m not suggesting anything, just demonstrating how impossible this situation is. For both of us. You made a stupid decision and forced it on me. There’s no way we can play happy couples for Catherine’s benefit and still stay sane.’
He seemed to be weighing up her words. Long seconds passed before he spoke, and then he said slowly, almost silkily, ‘You appeared to be happy enough with my proud, adoring husband act yesterday evening, in front of all those people.’
Elena closed her eyes briefly as that taunt sank in. She knew he’d been putting on an act, of course she did, so why did his admission that he was neither proud nor adoring hurt this badly?
Because she was a fool! A fool for hoping in her heart of hearts that he might still feel something for her, just a small echo of his former love.