In the Millionaire's Possession (38 page)

As the taxi took her into the centre of Paris the following day Helen felt strangely relaxed. The calm after the storm this time, she thought.

She had wrung Marc
’
s private address and the whereabouts of his company
’
s head office out of a patently unwilling Alan Graham.

‘
This is Marc
’
s battle,
’
he
’
d kept saying as she had confronted him.
‘
He didn
’
t want you to know
—
to be involved.
’
He gave her a bitter look.
‘
After all, you only cared about this great white elephant of a house. You never displayed the slightest interest in his work
—
or his life, for that matter. Why start now?
’

‘
Because I am involved,
’
she told him.
‘
I
’
m his wife, and I
’
m going to be the mother of his child.
’
She paused, allowing him to digest that.
‘
If he
’
s fighting for our lives, then I should be with him.
’
She paused again.
‘
Especially as you seem to hold me entirely to blame,
’
she added drily.

‘
You came into his life at just the wrong time,
’
he said bluntly.
‘
Marc owed his success very much to instinct. He could almost smell political instability
—
knew when there was trouble brewing. But when he met you he took his eye off the ball. Even when things started to go wrong he thought the company
’
s problems could wait a little while he made sure of you.
’

He shrugged.
‘
But like most successful men he had enemies, and they were soon circling, smelling blood in the water. Given the chance, he could pull things around, and that
’
s what he
’
s been trying to do for the past weeks. But the odds are stacked against him.
’

She said,
‘
And Angeline Vallon? Wasn
’
t she
—
his mistress? I
—
I heard
—
rumours.
’

‘
Angeline Vallon,
’
Alan said carefully,
‘
is a self-obsessed bitch, married to a man who
’
s mega-rich and mega-stupid, who lets her do pretty much as she wants. A couple of years back what she wanted most was Marc, but he wasn
’
t interested, and he made the mistake of letting her see it. So she started stalking him
—
letters
—
gifts
—
phone calls. She rented an apartment near his, boasted that they were lovers, tipped off the gossip columns. Turned up at any social event he was attending.

‘
In the end, he had to take legal action. She was turning his life into a nightmare. And for a while, admittedly, it went quiet. But that was just while she was thinking what to do next. And, of course, she came up with the alternative idea of taking his company away from him. He
’
d turned her down, so he had to be punished in a way that would hurt him most.

‘
She made her husband believe
—
God knows how
—
that she was the injured party
—
that Marc had been pursuing her, frightening her with his sexual demands. And, urged on by Angeline, Hercule got together with some of the board who thought they could make a better job of running the company than Marc. All they needed was a window of opportunity.
’

He shook his head.
‘
And when Marc saw you, he left that window wide open.
’

She said fiercely,
‘
Why didn
’
t he tell me any of this?
’

His mouth twisted ruefully.
‘
Because he thought that you only cared about the money
—
and saving this house. That if he lost the company he
’
d also lose what little he seemed to have of you.
’

His voice deepened harshly.
‘
We
’
ve been friends for years. He always seemed
—
invincible. Until he met you. You made him vulnerable. And you didn
’
t seem to give a damn about him either.
’

He shook his head.
‘
When I saw him after the honeymoon he was like a stranger
—
so withdrawn, so wretched. Naturally he wouldn
’
t talk about it, and I couldn
’
t ask. But he no longer seemed to have the will to watch his back, just when he needed to most. And now it
’
s probably too late.
’

‘
No,
’
Helen said, swiftly and clearly.
‘
I don
’
t accept that. Oh, why didn
’
t he tell me what was happening?
’

Alan was silent for a moment.
‘
Perhaps because he didn
’
t want you to see him lose?
’
He hesitated.
‘
It might be better to wait until he sends for you.
’

‘
But if he loses he may never send for me,
’
she said.
‘
And I
’
m not risking that. Because if he has to start all over again, I intend to be with him.
’

It was late afternoon when she reached the Paris offices of Fabrication Roche, only to find the main entrance locked. She rang the bell and a security guard appeared.

She said in her schoolgirl French,
‘
Where is everyone?
’

‘
They have been sent home,
madame
, following the meeting today.
’

Her heart sank like a stone.
‘
And Monsieur Delaroche?
’

‘
He is still here,
madame
,
’
the man admitted.
‘
In the boardroom. But he has given orders not to be disturbed.
’

She said briskly,
‘
I am his wife
—
Madame Delaroche. Please take me to him at once.
’

He gestured helplessly.
‘
But I have my orders,
madame
, to admit no one.
’

Helen stared at him tragically, allowing her lip to tremble convincingly.
‘
But I have travelled all the way from England,
monsieur
. And I am
enceinte
. These rules cannot apply to me.
’

She could never be sure whether it was her announcement that she was pregnant or the threat of tears that did it, but next minute she was in a high-powered lift, travelling to the top floor.

At the end of the short passage a pair of double doors confronted her. She opened them and slipped inside.

Marc was standing by the huge picture window at the end of the room, silhouetted against the fading afternoon light. His bent head and his arms folded tautly across his body spoke of a weariness and tension almost too great to be borne. And of a loneliness that tore at her heart.

She put down her travel bag.
‘
Marc,
’
she said softly.
‘
Marc, darling.
’

He turned abruptly, his eyes narrowing in disbelief.
‘
Hélène
—
what are you doing here?
’

She walked towards him.
‘
I made myself homeless this morning,
’
she said.
‘
I was hoping you might offer me a bed for the night. Or for quite a lot of nights. The rest of our lives, even.
’

His mouth tightened. He said,
‘
Is this some game?
’

‘
No,
’
she said.
‘
I
’
m deadly serious. You see
—
I
’
ve sold Monteagle.
’

‘
Sold it?
’
His hands gripped her arms. He stared down into her face.
‘
But that is not possible. It is your home, the centre of your life.
’

She said steadily,
‘
Marc, you
’
re the centre of my life. Nothing else matters. So Monteagle now belongs to Trevor Newson
—
every brick, every beam, every blade of grass. All except the portrait of Helen Frayne,
’
she added.
‘
And Alan
’
s taking care of that for us.
’

He let her go, stepping backwards, his face a mask of consternation.
‘
You sold to Trevor Newson
—
to that man? But you loathe him
—
and his plans for Monteagle. You have always said so.
’

‘
Yes,
’
she agreed.
‘
But I don
’
t think his schemes will be as bad as I thought. He
’
s buying the house primarily for his wife, and I suspect she won
’
t let him go too far. Besides,
’
she added, shrugging,
‘
I won
’
t be there to see what happens. I
’
ll be with you, if you want me. And if you don
’
t hate me too much for selling the place you loved so much.
’

‘
I loved it for your sake, Hélène,
’
he said quietly.
‘
Because I adored you,
mon amour
, and I wanted only to make you happy.
’

‘
And now perhaps I can make it up to you in turn, for losing Fabrications Roche.
’
She took an envelope from her jacket pocket.
‘
Marc, darling, this is for you. It
’
s in your name.
’

‘
Comment
?
’
He was frowning as he tore open the envelope, then he stopped, his lips parting in a gasp of sheer astonishment as he saw the amount on the bank draft it contained.
‘
Mon Dieu
! He paid you this much?
’

‘
Without a murmur,
’
she said.
‘
Egged on by the wonderful Shirley. Alan and the bank manager advised me what to ask, and I think I could have got more.
’
She paused.
‘
But it
’
s enough, isn
’
t it?
’
she asked almost diffidently.
‘
Enough for us to start again
—
together? Begin a life
—
a real marriage? Because I love you, and I don
’
t think I can live without you.
’

He stared at her in silence and she tried to laugh, the memory of his last rejection burning in her.
‘
Marc
—
please. Haven
’
t you got anything to say?
’

He said unsteadily,
‘
I think I am afraid to speak in case I awake and find that I have been dreaming.
’

Helen moved to him, sliding her arms round his waist under his jacket, pressing herself close to him. She whispered,
‘
Do I feel like a dream?
’
His body quickened and hardened against hers.
‘
Because you feel incredibly real.
’