‘He has told you about me then?’ replied the woman, addressing Grace for the first time. ‘I’m glad to hear that his memory of me has not been dusted under the carpet.’
‘It was not for the want of trying,’ retorted Talek.
‘I know that you were engaged. I didn’t know that you were Henry’s cousin.’
‘I’m not,’ replied Margaret, lifting her elegant jawline. ‘I’m his wife.’
Time stood still, accentuating every sound in the room so there was no hiding their surprise as the wood crackled and splintered in the grate. Grace was the first to move. She placed a comforting hand on Talek’s arm, instinctively knowing how this news would affect him. The love of his life was married to the man he called his friend and business partner.
‘You are married?’ he asked, confused. ‘When?’
Margaret tilted her jaw still higher, exposing her elegant neck. A neck that, no doubt, Talek had once kissed, thought Grace. Was she deliberately taunting him to add to his pain?
‘November, two years ago.’
Talek shook his head. ‘A month after we were meant to be married?’
‘Yes. I discovered that I was carrying his child so I could not possibly marry you.’
‘You were seeing him? You lay with him?’ Talek swore under his breath. ‘Why did you not tell me? Instead you left me waiting at the altar like a lovesick fool!’ He took a step forward and would have taken another if Grace’s hold had not remained firm. ‘What sort of woman are you?’
‘A woman that fell for Henry’s lies of love when in reality he just wanted me because I was yours. Henry has always been jealous of you, right from the moment you became a partner and quickly knew more about clay than he did. He tried to keep up, with his stupid suggestions to increase the profit. You knew they wouldn’t work and so did he, in his heart, but that does not help a man’s pride.
‘And I fell for his charms. Henry has no head for business, but he can ooze charm when he wants to. Everyone likes Henry.’
Talek nodded as if he had thought that once himself.
‘I only realised I was just another one of his one-upmanship when I told him I was expecting his baby. He was stricken, like a child who had seen his pet die. He knew you would never forgive him and was afraid it would mean the end of Celtic Clay. He begged me to still marry you and pass his child off as yours. I couldn’t, of course. I think he still hoped I would and only realised I meant what I said when I left you standing at the altar. To be honest, I wasn’t sure I could carry out my threat until an hour before the ceremony.
‘It did not take long for him to call on me. I threatened to expose him as the reason I jilted you if he did not give me his name. We married soon afterwards. It was a quiet affair. Rushed. Just us, the vicar and a witness. No one else knew.’
‘But that was two years ago. How has Henry kept this from me?’
‘Because he is a good liar. Because I have only recently returned to Cornwall.’ She looked at Grace. ‘It is easier to keep a marriage quiet if there is no wife to see.’ Margaret returned her gaze to Talek, instantly dismissing her from the conversation once again. ‘We were meant to move to Bath after the wedding, but he changed his mind at the station. He wanted to live where the clay was, he said. I should have seen it coming; he had brought no luggage with him. He knew I could not stay. At that point my name had been dragged through every sewer and reporters were on my tail. I was the disgraceful woman who had jilted a gentleman at the altar. I knew that the truth — that I had so quickly married another and had his child in my belly — would only provide more fodder for the reporters to gorge themselves on. My reputation was in tatters . . . so I went to Bath . . . without him.’
‘But you are here now,’ stated Talek.
‘It takes money to raise a child and I needed more than Henry promised. So I came back to get what is rightfully due me . . . as Henry’s lawful wife.’
‘Where is Henry?’ he demanded, his muscles tensing as he fought to control his rising anger.
Margaret’s earlier self-confidence faltered. ‘I don’t know,’ she muttered, dropping her gaze. ‘I woke this morning to find him gone.’ She turned to the mirror, braced herself and patted her hair into place.
Talek shook Grace’s hand away and reached for her arm. He spun her round to face him. Margaret was tall and statuesque in her beauty, meeting his challenge with an arrogant arch of one brow. Grace held her breath. How beautiful they both looked. Well suited in their dark confidence and rising passion.
‘He has led my sister to believe he is interested in building a future with her. He has stolen and cheated me in business. Henry is a liar and a thief,’ ground out Talek, ‘and must payfor what he has done.’ He drew Margaret closer, so close that their breaths became one. The rise and fall of Margaret’s breasts quickened, as her passion rose to meet his. ‘If you know where he is,’ Talek whispered as his gaze raked her face, ‘tell me now or—’
‘Or what?’ purred Margaret, arching herself against him.
Grace could not bear to watch — yet she could not drag her eyes away. Watching the two former lovers, sparring as they had once done, twisted her stomach inside.
‘I have missed this,’ breathed Margaret as her gaze searched his face. ‘Me. You. I have missed our fights . . .’
Talek turned his face towards her, his tone as chilled as ice, ‘—Or I will be tempted to strangle that pretty little throat of yours.’ He released her suddenly and stepped back, causing her to stumble. ‘Where is he?’
Margaret’s face hardened, stealing all the beauty from it. ‘I don’t know.’ She nudged past him to the bell pull and rang it. ‘He has left. Run off like the rat he is.’ She touched her hair to compose herself before the servant arrived. ‘Perhaps Miss Kellow can tell you. She came here often enough with the excuse of talking about the accounts.’
‘I visited twice,’ corrected Grace in a glacial tone, ‘and it was not an excuse. It was the truth.’ Grace felt Talek watching her. ‘You can’t believe I came here for any other reason?’
