Convenience

Part 11

Again David found himself studying the woman in front of him. He was surprised to note that there were so many aspects that had failed to register when they had spent time with each other, albeit five years ago. At that time his mind was focussed almost entirely on securing the family business. Making his grandfather proud of him. Getting the company back on track. For him the marriage of convenience was nothing other than a financial agreement. Given he had no intention of remaining married, he hadn't bothered to take much notice of the woman agreeing to marry him. 

She was not the type he usually dated, so her appearance had no impact. As the social columns showed, his preference was for blondes. Of the long legged variety. But now that he thought about it, even back then, her hair had snagged his attention. That curtain of black silk. His memory reminded him of a fleeting struggle he'd experienced. Back then he'd fought down the urge to reach out and touch her hair to see if it felt as silky as it looked.

The last time he'd seen her, face to face, was at her grandfather's funeral, just a few months after they had returned from their honeymoon. She'd been wearing black on that occasion too, and heels, he was fairly sure, but apart from that he couldn't remember details. Like the fact she had a stubborn chin that was currently raised in blatant challenge. David fought off the urge to smile. She seemed determined to appear cool and controlled. But when her chin raised in that pugnacious way it gave her away.

"I don't remember you being this, er, forthright or intractable." He knew she would hear the laughter in his voice. He hoped it would help her relax in his company.

Beatrice nearly snorted with disdain. "I'm surprised you remember me at all." She replied quietly, her coal black eyes remained trained on him.

She'd spent many a sleepless night wondering what might have been different if he'd loved her, or had the time to come to love her. What might have been different if they'd come back from that honeymoon and moved in together, rather than her moving in with her grandfather. What might have been if they had found a way to compromise and eventually live as man and wife. Would they have children by now? Two perhaps? Toddlers. That had her heart missing a beat. Children. She'd always wanted children.

For some reason, David felt driven to remind her, "Oh I remember. You used to have long hair." He pointed out as if that was some gem of information.

The derision in her eyes was easy to read.

He folded his arms, "We are married." He was surprised to see that she wore her wedding ring. He'd removed his almost the day after his grandfather's funeral. It was in his pocket. Had been ever since he'd removed it from his finger. He wasn't sure why he'd never just discarded it entirely, and he often wondered why he carried it around with him.

"In name and on paper." Beatrice replied softly.

She was tempted to ask why he believed that being married allowed one to date other people? But then she figured that would give away more than she wanted him to know.

She linked her fingers behind her back in an effort to appear cool. She was agitated. His appearance was a shock. Of course she'd recognised him instantly. He was older, just, but he still had the same square cut jaw that she remembered. He still had those remarkable eyes that she had found mesmerising when they'd met that first time. He appeared to have filled out a bit, seemed a bit broader in the chest. The man was good looking. She knew that just as she had known it five years ago. He was attractive. She found him attractive. That hadn't changed. If anything, his age had matured his look to make him even more attractive. He was archetypal handsome. No wonder he wasn't short of dates.

His married status did not appear to matter to him or his dates. That thought had her eyes cooling another fraction.

"Exactly." David leaned against the table in the centre of the room, and stated with fierce bluntness, sensing that he needed to be blunt to shake some of her composure, "I want a divorce." He announced blandly as if he was requesting a newspaper to be delivered.

He wanted to see her reaction to that blunt statement. Would she be relieved? Elated? Hurt? Having uttered the words he suddenly wished them unsaid. Which struck him as ridiculous. He'd been planning this for months. Approaching her to ask for a divorce. He had his arguments ready, should they be required. He had his settlement offer, ready, knowing that it would be required, knowing that it was more than she would have anticipated. 

He was interested in a quick, clean divorce. He'd have suggested an annulment, given the marriage was never consummated. But he wasn't sure how she'd react to that and the last thing he wanted was for the separation to drag on.

Beatrice's dark, almost jet, eyes, cooled to icy flint. But she maintained eye contact with him. "Then serve me with papers." Beatrice suggested flatly. She looked him up and down as if he was nothing but some flotsam. "If that's all, there was no need to waste your time coming to see me. A letter would have sufficed." She turned, and marched over to the door she had closed just a few minutes earlier.