Making one last, desperate effort, she said, ‘We could live together, if you like. I’d give up my job and the flat and come to live with you, or else you could move in with me.’
Seton’s hand tightened for a moment and there was a glow in his eyes as he said, ‘I appreciate that, I really do, but what’s the point? If we’re going to live together, if we’re so committed to each other that we want to be together all the time, then why not get married? And remember I’m nearly thirty years old. I need to get started.’
‘Started on what?’
‘Married life. A family.’ To his delight she blushed. ‘Oh, Lucie. My darling girl.’ His voice softened.
‘You’ve trusted yourself to me today, Lucie; won’t you trust yourself for the rest of your life?’
For a moment a bright dream of happiness unfolded before her, so strong, almost within her grasp. ‘I want to,’ she said on a sigh. ‘I really want to.’ But her heart was troubled and she knew she had to try to be honest with him. ‘But—some years ago—’
Immediately he put his fingers over her lips, silencing her. ‘That was in the past. Forget it! It’s only the future that matters. Our future. Are you afraid to grasp it?’
She stared at him, dimly knowing that he was wrong, that you could never entirely blot out the past, but he was so forceful, so convincing that he carried her along with him on a tide of optimism and confidence. ‘No,’ she said, on a high of courage. ‘I’m not afraid.’
A great light of happiness came into Seton’s eyes. ‘Then, will you marry me, my darling, my love?’
Lucie nodded, her voice too choked up to speak. And silly tears came into her eyes before she was finally able to say, ‘Yes.’ Then more firmly she said, ‘Yes, I will marry you.’
But in the dawn of the following morning, when Seton had left her bed and Lucie was alone, when she no longer had his strength and will-power to carry her along on a tidal wave of optimism, then all the doubts and fears came crowding back. Because she hadn’t told him the truth about her past—not all of it. She hadn’t told him that she had been to prison. For three long years. And now she was terribly afraid that one day he might find out, that the past might come back to haunt her.
CHAPTER ONE
AS LUCIE sat on the terrace watching her son as he played in the garden, the sun warm on her face, her thoughts drifted back to that summer five years ago when she and Seton had met. Now she could laugh at the fears she’d had then, knowing that marrying Seton was the best thing she’d ever done.
They had been such happy years; she knew herself to have grown in confidence, to have blossomed in the certainty of Seton’s love for her. At first she had been almost afraid to trust this happiness, so many bad things having happened to her in the past that she’d felt it too good to be true, had been petrified that something would happen to take it all away from her. But as time passed, when Seton didn’t suddenly change, when his parents were so warm and welcoming, treating her like a loved daughter, when she met his friends and found they accepted her as one of themselves, and—most of all—when she soon became pregnant and gave birth to Sam Lucie finally put aside her fears and became the happy, contented woman she now was.
During the first year of their marriage, she and Seton had lived in London, in his old flat which was within easy reach of his chambers, but they’d begun house-hunting as soon as she’d become pregnant, spending their weekends driving around the countryside, and had found this house almost by accident.
It was an old dower house that had been empty for some time: Georgian, built of ivy-covered stone and set in almost an acre of ground on the edge of a pretty village. Lucie had fallen in love with it at once, even though it had been neglected and would need a lot of tender, loving care lavished upon it. But she had love in abundance now and together they had transformed the house into a beautiful home set in an even lovelier garden.
Seton still had to go away quite a bit, whenever the courts were in session, but he was at home as often as possible, openly delighting in his marriage, as much in love with Lucie as ever. He was away now, not due home until that evening. Glancing at her watch, Lucie saw that it was only four o’clock, nearly three hours before he would be home, but already she was impatient to see him.
‘I’m thirsty.’
Sam climbed onto her knee and made a grab for Lucie’s glass of wine but was firmly given some orange juice. ‘No, this is yours.’
‘When can I have wine?’
‘I’ve told you—when you’re as tall as Daddy.’ He smiled at her, knowing that she was fobbing him off, not believing that he would ever be as tall as the father who towered above him. His smile was so like Seton’s in the way he looked at her sometimes that Lucie’s heart lurched, overpoweringly full of love for them both. Having drunk his juice, Sam slipped off her lap and went over to the nearby sun-lounger, lay on it and was almost instantly asleep.
Getting up, Lucie moved the parasol until the shadow it cast protected him from the sun’s rays. Raising her hand, she pushed her hair off her cheek. She wore it shorter now, only down to her neck, but it was still straight, just curling inwards to frame her face. Looking down at her son, she felt a great wave of love and protectiveness. She was so glad she’d married Seton. So glad. Her eyes filled with tears of gratitude, and she lifted a finger to wipe them dry.
‘Hey, what’s this?’
Lucie turned at the sound of his familiar voice and found her husband framed by the open French windows. ‘Seton!’ With a joyful cry she ran to him and he caught her in his arms, lifting her off her feet and spinning her round, then bending his head to kiss her, still holding her off the ground.
‘Daddy! Daddy!’
Looking down, Seton saw that Sam had woken and he, too, had come running to greet him, clamouring for attention by pulling at his trouser leg. Laughing, he put Lucie down but kept his arm round her waist as he stooped to lift Sam so that his little face was level with his own. He was rewarded with a kiss on his cheek and the clasp of two chubby arms that went round his neck.
‘You’re home so early! I didn’t expect you for hours.’
‘They agreed to settle out of court, thank goodness. So I was able to get away and surprise you. And I find you in tears! What on earth’s the matter?’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Oh, I was just getting maudlin.’
‘I’d better kiss you into feeling better, then.’
‘You’ve already had enough kisses.’
‘Nonsense. A man can’t have too many kisses. You remember that, Sam.’
‘OK,’ his son said happily, and gave him another, very noisy kiss, which made them laugh.
‘Sit down and I’ll get you a drink,’ Lucie invited. ‘Then you can tell me about the case.’
Seton sat down in her vacated chair, Sam on his lap, and accepted the drink gratefully. But he didn’t talk about the case, beyond repeating that it had been settled to his client’s advantage. He never did talk about his cases in detail; to Seton, being a lawyer was like being a doctor: anything told to him was always in complete confidence.
He dealt in civil law not criminal, and sometimes cases—fraud, for example—could last quite a while, so it was always good when they finished earlier than expected. Sam was looking at him expectantly, although he didn’t ask, and after a few minutes Seton smiled, reached into his pocket and brought out a wrapped parcel which he gave to the boy. Sam opened it excitedly, to reveal a brightly coloured pencil with a rubber figure fixed on the top. He gave a crow of pleasure, gave his father another kiss, then