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Authors: Barbara Taylor Bradford
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herself.
On his last visit to New York, in late November, she had been turned off. He had been morose, argument-ative, and possessive. Furthermore, she had detected a bullying attitude in him, and this had alarmed her.
Tonight she was going to tell him that she could not see him again, that their relationship, such as it was, had come to an end. She wasn’t looking forward to it, but she knew it must be done.
“Why bother?” Patsy had said over lunch earlier.
“Have dinner with him tonight. Say nothing. Tomorrow we’re going to the Lake District and Yorkshire.
And then you’re off to Paris. Don’t make yourself sick over this. Avoid a troublesome confrontation.”
“I have to tell him it’s over,” Meredith answered.
“Don’t you see, he’ll be in my life, pestering me, circling me, until I make it clear I don’t want him anywhere near me.”
“What went wrong?” Patsy asked curiously.
“Reed went wrong. He’s just too complex a man for me.”
“I hate to say I told you so,” Patsy murmured.
“It’s all right, you can say it, Patsy. Because you did warn me, and you were right about him all along.”
They had then gone on to talk about other things, but now Meredith could not help wondering if maybe Patsy was right. Might it not be infinitely Her Own Rules / 71
easier simply to have dinner with Reed and say nothing?
Maybe I should do that, she thought as she turned into Brook Street.
“Good afternoon, madam,” the uniformed doorman outside Claridge’s said as she went up the steps.
“Good afternoon,” she responded, smiling pleasantly, and pushed through the door that led into the hotel.
Martin, one of the concierges, greeted her as she crossed the lobby, making for the elevator.
“Meredith!”
She stopped in her tracks, freezing as she recognized the cultivated masculine voice.
Slowly turning, she pasted a smile on her face as she moved toward the man who had called her name.
“Reed! Hello! But you’re a bit early, aren’t you?”
He smiled and leaned into her, put his arm around her waist, drawing her closer. He kissed her cheek.
“I’m here having tea with friends.” He jerked his head in the direction of the salon, which opened off the lobby, and indicated a group of people at one of the tables. Afternoon tea was being served and a string quartet played.
“Darling, it’s lovely to see you,” he went on, staring deeply into her eyes. “I’ve missed you, but then, I told you that on the phone this morning. I was actually just coming out to ring you up in your room, to invite you to come down and join us,
72 / Barbara Taylor Bradford
when I saw you heading for the lift.” He took hold of her arm firmly, and drew her toward the salon.
Meredith resisted and held her ground, shaking her head. “Reed, I can’t. It’s so nice of you to invite me, and thank you, but there are a number of things I must do before dinner.” Peeking at her watch, she added.
“It’s almost five. We’re still meeting at six-thirty, aren’t we?”
“Of course. Unless you want to make it earlier. Look, do join us now,” he pressed, and once more tried to draw her into the salon.
Meredith said softly, “Please, Reed, don’t make a scene here. I just can’t have tea. I’ve some phone calls, and I must change for dinner.”
He let go of her arm abruptly and stepped away from her. “Very well,” he said, sounding suddenly grudging. “Don’t get frightfully dressed up. I’m taking you slumming tonight.”
Giving him a fraudulent smile, she murmured, “I’ll see you in a short while, Reed.” Not giving him a chance to say another word, Meredith spun around on her heel and walked rapidly to the elevator.
Once she was inside her suite, she threw off her cape and unbuttoned the jacket of her cream pantsuit, then went through into the bedroom. Pulling open the wardrobe door, she looked at her clothes hanging there, settled on a black pantsuit for dinner, wishing deep down
On his last visit to New York, in late November, she had been turned off. He had been morose, argument-ative, and possessive. Furthermore, she had detected a bullying attitude in him, and this had alarmed her.
Tonight she was going to tell him that she could not see him again, that their relationship, such as it was, had come to an end. She wasn’t looking forward to it, but she knew it must be done.
“Why bother?” Patsy had said over lunch earlier.
“Have dinner with him tonight. Say nothing. Tomorrow we’re going to the Lake District and Yorkshire.
And then you’re off to Paris. Don’t make yourself sick over this. Avoid a troublesome confrontation.”
“I have to tell him it’s over,” Meredith answered.
“Don’t you see, he’ll be in my life, pestering me, circling me, until I make it clear I don’t want him anywhere near me.”
“What went wrong?” Patsy asked curiously.
“Reed went wrong. He’s just too complex a man for me.”
“I hate to say I told you so,” Patsy murmured.
“It’s all right, you can say it, Patsy. Because you did warn me, and you were right about him all along.”
They had then gone on to talk about other things, but now Meredith could not help wondering if maybe Patsy was right. Might it not be infinitely Her Own Rules / 71
easier simply to have dinner with Reed and say nothing?
Maybe I should do that, she thought as she turned into Brook Street.
“Good afternoon, madam,” the uniformed doorman outside Claridge’s said as she went up the steps.
“Good afternoon,” she responded, smiling pleasantly, and pushed through the door that led into the hotel.
Martin, one of the concierges, greeted her as she crossed the lobby, making for the elevator.
“Meredith!”
She stopped in her tracks, freezing as she recognized the cultivated masculine voice.
Slowly turning, she pasted a smile on her face as she moved toward the man who had called her name.
“Reed! Hello! But you’re a bit early, aren’t you?”
He smiled and leaned into her, put his arm around her waist, drawing her closer. He kissed her cheek.
“I’m here having tea with friends.” He jerked his head in the direction of the salon, which opened off the lobby, and indicated a group of people at one of the tables. Afternoon tea was being served and a string quartet played.
“Darling, it’s lovely to see you,” he went on, staring deeply into her eyes. “I’ve missed you, but then, I told you that on the phone this morning. I was actually just coming out to ring you up in your room, to invite you to come down and join us,
72 / Barbara Taylor Bradford
when I saw you heading for the lift.” He took hold of her arm firmly, and drew her toward the salon.
Meredith resisted and held her ground, shaking her head. “Reed, I can’t. It’s so nice of you to invite me, and thank you, but there are a number of things I must do before dinner.” Peeking at her watch, she added.
“It’s almost five. We’re still meeting at six-thirty, aren’t we?”
“Of course. Unless you want to make it earlier. Look, do join us now,” he pressed, and once more tried to draw her into the salon.
Meredith said softly, “Please, Reed, don’t make a scene here. I just can’t have tea. I’ve some phone calls, and I must change for dinner.”
He let go of her arm abruptly and stepped away from her. “Very well,” he said, sounding suddenly grudging. “Don’t get frightfully dressed up. I’m taking you slumming tonight.”
Giving him a fraudulent smile, she murmured, “I’ll see you in a short while, Reed.” Not giving him a chance to say another word, Meredith spun around on her heel and walked rapidly to the elevator.
Once she was inside her suite, she threw off her cape and unbuttoned the jacket of her cream pantsuit, then went through into the bedroom. Pulling open the wardrobe door, she looked at her clothes hanging there, settled on a black pantsuit for dinner, wishing deep down
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