Maids Under The Mistletoe Collection. Christy McKellen

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      She gave an involuntary shiver as a draught of cool air from somewhere blew across her skin.

      Frowning, Jack left his vantage point at the window and paced over to the other side of the room, bending down and grabbing a pack of matches by the fireplace to light the tinder in the grate.

      ‘So you’re going to be living in England now?’ she asked, her voice trembling as she realised what that would mean. There was a very good chance they’d see each other again, especially as Jack would be fraternising with the type of people they’d just left at the party. The worst of it was that she’d probably find herself serving him drinks and nibbles as a waitress at the society events he was bound to be invited to now.

      ‘Yes, I’ll be based in England from now on.’ He sat back on his heels and watched the tinder catch alight, before reaching for a couple of logs from a basket next to him and laying them carefully over the growing flames.

      Turning back to face her, he fixed her with a serious stare. ‘So I guess we should talk about what we’re going to do about still being married.’

      Divorce.

      That was what he meant by that.

      She knew it was high time they got around to officially ending their marriage, but the thought of it still chafed. Dealing with getting divorced from Jack was never going to be easy, that was why she’d not made any effort to get in contact with him over the years, but the mere thought of it now made her stomach turn.

      They’d been so happy once, so in love and full of excitement for the future.

      She wanted to cry for what they’d lost.

      ‘Yes. I suppose we should start talking to lawyers about drawing up the paperwork,’ she said, desperately trying to keep her voice even so he wouldn’t see how much the subject upset her. ‘If that’s what you want?’

      He didn’t say anything, just looked at her with hooded eyes.

      ‘Are you—’ she could barely form the words ‘—getting married again?’

      To her relief he shook his head. ‘No, but it’s time to get my affairs straight now I’m back in England.’

      ‘Before the press interest in you becomes even more intense, you mean?’

      She saw him swallow. ‘Speaking of which, we need to work out what we’re prepared to say to reporters about our relationship if they come calling.’ He stood up and came to sit on the sofa opposite her. He was suddenly all business now, his back straight and his expression blank.

      She took a shaky breath. ‘Should we tell them we were married but we got divorced and we’re just friends now?’ The uncertainty in her voice gave away the fact that she knew deep down that that would never work.

      He shook his head. ‘They’ll go and look for the decree absolute and see that we’re lying. It’ll only make things worse.’

      Sighing, she pushed her hair away from her face. ‘So what do we say? That our marriage broke down six years ago after you moved to the States, but we’re only just getting round to finalising a divorce?’

      ‘They’ll want to know why you didn’t go to America with me,’ he pointed out.

      ‘We could just say that I needed to stay here for family reasons,’ she suggested, feeling a rush of uncomfortable heat swamp her as it occurred to her that they might go after her mother too.

      ‘Well, at least that would be pretty close to the truth and it’s better to keep things simple,’ Jack said, seeming not to notice her sudden panic.

      ‘It doesn’t sound great though, does it?’ she said, aware of her heart thumping hard against her chest. ‘In fact it’s probably going to pique their interest even more. They’ll want to know what was so important here to make me stay and that’ll mean dragging up my father’s debts all over again.’

      And if they did that Jack would find out she’d been keeping the true extent of them a secret from him for all these years.

      After he’d left for the States she’d become increasingly overwhelmed by what she’d had to deal with and had eventually become so buried by it all she’d ended up shutting out everything except for dealing with her new responsibilities in order to just get through the day. Which meant, to her shame, that she’d shut Jack out too.

      She’d been so young when it had happened though, only eighteen, and incredibly naïve about the way the world worked and how people’s cruelty and selfishness kicked in when it came to protecting their wealth.

      Not that there was any point in trying to explain all that to him now. Jack liked to feel he was in control of everything all the time and he’d probably only get angry with her for having kept him in the dark.

      And anyway, there was no point getting into it if they were going to get a divorce.

      She sighed heavily and put her head in her hands, massaging her throbbing temples. ‘I don’t know if I could bear having the press camped out on my doorstep, documenting my every move. And I know my mother certainly can’t.’

      ‘That might not happen,’ Jack said softly. ‘They may not even get wind of this. It depends on who overheard us at that party. But if they do find out about us I’ll deal with it. If the question is asked we’ll just say we got married on a whim when we were young and it didn’t work out, but that we’ve always been on friendly terms and have decided to get a divorce now I’m back in England.’

      She nodded her acceptance, feeling a great surge of sadness at how such a happy event could now be causing such problems for them.

      Fatigue, chased on by the heavyweight alcohol, suddenly overwhelmed her and she hid a large yawn behind her hand, thinking wistfully of her bed.

      The problem was, she was a long way from home and would need to take two different buses to get there. The thought of facing her mother’s inquisitive gaze when she walked in made her stomach sink. She’d know immediately that something was wrong; the woman was particularly sensitive to changes in moods now after suffering with depression for years after her first husband’s death.

      Jack must have seen the worry in her face because he frowned and got up and came to sit down next to her.

      ‘You’re exhausted,’ he said, the unexpected concern in his voice making the hairs stand up on her arms.

      She shrugged, trying to make light of it. She didn’t want him to think he had to mollycoddle her; she was perfectly capable of looking after herself. ‘That’s what happens when you work for a man like Jolyon Fitzherbert. He expects perfection from his employees. I’ve been up since five a.m. preparing for that party.’

      Jack continued to look at her, his gaze searching her face.

      Her stomach jumped with nerves as she forced herself to maintain eye contact with him, not wanting him to know just how fragile she was right now. He could probably blow her into dust if he breathed on her hard enough.

      ‘Where do you live?’ he asked.

      She shifted in her seat. ‘Tottenham.’

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