I am disgusted with you, and I do not know if I can forgive you.

I am going back to London and will take at least two weeks’ respite from you before I make my decision. I will write to you then, letting you know how I think our future looks.

Whether that will be together, I do not know. Parting will be painful, but so will marrying a liar and a deceitful person.

H x

She had no more tears to shed. She would write to Harold and try to explain. In the letter she would mention Susan and give a few ultimatums of her own. Whether this would kill their relationship or not, she did not know – if she was wrong about him having an affair, it would; if she was right, then it just might help him see how hypocritical he was being.

Whatever happened, something told her that she must stand up to Harold or lose herself. She was a person in her own right. Her darling mother had taught her that, and she wasn’t about to taint Mother’s memory by not being the woman she had been brought up to be.

Harold had that lesson to learn. And she had to know if his love for her was strong enough to allow her to be the person she was. If not, then painful as it would be, she would go her own way. There had to be life after love, didn’t there?

Chapter Four

The letter arrived two days after the two-week deadline Harold had set. Alongside it was one with a French stamp on it. Mags knew this would be from Flors. She wanted to open it and find out how Flors and Cyrus were faring, but she needed to know Harold’s decision first.

The last two weeks had been a time during which she had found a strong resolve not to allow Harold to crush her; and to seek his assurance that, if they married, he would not behave as his own father had done and keep a mistress.

Taking the letters off the silver salver on the hall table, Mags went up to her room. It overlooked the huge, sprawling garden, with the beautiful view of the rugged, hilly terrain.

Stealing herself for whatever Harold’s letter held, Mags sat down at the bureau in the corner of the room. Slicing the seal with the pearl-handled paper knife that had been a present from her mother, she felt her hands shake and a yearning for everything to turn out as she wanted it to.

My dear Mags,

I have to apologize.

Her heart leapt. Her eyes scanned the words that followed:

I behaved very badly. I should have shown more understanding. It was a terrible thing that happened to you, and I have spoken to someone who pointed out that it would have been far too difficult for you to talk about it; and that my skill in making love to you was such that you surrendered to me without fear, and so I should be proud of that, and should continue to help you to forget the rape.