His Convenient Marriage (6 page)

'Well, well,' Linnet Markham said softly. 'If it isn't the little Francesca. Now, who would have thought it?'

'Lady Markham.' Chessie swallowed. 'Linnet. So you're back.'

'Don't sound so surprised,' Linnet drawled. 'I'm sure the local grapevine has been working overtime.' She strolled forward. 'But I'm astonished to find that you're still around. I'd expected you to have made a fresh start somewhere a long way from here—where you're not known.'

Chessie flushed. 'Fortunately not everyone agrees with you. And I needed to provide stability for my sister.'

'Ah, yes.' Linnet said reflectively. 'The sister. She was the pretty one, if my memory serves.'

'Indeed,' Chessie agreed quietly. 'And with brains, too. In fact, you'd hardly credit that we were related.' She paused. 'Is Sir Robert here with you?'

Linnet's smile developed a slight rigidity. 'No, he's still in London. I came down ahead to oversee arrangements at the house. You simply can't rely on staff,' she added, dis¬missing the faithful Mrs. Cummings with a wave of her hand. 'I've booked into a hotel for a couple of nights. I just popped into the Hart for a drink for old times' sake.'

'I didn't realise it was a place you visited.'

Linnet shrugged. 'Oh, it's always been a good place to see people, and be seen.' She paused. 'But I'd have thought it way above your means,' she added, eyeing Chessie's blouse and skirt. 'Or are you working here as a waitress? You never really trained for much, did you? And you wouldn't have any real references either—working for your father.' Her brow furrowed. 'Nor anywhere decent to live. I presume Silvertrees House had to be sold.'

This, Chessie thought detachedly, was quite definitely the evening from hell. She lifted her chin. 'Yes, of course, but I happen to work for the new owner, and we still live there. I keep house for him, and do his secretarial work.'

'Well, that sounds a cosy little arrangement,' Linnet purred. 'You've certainly fallen on your feet. So, who is this paragon who's taken you on?'

Chessie hesitated. 'I work for Miles Hunter, the thriller writer,' she said reluctantly.

'Hunter?' The violet eyes sharpened. 'But he's a best¬seller, isn't he? You see his books everywhere. He must be worth an absolute fortune.'

'He's very successful,' Chessie agreed, wincing inwardly at the older woman's crudity.

'And charitable to waifs and strays too, it seems.' Linnet's voice was cream spiced with acid. 'How did you manage it?'

Chessie shrugged, trying to control the temper boiling up inside her.

'He needed someone to run things for him,' she returned shortly. 'I was available.'

'I'm sure you were.' Linnet gave a small, tinkling laugh. 'However, I don't advise you to start getting any foolish ideas this time. No girlie crushes. Because not everyone's as understanding as Alastair.'

Chessie felt her whole body jolt with shock as if she'd been physically struck. Her nails curled into the palms of her hands. Over Linnet's shoulder, she saw Miles emerging from the dining room, pausing to lean on his cane as he slotted his wallet back into his jacket.

She said, 'Thanks for the warning, Linnet, but it really isn't necessary.'

She went to Miles, sliding her arm through his with de¬liberate possessiveness, and giving him a radiant smile.

'Darling, may I introduce Lady Markham, who's just come back to live at Wenmore Court? Linnet, this is Miles Hunter.' She paused quite deliberately. 'My fiancé.'

Miles did not move, but the sudden tension in his body hit her like an electric charge.

Later she would hate herself, and she knew it, but now the expressions chasing themselves across Linnet's face made it all worthwhile. Or nearly.

Linnet, however, made a lightning recovery. 'Congratu¬lations.' She held out her hand to Miles, along with a smile that lingered appraisingly, and frankly approved.

My God, Chessie thought bleakly. First the waitress, now Linnet. Am I the only woman in Britain not to have reg¬istered his attraction on some personal Richter scale?

'So, when did all this happen?' Linnet went on.

'Tonight,' Miles returned his face impassive. 'We've been having a celebratory dinner. You're the first to know.'

'How marvellous,' Linnet approved fulsomely. 'I'm sure you'll both be fabulously happy.' She paused. 'When's the big day? I suppose you'll marry locally?'

'We haven't decided yet,' Chessie intervened hastily. 'Miles has a book to finish, and a film deal, so he's in¬credibly busy just now.'

'How very unromantic you make me sound, my darling,' Miles said lightly. 'Actually, I think we should be married as soon as possible, although the honeymoon might have to wait for a while.'

He drew Chessie closer. Allowed his lips to graze her hair. He said softly, `I think it's time we went, don't you? So we can continue our celebration at home.'

Helpless colour warmed her face. She murmured some¬thing unintelligible, and moved forward, her arm still trapped in his.

He turned to Linnet, smiling. 'Goodnight, Lady Markham. It's been a pleasure. I hope we meet again soon.'

'Oh...' Linnet sent him a blinding look under her lashes '...you can count on that.'

They walked to the car in a silence that Chessie dared not break. Miles opened the passenger door for her, and she shot in like a fugitive seeking sanctuary.

He took his place beside her, and sat for a moment, star¬ing straight ahead into the darkness.

Eventually, he said quietly, 'I take it that was a matter of expediency rather than a final answer.' He turned his head and looked at her. 'Well?'

Chessie bent her head, pressing her hands to her burning face. 'God, I'm so sorry,' she mumbled. 'That was a dread¬ful—an appalling thing to do. I—I don't know what you must think.'

`I think you needed to score points.' His voice was dry. 'And I can understand that, even if I don't applaud the means you employed.'

Chessie's voice shook. 'She thought I was a bloody wait¬ress.'

`I doubt that very much,' he said sardonically. 'As you commented, the staff were attentive to a fault. Too much so, perhaps. No one could ever say that about you.'

Oh, hell, thought Chessie dismally. He knew exactly what I was getting at. And I want to die.

After a brief silence, he went on levelly, 'However, thanks to Lady Markham's intervention, we are now to all intents and purposes engaged to each other, and we'll be¬have accordingly.'

'Must we?' She stared at him beseechingly.

'Of course.' His scar looked silver in the moonlight. Carved from stone. 'Any kind of volte-face at this stage would simply make us both look ridiculous, and I won't permit that.'

'Thank you.' Her voice quivered. 'You—you're very kind.'

He said quietly, 'Don't kid yourself, Francesca. At this moment, I feel a number of things, and kindness, believe me, is not one of them. Now I'll take you home.'

They completed the journey in another, to Chessie, un¬nerving silence.

Miles brought the car smoothly to a halt beside the flight of steps that led up to the housekeeper's flat.

Hunched in her seat, Chessie was aware that he'd turned his head, and was studying her.

Oh, what now? she thought, her skin tingling in sudden apprehension. And if he—reached for her, what would she do? How should she react? In the space of a few hours, her entire life had shifted on its axis, and she was floundering.

Instead 'Would you like me to come in with you?' The offer was polite, no more. And he didn't move an inch.

She shook her head, weak with relief ` I think it's better if I deal with this on my own. But—thank you, anyway,' she added stiltedly.

'One day, I'll have to teach you to show your gratitude more positively,' he murmured. 'Goodnight, Francesca. I'm sorry the evening was such a disaster for you. I'll see you in the morning.'

She stood in the moonlight, watching him drive away to the front of the house. He might have proposed marriage, but the protocol between boss and employee was still being maintained, she thought as she went slowly up the steps. Not that she'd have it any other way, of course.

She sighed, and switched her attention resolutely to her most immediate problem.

She had no idea what she was going to say to Jenny, or even how to approach the problem, although she could pos¬sibly begin with a pointed reference to the cost of electric¬ity, she thought as she stepped into the narrow hall to find lights blazing everywhere.

As she took off her jacket the sitting-room door opened, and Jenny appeared wreathed in smiles. 'Chessie—at last. I've got the most wonderful surprise for you.'

`I think I've had all the surprises I can handle for one day,' Chessie told her grimly. 'We need to talk, young lady.'

'Oh, that can wait,' Jenny said in gleeful dismissal, and stood aside so that Chessie could precede her into the sit¬ting room.

For a moment the whole world seemed to stop as she stared in total disbelief at the tall figure rising from the sofa to greet her.

Her heart lurched painfully. Her voice was barely a shaky whisper as she said, 'Alastair...?'

'No one else.' He walked across to her, and put his hands on her shoulders, smiling down into her startled eyes. 'Aren't you going to say "Welcome home"?'

'Yes—yes, of course.' She drew a deep, steadying breath. 'It—it's great to see you again. I just didn't ex¬pect...'

His look was quizzical. 'It can't be that much of a shock. Jenny says she told you we were reopening the Court.'

'Yes,' she said. 'Yes, she did.'

'And anyway...' his voice sank to a whisper '...you knew I'd be back one day—didn't you?'

No, she thought, with an odd detachment. I knew nothing of the sort. You disappeared from my life, and it felt like forever.

She said,` I—I assumed you'd decided to stay in America.'

'Well, it was tempting,' he conceded. 'And I wasn't short of offers. But when this merchant bank in the City came up with a job, it seemed too good to turn down. So, here I am.'

His smile widened. 'And aren't you the tiniest bit pleased to see me?'

'Of course I am.'

It was like Christmas, she thought, and her birthday. And having her most private and secret dream miraculously come true. But, like all dreams, there was still that touch of unreality about the whole thing—almost like a warning.

'Then show me,' he whispered, and bent his head to kiss her. But her body felt rigid in his arms, and her lips were numb, unresponsive as he tried to coax them apart.

'Is that all the welcome I get?' He sounded amused and slightly irritated at the same time as he let her go.

'I think I'm still in shock.' She tried to smile. 'How did you know where to find me—us?'

'I dropped my stuff off at the house,' he said. 'And Joyce Cummings filled me in on everything that's happened. With Jenny supplying the details, of course.'

'I can imagine,' Chessie said ruefully. She looked round. 'Where is she, anyway?'

'A tactful withdrawal, I'd guess, on the pretext of making more coffee.'

There were used cups on the fireside table, she saw, and a half-empty bottle of wine and two glasses. Her brows drew together.

'So I rush to your side,' Alastair went on. 'Only to find you're out, sampling the bright lights with your boss. Except Jenny made it sound like an act of charity. She tells me the guy's hideous with a disposition to match.'

Chessie bit her lip. 'Jenny could do with employing a little charity herself.'

'Oh, come on, love. You can hardly expect her to enjoy the situation. It's a hell of a comedown, after all.'

He paused. 'But never mind all that. This is hardly the reception I was anticipating.'

He sounded almost reproachful, she realised. He'd been expecting her to fall ecstatically into his arms—and why wasn't she doing exactly that? Because she'd imagined this moment—had longed for it so often. Had cried into her pillow as she'd wondered where he'd been, and what he'd been doing, and if he'd ever thought of her. And now he was here and she felt—blank.

She stepped backwards, shrugging off her jacket and tossing it across the arm of the sofa. 'Alastair, be reason¬able. You disappear from our lives for years on end, then walk in, expecting everything to be just the same. Only, it doesn't work like that.' She couldn't believe how cool she sounded. How controlled.

'Are you cross with me because I didn't keep in touch?' His smile reached to her, coaxed her. 'I blame myself to¬tally, believe me. But it's not easy from that distance. And I've never been much of a letter writer.'

There are telephones, Chessie thought. There is email. If I'd been the one to leave, I'd have kept the relationship going somehow.

'No,' she said. 'I appreciate that. And life has a habit of moving on.'

'But I'm back now,' he went on eagerly. 'And I'll make up for everything.' He shook his head remorsefully. 'Poor sweet, what a terrible time you've had. And having to live here, little better than a servant. It must be a nightmare.'

'Don't believe all Jenny's sob stories,' Chessie said qui¬etly. 'The situation has its plus side as well.' She paused. 'I saw your stepmother earlier. She was in The White Hart having a drink.'

There was a small, odd silence, then he said, 'Yes, I gathered she was planning a visit. I'd hoped to get on with the alterations at the Court without interference.'

'Alterations?'

'Nothing too drastic' He shrugged. 'We'll be converting a couple of the downstairs rooms in the West Wing—in¬stalling ramps—that kind of thing.'

Chessie frowned. 'I don't understand...'

'Didn't Linnet tell you—about my father?'

'She simply said he was still in London.'

'That's perfectly true,' Alastair said stonily. 'Out of sight, out of mind, apparently. She might also have men¬tioned he's in a private clinic, having tests after a stroke.'

Chessie gasped. 'Oh, Alastair, no. How dreadful. When did it happen?'

'A few weeks ago while they were still in Spain.' His face was hard. 'He was flown home five days ago. There's some paralysis, so he'll have to use a wheelchair for a while, and his speech has been affected, but the doctors are optimistic. They think he could recover well with therapy and proper care.' He was silent for a moment. `I just hope that's true.'