Lois was right, she thought. Perhaps she couldn’t and shouldn’t go through with this, whatever the practicalities of the situation, or the additional inducements. If so, now was the time to say so.
But what reason could she possibly give for this abrupt change of mind?
It was too simplistic to say merely that she disliked him. Her father would demand to know what lay behind this dislike, and that was forbidden territory. Nor dared she risk him turning to Joel Castille himself, and demanding an explanation. Because what was to prevent him telling the truth, if asked? If she rejected him, he wasn’t honour bound to keep her secret. And once that was revealed, other unutterable truths might enter the equation.
She looked towards the door, her mind teeming, her face blank.
Joel Castille walked into the room, then paused for a moment, glancing across at Darcy, his faint smile quizzical as if he could guess what she was contemplating. And the silent warning in the blue eyes told her unequivocally, Don’t even think about it.
Then he was moving forward to greet her father, and accept the offer of champagne with a semblance of pleasure at least. Before he turned to her.
He was more casually dressed than she’d ever seen him, his long legs encased in blue denim, topped by a roll-neck black sweater, and a black and white houndstooth checked jacket slung across his shoulders. Both sweater and jacket, she thought, were probably cashmere. The jeans would have some top-designer label.
But she’d hoped he’d be in a formal suit, so she could wrongfoot him, even marginally, by dressing down herself, but as usual he seemed to be one jump ahead of her.
As he reached her, she tensed. But he only took her hand, smiling down at her. ‘New image, darling? I’m impressed.’
As she realised he was not intending to kiss her, she felt her knees almost sagging in relief.
Instead, he led her back across the room to where Gavin Langton was waiting to propose a toast.
‘To happiness,’ he said, raising his glass.
I can drink to that, Darcy thought. In principle, anyway. Perhaps in some distant day, I may even achieve it. But not in the foreseeable future.
Joel was still holding her hand, and she tried surreptitiously to ease her fingers from his clasp, but without success.
‘I gather you’re not planning to dine at the Ritz.’ Gavin tried to make a joke of it, but the note of faint disapproval was apparent.
‘I know quite a good bistro,’ Joel said. ‘I thought we’d have a quiet meal this evening so we can talk and make some plans.’ He smiled at Darcy. ‘Is that all right with you, my love?’
She muttered something in stiff acquiescence, and his smile widened.
‘Then, as I have a cab waiting, shall we go?’ He took the barely touched drink from her and set it aside.
She said a quiet goodnight to her father, flung her black pashmina round her shoulders, and followed.
Joel said, ‘So, why the second thoughts?’
The bistro was busy, but its clientele consisted mainly of couples, so the conversation level was held at a contented, even intimate, hum. The wooden tables were set at sufficient distance from each other to ensure privacy, and were set with candles in pottery holders, and bowls of fresh flowers.
It was a place for lovers, Darcy thought. And, in that case, what, exactly, were they doing here?
She’d been dismayed to find herself seated next to Joel on a cushioned settle, rather than at a manageable distance, across the table. Even during the silent taxi ride, she’d found his proximity disturbing. Now he was altogether too close for comfort, his knee inches away from hers, their arms almost brushing as they examined the short handwritten menus.
She wanted to edge away, but knew that he would notice and, perhaps, draw unwanted conclusions.
She said defensively, ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
He sighed. ‘Darcy, as an engineer you’ll learn about stresses and strains. And get to recognise them, too, so don’t play dumb. You’re considering reneging on our agreement. Why?’
She shrugged a shoulder. ‘How many reasons do you need?’
‘Not many,’ he said. ‘But they’d need to be good. Our marriage ticks a lot of boxes.’
‘Except the one marked “love”.’ Her voice was cool and brittle. ‘Which most people seem to consider the most important.’
‘I thought,’ he said softly, ‘you’d decided to opt for expediency rather than ecstasy.’
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I have. Yet, marrying someone—a comparative stranger—in a spirit of mutual dislike and contempt isn’t a path I ever saw myself taking.’ She drew a breath. ‘And making vows in church that we don’t intend to keep seems horribly wrong, somehow.’
‘You’re telling me you believe in the sanctity of marriage?’ he enquired mockingly. ‘You didn’t appear to have the same regard for the vows Harry Metcalfe was about to make with my cousin.’
She felt her stomach churn in swift revulsion. She wanted to turn to him, and scream the truth. Exorcise this ghost from her past, once and for all. But he’d accepted Harry’s version before. Why should he believe her now?
She said tautly, ‘Perhaps I felt he didn’t take them very seriously either.’
‘Just as long as you know now that he’s strictly out of bounds,’ Joel said curtly. ‘I won’t have Emma’s peace of mind troubled, particularly at a time like this. Understood?’
‘Yes.’ She controlled the shake in her voice. ‘I understand perfectly.’
‘As for this sudden attack of scruples,’ he went on, ‘you don’t have to worry. I won’t keep you tied to me longer than strictly necessary.’
‘Forgive me if I don’t find that particularly reassuring.’ ‘Well,’ he said, ‘we’re here to negotiate. What assurances do you require?’
She drew an uneven breath. ‘I have one, main condition. You have to accept that I will not, under any circumstances, sleep with you.’ She met his gaze directly. ‘Do you agree?’
He shrugged. His voice was level. ‘If that’s what you want. It’s really not that important.’ He paused. ‘However, I also require your assurance that during the term of the marriage, you won’t sleep with anyone else either.’
She went on staring at him. ‘Agreed. But why should that matter to you?’
‘It wouldn’t,’ he said. ‘But I’m investing quite heavily in you, Darcy, and your future.’ His smile was thin-lipped. ‘And I’d really hate to be made a fool of over an investment.’ He allowed that to sink in, then added, ‘In every other way, of course, I shall expect you to behave as if the marriage was a real one, instead of a sham.’
‘You mean I’m to keep my true feelings under
