Shannon's Daughter (52 page)

“Yes.
 
But would you at least talk to Bernie?
 
It couldn’t hurt, could it?”

“No.
 
I admit I’m curious to hear what he has to
say.”

“That’s
a start.
 
I think Dad will be satisfied
with that.”

“I’m
not doing this to satisfy your father.
 
But if it makes things easier for you, I’m willing to listen.
 
Please don’t be upset when that’s all I do.”

“I won’t
be.
 
And thank you.”
 
Melting against him, she wrapped her arms
round his neck.

“For
what exactly?”

“Understanding.
 
Being so patient with me.”

“Is
that all I get, just a ‘thank you?’”

“As
a matter of fact, no.
 
I have presents for you.”

“Presents?
 
Were you expecting me to deserve a reward for
my understanding and patience, or were you just hopeful?”

“Actually,
they have nothing to do with our conversation.
 
I had planned to save that for later, but it just sort of slipped out
about Bernie coming.”

“I see.
 
Just what sort of presents are we talking
about?
 
I think the one I’m holding right
now is more than sufficient.”

Peg
rolled her eyes with a little smirk.
 
“You can have me whenever you want.
 
I bought you some new clothes.”
 
Hopping to her feet, she started toward the stack of bags and boxes near
the door.
 

“Why do
I need new clothes?”

“I went
through the things you brought and you don’t have anything suitable for Palm
Beach.”
 
He watched her carry the
collection to the bed and begin dumping bags and pulling the lids off boxes.

“You
don’t mean you bought me Bermuda shorts or those awful flowery shirts Americans
are notorious for?”

“No
shorts and no flowers, I promise.
 
But
you can’t go around wearing tweed in Florida, even in January.
 
You needed a bathing suit for the pool and
something for the barbeque this weekend.
 
And we’ve been invited to play tennis tomorrow morning,
so.
. .voila!”
 
Spinning around, she displayed a set of tennis whites fit for the pro
circuit.
 

“But I
don’t have a racket with me.”

“You
will.
 
We’ll go to the pro shop early and
you can pick one out.
 
Do you like
them?”
 
Waving a hand over the bed, she
waited for him to approve the assortment of obviously expensive garments.

“Very
nice.
 
Thank you.”
 
He joined her, draping an arm around her shoulders as he stared down at
the clothes.
 
“I suppose I would stand
out a bit dressed as a humble British musician among all your glittering society
friends here.”

Peg
looked up with a frown.
 
“You’re not
offended are you?”

“No,
love.
 
It was very thoughtful of you to see to it I
fit in.
 
The last thing I want is to
embarrass you.”

“You
could never embarrass me, Kendall.
 
I
just wanted you to be comfortable here.”
 
Her face fell and she moved away, suddenly busy folding things and tucking
them back in boxes.
 

“Hey,
come here.”
 
Pulling her back around, he
raised her chin to see tears in her eyes.
 
“What’s this really about, brat?”

“I’m
not sure.
 
It feels strange, knowing
everyone is watching us and wondering about us.”

“There
was a time when you said you wanted to show me off to your friends.”

“And
now I’d rather keep you all to myself, I guess.”

“Sorry,
but I’m afraid the cat’s out of the bag.
 
I’m pretty sure there was a camera on us when you kissed me at midnight
last night.
 
That’s likely to make the
papers, isn’t it?”

“It
already has.
 
They called you my fiancé.”

“Ah.
 
So now we’re getting down to it.
 
First your father pressuring you, Silverman
coming to bribe me with a job offer, and now all of Palm Beach will be
expecting an announcement followed by wedding bells.
 
Poor darling, no wonder you went on a
shopping spree.”

“Am I
really that superficial?”
 
She came into
his arms, resting her head on his chest.

“Not
superficial.
 
I’ve just noticed shopping
seems to be your way of handling sticky situations.
 
Somehow, I foresee a good bit of shopping in
our future, until you realize marrying me makes perfect sense.”

“Don’t
you start,
too.
”

“What,
I can’t jump on the bandwagon when I’m the one who would benefit most?”

“Too
much to ask?”

“No.
 
I did promise not to put any pressure on
you.
 
I suppose as long as mine is the
name in the society columns beside yours, I should be happy.”
 
He tipped her face up and brushed a tentative
kiss across her mouth.
 
“And there’s the
added bonus of being the man in your bed.
 
What say I shave while you clear all this away and then we can spend
what’s left of the afternoon just enjoying one another?”

“Is
that really what you want to do?”
 
She
was already melting against him, her hands sliding beneath the tail of his
shirt.
 

“Right
at the top of my list.”

Chapter
Forty-seven

Two
years sounded like a long time.
 
Plenty of time to make the transition from his current situation in
England to a new one and very different one in New York.
 
Time for his mother to
adjust to the idea, the quartet to find a replacement for him, and decisions to
be made regarding the property in Hertford.
 
Time to convince Peg that marriage would be
worth the risk.
 
As he listened passively
to Bernard Silverman, Kendall’s brain was systematically ticking down the
list.
 
At the end of the discussion, held
in the shade of a large umbrella beside the swimming pool, as both of them
lounged in swimsuits sipping cold beer from sweating glasses, he excused
himself to find Peg and dress for dinner.
 
If Silverman didn’t seem surprised that Kendall hadn’t leapt at his
offer, he at least seemed mildly nonplussed.
 

Peg was
waiting, fresh from a bath and wrapped in a soft cotton robe, when he returned
to her room.
 
“Well, what did he say?”

“Who?”
 
He immediately tugged at the sash, sliding his hands inside the robe and
bending to nuzzle her forehead.
 

“Kendall!
 
What did Bernie say?”

“Oh.
 
Something about his first violin giving him
notice that he’ll be retiring after two more seasons.”
 
Lifting her hair, he found the sweet spot
beneath her ear, eliciting the desired sigh.

“And?”
 
With another sigh, she pushed impatiently at his chest.

“And he
said all the usual things about thinking I’d be a good fit and the orchestra
would welcome new blood and so on and so forth.”
 
The robe was sliding slowly down her arms,
baring shoulders and more, and he glanced at his watch to make sure there was
time enough for what he had in mind.

“And
what did you say?”
 
Seeming to pick up
the spirit of the thing, Peg started in on the three buttons holding his shirt
closed.

“You
know, all those other usual things, how honored I was to even be considered,
how many factors would be involved in such a major decision, how unless you
agreed to marry me he could stuff his old job.”
 
His mouth closed down over hers before she manage more than a muffled
protest.

“You
didn’t!”
 
She pulled away and jerked the
robe across her chest.

Laughing,
he wrapped her in his arms again.
 
“Not
in so many words.
 
And I only alluded to
marriage as a factor.
 
Silverman is
nobody’s fool, darling.
 
He knows you
hold the key to my decision.”

“So
where does that leave things?”

“Two
years before the position is up for grabs.
 
A lot can happen in two years.
 
We’ll
just have to see, won’t we?”

“But
you would like the job, wouldn’t you?”

“Of
course.
 
I’m nobody’s fool either.
 
But I meant what I said.
 
It depends on you.”

“What
ever happened to not pressuring me?”

“I’m
just stating facts.
 
There would be no
reason to leave what I have in London unless marriage to you was part of the
package.
 
If you feel pressured by that,
I’m sorry.”

“What
if I moved to London?”

“What?”

“What
if we lived in London?
 
You wouldn’t have
to make so many changes and I could probably manage to commute often enough to
take care of the fundraising.”

“Peg,
where did this come from?”

“I’ve
been thinking.
 
Asking you to give up
your work for me seems unfair.
 
If you
didn’t object to my traveling some, you could stay in England.
 
It’s just a thought.
 
Something else to consider.”

He
dropped to the foot of the bed, stroking his forehead.
 
“Maybe it was the sun.
 
Or the beer.
 
But my head is spinning.”

“Really?”
 
She joined him, touching his cheek.
 
“You don’t seem overheated.”

He
couldn’t hold back a grin.
 
“You’re what
has
my head spinning, brat.
 
A few days ago, you were looking for any means to quiet the speculation
about a future you didn’t think you wanted, one that included marriage.
 
Now you’re suggesting we have not one, but
two possible solutions to consider, and they both seem to include just
that.
 
I can’t keep up with you.”

With a
little shrug, she rested her head on his shoulder.
 
“I’m sorry.
 
I do seem to be all over the place, don’t I?
 
But here’s the thing.
 
When I’m away from you, I see all the
problems too clearly.
 
Then when we’re
together, it feels so good that I forget what it was I was so worried about.”

Kendall
fell back onto the bed, drawing her down beside him.
 
“Then the answer is obvious.
 
We simply have to be in the same place every
possible minute, and before you know it, you’ll be begging me to marry
you.
 
Just like that, problem
solved.”
 

“I wish
it were that simple.”

“And
why isn’t it?”
 

“You
know very well why.”

“Are we
back
to that blasted ocean again?”

“I’m
afraid so.”

“Hm.
 
Not much we can do about that.
 
But I’ll tell you what.
 
In the coming year, I plan to cross that cursed body of water as
often as possible.”

“And
how are you going to manage that?
 
You
won’t let me pay for your plane tickets.”

“Take a
look in my jacket pocket.
 
Your father
gave me a little belated Christmas gift at lunch today.”
 
The lunch, at a restaurant overlooking the
water, had included several topics he had no intention of mentioning to Peg,
but the gift was one he wanted her to see.
 
When she held up the envelope, he nodded.
 
“Open it.
 
I’m sure you can tell me exactly how much it’s worth.”

The
look on her face said it all.
 
Eyes wide,
lips parted, she stared at him over the single sheet of paper.
 
“Dad gave you this?”

“He
did.
 
I hope I was suitably
grateful.
 
I assume it’s quite a tidy sum.”

She
pressed her lips together for a moment, apparently calculating.
 
“Not sure in pounds, but in
dollars, just over five thousand.
 
And stock in Shannon’s Bank and Trust is on a steady rise.”

He let
out a low whistle.
 
“Your father really
likes me, apparently.
 
And
wants you to marry me.
 
He handed
me that and said ‘this should make it easier for you to court her, my boy’ and
winked.
 
Of course, he also said it was a
token of his appreciation for taking such fine care of you during that ‘rough
patch.’
 
At first, I considered giving it
back, not wanting to appear mercenary, but then I realized he sincerely wanted
me to have it.
 
He wants you to be happy.
 
And he seems convinced I’m the man for the
job.”

When
she rejoined him, curling at his side, she said almost sadly, “You do make me
happy.
 
You always have.
 
It’s making you happy I worry about.”

“How
can you think that would be a problem?
 
Have I ever lodged a complaint?”

“No,
but . . .”

“No.
 
Period.
 
I have no doubt we’re going to make one
another wildly happy all the way into old age.
 
Once you agree to marry me.
 
Until
such time as you do, we’ll go on making one another wildly happy whenever we
have the chance.
 
Like now.”
 
Rolling her on her back, he took great pains
to prove his point.
 
If there was one
thing he felt confident of where Peg was concerned, it was his ability to take
her mind off everything but the pleasure they found in each other’s arms.
 
Other things might be holding her back from a
lifetime commitment, but when it came to passion, Peg never held anything back.

Kendall
would look back over that week in Palm Beach as the fulcrum upon which all of
their years together turned.
 
Up until
that week, they were friends, lovers, partners in secrecy and players in a
private game, managing to keep the world more or less at bay.
 
Beyond that, they were, on both sides of the
Atlantic, a newsworthy couple assumed to be bound for matrimony, moving in the
public spotlight toward their happily ever after.
 

That
week began his initiation into the inner workings of Peg’s world.
 
He met and wooed her friends, learned who was
connected to whom, how much or how little money they had and where it had come
from, where they vacationed and where they’d gone to college, their political
leanings and their marital infidelities.
 
Always at ease in society, he felt welcomed and accepted by all.
 
Even Peg seemed pleased with his performance
and Michael obviously appreciated his efforts.
 

That
week also marked the first time Kendall noticed a disagreeable twinge just
under his ribs.
 
It would become
persistent during the following year, as he flew back and forth at least once a
month to stand by Peg’s side at fundraisers, attend concerts and Broadway
openings, spend weekends in the Adirondacks and sail off Martha’s Vineyard.
 
He blamed the frequent distress on airplane
meals and rich buffet fare, on night after night of lost sleep and the strain
of maintaining any sort of discipline in his career while trying to keep the
girl he loved happy enough to marry him.
 
To everyone else, he pretended his picky eating habits had to do with
his nutrition fetish, that his noticeable weight loss was an effort to stay fit
and keep pace with his “girl.”
 
In the
back of his mind, he suspected he’d taken on more than he could handle.
 
But it was after all, only for a year or two,
and in the end winning the girl would make it all worth a little indigestion.