The Cavendon Luck. Barbara Bradford Taylor
scent of his cologne, Jicky, and the smell of him was all over her.
She reached for a bottle of perfume, was about to spray herself, but changed her mind. She wanted his smell on her. There was a knock on the door and she went to open it.
Harry stood there, gazing at her. A slow smile slid across his face. ‘You look beautiful.’ He took hold of her arm, tightened his grip and brought her closer. ‘You’d better get dressed,’ he said, and asked, ‘Will you be alone next week?’
‘I suppose so.’ She touched his face gently. ‘I’ll phone you as soon as I can.’
Harry nodded and let go of her arm. And he was gone.
Pauline turned away from the door, dressed swiftly, attended to her hair and makeup. Usually she bathed after their love-making but not today. She wanted his seed in her, wanted his baby, yearned to have part of him for the rest of her life. A son or a daughter. It didn’t matter as long as it was his.
Pauline Mallard went downstairs to wait for Sheldon Faircross, her husband, knowing he would be arriving shortly. Crossing the floor of the library, she went to the drinks table and filled a glass with sherry. She stood for a moment, staring down into the pale liquid, her mind still on Harry Swann.
In some ways she regretted meeting him and having an affair with him, because he had, in a sense, ruined her life. She had fallen in love for the first time. That was verboten. And now she knew she would have to let him go. A divorce and remarriage was not in the cards. Harry could never be hers. She was in a trap.
When she had married Sheldon fifteen years ago, she had agreed to play by his rules. He would sort out the mess of her finances, created by her first two husbands. Both of them had spent a great deal of her inheritance from her father, the late Allan Mallard, one of America’s greatest tycoons.
With Sheldon’s help, her financial affairs were in better order, but she was not quite the great heiress she had once been. Nevertheless, she was by no means poor. And neither was Sheldon; he was a millionaire many times over.
Sheldon’s rules were very simple. A self-made man, he wanted the prestige of her name, her beauty and elegance, on his arm and at the head of his dinner table. He also demanded her total loyalty.
However, because he had no interest in her sexually, preferring young men, he had told her she could have her love affairs as long as she was discreet. Also, he had made her swear she would never reveal his own sexual predilection.
She had willingly agreed at the time. Not only did she have her own money intact again, she had the legitimacy of marriage to a well-known tycoon, a wonder on Wall Street, but also Sheldon’s great fortune to spend as she wished. And permission to have as many affairs as she wanted. Sheldon had made it clear that her dalliances with other men must be only sexual. No emotional entanglements, he had insisted. And until Harry, it had all worked. Now she wanted to marry Harry, be his wife, have his baby. And have Harry all to herself. He was the best lover she had ever had. And a lovely man.
Still staring into the sherry, she thought: I could walk away from Sheldon. He manages my money and has control of it. But money doesn’t matter to me. Harry will look after me.
Bringing the glass to her mouth, she swigged some of the sherry, and reminded herself that the money did matter to her. She had been born into it, enjoyed spending it, and she would miss it. If she were honest, she would also miss her life on the international scene. Harry would never enjoy that life; he might well be genuinely besotted with her, but he was devoted to Cavendon and the Inghams.
No way out, she thought, I’m stuck. And then she swung around as Sheldon said, ‘Good evening, Pauline. I see you’re alone.’
‘Hello, Sheldon, and naturally I’m alone.’
‘Harry’s just left though. I’m certain of that.’
Pauline merely nodded and walked over to the fireplace. Sheldon joined her, kissed her cheek. He went and poured himself a single malt and strolled across the room.
‘The affair must have run its course by now,’ Sheldon said, joining her on the sofa.
‘I suppose …’ was all she could say.
‘Harry has no doubt fallen in love with you. They all do, actually. But how do you feel about Harry?’
‘He’s been gentlemanly, caring. He’s a nice man.’
‘And great in the sack, I’ve no doubt. He wouldn’t have lasted this long with you if he hadn’t been hot to trot whenever you beckoned.’ Sheldon laughed.
Pauline was silent. She hated Sheldon’s weird outbursts of vulgarity and discussions about her affairs. She had frequently thought that he might get some sort of kick out of discussing them. In the way some men enjoy voyeurism.
When there was no response, Sheldon said, ‘I spoke to Tiger this morning. She’s invited us to stay with her at the château in Versailles. She’s giving a big summer party. We’re invited. And I accepted for us both.’
Pauline was momentarily startled, then said swiftly, ‘That’s great, Sheldon. She’s such a marvellous hostess.’
‘And she has great taste. In other guests. There’ll be a lovely group of delectable men and women staying for the long weekend.’
‘I see,’ Pauline murmured, realizing what he was getting at. After a brief pause, she asked, ‘How’s your Italian lover?’
Sheldon grinned at her. ‘He’s run his course. I’ve sent him back to Italy. I’m fancy-free, my darling, just like you.’
‘Am I fancy-free?’ Pauline raised a brow quizzically.
‘Of course. Harry has to go now, Pauline. It’s been too long, this affair, and it’s becoming serious. Remember, we have a deal, you’ll always be married to me, and I’ll safeguard your money, and you can have as many men as you want. Just think, Tiger is bound to have someone delicious lined up for you.’
Swallowing back incipient tears, Pauline said, ‘When is this party in Versailles? And are we going to Paris first?’
‘We’re leaving Harrogate on Sunday. We’ll go back to London for a few days. Paris next weekend, then on to Versailles.’
‘Good heavens, Sheldon, I can’t leave on Sunday. You’re only giving me tomorrow to pack!’
‘All you need is your jewellery and a few clothes. Mrs Heath will send on everything else. It doesn’t matter, really, because I intend to take you shopping to Chanel and Schiaparelli. I also have in mind a few new pieces of jewellery from Cartier as well.’
She nodded, forced a smile. ‘What great ideas you have, Sheldon,’ Pauline remarked, understanding that he was taking her away from Harrogate before she could see Harry again. Today was the end of their affair. Sheldon had just made sure of that.
As she sat there, listening to him talking about their Paris trip, she suddenly heard another voice at the back of her head. It was her late father, Allan Mallard, explaining that he never did anything without a lawyer at his side. A bevy of lawyers, if needs be. He had said that so many times. Warning her, she supposed.
I need a lawyer, maybe a bevy of lawyers, she thought. High-powered, Manhattan lawyers, with clout. They will help me to take back control of my life. My inheritance. A divorce from Sheldon. Then I can go to Harry. We can be married. The mere idea of this made her smile.
Sheldon, as usual scrutinizing her intently, said, ‘You look happy all of a sudden, Pauline. Why the smile?’
‘I was just thinking about the future …’ She let the sentence go unfinished, leaning back against the cushions.
‘Ah yes. Our trip to Versailles will be part of that. Tiger has promised us lots of fun.’
Pauline nodded, her mind racing, making plans to go to New York. She would not allow Sheldon to thwart her. He was about to get the shock of