I stared at him. “So … just to be clear … you’re telling me that David is married?” Anger and embarrassment heated my cheeks and made my heart thud. “Why on earth did no one think to tell me?”

Aidan looked profoundly unhappy. “Clara, I swear I did not know, and I’m sure no one else did either. But secret marriage or not, it sounds like he is desperate to get out of it and has involved you in a set-up.”

“What do you mean, a set-up?” My anger was subsiding, but my embarrassment had increased.

“Well, you see,” continued Aidan, “if a man and his wife wish to divorce, there must be grounds – cruelty, abandonment, and so on. The easiest one to get away with is adultery, but there has to be proof that one of the parties has committed it. Private detectives in places like Brighton do thriving business ‘catching people at it’. Sometimes it’s real – the wife hires the detective to follow the husband and photograph him with his lover. But usually it’s agreed between the wife and the husband that he will lure an unsuspecting woman into bed with him, or even hire a prostitute, so that his real mistress’s name can be kept out of it.”

My heart was still beating very fast. Thud, thud, thud. “So …” I ventured in a small voice, “are you telling me that David not only has a wife, he has a mistress as well?”

“Oh, Clara!” This was uttered as a sigh. “There is more between David and Marjorie than the Atlantic Ocean, you know. They are lovers, and have been for years.”

Thud, thud, thud. Aidan’s tone was not patronizing, but full of sympathy. He took a resigned breath, and went on. “David has done this so that your name, rather than Marjorie’s, will be mentioned in court. You see, a correspondent has to be cited for the grounds of adultery to be proven, and the divorce to be granted. And the photographs do prove that you were there, in a hotel room with David, don’t they?” He considered a moment. “Indeed, the only grain of truth in this whole sorry tale is that you agreed to go away with him for the weekend. And how fortunate for him that you did! The little scene he was planning could not be set in motion without its leading lady, could it?”

Thud, thud, thud. I pressed my fingers to my forehead, as if I could erase my discomfiture by force. No wonder David had been so anxious to secure my agreement! Leaving messages for me at the hotel, rushing to meet me there as soon as I telephoned. And I had thought it was because he was besotted with me! I tried to breathe steadily, but it was no use. I took a few quick steps about the room, my shoes clicking on the polished floor.

“Aidan, for pity’s sake, why did you not tell me the truth about Marjorie when I asked? Of course it would have been heartbreaking, but since my heart is broken anyway, what does that matter? I would not have gone to Brighton, and everything would be all right!”

I thought he would apologize, but all he said was, “For heaven’s sake, sit down. You’re making this look like one of David’s ghastly theatrical scenes; ‘pace about agitatedly, move stage left, say your line, move stage right, adjust the curtains to show nervousness, move stage left, sit down again…’”

“Stop it! Will you just stop it!” I cried, as theatrically as any director might wish. “This may be a big joke to you, but to me it’s the…” I floundered for words. “It’s the end of everything. It’s the end of love.” My voice faltered. My chin dropped onto my chest. “I was sure David loved me, as I loved him. I know he has wronged me, but I cannot forget what happened between us and how he made me feel.” I raised my head and looked at him steadily. “Aidan, haven’t you ever been in love?”