A Scandal Made in London

Not any more.

As the strength suddenly left his body, Theo sank into the sofa, his elbows on his knees, and buried his head in his hands.

He was so damn sick of it. Sick of the torment and the fighting and the bone-crushing loneliness. All his life he’d been alone. He had no siblings and he’d allowed no one to get close. Not even Kate, who’d made him doubt and fear and hope. Who’d pushed her way through his defences and stabbed at where he was weakest and who he might as well admit he adored.

He couldn’t do denial any longer. His impenetrability was shot. As the walls around his heart crumbled, pain and regret sliced through him. She’d offered him everything he’d ever wanted and he’d thrown it back in her face. And why? Because she’d been right—he had been scared. He’d always been scared.

But, really, what was there to be afraid of? Hadn’t he demonstrated time and time again that he had broken the mould? How many times had he been pushed yet stayed in control? He wasn’t his father. He never had been. Never would be. Deep down he knew that. So what if that wasn’t the real issue? What if he did fear rejection and abandonment?

He’d never forget the pain and the guilt, the distress and the trepidation that had gripped every inch of him when he’d shut the door on the flat he’d called home and what little family he’d had. He’d had money and a plan, but that first night he’d spent alone in a cheap nearby hotel had been so cold, so bleak, and the only way he’d been able to move forward was to accept the icy emptiness, adopt it and turn it into armour.

The actions of his mother had cut deep, but it had been fourteen years since she’d looked at him with accusation and disgust. There’d been nothing he could do to save her. He’d given her every opportunity to escape and she’d made her choice and it hadn’t been him. There’d been nothing he could have done to save Mike either. Deep down he knew that because he’d done the research and asked the questions.

So he had to forgive himself and let it all go. Because how long was he going to deny himself the future he’d always dreamed of? How long was he going to be able to carry on knowing Kate was out there on her own because of his own blind stupidity?

God, he loved her. She was brave and forthright and confronted whatever life threw at her with her chin up and challenge in her eyes. He wanted her and he wanted their child. And he’d rejected them both.

When he thought of what he’d said to her, and the way he’d said it, he felt sick to his stomach. The ice, the disdain, the cruelty. He could recall every single word and they sliced at him like knives. What the hell had he done? he wondered, shame slamming into him as he broke into a cold sweat. And what the hell could he do to fix it?

* * *

The last fortnight for Kate had been something of a roller coaster. One minute she was doing fine, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other as she got through the days, the next she was dissolving into tears, heartbroken and wishing for what could never be.

A week ago she’d gone to a doctor’s appointment and when she’d heard the fluttering whoosh of her baby’s heartbeat she’d completely lost it. When she’d visited Milly, who’d grilled her excitedly about the trip to Italy and bombarded her with questions about the non-existent wedding, she’d had to leave before she broke down. Swinging between intense despair and desperate hope that the fact that Theo hadn’t issued an announcement about their separation might mean something, she was mostly a wreck and she’d lost count of how many tubs of ice cream she’d consumed.

But while acceptance that he wasn’t going to change his mind still shredded her heart it was getting easier. Her appetite had returned and she’d stopped waking up in the middle of the night in tears. And look at the way she could now go without thinking about him for a whole five minutes. See how the urge to call him and beg him to give them a chance was gradually diminishing. That was huge progress.

And that wasn’t the only area in which she was moving on. The day before yesterday, she’d grabbed a large plastic bag and filled it with the ill-fitting clothes she’d once bought because they made her feel dainty. Then she’d ordered a full-length mirror, which had arrived this morning. If she was going to carry on walking around in her underwear, which she’d taken to doing since everything else was getting tight, she figured she might as well see what she looked like doing it. So what if she was going to become the size of a whale and probably just as cumbersome? Her body was building a baby. It wasn’t anything to be ashamed of. It was magnificent. And who cared if she didn’t fit in? What was so great about being the same as everyone else anyway?

Besides, she wanted to be able to admire her fabulous new haircut properly. She’d wanted short hair for as long as she could remember but she’d always worried that it would make her look even bigger. And it probably did, but she didn’t care, she loved it anyway. Statuesque was how she was going to think of herself from now on. Fearless. And strong.

Because she was all that and more. She’d been wrong about Theo being responsible for the changes she’d undergone. It had been her. All her. She didn’t need him. She didn’t

need anyone. And when she was ready she’d find another man with whom she could wear heels and walk in synch. In Holland, perhaps. Dutch men were the tallest on the planet. They had an average height of one hundred and eighty-two point five centimetres. She knew. She’d looked it up.

In the meantime she had plenty to occupy herself. She had work to find. She had Milly and the baby to focus on. That was more than enough. She didn’t need Theo. She didn’t need anyone. She was more than capable of doing this on her own. She’d be fine. In fact, she was fine.

The buzzer sounded, making her jump and jolting her out of her thoughts. She put down the knife with which she was chopping onions for soup for supper and wiped her streaming eyes. Padding into the hall, she picked up the handset. ‘Yes?’ she said with a sniff.

‘It’s Theo.’

At the sound of his voice, the voice that had tormented her dreams and which she’d never ever forget, Kate nearly dropped the handset. Her heart skipped a beat and then began to thunder, the surge of love, need and hope colliding with doubt and wariness. Why was he here? What did he want? And what was she going to do?

The part of her that was still crushed by the way he’d rejected her was tempted to tell him to get lost. Yet him on her doorstep was precisely what she’d been dreaming of, and so even though she was so vulnerable where this man was concerned, even though he had the power to destroy her so completely she might never recover if she wasn’t extremely careful, she knew she was no more going to hang up on him than she was going to be a petite size six.

‘Come up.’

* * *

That was one hurdle cleared, thought Theo grimly, his gut churning with rare nerves as the door buzzed and he pushed his way in. Now for the rest.

As he took to the stairs, it occurred to him that for the first time in decades he had no plan. He had no idea what he was going to say. Once he’d realised how much of a fool he’d been, all he’d focused on was getting here. The only thing he did know was that he’d come to fight for the woman he loved and to get her back, whatever it took, whatever the cost, and he wasn’t leaving until he’d achieved it.

His throat dry and his pulse racing, he banged on her door and a second later it swung open and there she was, standing there in a dressing gown, her eyes red and shimmering with unshed tears.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked gruffly, the idea that he could have done that to her, had done that to her stabbing him like a dagger in the chest.

‘I’m fine,’ she replied with a sniff.