Chelsea Wives. Anna-Lou Weatherley

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      The last thing Douglas wanted was a scandal that would invariably lead to divorce. Thank goodness that little receptionist strumpet he’d been seeing to every now and again had given him the nod, allowing him to get a head start on squirrelling away some of his assets. This thought cheered him instantly. Once that wife of his realised she’d be left without a bean she’d soon put an end to any ideas of divorce. Douglas knew her too well; she may be able to give him up, but give up the money? Never.

      Why couldn’t she just bloody well do the same with this one? He knew it was a bit of an ask, what with it being Henry’s fiancée and all but still, it was only the one time and hardly his fault; the girl had given him the come on, all big eyed and heavy breasted, parading herself around in front of him in barely-there outfits, sighing breathlessly as she spoke in husky, dulcet tones, licking her glossy lips at him. What was a man supposed to do? She’d been as game as he was. More so, in fact. And on top of things he was now having to contend with her as well, coming to him all teary-eyed and remorseful, terrified that Calvary would put the mockers on her much anticipated nuptials to his son. Even the greatest sex in the world wasn’t worth this much aggravation.

      Calvary stared at her husband contemptuously, wondering how she had ever come to marry such a complete and utter shit.

      ‘I’m taking the dogs for a walk,’ she announced, her voice cracking like the embers of a bonfire as she pulled on a Brora cashmere cardigan. She could no longer stand to be in the same room as him.

      With a heavy heart, Calvary knew she would have to live with his dirty little secret. Swallow it down like a particularly bitter pill. At least for now …

      ‘Listen,’ Douglas made to reach out for her hand but she snatched it away. ‘The Ivanovs have said we can have their house up in Lake Como for a couple of weeks – why don’t you go? Get away for a while, take some friends with you. Have a spa break, or whatever it is that you women do. It’ll do you good to clear your head a bit.’

      As usual, he was trying to buy back some kind of equilibrium between them, though secretly Calvary was a little taken with this suggestion. Perhaps a holiday was just what she needed. She’d invite Imogen and maybe even Yasmin Belmont-Jones too. She had grown rather fond of her in recent weeks and was sure Imogen wouldn’t mind if the girl tagged along.

      Imogen Forbes was Calvary’s oldest and truest friend. Having been introduced at a rather stuffy charity event by their respective husbands some twelve years ago, Calvary often joked that their meeting was one of the best things to have come out of her marriage to Douglas. Though in fact, it was no joke at all.

      Hailing from similar backgrounds – the worlds of fashion and modelling – the two women had struck up an instant rapport and had spent the entire evening in deep conversation and fits of giggles. They had both left the party that evening feeling as if they had met a kindred spirit. Over the years their friendship had strengthened and deepened into something they both cherished dearly. Like sisters, they bickered occasionally, but were fiercely loyal and protective towards one another.

      ‘You could fly out next week, after the ball,’ Douglas suggested, hopefully. ‘Relax, sun yourself for a few days. Just wait until you see the Ivanovs’ place; it’s absolutely spectacular.’ He detected the slightest flicker of interest in Calvary’s eyes, and felt himself relax a little.

      ‘I’ll arrange for you all to fly out on the jet,’ he said in a childlike voice, attempting to lock the deal down, ‘and,’ he added as an extra sweetener, ‘you can have free run of the Black Amex card.’ He sang the last bit like a game show host enticing a contestant to gamble for the big prize.

      Calvary watched as her body visibly sagged in front of the mirror. She felt utterly defeated.

      ‘I’ll take Tamara shopping tomorrow,’ she said quietly with her back to him, tucking her jeans into her Tod’s leather riding boots.

      A small, satisfied smile crept across Douglas’s face and he had to stop himself from letting out an audible sigh of relief.

      ‘That’s it, old girl,’ he said, immediately buoyed. He could go and have that game of golf now without all this nasty business hanging over him, threatening to put him off his swing.

      ‘Get yourself something fantastic for Forbes’s do as well, spend what you like.’

      Calvary grabbed a packet of Vogue cigarettes from the stash in her dressing table and threw them into her Smythson tote.

      ‘Oh, don’t you worry, Douglas,’ she said, brushing his shoulder with her own as she flounced past him. ‘I damn well intend to.’

      CHAPTER 14

      Yasmin Belmont-Jones hated funerals. Even more so than most people. They reminded her of her sister. And anything that reminded her of her sister hurt. It hurt like hell.

      Still, she had to hand it to her, Yasmin thought as she looked around the magnificent church filled with celebrities and VIPs, whoever this Cressida Lucas woman was, she sure was one hell of a well-connected lady.

      It had been at Calvary Rothschild’s blithe insistence that she attend today’s ceremony.

      ‘But I’d never even met the woman when she was alive,’ Yasmin had protested. ‘It doesn’t feel right me being there.’

      ‘Minor details,’ Calvary had replied dismissively. ‘It’s the perfect setting to introduce your new look to society, show the press – and your detractors – that you won’t be downbeaten by their pernicious comments. Besides, it’s not as if the deceased will mind, is it?’ she added facetiously, casting an approving eye over the demure Victoria Beckham black shift dress that she had cajoled Yasmin into wearing for the occasion. She was determined to rid the girl of her Chav-Sloane persuasions if it killed her.

      Yasmin was silently horrified. Calvary viewed today as little more than a photo opportunity! Reluctantly though, she also knew that she had a point; she had to brazen it out in front of the press, who had so far been most unforgiving about her. Hiding herself away would only serve as fuel to their ever increasing interest. The last thing she needed was them digging for dirt.

      Despite her earlier misgivings, as Yasmin looked around at the church humming full of A-listers, she was almost glad she had made the decision to come after all.

      ‘All these celebrities …’ Yasmin whispered into Calvary’s ear, trying not to sound as star struck as she actually was. ‘It’s like ‘An Audience with …’

      A regal looking lady in a huge avant-garde hat with a giant lobster on top of it passed them and took a seat in an adjacent pew.

      Calvary raised a critical eyebrow.

      ‘If it blows off, dear, I wouldn’t chase it,’ she remarked sardonically. Yasmin stifled a snigger. Calvary could be quite amusing when she hit her stride. If she wasn’t careful she might actually start liking the woman.

      ‘Cal,’ Imogen came towards them, greeting her warmly with a big hug, ‘I’m so glad you’re here,’ she said, enjoying the reassuring warmth of her friend’s embrace. Calvary brushed an imaginary tear from Imogen’s face and smiled affectionately at her. She was dying to ask her friend if she’d heard any news about the campaign from L’Orelie yet but thought it an inappropriate moment, given the situation.

      ‘How СКАЧАТЬ