Marriage of Convenience

Chapter Six

Catching sight of herself in the mirror in the hallway, she stopped in her tracks. It was like looking at a crazy woman! Her grey eyes looked haunted, half-wild with worry, and far too large for her pale, pointed face.

One look at such a distraught creature, she decided, would be enough to put any man off the idea of marriage—let alone Theo Dylan, who was definitely choosier than most.

At seven-thirty precisely she was stepping into the Rolls, her voice light and pleasant as she replied to a remark Benjamin had made about the mildness of the weather.

Benjamin was a dear, one of a dying breed, Theo often said. Freya had met him and his wife, Mary, on several occasions and had marveled at how well they ran Theo's house between them. They made it home.

As the luxurious car whispered through the streets towards the quiet square in Notting Hill where Theo lived, Freya took stock. The discipline she had at last been able to bring to her preparations for this evening had transformed her from near nervous wreck into a composed, sophisticated young woman—the sort who would never get the jitters over anything—the sort of creature she had been until she had decided to propose to Theo Dylan, she admitted with a wry half-smile.

He could only say no, and if he did she would have to think of some other way out of the mess she was in. And if he did say no, it wouldn't be because she looked like a crazy woman!

Her black silk dress, falling in wide pleats from a high square yoke and supported by two narrow ribbon straps, was vaguely twenties in style, rather expensive, and the perfect foil for her slender height, for the pale silver gilt of her hair which hung in a shimmering, newly washed curve to her jawline.

No, her image wouldn't let her down tonight, and as long as she could control her nerves—and her temper if he should turn scathing or flippant—then she would be able to manage perfectly. That he might actually agree to marry her and solve the problem of Leo, was something she thought it wiser not to consider just now. It was, on the whole, rather too much to hope for, and if she didn't allow herself to hope then she wouldn't be too disappointed when he replied in the negative, as any right-minded man would do.

Even thinking along those lines brought a sudden return of the hated stomach-churning apprehension—to come out of this evening's encounter with her job intact was the most she could hope for—but her inner disturbance wasn't allowed to show as Benjamin held the car door open for her.

She slid the elegant length of her silk-clad legs to the pavement and walked with all her customary grace up the steps towards the front door which Mary already held open in welcome.

Theo turned as Mary ushered Freya into the room. Her knees shook a little; he looked so improbably handsome in the formal elegance of his dinner-jacket, and now she was looking at him with different eyes. She was accustomed to reacting to him on a business level, regarding him as a much-liked, respected boss, and the way he looked just didn't come into it. But it was coming into it now, and it shouldn't because what she had suggested had, after all, been a business arrangement.

Giving herself a mental shake, she endured the appraising drift of his eyes. His assessment of the way she looked was gentle, like a caress, and she returned his slight smile.

'How was Paris?'

'Smooth. No problems. But you didn't come here to talk about Paris.'

His smile was tight and gave no impression of warmth and Freya sank on to a chair and thought, my God! What have I let myself in for? She didn't think she was going to find this evening enjoyable.

He had been pouring the white wine he knew she preferred and she took the glass from him, careful that their fingers should not touch. And one corner of his mouth quirked in a smile as if he knew just how careful she had been.

Something caught in Freya's throat; either he was enjoying this, creating a tension, or he was waiting for her to make the opening gambit. And she would have done, simply to get it over, behind her, but she didn't know what to say. She wished she could become invisible. She didn't know what was happening to her—one minute she was in control, quite calm, the next she was on the verge of hysterics. It wasn't in character for the woman she knew herself to be. And she could stand no more of it!

'Have you reached a decision?' she blurted, her voice thick. She put her glass down on the small round table at the side of her chair, and she looked up in time to catch his expression of surprise at her unpolished question and could have bitten her tongue out. But the fleeting look of surprise was gone, his impressive features displaying little more than polite interest as he stood and nodded briefly, 'I have, but we'll talk about it over dinner.' And that told her nothing, nothing at all. If he was trying to test her nerve, her ability to keep cool in the face of mental pressure, he was doing an excellent job.

So she searched for something to say, something light but not insane, and kept talking until Mary came in with her trolley broke the tension, just a little, and Theo said, 'You don't mind if we eat in here?'

The food was delicious, Mary's unobtrusive service effortless. The wine was friendly, relaxing, as was Theo's attitude, his conversation. But Freya didn't relax, not for a moment. However, only when Mary had gone, leaving them with the silver coffee-pot.

'I don't want coffee.' Her voice came out as a snap as his hand hovered over the bone handle of the Queen Anne pot. Then, Thanks,' she added, mumbling now. The man was inhuman. Didn't he know how this suspense was pulling her apart?

'Well--' They both started to speak at once and he dipped his head, waving her on, and Freya wished she'd kept her mouth shut. The onus was on her again, and he knew how to turn the screw.

But enough was enough, she decided savagely, 'You said you'd reached a decision.' A lift of one silky eyebrow gave emphasis to her question. 'May I know what it is?'

'Of course, you may.'

So smooth, so suave, so cool. She could have hit him! She couldn't imagine now why she had ever thought she liked him, believed that an expedient marriage to a man such as him would be no intolerable thing.

He lit a slim cigar, taking his time, And his eyes, darkened to midnight, dealt her a glancing blow, knocking the breath clear out of her lungs because he'd looked at her before, of course, he had, but never like that, never as if he owned her.

'I have decided,' he regarded the glowing tip of his cigar with lazy interest, 'to agree to your suggestion of an alliance—a marriage of convenience. Successful marriages have been based on less,' he told her, his magnificent eyes lifting from their inscrutable contemplation of the glowing tip, meeting the hazy smoke-grey of hers. A smile flickered briefly over the long, masculine mouth. That is to say, I agree in principle—however, there would be one condition.'

Freya stared, her eyes wide, hardly able to take it in as the breath she hadn't known she'd been holding was expelled silently from her burning lungs. If Theo Dylan had accepted her proposal of marriage then the idea couldn't have been as crazy as she'd come to believe it was. And she needs no longer lie awake at nights worrying about the probability of failing to pay the money Leo demanded. She would have control of her inheritance once she was married, and the whole dreadful business could be kept quiet. Everything was going to be all right!

A sudden smile of utter relief made her face shine, and Theo raised one black eyebrow. 'Don't look so delighted. You haven't heard my condition yet.'

'No. No, I haven't.' She felt light-headed. Her conscience wouldn't have to bear the burden of knowing her uncle's declining months with shame and misery or, even worse, being the cause of another and almost certainly fatal heart-attack. And Theo's condition, whatever it was, couldn't be too difficult to deal with.

She tilted her head and saw the way his eyes narrowed on her pointed face, on the warm curve of her lips as he said, 'It would have to be a full marriage. I want children.'