Page 155 of Wife After Wife

Harry. He loved her, she knew that. Surely he’d work through this, give her a second chance. He knew about her messed-up childhood, how she was still learning the rules and boundaries of adult life.

She stood up, took some deep breaths. The study was at the end of the gallery. She opened the bedroom door, walked along until she was standing outside it.

She tapped. “Harry?”

There was no response, so she tried again.

When there was no sound from within, she opened the door.

He was sitting with his back to her, staring at his computer screen, on which was a photo of Caitlyn, Eliza, and Eddie.

“Harry? Please, can we talk? Try and work this out? Let me show you how much I love you. I can’t believe how dumb I’ve been. I’m so—”

“Out.”

“Please, Harry.”

He snapped. Whirling around, he stood up and took three steps toward her, his face twisted in anger. She could tell he’d been crying.

“I should have realized what you were, that first date.I’ll make you feel like a man again, Harry. And all I want in return is fame and fortune.Then, as soon as the ring’s on your finger, you go off and find arealman, one who can satisfy you without taking a pill first. And never mind that the dumb husband has kids who already love you—who cares about them? You’re damaged goods, you said so yourself. Now get out of my sight.”

Tears ran freely down her cheeks as all her walls came tumblingdown. She looked up at him, searching for any sign that he still cared for her, minded what he was doing to her. There was none.

She turned and ran back down the gallery, sobbing.

The baggage tag from her honeymoon was still attached to her suitcase. Blinking back the tears, she opened drawers, pulled clothes off hangers, not bothering to fold anything. What was the point?

Where was she actually going?

With shaking hands, she picked up her phone and found Florence’s contact details.

“Caitlyn! Hello, love. How’s my favorite protégée?”

She couldn’t say anything, couldn’t get her words out.

“Caitlyn? Are you OK?”

“Have you s-seen the p-paper today?”

“Only theSunday Times. Why, what scurrilous lies are they printing about you now? You know it’s all rubbish, you worked in PR, darling. Don’t worry, Harry won’t believe a word.”

“B-but he does, and it’s t-true.”

“What’s true?”

“I s-slept with Tommy Cultrane and it’s all over theNews of the World. H-Harry’s kicking me out and I’ve... I’ve got nowhere to g-go.”

There was a moment of silence, then Florence said, “OK. It’s best we get you out of the situation, let things calm down. You can come here for a few days.”

When Caitlyn hung up, she was calmer. Florence was the closest thing to a mum she’d ever had.

Her phone pinged. A message from Cranwell:Car outside. Say nothing to the press.

She hauled her case downstairs and let herself out the front door. A crowd of baying photographers lay in wait beyond the front hedge. She ducked her head and pushed her way through them.

As the car drew away, she looked back at the beautiful redbrick mansion. There were no faces at the window.

CHAPTER 48