‘Do you really wish you didn’t have Elyssa?’
Merry flushed and, thinking about that, shook her head in dismissal. ‘I thought I would when I was pregnant but once she was here, everything changed.’
‘Maybe it changed for Angel as well. Maybe he wasn’t lying about that. He does value family ties,’ Sybil remarked.
Merry frowned. ‘How do you know that?’
Sybil reddened, her eyes evasive. ‘Well, you told me he meets up with his father twice a month and never cancels…and naturally I’ve read about his mother, Angelina’s exploits in the newspapers. She’s a real nut-job—rich, stupid, fickle. If he’s still close to her, he has a high tolerance threshold for embarrassment. She’s not far off my age and the men in her bed are getting younger by the year.’
Merry’s eyes widened. ‘I had no idea.’
‘Shallow sexual relationships are all he saw growing up, all he’s ever had as an example to follow. It’s hardly surprising that he is the way he is. I won’t excuse him for the way he treated you but I do see that he doesn’t know any better,’ Sybil completed, recognising Merry’s surprise. ‘But you could teach him different.’
‘I don’t think you can domesticate a wild animal.’
Sybil rolled her eyes. ‘Elyssa has enough charisma to stop a charging rhinoceros.’
* * *
Merry tossed and turned in her bed, despising herself for her nervous tension. Angel had cast a long shadow over her afternoon with Fergus, depriving her of relaxation and appreciation. She had made hateful, unforgivable comparisons. On some secret, thoroughly inexcusable level, she still craved the buzz of excitement that Angel had filled her with and that unsettled and shamed her. After all, once the excitement had gone she had been left pregnant and alone and now her memory trailed back fifteen months…
Discovering that she was pregnant had proved a real shock for Merry because she had not seriously considered that that single accident was likely to result in conception and had hoped for the best. She had barely settled into a new and very challenging job, and falling pregnant had seemed like the worst possible news. She had suffered from severe morning sickness and at one stage had even feared she was on the brink of having a miscarriage. She had waited until she was over three months along before she’d even tried to contact Angel to tell him that she was carrying his child. She had never had his personal mobile number and had never got to speak to him when she’d phoned the office, suspecting that calls from her were on some discreet forbidden list. The prospect of sending a letter or an email that would probably be opened and read by a former colleague had made her cringe. In the end she had used her working knowledge of Angel’s diary and had headed to the hotel where he met his father for lunch twice a month.
That unwise but desperate move had put in motion the most humiliating, wounding encounter of Merry’s life. Angel had had a very tall and beautiful blonde with him when he entered the bar, a blonde with bare breasts on display under a gauzy see-through dress. She had looked like the sort of woman who didn’t ever wear underwear and every man in the place had stared lustfully at her, while she’d clung to Angel’s arm and giggled and touched him with easy confidence. Just looking at her, Merry had felt sick and ugly and plain and boring because pregnancy had not been kind to her. Her body had already been swelling and thickening, her eyes had been shadowed because she couldn’t sleep and the smell of most foods had made her nauseous. She had stayed concealed in the bar behind a book and round a corner while Angel, his companion and eventually his father had sat down to lunch on an outside terrace.
If Angel had not reappeared at the bar alone, she would probably simply have gone back to work without even trying to achieve her goal. But when she’d seen him she had forced herself up out of her seat and forward.
‘I have to speak to you in private,’ she had said. ‘It’s very important. It will only take five minutes.’
He had spun back from the bar to appraise her with cool, guarded eyes. ‘I’m listening.’
‘Could we go out into the foyer?’ she had pressed, very conscious of the number of people around them. ‘It would be more private.’