Her Foreign Affair (35 page)

“Brrrr.”

“A mite colder than California, I dare say.”

“Bracing,” her father said.

“Clean and fresh,” she added after drawing in a deep breath. “Like Tahoe in the winter.” The now late afternoon light was failing, but the snow cover lightened the landscape, muffling everything like a thick blanket. For the first time in hours she felt refreshed. Possibly she could deal with Birdie now. She hadn’t been sure on the plane. The behavior Court described sounded nothing at all like the daughter she’d raised. Not to mention the grandmother. If it really were her intention to denigrate the granddaughter, then maybe Birdie’s behavior was justified, although not excusable.

“Come on.” Court rested a hand at the small of her back. “Martin will get the luggage, and here comes Drew to help. You’ll be able to see the house better when the sun comes out and melts all the snow.”

With a whoop, looking very much like he could play the role of Bingley, Drew flew down the wide stone steps. In the next moment, Randi found herself wrapped up in Drew’s arms as he swung her away from Court. “At last! I’m so glad to see you.”

After placing a loud wet kiss on her cheek, he finally set her down.

“It’s only been a few days.” She laughed and playfully swatted his arm.

“It’s been a lifetime!”

“Go get my bags, you goofball.” Thank God for Drew, whom she genuinely liked.

Grinning toothily, he all but bounded off.

Drew was easy. She just had to worry about Birdie’s reception, and her own insecurities. No big deal. Happened every day. Water off a duck’s back. Could do it in her sleep. If she ever managed to get any.

“That one I wouldn’t mind keeping,” her dad said.

“He comes along as part of the package deal,” Court shot back, his gaze on her.

Dad shrugged in all too casual a manner. “So make it happen.”

Stunned, Randi stared at the two men. Both of whom grinned back at her in response to her narrowed eyes. “What?” Something had just occurred, and it felt as if they’d gone behind her back even though she’d been right there. Men and their grunting communications. Might as well get out their clubs and beat rocks for all she understood.

“Works for me,” Drew added his two cents worth before heading into the house, arms loaded with luggage.

“We’ll talk later. Right now, I’m sure you’d love to rest, get a long hot shower, and a chance to dress for dinner.” Court took her hand again, all but dragging her speechless little self into the house—okay, a house to Court, a mansion to her—in front of them. “Birdie!” he called out.

“In the library, Court,” said another man about Court’s age, and pointed to a slightly opened door off the grand foyer. Randi thought this one looked handsome enough, but there was a married feeling about him. Nothing specific told her this, not anything she could put her finger on, but his smile seemed friendly. Although, faced with the grandeur of the house, the man hardly registered on her jet-lagged senses. “Attenborough is trying to weasel out of dinner. He’s whining about the weather.”

“Gather the family, will you?” Court tossed out the order as they swept through the hall.

Without breaking stride, they continued into a room with three walls lined floor to ceiling with wooden bookcases filled with leather-bound books. All books. Not one inch of shelf open for a tiny
objet d’art
. Birdie stood behind a desk, glaring down at a phone. Between a pair of tall windows, a fire burned cheerily, just as Randi had imagined. At least one thing fit her expectations.

“They’re back if you want to hear about the current road conditions, but honestly, you don’t live so far away, do you?” Birdie demanded.

“About twenty minutes in good weather. Could be an hour or more in these conditions.” Randi recognized Larry’s disembodied voice coming from the speaker phone. “What would make it worth my while, chook? Who just came back?”

Birdie took a moment to wave at them. “Court just came back with my—I mean, he just picked up Randi from the airport.”

“He drove all the way to London to pick up Randi? Well now, that might make it worth the struggle through inclement weather. But what about you? Who are you? You’ve never said.”

“I’m Court’s temporary assistant. Until he finds a replacement for Darling Martha.” The way Birdie drew out the other woman’s name did not indicate any sort of compliment.

“You’re American, obviously, so I have to wonder where he picked you up. What’s your name, chook?”

“You’ll have to come to dinner to find out. Now, what’s it going to be?”

Randi clapped a hand to her mouth. Beside her, Court shook with silent laughter. Their daughter easily held her own against one of the bigger gossips around. Obviously, she’d been warned of Larry’s wicked flirting and penchant for dirty laundry.

“Oh, all right, baggage, I’ll toss on my holiday togs, but mind you, just to see the incomparable Randi again. I mean to steal her away from that overgrown oaf who lost her and his daughter for twenty-two years.” Larry’s tone turned suspicious. “If Randi’s there, could it be the daughter is as well? You wouldn’t know her by chance, would you?”

“Sorry, you’ll have to show up to find out all the gritty details, you nosy man. See you for dinner.” Birdie punched the button with a grin and looked up. “Told you I could make a good secretary for you. Or rather, Executive Assistant. Complete with capital letters, and matching salary, mind you.”

Court laughed. “I’m beginning to believe you.” At Randi’s gasp, he glanced down and winked as he reached for her coat. “But get your master’s degree first. You’ll be more useful and might actually earn the title.”

Bemused, Randi let him take her coat. Before she could do more than hug Birdie, who clung to her tightly, a cacophony of voices erupted in the foyer and spilled into the library.

“Courtland, who is this American?” An older woman led the charge, leaning heavily on a cane while glaring at RJ. All manner of blond people followed. In her tiredness, Randi didn’t bother to count. Randi let go to let Birdie embrace her grandfather. A moment later, she turned on the older woman and started fussing.

“Where’s your walker? You’re not ready to solo with a cane just yet.” Despite the peevish words, Birdie was tender and attentive as the older woman took her arm and let Birdie escort her to a chair.

“Mind your manners, missy. I’m not on my last legs. I’m more than strong enough, and you well know it.”

“Strong enough to walk across your room, sure, but not strong enough to tramp from one end of the house to the other. Who was there watching you?”

“Albert was doing a fine job until you started in on me. Oh fine, yes, get me the footstool. No, I don’t want the lap robe. I’m not cold, for heaven’s sake. Now stop worrying over me and introduce your mother.”

Apparently, Court had exaggerated the war between the two. Randi cast a narrow-eyed glare his direction and noted he seemed to avoid her glance.

Hands in the air, Court waved for silence. “All right, all right, everyone come in and settle down. Find a seat. Liza find someone to bring up a few pots of tea while Martin gets the bags upstairs.”

Randi watched the pretty woman, obviously Court’s sister, nod and step out of the library. Still chilled, Randi moved toward the fireplace and stood near the wing chair her father settled into. Across from him, Court’s mother eyed them both. Tall and thin, she had the regal bearing Randi associated with aristocracy and, even sitting, managed to look down her nose at them. She also looked freshly coifed, her white hair combed and curled into a set do. Presumably already dressed for dinner, she wore a cranberry red wool suit tailored with impeccable style, a sprig of holly pinned to her lapel. Several graduated strands of pearls circled her neck and a pair of rings, heavy with diamonds, graced her hands. Randi couldn’t for the life of her remember if she’d packed anything remotely appropriate for a formal dinner. Certainly nothing like this.

Strong and encouraging, Court’s arm circled her shoulders.

His lips moved at her temple. “Tit for tat, love.”

She leaned into him, accepting the affectionate touch. Tit for tat. Whatever that meant. To show she was seeing through his story of constant strife, she pinched his waist and had the pleasure of feeling him flinch before he covered her hand.

Court’s sister, half dressed for the coming festive dinner, her hair neatly curled and pinned, makeup applied, but wearing worn jeans and a soft sweater, came back into the library. “Tea’s on the way for our travelers,” she said cheerfully, oddly reminiscent of Birdie prior to Thanksgiving. Definitely a trait from Court’s side of the family. It had never been one of hers.

“Thank you, Liza,” Court said. “All right then, pay attention. I’m only going to say the names once. If you can’t remember, then ask the individual later. I’m going to start at the top.”

Randi watched Court’s mother sit up, straightening her shoulders.

“First of all, this is Randi Jean Dailey Ferguson. I should have married her before she added Ferguson to her name, but my loss became someone else’s gain. Wyatt Ferguson is a man to whom I owe my eternal gratitude. He took excellent care of the woman I love and the daughter she almost died giving birth to. I can’t say I’m not jealous of his time with them, or his importance in their lives, but I am grateful for the love and care he lavished on them.”

Unexpected tears pricked at the back of Randi’s eyes as she stared up at Court. He kept throwing out those words today—love and marriage. How much had Martha lied about, hoping to clear away the competition? His gaze covered the room, then turned to her. “There’s something I want to ask you, but I need one more piece of the proposal before I can lay it all out for you, so don’t go running off.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

Someone cleared a throat, and Court smiled. “I guess I’d better get on with this, or we won’t have time to clean up for dinner.”

With a little sniff, she nodded. Court was on a roll. Far be it from her to hold him back now. Later, she’d have words about getting her on a plane under false pretenses.

Throwing out his other arm, he reached for Birdie. “This is my daughter. All of you know her, but I want to publically acknowledge her. Courtney Robin Ferguson Robinson. Commonly known as Birdie, and while I’m trying to break the habit, she prefers to be called Courtney.”

Randi flinched in surprise and looked around the front of Court to see Birdie flush and shrug. “Really?”

“It feels more grown up.”

“All right. I’ll try.”

“Thanks.”

Court hugged them both to his sides, and when Birdie’s hand took hold of her hand behind his back, Randi felt a huge weight fall away. There was hope. Maybe Birdie could forgive her.

“Sitting in the chair here,” Court continued, “is another man to whom I owe my gratitude. RJ Dailey, Randi’s father. In his own way, he made sure his daughter was cared for. I think we can find a way to get along from here on out.”

A glance at her dad showed a short nod.

“And now for the Robinson side of the family. Randi, RJ, my mother Helen.” The woman nodded stiffly. Probably figured she should have been introduced first. Some society ritual of one kind or another. “My sister, Liza, and her husband, Albert Pembroke.” The man from the hallway. “Their sons, Bryon and Jamie.” Younger replicas of Drew, still teens and somewhat gangly looking, each raised a hand. Randi smiled and watched them shoot their attention elsewhere as if embarrassed. No matter, she’d get to know them later.

Later. She would have a later with this family. For certain, Court meant to propose marriage to her, and she’d accept a second later, if she actually let him get the words all the way out. How they’d blend their lives together became a mere detail, but if she’d learned one thing since New York, it was how miserable she was without him. Telling herself they’d simply had a fling hadn’t been working. She’d even tried a date with a man she met in the grocery store, but it just hadn’t worked. The poor man would never be Court.

Martin entered the library, pushing a large trolley loaded with a pair of teapots to rival her Big Blue and stacks of teacups. Cookies lined a triple tea server. “I just heard a car pull up. Who are we expecting this early?”

“It’s probably Attenborough, for all his complaining about road conditions.”

Birdie snorted. “The poser. He had to have called from his car.”

Martin’s startled gaze flew to Birdie’s face. Randi watched as the man all but melted under the glow of Birdie’s smile. Oh lord, the butler was in love with her daughter. Did Court know? She looked up and saw him grimace. Okay. So he knew and didn’t necessarily approve. This was a first for Court as the father of a beautiful girl. Men found his daughter attractive. Men who looked at her the way Court looked at Randi. Pretending to cough, she tried to hide her giggle. It didn’t work, judging by the pained look Court gave her.

“There it is. This is the main core of my family, and I’ll publically acknowledge Courtney at dinner. Until then, I’d like to keep things quiet. Larry will press for details, as usual, but don’t give him an inch. The Catchpoles are joining us, as are a few others in a bit. Mother, would you please make your way to the drawing room? Our newest arrivals deserve a little time to freshen up after their travels, and the other guests will arrive”—Court glanced at a clock on the edge of his desk—“in little under two hours.”

“So tell me about yourself,” Randi heard Helen ask crisply.

Randi looked her way, thinking they’d have their chat now but, instead, found Helen’s attention fully directed at RJ. Just as well. Randi wanted a one-on-one conversation after she’d had a chance to rest.

Unperturbed, RJ took the cup of tea the older woman offered him.

“What d’ya want to know, little lady?” he drawled. Randi turned away to hide her smile. Tit for tat. Dad got it. If the older woman tried to patronize him, he’d play the dumb hick to the hilt. Go Dad.

Court wanted nothing more than to pull Randi out of the room and have her to himself. Something had shifted in her attitude. Something had softened. It gave him hope she might not turn him away. He didn’t think he could take one more rejection from her. Too much depended on her acceptance, and he didn’t want to rush her. Well, not much anyway. Impatient with the relatives now surging around her, he stepped back and turned to deal with Larry.