Second Best Wife Read online

  A smile briefly touched his lips as he turned and went back into the hall. Drying her hands on a towel, Julia followed him into the library.

  'I hope you had a nice evening?' she asked.

  'No, I didn't. If you're not too tired, keep me company for a while. I'm in a foul temper.'

  'Why?'

  'I had dinner with Erica.' He paused, waiting. 'Surprised?' he asked into the silence.

  'No. I knew it.'

  'Been spying on me?'

  'Of course.'

  He looked up at this and then laughed. 'For a moment I almost believed you. But you're not the type to do such a thing, are you?'

  Since the question seemed rhetorical, Julia let it pass. Adam stared silently into space and she waited, knowing he would eventually tell her what was worrying him. In the past, when she had been his secretary, he had often taken her into his confidence, appearing to enjoy her opinion even though he rarely took it. But this time the problem was Erica, and Julia was by no means sure she could give an unbiased opinion about her.

  'Erica wants me to act for her,' he declared suddenly.

  Julia was surprised. 'I thought you already did?'

  'No. I used to handle her husband's affairs, but now she wants me to look after hers.'

  'That will give you an excuse to see her.'

  'I married you to stop seeing her.'

  'Then refuse to act for her. It's a simple decision.'

  'Except that if I refuse, she'll see it as a sign of weakness.'

  'Still afraid of admitting to frailty, Adam?'

  'Don't you be clever, too,' he said in a strangled voice, and jumped up.

  Unfortunately Julia chose that moment to do the same, and they almost collided with one another. He reached out to steady her, his hands heavy on her shoulders.

  'I thought you'd show some understanding, Julia, instead of mocking me.'

  'You deserve to be mocked. You set yourself impossibly high standards and turn against people because they can't follow them.'

  'I think there's a right and a wrong way to behave. I've always made a point of doing my best and—'

  'Yet you married second best,' Julia interrupted. 'And it wasn't so terrible, was it?'

  'It wasn't terrible at all,' he admitted. 'In fact it was the most sensible thing I ever did in my life.' His eyes roamed her face, his expression one of regret. 'Poor Julia, you have a way of making me feel a selfish swine.'

  'You mean you're less than perfect?'

  'Much less,' he said huskily, and pulling her close began to kiss her.

  Julia smelled the brandy on his breath, and a sweeter, more cloying smell that could only have been Erica's scent. She tried to free herself, but Adam refused to release her, her struggles increasing his determination to make her respond. The pressure of his lips forced hers apart, and suddenly she was engulfed in a warmth that swept over her entire body like a tidal wave, battering at her defences and arousing her to a passion she could not control. Every part of her longed for his touch and her limbs trembled, so that she clung to him with all her strength, aching for him to dominate her reason as well as her body. Yet stubbornly her mind refused to succumb, and all she could think of was Erica, the woman from whom he had just come.

  'Adam, stop it! Let me go!'

  For an instant he took no notice, but as she began to struggle in his arms, he released her and stepped back.

  'God!' he muttered in an angry voice. 'I always seem to be breaking my word to you. But I can't apologise for it this time. I'm not going to say I'm sorry I kissed you.'

  'Why should you?' Julia asked stonily. 'You always use me as your whipping boy when Erica upsets you. She robs you of your confidence, so you come home and assert yourself with me.'

  There was a noticeable change in the colour of Adam's face, and Julia wished she could retract what she had said.

  'I'm sorry you feel that way about me,' he said tonelessly. 'I kissed you because you're beautiful and I wanted you. I can assured you I never thought of it in terms of asserting myself over you. Perhaps you're the one who should change,' he went on. 'Stop provoking me, and don't act as my mother figure.'

  'Mother figure?' Julia was astounded. 'Well, you do love telling me what to do and where I'm going wrong,' he said dryly.

  'Not any more,' Julia replied. 'From now on I'll stay on the sidelines and let you make your own mistakes.'

  'I bet you won't.' Unexpectedly humour glinted in his eyes. 'You're too understanding, my dear. You'll always try to. save me from myself.'

  'Not from yourself,' she retorted, stung that he was so quickly in command of himself again. 'But from the Ericas of this world.' 'In the plural?'

  'Of course. You're the type who'll always fall for that kind of woman.'

  'Really?' he said dryly. 'I wonder why?'

  'Because the Ericas of this world don't want a two-way relationship—which would make demands on both parties. They only want sex and money. And you have plenty of both.'

  'But not the ability to give anything else?' he asked bitterly. 'You have a very low opinion of my character, Julia. Thanks for telling me.'

  Angrily he strode out, slamming the door behind him, and Julia stared after him in dismay, regretting her loss of temper. She usually kept her feelings under control, for the dramas of her childhood—her father's frequent disappearances and her mother's bitter weeping—had caused her to build up a defence against emotional involvement of any kind. It was true that because of this she might never reach the heights of ecstatic love, but neither would she sink into the abyss of total despair.

  Now, however, she was being assailed by such irrational, violent emotions that she felt like a leaf tossed in a storm. She was furiously angry with Adam for being so weak where Erica was concerned, and equally angry with herself for caring. Yet wasn't it natural for her to have strong feelings about the situation? Though Adam had only married her to save face, he was nonetheless her husband and should stop dancing to Erica's tune.

  Although she had no desire to apologise to him, she was too disturbed to sleep well—she had never had so many miserable nights in her life, she thought wryly— and awoke at six o'clock, unrefreshed and on edge. Slipping on a housecoat, she went down to the kitchen to make herself some coffee, and took it into the dining room. It was a room that showed up best at night, when the walls, covered in silk fabric, glowed richly under the candlelight, while the soft green curtains added satin lustre to the satinwood furniture and Tibetan rugs. But in the daytime the colours looked too sombre, and she stepped quickly through the french windows to the terrace leading to the long, narrow garden. She was still standing there, enjoying the sight of the flowering shrubs and colourful borders, when she heard Adam's step behind her. She would know it anywhere.

  'Couldn't you sleep either, Julia?'

  His drawn face was evidence that he too had had a restless night.

  'I'm always awake early in summer,' she answered, unwilling to admit she had slept very little. 'If you prefer to eat breakfast alone, I can have it in my room,'

  'Not at all. I like having you at the breakfast table.' He eyed her quizzically, making her aware of her vividly coloured housecoat, and her thick auburn hair all dishevelled.

  'Gauguin would have loved to have painted you,' he said softly. 'Even I get an urge to try.'

  'I didn't know you painted.'

  'I'm what's known as a Sunday amateur.'

  She smiled. 'I can't imagine you being amateur at anything.'

  'You have greater faith in my ability than I have—and that's saying something!'

  Before she could reply, he placed a finger over her lips. 'Let's stop teasing each other, shall we? Or at least call a truce until noon each day.'

  'I wasn't teasing you. I meant every word.' Julia went back into the dining room with him, making a slight face as she glanced over her shoulder at the garden. 'I wish it was always warm enough to breakfast al fresco? she commented. 'This room's too dark to use so early in th
e day.'

  'There's a small one on the side of this,' he said. 'You could turn it into a breakfast room if you wish. At the moment I only use it for storing things.'

  'I'd like to see it.' She looked about her but could see no other door. 'Where did you say it was?'

  'Behind you,' Adam pointed. 'The lock is covered by the wall covering. You have to press firmly on one particular spot.'

  'A secret room!' she exclaimed, running eagerly towards the wall. 'How fascinating!'

  'To the right of you,' said Adam as she pressed vainly on the wall. 'A bit higher, Julia. Where you can see faint mark on the fabric.'

  Julia tried again. There was a click and a narrow door swung back to reveal a room about seven feet square. It was choc-a-bloc with cases and books, and a tiny window looked out on the garden.

  'It would make a perfect breakfast room,' she said , excitedly.

  'Then regard it as yours.' Adam helped himself to bacon and eggs. 'You can do what you like with it.'

  'Really?'

  'That's what I said. As long as you don't bother me with any of the details.'

  Somewhat chilled by this, Julia returned to the dining room table and sat down. 'I'm surprised you show so little interest in your home.'

  'I used to be extremely interested when I—' He stopped, embarrassed.

  'There's no need to look apologetic,' said Julia. 'I realise that living here with me is different from what it would have been with Erica.'

  'It was tactless of me to say so.'

  'Truth usually has a habit of revealing itself.'

  'Sometimes too late,' he said dryly.

  Julia guessed he was still referring to Erica, and knew there was no way she could sweeten the bitterness of his thoughts.

  'I'm thrilled about the little room,' she said impulsively. 'I can't wait to start on it. I'll make it bright but cosy.'

  'You'll be wanting a cat and a canary next.'

  'I'd love a cat,' Julia confessed.

  Half expecting Adam to say she could have one, she was disappointed when he made no comment, and shortly afterwards he pushed back his chair. 'I'm afraid I'll be dining out again tonight, Julia. I meant to tell you last evening, but it slipped my mind.'

  Julia immediately envisaged him with Erica, and watched silently as he went to the door. On the threshold he turned to her.

  'I'm not dining with Erica, if that's what you think. I'll be with an American client who's just flown in from San Francisco. He wants to talk privately to me about something, otherwise I'd have asked him to come here.'

  Julia tried not to show she was pleased he had bothered to give her an explanation. 'I may go to a concert,' she said. 'There's something good on at the Festival Hall.' 'I didn't know you liked music' 'There's a lot you don't know about me.' 'I'll have to start learning.' 'Like a good husband?' she asked wryly. 'If something's worth doing, it's worth doing well.' Adam hesitated. 'I know I've said all this before, but when I asked you to marry me I knew it wasn't going to be easy for either of us. But we're both intelligent people and if we try to make a go of it, I'm sure we'll succeed. But it has to be a joint effort.' 'I am trying, Adam.' 'Implying that I'm not?' 'How can I speak for you?'

  'You don't need to,' he said. 'The look on your face is enough!'

  After Adam left, Julia went back into the little adjoining room. She had a fair idea of what she wanted to do here. First she would have French doors leading out on to the terrace, then she would make the room look like an extension of the garden, with trellis wallpaper, cane furniture and an abundance of plants. There should also be a gaily tiled floor, with tablecloth and matching chair covers, preferably in a flowery print. She could see it in her mind's eye already: warm, colourful, gay. But first she must find a builder.

  After she had dressed, Julia spent the rest of the morning on the telephone, and by midday found a contractor who agreed to come to inspect the room and give her a quote that very hour.

  'There's a delay in the job I'm doing at present,' he explained when he saw her. 'So if it suits you, I could start work tomorrow. With any luck we should finish by the end of the week.'

  This was far quicker than Julia had anticipated, but she was careful to hide her pleasure in case the price went up, and only when they had agreed a fee did she let her enthusiasm show.

  By four o'clock that afternoon, Julia had found the furniture she wanted. It was in a little shop off Sloane Street, which also stocked curtain materials.

  'We can do tablecloths and napkins too,' the proprietress said. 'Why don't we pick out the three main colours in the curtaining and have a set made in each shade, with white trimmings to match the cane.'

  'That sounds super,' Julia enthused, and left the shop too keyed up to go straight home. Instead, she wandered into Hyde Park, doing her best to ignore the constant stream of traffic rushing past her.

  Not even the fume-filled air could dim the beauty of the trees nor the lushness of the emerald grass, which looked well washed by the recent rains. The roses were already unfolding their petals and displaying their full beauty, like women ready for love. It was a fanciful notion and she was annoyed for having thought it. Marriage was changing her more than she had anticipated, and Adam was occupying far too much of her attention.

  Leaving the park, she made her way to Chester Street. How the day had flown; there was nothing better than being busy, to make time speed by. She really must do something about finding a job, even if it was only part-time. Adam didn't want her to return to the office, but mere were plenty of other legal practices, and if he disapproved of her working for a rival firm, she would try an entirely new field. Perhaps with an interior decorator. It might be interesting and fun.

  The first thing Julia noticed as she let herself into the hall was a small wicker basket on the floor. She frowned at it, and was about to move forward for a closer look, when it creaked loudly. With a gasp of fright she jumped back. Then she heard a tiny plaintive miaow and saw a small grey paw emerge through the side of the basket.

  'It arrived for you this afternoon, madam,' Emilio told her, coming into the hall. 'There was a note with it, which I put on the table.'

  Julia picked up the envelope and took out the card. The message was in Adam's hand: 'While you're training this little minx to hold in its claws, perhaps you'll learn to do the same yourself!'

  Amused, she put the card in her pocket, then lifted the cover of the basket. A small white kitten with large green eyes stared up at her.

  'Oh, you darling!' she exclaimed, cradling it in her arms. Its fur was thick as a Persian's, and snow white, except for dark grey ears, fat paws and a large bushy tail, also grey. 'You're beautiful,' she breathed. 'And very unusual. I wonder what breed you are?'

  'There were some instructions inside the basket,' said Emilio. 'Perhaps they may tell you.'

  Hurriedly she scanned the printed foolscap sheet he handed her. 'It's a Burmese,' she explained. 'They're holy cats that used to live in Buddhist temples, and are supposed to be of royal lineage.'

  Emilio chuckled. 'Well, she looks like a princess. Does she have a name?'

  'According to her pedigree, it's something quite unpronounceable. But I think you've already named her.'

  'I have?' The butler's usually impassive features were alight with surprise.

  'You said she looks like a princess, so that's what we'll call her.'

  Beaming at the news, Emilio went into the kitchen to tell his wife, while Julia, hugging the kitten close, went into the drawing room. She would have to buy a litter tray and some food. Probably milk and scraps would do for this evening.

  At last she knew why Adam had not reacted this morning when she had said she would love a cat. He had obviously decided there and then to get her one. She was extremely touched by his thoughtfulness, and realised again how much she still had to learn about him.

  'Perhaps you'll help me to get to know him better, Princess,' she whispered against the silky fur, and the kitten's contented purr seem
ed a good omen for the future.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The breakfast room was completed in just over a week. Julia managed to keep it a surprise for Adam by ensuring that the builder arrived and left while he was away from the house, so that there was no sign of activity or mess.

  On the morning it was finally ready for use, she was up at seven to supervise the laying of the table and to make sure everything looked its best: the white cane furniture, whose green upholstery was dotted with gay sprigs of flowers that matched the fabric hanging on the walls; the terracotta tiled floor and the rustic-looking French windows opening to the terrace. Happily she gazed about her. She could have been in a little dining room in the heart of the Mediterranean, rather than in fume-filled London. She only hoped Adam would like it as much as she did.

  She was on her second cup of coffee when she heard him enter the dining room. He paused as he saw the dining table was unlaid, then noticing that the secret door was open, he came through it.

  'Good God!' he exclaimed in astonishment. 'You've worked a minor miracle here, Julia—congratulations! This is just what a breakfast room should be like. And you've co-ordinated everything perfectly too.' He smiled at her. 'A beautiful picture in an elegant frame.'

  'Compliments at eight-thirty in the morning? You must be in a wonderful mood!'

  'You shouldn't sound so surprised. I always used to be—when you were my secretary.'

  Julia made a face at him. 'Perhaps you're a better employer than a husband!'

  He chuckled, in no way put out by her comment, though the answer he gave showed that he had taken it seriously.

  'A business relationship is easier to maintain than a personal one, Julia. As I think we're both beginning to realise. Though I must say my feelings towards Susan Smith occasionally verge on the murderous! She never stops moaning and bursts into tears at the slightest provocation.'

  'Then you'll have to be more careful with her,' Julia said firmly. 'You have a quick mind and a razor-sharp tongue, which can be really petrifying.' 'It never petrified you.'

  Accepting this, Julia frowned. 'If you're not satisfied with Susan, I'll be happy to find someone else for you.'