Theirs would be a purely practical arrangement, they had agreed. There would be no pretence, no sentimental rubbish about love, and at the time it had made sense. More than that, marriage to Torr had seemed to Mallory her only option at the time.

She had thought that she would be able to go through with it. She had even anticipated how difficult the wedding night would be, but had told herself that it would be all right. Arranged marriages were common in some parts of the world, and had been here in the past. If other women could deal with it, so could she.

She made sure that she kept taking the Pill, though. A loveless relationship might be the only option for her, but there was no way she would make a child part of it. Mallory had thought she was prepared.

But when Torr had reached for her that night she had been unable to prevent a flinch at his touch, and she had put her hands over her face.

‘I’m sorry,’ she had whispered. ‘I can’t. I just can’t. I can’t bear anyone but Steve to touch me.’

Mallory didn’t blame Torr for being angry. His cold contempt had lashed at her, and the memory of what he had said still stung, but it was no more than she thought she deserved.

‘You can divorce me,’ she had offered at last, but Torr wouldn’t hear of it.

‘And admit that I’m a failure to the whole of Ellsborough?’ he had snarled. ‘I don’t think so. No. Do what you like when you’re alone, Mallory. If you want to waste your life pining for that lying, cheating, cheap thief Steve Brewer, be my guest, but as far as everyone else is concerned our marriage going to be a success,’ he’d finished, practically spitting out the word.

So, between Torr’s refusal to admit that he could be associated with anything less than total success, and the unspoken reminder of just how much money he had paid out on her behalf, the hollow sham of their marriage had continued. As long as Mallory kept up appearances as the perfect corporate wife, Torr left her alone.