Excerpt of Blackmailing the Society Bride by Penny Jordan

SO WHAT you're saying is that my ex-husband has damaged my
business so badly that it and I are both virtually
bankrupt?"

Lucy stared at her solicitor. A deepening sense of
sickening shock and fear was gripping her, a feeling that
the situation she was involved in was so frightening and
unbearable that it could not possibly be real.

But it was real. She was here, seated in front of Mr
McVicar, while he told her that her ex-husband had so
badly damaged the reputation and financial status of the
event organisation company she had set up with such
enthusiasm and delight prior to their marriage that it was
no longer viable.

Nick had cheated her sexually and financially all through
their brief marriage...but then, hadn't she done some
cheating herself? A guilty conscience wasn't going to help
her now, Lucy warned herself, as she struggled with the
massive weight of the problems she now faced.

"I've got some commissions for events for the rest of this
year," she told the solicitor, crossing her fingers behind
her back and hoping that he wouldn't ask her how many,
since in reality there were so few. "Perhaps, in view of
that, the bank...?"

Her solicitor shook his head. He liked his pretty young
client, and felt very sorry for her, but in his opinion
her nature was too gentle for the unforgiving world of
business.

"I'm sorry, my dear," he told her. "As you've already said
yourself, several potential clients have cancelled their
events and asked for their deposits back already, and I'm
afraid... Well, let's just say we live in a harsh world,
where confidence is something no one can put a price on."

"And because of what Nick has done no one will have any
confidence in Prêt a Party any more — is that what you
mean?" Lucy asked him bitterly. "Even though Nick is no
longer a part of the business, or my life, and I was the
one who started it up in the first place?"

The solicitor's sympathetic look was all the answer she
needed.

"I dare say I shouldn't blame clients for backing out.
After all, I suppose in their eyes if I was stupid enough
to marry Nick then I can't have much credibility," Lucy
said with bitter humour. That was certainly what Marcus
believed. She knew that well enough.

Marcus. If there was one person she would like to somehow
magically remove from her life and her memories for ever,
that person wasn't Nick, but Marcus.

"Is there nothing I can do to save the business?" She
appealed to her solicitor.

"If you could find a new partner — someone of probity and
known financial stature, whom people respect and trust,
and who is willing to inject enough capital to settle all
Prêt a Party's outstanding obligations..."

"But I intend to pay those off myself. I still have money
in my trust fund," Lucy interrupted fiercely.

"Yes, of course. I realise that. But I'm afraid that
clearing Prêt a Party's debts, whilst a very honourable
thing to do, will not revive client confidence in you,
Lucy. Regrettably, the actions of your ex-husband have
damaged the reputation of the business virtually beyond
repair, and the fact that both your partners have left
Prêt a Party —"

"But that's because they both got married and have other
responsibilities now, that's all. Not because of anything
else! Carly's pregnant and has her son to look after, as
well as working alongside Ricardo with the orphanages he
has set up, and Julia has a new baby to look after — plus
she's involved in the Foundation —"

"Of course." Her solicitor soothed her sympathetically. 'I
know all this, Lucy, but unfortunately the eyes of the
outer and greater world — the world from which you hope
to attract new business — do not see it. I really am
sorry, my dear." He paused. "Have you thought of
approaching Marcus? He —"

"No! Never! And I absolutely and totally forbid you to say
anything about any of this to him, Mr McVicar." Lucy spoke
fiercely, standing up so abruptly that she almost knocked
over her chair. Panic and misery gripped her by the throat
as powerfully as though it were Marcus himself closing his
fingers around it. How he would love this. How he would
love telling her that he had warned her all along that
this would happen. How he would look down that
aristocratic nose of his with those ice-cold eyes while he
ticked off a list of all that she had done wrong, all the
ways in which she had failed.

Sometimes, in the eyes of her family and Marcus, Lucy felt
as though she had spent the whole of her life failing. For
a start she had been a girl and not a boy, a daughter and
not a son — a daughter to be married off and not a son to
be an heir. And, even though her parents had gone on to
have a son, Lucy had somehow always felt she had let them
down by being born first, and the wrong sex. Not that her
parents had ever said that she was a disappointment to
them, but Lucy had been born with a sensitive kind of
nature and did not need to be told what people felt. She
had sensed her parents' disappointment — just as in later
years she had recognised Marcus's impatient irritation
with her.

Not that anyone ever needed to guess what Marcus thought
or felt. She had never known anyone more capable of or
uncompromising about saying exactly what he thought and
felt. And he had made it plain from the first moment he
had confronted Lucy across the large desk in his London
office that he did not approve of the fact that her late
great-uncle had left her such a large sum of money.

"I suppose that's why you agreed to be my trustee, is it?"
Lucy had accused him. "Because you don't approve of me
having the money and you want to make life as diffi-cult
for me as possible!"

"That kind of remark merely confirms my concern about your
late great-uncle's mental state when he made his will,"
had been Marcus's caustic response.

"I suppose you were hoping he would leave his money to
you?" Lucy had shot back.

In response, Marcus had given her a look that had made her
face burn, and made her feel as though she wanted to crawl
into a corner.

"Don't be so bloody infantile," he had told her coldly. Of
course she hadn't realised then that Marcus had millions,
if not billions of his own, tucked away in the vaults of
his family's merchant bank, of which he was the CEO.

Mr McVicar watched her sympathetically. He knew perfectly
well of the tension and ill feeling that existed between
his client and the formidably wealthy banker her late
great-uncle had appointed as trustee for the money he had
left her.

That money had nearly all gone now — swallowed up by the
greed and fraudulent actions of Lucy's ex-husband and the
failure of her once-successful small business.

But in his view there was still no one better placed to
help her in her present difficult situation than Marcus,
whose business savvy was both awesome and legendary. Mr
McVicar himself had urged her not to agree to her bank's
request that she secure Prêt a Party's finances by
pledging her inheritance, but she had refused to listen to
him. Morally Lucy was beyond reproach, but unfortunately
she had been too gullible for her own good, and she was
paying the price for that now.

He returned to the problem at hand. "If you could attract
a wealthy business partner who would be prepared to put
money into the business, then —"

"Actually, that's exactly what I've been doing." As soon
as the words had left her mouth Lucy wondered what on
earth she was doing. Was it Mr McVicar's reference to
Marcus that had prompted her into lying to him and
creating a fictional potential backer? Lucy closed her
eyes in helpless acknowledgement of her own vulnerability.
Somehow just hearing Marcus's name was enough to goad her
into a fury of defensiveness.

Mr McVicar looked both relieved and surprised. 'Well, that
is really excellent news, Lucy. It puts a different
complexion on matters entirely," he told her
enthusiastically, looking so pleased that her guilt
increased uncomfortably. "The very best outcome one could
have hoped for, in fact. But obviously it is something we
shall need to discuss. I think we should set up a meeting
with your proposed partner and his or her legal advisers
just as soon as we can. Oh, and of course we must let your
bank know what is in the wind. I am sure that they will be
inclined to be far more flexible once they know that fresh
capital will be injected into Prêt a Party. I also think
it would be a good idea to go public, even perhaps take a
half-page announcement in those papers most frequently
read by your clients stating once again that your ex-
husband now has no access to or involvement with any
aspect of Prêt a Party's business, and that moreover you
now have a new partner. That should do a tremendous amount
to offset the upsetting effect Nick's fraudulent behaviour
has had on the business."

Lucy felt as though she were trapped in ever-deepening mud
of a particularly sticky and clinging consistency. Why on
earth had she let the thought of Marcus's disapproval
propel her into such stupidity? What on earth had she
done? How could she admit now to Mr McVicar that she had
lied — and why?

"Er, I can't tell you who he is at the moment, Mr
McVicar," Lucy began uncomfortably. "It's all very much a
secret. Negotiations are...um...well, you know how it
is..."

"Of course. But I must urge you to remember, Lucy, that
time is very much of the essence here."

Nodding her head, Lucy made her escape as quickly as she
could. How could she have lied like that? It went against
everything she believed in. Now she felt sicken-ingly
guilty and ashamed of herself, and she had to blink away
her self-pitying tears as she stood outside her
solicitor's Mayfair office in the bright autumn sunshine.

What on earth was she going to do? It would take a miracle
to save her now. Automatically, she turned the corner and
hurried into Bond Street, not bothering to glance into the
windows of the expensive shops lining the street. Designer
label clothes were not really her thing. She liked vintage
clothes, salvaged from street markets and family attics.
Their fabrics were so lush, the feel of them against her
skin something she treasured and loved: real silk and
satin cashmere; sturdy wool; cool cotton and linen. Man-
made fibres might be more practical for modern-day city
living, but in many ways she was an old-fashioned girl who
craved a return to a quieter, more gentle way of life.

The truth was that secretly she would have loved nothing
more than to marry and produce a large brood of much-loved
children whom she and her husband would raise in an
equally large and loved country house. She envied her two
best friends their happy marriages and new young families
more than they or anyone else knew — after all, she had
her pride, just like anyone else. It was that pride that
had led her into setting up Prêt a Party in the first
place. The very same pride that had just led her into
telling that stupid, stupid lie, she reminded herself
miserably.

The magazines on a nearby newsstand caught her eye, and
she stopped to study them. To the forefront, as always,
was A-List Life. Lucy started to smile.

Its eccentric owner and editor Dorland Chesterfield had
been such a good friend to her, using Prêt a Party to
organise several of the events he had hosted — events
attended by the world's top celebrities. She might even
have considered turning to him for help to get her out of
the mess Nick had left her in were it not for the fact
that she knew if there was anything guaranteed to
overwhelm his genuine kind-heartedness it was his love of
passing on gossip. The last thing she needed right now was
to have the story of her downfall spread over the pages of
A-List Life.

Of course both her friends — now ex-partners in Prêt a
Party — had extremely wealthy husbands, and both of them
had in turn come to see her and gently offered financial
help, but Lucy could not accept it. For one thing there
was that wretched pride of hers, and for another it was
not just money she needed, but someone to work in the
business with her. Being given money to clear Prêt a
Party's debts was a kind gesture, but she wanted —
needed, in fact — to prove that she was not the silly
fool everyone obviously thought her, and that she could
make a success of her business.

Yes, marrying Nick had been a mistake, and, yes, she had —
as Marcus had unmercifully pointed out to her — rushed
into the marriage, but she'd had her own reasons for doing
that. Reasons she could never, ever allow Marcus to
discover.