Cruel Legacy

‘This is lovely,’ she commented appreciatively as she carefully dried one of the plates.

‘It’s Sèvres,’ Emma told her. ‘I only bought it a month ago and Toby’s already broken one of the plates—deliberately, of course. I never imagined he would ever behave like this, Deborah—he’s so childish, so resentful; but, after all, why shouldn’t I enjoy the money and spend it on what I want? My grandmother left it to me, not to me and Toby. He seems to think that just because we’re a couple… just because he’s the man, he should be the one to make the financial decisions within our relationship and to have th

e financial power. That’s what it’s all about, of course. He was quite happy when he was the one earning more than me, making me feel I should be grateful to him when he insisted on buying me something, paying when we went out—not that that happened very often,’ she added darkly. ‘That’s another thing I’ve discovered about him recently: he can be unbearably mean. Take this dinner service, for instance… he wouldn’t speak to me for three days after I’d bought it and I don’t know what he’s complaining about really; after all, I did give him the money to buy into the partnership, and, all right, so I haven’t had this place put in joint names, but after all that’s only common sense, isn’t it, with the divorce rate as high as it is?

‘He seems to think I’m deliberately trying to humiliate him by letting people know that I’m the one with the money. You wouldn’t believe how unpleasant he’s being… mind you, you could see for yourself the way he is tonight, couldn’t you, embarrassing us all with his childishness? I’ve told him he must either accept things the way they are and live with them or——’ She gave a small shrug.

‘You mean you’d leave him, end your marriage?’ Deborah asked her, shocked.

‘Why shouldn’t I? No woman needs to stay in a relationship that isn’t working for her any more, does she, especially not one with the financial assets that I’ve got? I’ve warned him, if he doesn’t like what’s on offer there are plenty more men who would.’

‘You’re not wearing your engagement ring,’ Deborah commented as she dried the last plate.

‘No…’ Emma gave a small shrug. ‘I was never very keen on it in the first place. My grandmother left me a lovely antique ring which I’m having cleaned and re-sized. I’ll probably wear that instead.’

Deborah frowned, remembering the excitement and triumph with which Emma had flaunted the small diamond Toby had given her the day they got engaged, but she had to agree with her that Toby did seem to be behaving unreasonably and unfairly. He had made it more than plain over dinner how much he resented Emma’s inheritance.

‘Take it from me, Deborah,’ Emma warned her as she dried her hands and smoothed on hand cream, ‘when a man tells you that he sees you as an equal, don’t believe him. What he means is that he’s perfectly prepared to pretend that he does, just so long as he remains more equal than you.’

Some men might be like that, Deborah reflected as she rejoined Toby and Mark, but Mark certainly wasn’t one of them. One of the reasons she had been drawn to him in the first place was his quiet air of calmness, his lack of the kind of keen competitive edge that sometimes drove her; she was wise enough to recognise that, no matter how challenging a relationship with a kindred spirit might be, in the end its sheer intensity and ferocity would burn itself out.

She loved Mark and she admired him for all the qualities he possessed which she did not. She applauded his intelligence and diligence, and the very lack of the ruthless drive to gather and hold power, which the others had teased him for at university, was among the qualities she admired most in him. Mark, with his steadfast, quiet strength, counterbalanced her own impetuosity and impatience. She valued his judgement and, although she would never have admitted it to anyone, least of all him, for fear of ridicule, a small, secret part of her was still semi-inclined to set him apart from the other men she knew, to place him, if not on a pedestal, then certainly far above men such as Ryan Bridges, her immediate boss, whose Machiavellian nature and love of intrigue and power had taken him in ten years with the practice from a newly qualified lackey to a partnership and control over the receivership and liquidation section of the business—via, it had to be admitted, an astute marriage to the daughter of one of the most senior partners who had died only a couple of years after his retirement.

It was a well-known fact within the company that Ryan was not above breaking his marriage vows when it suited him, but his affairs were invariably brief and always ended should the recipient of his attentions begin to interpret them as anything other than the brief satisfaction of his sexual needs and ego.

Even while a part of her unwillingly admired him for his sheer drive and determination, Deborah knew that she could never be happy with a man like that. He might pay lip-service to the ideas of female equality, but lip service was all it was, even if his department did have a far larger proportion of qualified female staff than any of the others. There was a reason for that, and it had nothing to do with the superiority of the girls’ accountancy qualifications.

No one spending any length of time in the department could miss the fact that Ryan had a taste for tall, long-legged young women, nor that he enjoyed overwhelming their intelligence and common sense with his sexuality.

He had tried it on with her when she’d first joined the firm, but she had made it more than plain that she just wasn’t interested. Since then he had treated her with amusement and knowingness. He was a very sexually overpowering man, in every sense of the word. At six feet two, he had the physique and the handsomely battered face of an ex-rugby player, and at thirty-five he possessed such strong sexuality that sometimes Deborah felt as though you could almost smell it on the air after he had left the room.

She was constantly torn between admiration and loathing of him. As an accountant, a fellow professional, she admired him and all that he had achieved; as a woman… She gave a small shiver, redirecting her thoughts to the couple they had just left as Mark unlocked the car.

‘What a dreadful evening,’ she commented as he started the engine. ‘Poor Emma, I felt so sorry for her. I never imagined that Toby could ever behave so badly…’

Mark was frowning.

‘What exactly do you mean, Toby is behaving badly? Quite frankly I thought he showed remarkable restraint. If I’d been him I think I’d have throttled her well before we reached the main course, and smashed every bit of her damned dinner service into the bargain. God, I don’t know how he stands it. It must be like selling your soul to the devil. She’s certainly got the whiphand in that relationship, and you can see that she intends to use it.’

‘What do you mean?’ Deborah asked him, frowning. ‘It is her money; it’s only natural that she should feel she has a right to decide how it’s spent…’

‘Oh, yeah, it’s her money all right; she made sure we all knew that, didn’t she? I’ve never seen a man so humiliated and emasculated. Poor sod, he told me that when they go to bed now he feels like a stud being paid for sex. He says it’s totally changed her, and that——’

‘A stud—Toby?’ Deborah started to laugh.

‘What’s so funny?’ Mark asked her curtly.

‘Well, it’s just that Toby… and you… well, you’re just not the stud type, are you… not like… ?’

She winced as Mark crashed through the gears, realising too late that she had offended him. ‘Mark, I didn’t mean that as a complaint… I like you the way you are,’ she told him gently, reaching out and touching his knee lightly. ‘As far as I’m concerned, over-sexed, pushy men are a complete turn-off. All they can think about is their own satisfaction. They never see past their own egos or even think about what a woman might want.’

‘Whereas poor unsexy sods like me have to make sure we know all about how to make our partners happy if we’re ever going to be lucky enough to get a decent lay… is that what you’re saying?’

Deborah gave him a surprised look. What on earth had got into him? He was reacting as though she had been criticising him personally and not merely passing comment on the evening and the relationship between Emma and Toby.

‘Well, at least having too much money is never likely to be a problem we’ll have to face,’ she told him with a grin. ‘I don’t have any rich old grandmother wanting to leave me her all…’

‘It isn’t the money, it’s the way Emma’s using it as a weapon to bludgeon the life out of Toby that’s the problem,’ Mark told her. ‘And the way she’s enjoying doing it. That’s what really sickens me…’