Desperate Measures (15 page)

He said softly, unsmilingly, 'You have been thinking, madamel

Well, I imagine you have plenty of food for thought.'

'You!' Philippa's voice cracked. 'What are you doing here?'

'Where else should a husband be but at his wife's side?' He

draped the discarded raincoat over a chair, and took a step towards

her.

Philippa recoiled. 'Don't come near me,' she said hoarsely.

'Where is Fabrice?'

Alain shrugged. 'On the first stage of his journey back to Paris, I

presume. You find that a matter for regret, perhaps.' His lips twisted mockingly. 'I am sorry,
ma femme.
I shall have to make sure I provide

— adequate consolation.'

The words seemed to hang in the air between them. Suddenly

the thin wooden rail beneath her fingers seemed the only touch of

stability in a reeling world.

She flung her head back. 'I don't need consoling. I want nothing

from you, Alain, but my freedom. Our divorce can be as quick and

painless as you wish. You've given my father back to me, and I won't

ask for anything else, I swear. Just a clean break.'

'How simple you make it sound,' he said softly. 'But perhaps I'm

not quite so ready to give you up. You may want nothing more from

me, but I want a great deal from you.'

'You must be mad!' The beat of her heart was suddenly

unsteady. 'What can I say to convince you that this—farce we've been

playing is over? I've left you, Alain. I'm starting a new life. I—I don't know how you found me...'

'Oh, that is quite simple,' he said coolly. 'Ever since that curious

attempt at a robbery, I've been having you and your gallant rescuer

watched.'

'You've done what?' Her voice rose. 'Oh, I don't believe it!'

'Why not? Did you really think I would take no steps to protect

my interests—that I would just relinquish you?' His voice was sardonic.

'It has all been most instructive, believe me, especially my interview late last night with your supposed lover. You really must learn to be less trusting, ma cherie. A young man so easily bought is not worthy

of you.'

'Bought?' Her lips framed the word incredulously. 'I don't

understand.'

'That is obvious,' he said drily. 'I hope you did not care for him

too much, Philippa. Not when he was being paid by my uncle to

seduce you.'

She cried out, and sank down on the stairs. She said hoarsely,

'You're lying.'

'If I am, then why isn't he here, fighting for you? Telling me to

get to hell out of your life?' Alain sounded very tired suddenly. 'No, your account of the robbery aroused my suspicions. It was all—too

convenient, too pat. So I had enquiries made, and I discovered that

your Fabrice was being employed by Uncle Louis—was visiting him

daily, presumably to report on his progress in your affections.'

'I don't believe it!' Philippa beat one fist against another. 'Why

should your uncle do such a thing? It makes no sense.'

'To him, it makes a great deal of sense,' Alain said with a shrug.

'He wishes to see our marriage destroyed. It seems he has been

telling everyone that my infidelities are making you wretched, that

you are

near to breaking point. He speaks of you with concern and

compassion—the innocent betrayed bride of his womanising nephew.

He says that you are desolate, near to breaking point—that you would

be totally justified if you left me. Then—voila—you run away, and my

uncle has just the scandal he is hoping for. Once again he can attack, leaving my reputation in shreds, holding me up as morally unfit to be in charge of De Courcy International. And those who listened to him

last time will listen again, this time, perhaps, with more attention.'

Philippa drew a harsh breath. 'No one—no one could be that

devious. I won't believe a word of it.'

'I thought you might say that.' Alain drew an envelope from his

inside coat pocket. 'So I took the precaution of having your boyfriend make a sworn statement in writing about his part in the affair. He was completely frank. Do you want to read it?'

Philippa shuddered. 'No.'

'Don't be too disillusioned,
cherie.
He seems to have genuinely enjoyed the pleasure of your company.' He paused. 'I hope you did not make his task too easy for him.' He smiled as he spoke, but the green eyes were emerald-hard.

Philippa bent her head. 'If you were having me watched, and

you've read his statement, then you already know the answer to that.'

'Nevertheless, I would like your personal reassurance.' His voice

was implacable. 'Tell me,
ma femme
, did you, in fact, give this—

Fabrice your body?'

'No,' she said dully.

'Ah, then this would have been your first time together.
Ma

pauvre petite
, have I ruined your idyll?'

His tone mocked her. 'In that case, the least I can do, having

deprived you of your lover, is to provide a replacement.'

'What do you mean?' Philippa's mouth was suddenly dry.

'I mean that I do not accept that our marriage is over.
Au

contraire
, it is about to begin.' Alain gave the room a measuring look.

'This is not, perhaps, the place I would have chosen for our

honeymoon, but it will serve.'

'Honeymoon?' Philippa's voice rose in outrage. She got jerkily to

her feet. 'What game are you playing now, Alain?'

'No game at all. You are my wife, and while you remain so you

will belong to no other man. It is time, I think, that I made that clear to you.'

'And it's time I made something clear as well,' Philippa said

furiously. 'I came here to start a new life for myself—to paint—to try and make a home for my father when he comes back from the States.

There's no place for you here.'

'Yet there was a place for Fabrice de Thiery,' he said silkily.

'Not in the way that you think.' She glared at him. 'And who are

you to play dog in the manger anyway, after the way you—you...' She

stopped, and took a breath. 'I needed a car ride down here, and

Fabrice was going to—keep house and model for me. That's all.'

'Ah, no,
ma belle
. You are not that naive. And nor am I.'

'Think what you like,' she told him defiantly, banishing the

memory of her own misgivings to the back of her mind. 'But please

don't judge me by your

own low standards. I don't want a lover. I came here to work. To

re-start my life.'

'And what about our life together?' His voice was quiet.

'We don't have a life.' Philippa bit her lip. 'I'm not your wife,

Alain. I never have been. The best thing we can do is let each other

go. Then you can be free to marry your—your lady.'

'It's good to know I have your permission,' Alain said slowly. 'But

are you so sure she'll want to marry me? After all, she's now a wealthy widow.'

Philippa looked down at the floor, an unwelcome image of Marie-

Laure locked in Alain's arms on that moonlit terrace looming

uncomfortably large in her mind. 'That's entirely your own business,'

she said in a low voice.

'That is true,' he said. 'But you and I also have some business—

some unfinished business—to discuss,
ma femme
.'

'I can't think what,' she flung at him. 'I should have thought

you'd be glad—grateful that I've taken myself out of your life. You can be happy now— there's nothing and no one to prevent you any longer.

And your uncle won't dare make another scandal once you and the

Baronne are safely married.'

Alain raised his eyebrows. 'You have it all worked out, it seems.'

'I've had a lot of time to think about it—to consider the best

thing to do.'

Alain gestured around him. 'And this is it?'

'I think so.' She lifted her chin. 'It isn't your kind of environment, of course, but then you weren't invited to come here.'

'I need no reminder of that,' Alain said with a touch of grimness.

'May I remind you of the terms of our original agreement?'

Philippa folded her arms defensively across her body. 'I'm not

going to go back to Paris and just wait to be divorced,' she said.

'There's nothing to keep us together any more. Gavin is better now,

and for that I—I'm grateful, and I always will be. I've done my best to play the part you wanted, and I'm sorry if you don't feel you've had

your money's worth in return. Because that's all there is. Frankly, I can't take any more.'

'I was not thinking in terms of value,' he said slowly. 'You seem to

have forgotten that when I first proposed marriage to you, I told you that one day I would ask you to give me a child.'

The breath caught in her throat as she stared at him

incredulously. 'No—no, I hadn't forgotten, but naturally, under the

circumstances, that doesn't apply any more. You can't expect me...'

'Why not?' His voice was gentle, but the green eyes were cool,

unwavering.

She tried to laugh. 'Why, because you have a whole new life

ahead of you. When you marry again, you can start a family.'

'Perhaps the bride in question has other ideas,' Alain said drily.

'Henri was desperate for an heir all the time they were married, but he died childless in the end.'

So he wasn't blindly besotted after all, Philippa thought with a

swift pang of desolation. He knew Marie-Laure for what she was, yet

he wanted her just the same. She thrust the thought away.

'That's something you'll need to discuss with her,' she said

stiffly. 'It can't concern me.'

'But it concerns you very deeply, ma chere.' Alain leaned against

the kitchen table, very much at his ease, a faint smile playing about his lips. 'You speak as if our divorce and my remarriage was a certainty

—a fait accompli. Yet it is nothing of the kind. Perhaps I am content with what I have, and do not wish to change. Have you thought of

that?'

She said jerkily, 'But that can't be right. You can't want things to

stay as they are—no one could. You must want to be happy—to have a

real marriage with the woman you love.'

'Of course,' he agreed. 'But if that is not possible, I would not be

the first man to settle for second best.'

'But perhaps I'm not prepared to settle for that.' Philippa gave

him a stormy look. 'Maybe I don't want to be the meek little wife,

dutifully turning a blind eye to her husband's liaisons. Have you

thought of that?'

'Meek,' Alain murmured, 'is hardly a word to describe you,
mon

amour
'

'I'm glad you appreciate that,' she said. 'And I'm certainly not

going to allow myself to be—used as a— vehicle for childbearing ...'

'How mechanical you make it sound!' He had the audacity to

laugh out loud.

'Obscene is the word I would use.' Her voice shook. 'How many

times must I say it? I've left you, Alain. I should never have agreed to this marriage in the first place. You must see what a terrible mistake it's been.'

'Oh, yes.' He nodded. 'But it is a mistake we must continue to

endure for a while.' He paused. 'At least until I have my son.' The

green eyes slid slowly,

appraisingly down her body and she felt every inch of skin warm

under his glance. 'Would it really be such a hardship to give him life?'

Anguish wrenched at her as she contemplated what he was

asking. In different circumstances it would be paradise, the

summation of all her secret, wildest dreams. But in reality, knowing

that he didn't love her—that she was just the convenient wife he was

using—it would be sheer unmitigated hell.

She looked back at him and shrugged. 'I've made my plans for

the future,' she said. 'And nothing you can say or do is going to

change my mind, Alain. It's over.'

'You speak with great certainty,' he said. 'Yet,
mignonne
, for the first time in this strange marriage of ours we are together and

completely alone. As the days pass—and the nights—don't you think it

is possible I might—persuade you to be a little kinder to me?'

'What kindness has there ever been between us?' Sudden

bitterness vibrated in her voice, and she saw him wince.

'Very little, it is true, but it does not always have to be like this.

We could—try again.'

There was an odd note in his voice—wistful, almost humble, and

Philippa caught her breath. At that moment all she wanted to do was

cross the floor space which separated them, and go into his arms. It

would be the simplest action in the world—and also the most fatal.

Snatching at her control, she went on the attack.

'And what about Madame de Somerville-Resnais? Have you got

her permission for this touching reconciliation?'

'Hardly,' Alain returned curtly. 'She is in seclusion.'

'Oh, I see.' Philippa got to her feet. Her moment of weakness, of

yearning, was over, and she was angry again. 'How stupid of me! You

can't really continue your affair while she's in mourning, so you

thought you'd entertain yourself with me. What a novel twist! It isn't usually the wife who's the little bit on the side.'

'How dare you!' Alain took a step towards her, his face

darkening. 'Listen to me, you little fool...'

'I've heard enough. I want you to go, Alain. Go— now. Don't you

understand?'

'It's you who doesn't understand. In the name of God, Philippa

I've come all this way to see you—to talk to you...'

'Then you've had a wasted journey.' He took another step