Relative Ethics

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‘So, you’ve apologised.’ Her voice softened. ‘I was sorry to hear about your brother-in-law. How was—Clare?’

‘Devastated, but the baby’s made a great deal of difference to her life, as you can imagine.’

Bron tried not to laugh. Oh, yes, she could imagine—only too well!

‘What was it?’ she asked, turning the knife.

‘A boy—lovely, healthy little lad. She called him after Tom, but he looks just the way I did as a child. The Henderson genes must be very strong.’

She could imagine that, too. Livvy was the spitting image of her father, from that startlingly direct blue gaze to the unruly tumble of golden hair. She squeezed back the tears that threatened, and rose to her feet.

‘I must get back to work. I’m glad Clare’s OK and the baby was all right. I’ll see you…’

She forced herself to walk away, and when she glanced back from the door she saw him watching her with a strangely unguarded expression in his eyes.

Oh, hell. That was all she needed. For two years she had told herself that he was an opportunist, an unscrupulous bastard—not her favourite word, she thought with a pang—but what if she was wrong?

No, she told herself firmly. Whether his feelings for her had been genuine or not, he was married, and he jolly well should have made that clear and remained faithful, even if only in body.