A Most Suitable Wife. Jessica Steele

quite high up with the Finance Director, she knew that Magnus had heard quite rightly. ‘They’re flourishing,’ she agreed.

      Magnus looked at her speculatively for long moments. ‘So the son isn’t exactly on his uppers?’ he commented at last.

      And Taye at once resented the inference she saw in his comment; as if he considered she would not be going out with Julian were he not loaded. ‘Julian will one day inherit a fortune,’ she said stiffly, in the interests of compatibility doing her best not to fall out with the man facing her.

      ‘And you’re serious about him?’

      Taye felt her hackles rising. She had near enough had it with one Magnus Ashthorpe, and no way was she ready to discuss her love life with him, thank you very much! ‘I might be!’ she retorted, her fine blue eyes flashing.

      Hard grey eyes looked hostilely back. Then at that moment the kettle snicked off. ‘Forget the drink!’ he ordered curtly, and, turning about, left her staring blankly after him. Just what had that been all about?

      By morning, trying not to think of the longest three months of her life stretching out in front of her, Taye resolved once again to do her best to get some sort of amicability going. To that end, up early and in the kitchen before him, she overcame the thought that if he wanted a drink he could jolly well make it himself.

      ‘Coffee?’ she offered when he joined her, having only just made a fresh pot.

      ‘Thanks,’ he accepted. No smile, just a hard stare. And, as if taking up from where they had left it last night, ‘How long have you known Julian Junior?’ he questioned, not the smallest sign of humour in his expression.

      Julian Junior! Taye’s decision to try and get some amicability going began to flounder. She could have mentioned that she and Julian worked at the same place, but did not feel inclined to do so. Though she did give herself top marks that she answered Magnus Ashthorpe at all. ‘Ages,’ she replied briefly—and received another of his hard-eyed looks. Resisting the temptation to slam his coffee down on the counter top next to him, Taye controlled her spurt of annoyance and informed him evenly, ‘I shall be away overnight. I’m—’

      ‘Julian Coombs?’ he barked before she could finish.

      To the devil with him. This kitchen just was not big enough for the two of them. Carefully she placed his mug of coffee down near him. ‘Actually, no,’ she replied with hard-won control. ‘Not Julian. His name is Alden. He’s—’

      But, making cutting her off mid-speech into an art form, Magnus Ashthorpe did it again. ‘Just how many lovers do you run at one and the same time?’ he snarled.

      This time it was she who went without her drink. ‘That’s none of your business!’ she erupted hotly—and got out of there before she gave in to the temptation to hit him.

      She was on Paddington railway station before she had cooled down sufficiently to be able to think of something other than the abrasive manner of her flat-share. Oh, why did he have to be the only one to reply to her advert? Just about anyone else would have been preferable.

      Taye pushed thoughts of Magnus Ashthorpe out of her mind and took out her phone and rang her father. ‘Hello, it’s me, Taye,’ she said when he answered.

      ‘Hello, love. I was just thinking about you,’ he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice. ‘Any chance of you coming to see me some time soon? I—er—need to see you about—something.’

      She felt pleased that her father wanted to see her, but was intrigued about the ‘something’ he needed to see her about. ‘As it happens, I’m on Paddington Station as we speak,’ she answered with a smile.

      ‘Great!’ he said enthusiastically. ‘I’ll pick you up in Leamington. Eleven o’clock?’

      Her father was on the platform waiting for her when her train pulled in. And Taye, having searched and wondered and speculated all through the train journey to Royal Leamington Spa, was utterly flabbergasted when, not waiting until they arrived at his cottage, he revealed what that ‘something’ was.

      Though she supposed she rather invited it when, as they got into his ramshackle car, she more or less straight away asked, ‘You needed to see me about something?’

      ‘If you hadn’t managed to come here, I was going to try to come to you.’ And, straight on the heels of that, after only the smallest hesitation, ‘I’ve met someone,’ he announced as in his ancient car they trundled out of town and towards a rural area.

      ‘You’ve met someone?’ Taye asked, not with him for the moment. Then, as it began to sink in, ‘A girl? I mean, a woman?’

      ‘Hilary’s forty-seven,’ Alden Trafford replied. ‘Do you mind, Taye?’

      Taye was more winded than minding. ‘But…No,’ she said then. ‘Just give me a minute to…’ Her voice tailed away. She turned to give him a sideways look. He was fifty-one and, given that he was virtually penniless—her mother would see to that—quite an attractive man. ‘Er—is it serious?’ Taye asked, getting her head back together.

      ‘I’m going to ask your mother for a divorce,’ he replied, and Taye reckoned he could not get much more serious than that. Her mother would create blue murder!

      ‘Oh, dear,’ Taye murmured faintly.

      ‘I’m sorry, Taye. Unfortunately you’ll not be able to get through this without some of your mother’s bitterness spilling over onto you in some way. But you’re living away from home now, and it won’t be all that long before Hadleigh goes off to university. And, while I want to be fair to you both, I want to be fair to Hilary too.’

      ‘Of course. Don’t worry about us. Um—have you known—Hilary—long?’

      ‘Three years. But it’s only since New Year—we were both at a friend’s house—that things have—er—hmm—blossomed between us,’ he answered, with an embarrassed kind of cough. ‘Anyhow, I want to marry her, and your mother and I have been separated long enough now to make a divorce between us a quite simple procedure.’

      Taye smiled; what else could she do? The divorce might be a simple formality, but the fall-out it engendered would not be.

      ‘Will I meet Hilary this weekend?’ she asked.

      ‘I rang her after your call. I asked her to pop round this afternoon and have a cup of tea with us.’

      Taye took to Hilary within a very short time of meeting her. Hilary was a widow, worked as a schoolteacher, was short and a little on the plump side—and it was obvious from the way Alden Trafford’s face lit up when he saw her that this woman meant everything to him.

      And, as Taye adjusted to this new state of affairs, she could only be glad for him. He had had it tough for long enough. Prior to him leaving their home he had worked in high finance. But, feeling stale in the work he had been doing, he had changed employers—but had not cared for some of their accounting procedures. When he had started asking pertinent questions he had found himself out of a job. He had been unable to find other work and, after a year during which his savings had dwindled, his wife had seemed to much prefer her room to his company—and then his father had died—and he had moved out.

      When Taye returned to London early on Sunday evening it was not without a few worries gnawing away at her. That she had taken to Hilary Wyatt caused Taye to feel a little disloyal to her mother. But there was no denying that she and Hilary had liked each other. And, seeing how much Hilary meant to her father and soon realising that he wanted to spend as much time as he could with the woman he hoped to make his wife, Taye had invited her to stay on to dinner.

      They were suited, her father and Hilary, but all hell was going to break loose when her mother heard about it. After thinking about it, Taye’s father had decided he would do his present wife the courtesy of telling her in person. In his view, though he considered he owed her very little, it did not seem right to let her find out via the auspices of his lawyer.