Out of Nick’s life for good.
She only hoped she’d manage to hold back the tears until she was safely back at the flat. It would be just too humiliating if she were to start crying in front of him.
She didn’t belong here anyway, she decided with a last look around the beautiful bedroom with its four-poster bed. Neither she nor the baby belonged here.
‘Let me take that for you,’ Nick said, and he took the suitcase out of Hebe’s hand when she came back from the bedroom. ‘I—I have the portrait ready for you to take, too,’ he added calmly, indicating it wrapped on the sofa and ready to go.
He hadn’t been sure what to do about Claudia’s portrait. He had thought of offering it to the Johnsons before they left, but it hadn’t seemed quite appropriate somehow. But for Hebe, for the moment, it was the only picture she had of her mother, and it surely belonged with her.
He didn’t need the portrait to be reminded of Hebe, anyway. He knew he would have the image of her inside his head every day for the rest of his life.
Hebe looked startled by the offer. ‘Oh, I couldn’t,’ she refused stiltedly. ‘I—it’s an original Andrew Southern, worth a lot of money. Show it in your gallery or something—’ she added awkwardly.
‘It belongs to you, Hebe,’ Nick cut in firmly. ‘Not in a public gallery.’
She had taken just about all she could take from him today. She was holding on to her emotions by a very thin thread, and now she knew that he didn’t want even Claudia’s portrait in his apartment as a reminder of the mistake he had almost made.
‘Frightened you might get all the men panting over a portrait of the grandmother of your son or daughter, Nick?’ she taunted.
He deserved that, Nick decided heavily. And more.
‘I just want you to have it, Hebe,’ he answered abruptly. ‘It belongs to you and your family.’
But as Nick had said, it was hardly the sort of portrait she could hang over the fireplace in the family sitting room!
‘Fine,’ she accepted tersely. ‘I suppose I can always sell it one day, and put the money into trust for our son or daughter.’
Nick winced slightly. ‘I will provide for our child, Hebe. As I will provide for you.’
Hebe shook her head. ‘Only until I can go back to work again, and earn my own living. No need to pay for the mistake twice,’ she added derisively.
‘Our baby is not a mistake!’ he snapped impatiently, his handsome face livid with anger.
Hebe eyed him ruefully. ‘I was talking about me, Nick, not the baby.’
His dark brows were low over his narrowed blue eyes. ‘You weren’t a mistake either, Hebe,’ he muttered gruffly.
Hebe knew she was something he was going to have to explain to Sally when he returned to New York and the two of them had that ‘talk’. She only hoped the other woman would understand, would accept that he hadn’t compounded his mistake by actually marrying Hebe.
Which reminded her…‘I’ll leave it up to you to see that the wedding arrangements are cancelled.’After all, except for the day and time, she didn’t really know what those arrangements were, anyway.
‘I’ll see to that—yes.’ He nodded tersely. ‘Now, can we get the hell out of here?’ he rasped impatiently. ‘I’ve never liked goodbyes, and this one is—Let’s just go, huh?’ He ran a hand through the long thickness of his hair.
‘You’ll be wanting this back, too.’ Hebe started to take the yellow sapphire and diamond ring off her finger.
‘Will you please stop adding insult to injury?’ Nick snapped forcefully, glaring down at her. ‘The ring is yours. The portrait is yours. And anything else I can get you to accept from me will be yours, too.’
But not his heart.
Not his love.
Which was all she really wanted…
But pride could only take her so far, and she knew that in the months ahead she was going to need Nick’s financial help, at least. She wished she were in a position to turn away that offer of help, but she wasn’t—not without becoming a burden to her parents. It was no good even pretending she was.
‘Fine,’ she accepted tersely. ‘I’m ready to go if you are.’ She nodded.
Nick wasn’t sure he would ever be ready to help Hebe leave his life in this way. But he also knew he didn’t have a choice. Because he had done this to himself.
If only he hadn’t seen that portrait and assumed it was Hebe. If only he had listened to her when she’d told him it wasn’t her. If only he hadn’t acted on the assumption that she had already tried to entrap two wealthy men and failed. He’d believed that he was just the third in line, with the added inducement of pregnancy before the marriage this time. If he hadn’t, maybe he would have been able to ask Hebe to give him a second chance.
But he had done all of those things.
And Hebe walking out of his life was exactly what he deserved!
Hebe could quite easily have broken down and cried on the journey to her flat, staring out through the side window of the car as she blinked back those ready tears, determined she had to hold on until after Nick had left her—because she couldn’t let him see how much this parting from him was hurting her.
She didn’t even know when she was going to see him again.
Or if.
Nick might just decide to handle all the financial details through his lawyers, and eventual access to the baby would be handled in the same way.
Even being forced into marrying Nick would be better than never knowing when or if she would ever see him again!
She turned to him after unlocking the door to her flat. ‘Can I continue to work at the gallery until—until—’
‘Work at the gallery as long as you want to—or not. Whatever you decide to do,’ he came back curtly. ‘I’ll instruct Jane as such when I get back.’
‘I just—’
‘Hebe, can we go inside? This portrait weighs a ton!’ He grimaced, resting the painting against his knee. ‘I’ve probably given myself a hernia carrying it up the stairs as it is!’
She smiled. ‘You—’
‘Excuse me,’ a voice behind them interrupted. ‘I’m looking for Flat—’ The voice broke of abruptly.
Hebe had turned at the first query, her gaze becoming quizzical as the man stopped speaking, his face slowly draining of colour as he just stood and stared at her.
‘Claudia…?’ the man gasped disbelievingly.
There was only one man Hebe could think of who might mistake her for her mother.
But it couldn’t be—!
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘ANDREW SOUTHERN?’ Nick enquired, as neither Hebe nor the man staring at her with a dazed look seemed able to speak.
‘Yes,’ the artist confirmed in a strangulated voice, not taking his gaze from Hebe for a moment.
Nick knew how the other man felt—he didn’t want to stop looking at Hebe either!
But he knew the other man’s fascination with Hebe was for quite another reason than his own…
He recognised Andrew Southern from photographs he had seen, although he was older now, of course, the dark hair heavily peppered with grey, his handsome face weathered and lined, his eyes a deep, piercing grey.
Hebe’s father.