An Heir Made in the Marriage Bed Page 10

  Sophie looked anxious now, and when Henry appeared from the back of the villa, she said swiftly, ‘Will you get some brandy for Mr Matt? He—he’s not feeling well.’

  ‘Sure thing,’ began the old man, but Matt stopped him.

  ‘No brandy, Henry. Coffee will do.’

  When they were alone again, Matt sucked in a grim breath. ‘Who told you she’s getting married again?’

  ‘No one.’ Sophie looked uncomfortable now. ‘I just thought she might be.’

  ‘And why would you think that? Have you spoken to Joanna?’

  Sophie shrugged. ‘Well, I have seen her.’ She paused. ‘But I haven’t spoken to her.’

  ‘So this is all supposition?’

  ‘Sort of.’

  ‘What do you mean—sort of?’

  Sophie looked unhappy now. ‘It’s not up to me to tell you what’s going on. I came here with the best of intentions. I can’t help it if you don’t like my news.’

  Matt shook his head. ‘What Joanna does or doesn’t do is no concern of mine any more,’ he reminded her. ‘Okay, I agree, she might have let me know if she was thinking of getting married again. But it’s really nothing to do with me.’ He paused. ‘Where did this come from anyway? The London office?’

  ‘Well, I was in London,’ Sophie agreed reluctantly. ‘Actually, I’d decided to look her up.’ Sophie hesitated. ‘I went to the gallery. A week ago.’

  Matt scowled. ‘So why didn’t you speak to her?’

  ‘I—I intended to, obviously.’ She paused and then continued, ‘I’d got a taxi to the gallery. It was a spur of the moment thing, and I was about to get out of the cab when I saw her. But she wasn’t alone. She was—she was with another man. They were really—you know—cosy with one another. He—kissed her, actually. So I just asked the driver to take me back to Oxford Street.’

  Matt stifled a curse. Bellamy, he thought grimly. The other man had just been waiting for their divorce to be made final before making his move. Matt didn’t really know why he cared. Dammit, why couldn’t Sophie have kept this information to herself?

  His scowl deepening, he said, ‘And you really expect me to go and see her?’ He shook his head. ‘Why?’

  ‘I think she might like to see you, that’s all.’

  Matt’s mouth compressed. ‘That doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘Probably not.’ Sophie shrugged as if getting tired of the argument.

  Matt gave her a brooding look. Joanna had always insisted that she and Bellamy were friends. Yet foolish as it was, he couldn’t bear the thought of her with anyone else.

  Damn her!

  His scowl deepened. ‘So do you think I’m harbouring some desperate wish to see her again?’

  ‘Aren’t you?’ Sophie was annoyingly direct.

  Matt’s jaw hardened. ‘You should have got out of the cab and asked her what was going on instead of bringing this to me.’

  Sophie groaned. ‘But I wouldn’t have known what to say.’

  ‘And you think I would?’

  Matt’s hands curled into fists on the table. But fortunately, Henry appeared at that moment with a fresh pot of coffee, sugar, cream and two cups, and set his burden carefully in front of Sophie.

  ‘Will you...?’ he began and Sophie nodded.

  ‘Leave it to me, Henry,’ she said, with a grateful smile. ‘Thank you.’

  She poured two cups, leaving Matt’s black but adding two sugars before pushing the cup towards him. ‘Go on,’ she said. ‘Drink it. You look as if you need it.’

  Matt’s lips twisted. ‘Do I?’ His tone was gruff. ‘Sophie, I haven’t seen Joanna in—what? Five months?’

  ‘But you did go to London to see her after our father’s stroke, didn’t you? I thought maybe you and she had mended your differences or something.’

  Matt shrugged. ‘Hardly that.’

  ‘But you took her back to the hotel when she was in Miami.’ Sophie hesitated. ‘Did you sleep with her?’

  Matt took the coffee she’d poured him and swallowed a mouthful before replying, ‘What’s that got to do with you?’

  Sophie stared at him incredulously. ‘You were with her when I called the hotel to tell you about our father, weren’t you? Was she the reason why you didn’t answer your phone? My God, Matt, I thought you had more sense than that.’

  Not that it mattered now, but Matt had thought so, too.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  JOANNA CARRIED THE cup of tea she’d just made for herself through to the front office. She didn’t drink coffee these days, and, truth to tell, she hadn’t missed it.

  All the same, she didn’t mind admitting she was tired, even though it was barely four o’clock in the afternoon. Getting up at half-past seven in the morning to arrive at the gallery before nine o’clock had begun to take its toll.

  Still, she consoled herself, she only had two more days to go before she left to have the baby. Well, not exactly to have the baby, she corrected herself. But she was over six months now and she’d finally given in and accepted her mother’s invitation to spend the latter weeks of her pregnancy in Padsworth.

  What happened after the baby was born was another matter. All she knew for sure was that during the course of the pregnancy, she had become attached to the small life growing inside her. He had become a part of her. The fact that he was a part of Matt, too, was something she still had to deal with.

  Sitting down, she ran her hand over the bump that swelled her jersey shift. She felt the kick that pushed against her palm and couldn’t prevent a smile. Evidently her son wasn’t tired, she acknowledged. Even though his energetic antics had kept her awake half the night.

  Not for the first time in recent weeks, she thought about her ex-husband and what he was doing now. The fact that he knew nothing about his son’s existence had begun to play on her mind. But she would tell him, she assured herself. She was only putting it off until the baby was born.

  To begin with, she’d felt justified in not calling him again. She didn’t want to embarrass him, she told herself. And she certainly didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for her. This woman he was with: who knew how serious that was? After the way he’d walked out of her apartment, she’d had no reason to believe he would be glad to hear from her again.

  But as the weeks went by and the baby grew inside her, she knew she’d been fooling herself. Of course, he’d want to know about the baby. The trouble was, she had no idea how she could approach him now. She should have phoned again when she’d had the chance, she thought unhappily. Matt might not care about her, but she was sure he’d care about the baby.

  The fact that he hadn’t challenged her petition for divorce was some justification, surely. Apparently, the fact that there might have been consequences from the night they’d slept together hadn’t occurred to him. But why would they? she’d mused ruefully. They’d been trying for a baby for so many years without any success.

  No, after that confrontation in London, he appeared to have washed his hands of her. And she consoled herself with the thought that there’d be time enough to think about how she was going to handle the situation after the baby was born. The last communication she’d had from his solicitor had quoted the address on Cable Cay that Matt had given her. So, evidently, he’d left NovCo now and moved to the Bahamas, as he’d planned.

  Alone?

  Pushing that thought aside, Joanna studied the details of the showing that was taking place the following week on the website. Since becoming a partner in the business, she’d set up the website and acquired a list of email addresses she could use to announce forthcoming events. It had worked well and drawn a lot of new people into the gallery, people who only learned about things through social media.

  The young artist being featured this coming week was a favourite of
hers, and she hoped the exhibition went well. Unfortunately—or fortunately, whichever way you looked at it—Joanna would not be around to see it. She was leaving for Cornwall on Saturday, much against David’s better judgement, she had to admit.

  He believed she’d be better off staying in London. He’d be on hand if she needed him, and she could always continue updating the website from home. These days, he deferred more and more to her judgement, and there was no doubt that she would miss the excitement of not knowing what each day was going to bring.

  Despite learning how expensive a childminder was going to be, she’d still been able to invest in the gallery, which she hoped would provide security for the future. Initially, she’d believed she could only afford one or the other. But because when she and Matt had divorced, she’d been contacted by Matt’s solicitor with a view to selling her shares in NovCo, she’d decided she owed it to her father to accept the interest they’d made.

  As she sipped her tea, she heard the outer door open and guessed her partner was back from lunch. David had been schmoozing with a wealthy collector, who he hoped would agree to attend the following week’s showing.

  She heard footsteps in the gallery, but David didn’t immediately come through to the office. Either he was making adjustments to the display or it wasn’t David at all. Which meant she should show her face. It wouldn’t do to allow a would-be customer to feel neglected.

  Setting down her tea, she rose to her feet, briefly checking her reflection in the glass of a picture hung above David’s desk. She wore her hair in a single braid these days and, apart from a few errant strands curling about her ears, it hung smoothly over one shoulder.

  But it was almost the end of the day and any make-up she’d started out with was virtually non-existent. Not that a touch of mascara and a smear of cinnamon lip gloss achieved much. All the same, with her prominent bump, she bore little resemblance to the glamorous receptionists she’d seen in other galleries around town.

  Stepping out into the gallery proper, she glanced quickly about her. Had she been mistaken? There didn’t appear to be anybody about. But the gallery was quite big, and the stone bases supporting the current display of bronzes blocked her view.

  ‘Hello,’ she called, hoping someone would answer. ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘I hope so.’

  The voice was sardonic but, in spite of the passage of time, so recognisable that Joanna’s breath caught helplessly in the back of her throat.

  Matt, she saw with some dismay, stepped out from behind the wooden frame that stood at the front of the gallery, announcing the current artist’s identity. In narrow-fitting jeans and a thigh-length leather jacket, the collar tipped up against the rain, he looked heartbreakingly familiar, and she found it hard to tear her eyes away.

  Licking her dry lips, she said, ‘Matt.’ She took a breath. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Do you need to ask?’

  Looking at Joanna now, Matt was glad he’d had the sense to check out the gallery before actually speaking to her.

  Despite what Sophie had said, he hadn’t intended to make this trip, but something—some suspicion, perhaps, that Sophie hadn’t been entirely honest with him—had compelled him to find out for himself. He’d arrived in London late the previous day—much against his better judgement, it was true—and as soon as he’d checked into his hotel, he’d had his chauffeur bring him here.

  It was January and it had been fairly dark when he’d arrived at the gallery and, as it happened, Joanna had just been leaving for the day. She’d been alone, a long wraparound coat attempting to conceal her appearance, but Matt had known at once what it was Sophie had been trying so hard not to say.

  Joanna was pregnant. And fairly well advanced if he didn’t miss his guess. But how well advanced and whose baby was it? He had a right to be suspicious, when not only had she not told him, but she knew as well as he did how singularly unsuccessful in their efforts to get pregnant they had been.

  He hadn’t attempted to speak to her then. He couldn’t.

  He’d had Jack drive him back to his hotel and had spent the rest of the evening getting mindlessly drunk, trying to erase the image of his wife in bed with another man.

  This morning, he’d phoned Sophie, uncaring that it had been the middle of the night in New York, and expunged a little of his frustration on her. ‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me?’ He’d practically yelled the words. ‘I’d at least have been warned what to expect.’

  He’d felt guilty later, and he’d phoned again and apologised for blaming her. But, God Almighty, what had he done to deserve this? he wondered. And why the hell hadn’t Joanna told him herself?

  Though why should she, he argued, if it wasn’t his baby? He might be beating himself up unnecessarily over an event that had nothing to do with him. On top of which, he had the mother of all headaches, a combination of a hangover and the bitter recriminations that had kept him awake half the night.

  Now he moved forward. ‘Well, let me see,’ he said, answering her question, and there wasn’t an atom of warmth in his voice. ‘I thought you might have something you wanted to tell me.’ His eyes swept insolently down her body, lingering with undisguised contempt on the bump that swelled her dress. ‘Ah, I see you do.’

  The more charitable thoughts Joanna had been having about her ex-husband vanished with his words. His arrogance infuriated her.

  ‘Why should you presume I have anything to tell you?’ she demanded, forgetting all about the feelings of guilt she had been nurturing earlier. Her hand slid protectively over her belly. ‘I don’t believe I’ve made any claim against you.’

  Matt’s eyes turned hostile. Suddenly, despite what he’d been thinking, he knew the baby was his. Joanna had never been much good at lying, and he could see the apprehension in her eyes.

  ‘Just when were you planning on telling me?’ he demanded, ignoring the unexpected thrill of anticipation. ‘I hate to remind you, but I do have some rights where this baby is concerned.’

  Somehow Joanna found the words to defend herself. Which wasn’t easy when Matt was gazing at her with contempt in his eyes. His jaw had hardened and, in spite of everything, she couldn’t look away from him. He looked so good, she thought resentfully. His skin was deeply tanned, evidence of his change of occupation, and he’d had his hair cut shorter, exposing the strong column of his neck. Evidently, he’d been enjoying life; apparently unaware that once again he had radically changed hers.

  ‘I believe you’ll find that in the UK, the mother has parental rights over the father,’ she said stiffly, not realising she was virtually admitting the baby was his.

  Matt’s hands curled into fists in the pockets of his jacket. She was so bloody smug, he thought angrily. Talking to him about rights when she hadn’t even had the decency to tell him she was pregnant. Because if he’d had any lingering doubts about its parentage, she’d just removed them.

  Sucking in a breath, he shrugged. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I’ll just wait until the child is born and I can prove that I’m the father. I believe there are Parental Responsibility Orders issued by your courts that might—’

  Joanna held up a hand. ‘All right, all right,’ she broke in unsteadily. ‘It’s your baby. I’m not denying it.’

  ‘So why wasn’t I told?’ Matt asked.

  ‘I—’ Joanna hesitated, not wanting to continue but knowing she had to. ‘I tried. I rang your New York apartment early one morning, as soon as I knew for certain that I was pregnant. Some—some woman answered.’

  ‘What woman?’ Matt scowled. ‘Did you get her name?’

  ‘No, I didn’t get her name.’ Joanna gasped. ‘My God, have there been so many women staying in your apartment that you don’t even know who it was?’

  ‘Of course not.’ Matt expelled a weary breath. ‘It was probably Andy Reichert’s wife
. He and his family are living in the apartment at present.’ He hesitated. ‘Or it could have been his daughter, I suppose.’

  Joanna felt her face burning with unwelcome colour. ‘Well—well, I didn’t know that, did I? Anyway, whoever it was, she said you weren’t there. That I should ring back later.’

  ‘Did you give her your name?’

  ‘No.’ Joanna sighed.

  ‘Did you ring back later?’

  ‘No.’ Joanna bit her lip. ‘I was—upset. I really thought that—’

  ‘Yes, I can guess what you thought.’ Matt was finding it difficult to keep his temper. ‘How do you think I felt when my own sister had to give me some clue as to what was going on?’

  ‘Sophie?’ Joanna frowned. ‘So how did she find out?’

  ‘She saw you. She was working in London and thought she’d look you up.’

  ‘But she didn’t.’

  ‘Oh, she did, but you didn’t see her. Sophie has some discretion.’ He shook his head incredulously. ‘For God’s sake, Joanna, what could she have said to you?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Joanna was on edge. ‘Maybe I’d have welcomed her advice.’

  ‘Her advice!’

  Matt tamped down his anger with an effort. She knew better than anyone that they’d tried for years to have a baby. And now, when it had happened, she’d kept the news to herself, because she’d apparently believed he was having an affair.

  If she hadn’t killed any feelings he might have had for her months ago, she’d certainly done a good job now. Yet he couldn’t deny her condition suited her. There was a quality about her, that famous pregnancy glow, he supposed, that surrounded her. She was wearing her hair longer, too, and the braid she wore curled sensuously about her breast.

  He wondered if she was seeing anyone. Just because she was pregnant didn’t mean there wasn’t a man hanging around. Some men were attracted to pregnant women. And despite his own feelings towards her, he didn’t like the thought of another man in her bed.