Marriage Reclaimed: Marriage at a Distance / Marriage Under Suspicion / The Marriage Truce. Sara Craven
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‘You don’t have to bludgeon me with his memory,’ she said raggedly. ‘I’ll behave.’ She drew a breath. ‘I’ll go on ahead, give Mrs Ashby a hand. Have you had dinner?’
‘I had something on the plane. It successfully destroyed my appetite for the foreseeable future.’
‘Oh.’ She hesitated. ‘Well, when you bring the dogs in, will you dry off their paws, please? You’ll find their towels—’
‘In the rear cloakroom,’ he supplied. ‘Where they’ve always been. I’ve been gone for two years, Joanna. It’s hardly a lifetime.’
She bit her lip. ‘I thought it might have slipped your memory, that’s all.’
‘Oh, no, Joanna.’ His voice was quiet, almost reflective. ‘I think I can safely promise you that I haven’t forgotten a thing. Not the smallest detail.’
In the brief silence which followed, her sharply in-drawn breath was clearly audible.
He nodded, as if satisfied, then added, ‘Now, go and break the good news to Mrs Ashby. Like the dogs, she’ll be pleased to see me.’
Joanna turned and, half-stumbling, half-running, made her way back to the house.
Mrs Ashby’s reaction to the news was all Gabriel could have wished. She shed a few tears, smiled through them, made a few disjointed remarks, and bustled off to prepare his room.
Joanna knew she should have offered to help, but as she couldn’t in honesty share the good woman’s raptures she decided to keep her distance.
He’s been back five minutes, she thought, and he’s managed to unnerve me already. By the end of the week I’ll be a basket case.
When Gabriel himself returned, she was sitting in the drawing room, having dragged together the threads of her composure. She’d discarded her jacket and boots but resisted the impulse to tidy her wind-blown hair, or disguise the pallor of her face with cosmetics.
‘Well, this is a cosy, domestic scene.’
Joanna glanced up from the book she’d snatched up at random, and was pretending to read, to find him lounging in the doorway, watching her, his eyes hooded, his face inscrutable.
‘It’s better than you realise,’ she returned, trying to sound casual, in spite of the sudden dryness in her throat. ‘Grace has brought in a tray of fresh coffee. May I pour some for you?’
‘No, don’t get up. I’ll do it.’ He walked over to the side table and busied himself with the cafetière and cream jug. ‘She wanted to serve up a fatted calf, but I persuaded her just coffee would be fine.’
To her annoyance, the cup he handed her was just as she liked it. His memory for detail was indeed disturbingly good, she reflected uneasily.
Gabriel looked down at the book she was holding and whistled appreciatively.
‘Wisden? Is this interest in cricketing statistics a new departure?’
‘Not particularly.’ Joanna flushed with annoyance. Of all the damned things she could have chosen, she thought angrily. She closed the book with a bang, and put it down. ‘Actually, I began watching the game to keep your father company.’
His smile was tight-lipped. ‘Of course,’ he drawled. ‘The perfect daughter.’ He paused, then added softly, ‘In-law.’
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I think.’
He seated himself opposite her on one of the big chintz-covered sofas which flanked the fireplace. The dogs, who’d followed him into the room, lay down on the rug between them.
For the first time Joanna was able to take a real look at him, studying him covertly from under her lashes.
He’d changed, she thought. The lines beside his mouth had deepened, and his features had lost any last trace of boyishness. He looked not just older, but harder.
He glanced up, meeting her gaze meditatively, and she hurried into speech.
‘You were a long time coming down from the hill.’
His brows lifted. ‘Did you miss me?’ he drawled. ‘I’m flattered.’
She bit her lip. ‘That isn’t what I meant.’
His mouth twisted. ‘I didn’t really think it would be.’ He drank some coffee. ‘I went down the other way—to pick up my car. I’d left it in the lay-by at Combe Gate.’
‘Oh,’ Joanna said rather blankly. ‘I see.’
‘No,’ he said gently. ‘I don’t think you do. I wasn’t sure in my own mind whether I was ready to come back to this house yet, or if I preferred to spend the night in Midhampton. I went up onto the hill to spy out the lie of the land, and then you came along and the dogs recognised me. That seemed to make the decision for me.’
She said slowly, ‘If I’d been alone would you have said anything? Let me know you were there?’
‘Ah,’ he said lightly. ‘That we shall never know.’
‘Well—I think your decision was the right one.’ She paused. ‘Your room will be ready by now. I—I expect after all that travelling you’d appreciate an early night.’
‘Not particularly,’ he said. ‘I think, don’t you, that we should talk? Settle a few things?’
‘Yes,’ she said, her heart sinking. ‘Perhaps you’re right.’ She drew a deep breath. ‘Gabriel, you may not want to hear this from me, but I really loved your father, and I—I’m devastated by what’s happened.’
He stared down at the cup and saucer he was holding. ‘Well, at least we agree on something.’
‘I had no idea he had any kind of heart trouble.’
Gabriel shrugged a shoulder. ‘I presume he didn’t want to worry you.’
She stared at him. ‘Then—you knew?’ she asked incredulously.
‘Yes.’ His voice was even. His tawny gaze met hers in direct challenge. ‘I’ve been seeing him quite regularly in London. The last time was a couple of weeks ago, when he came up to consult a specialist who recommended a by-pass operation.’ He paused. ‘But unfortunately fate intervened.’
He gave her a speculative look. ‘Our meetings have clearly come as an unpleasant shock to you. If you’d hoped the breach between us was total, and I’d be cut off with the proverbial shilling, you’re going to be disappointed.’
She stood up, spilling coffee down her skirt. ‘How dare you say that?’ Her voice shook. ‘I never thought—never wanted you to be apart from him. I’ve been blaming myself terribly…’
‘And scalding yourself as penance, it seems,’ Gabriel said grimly.