He glanced at his watch and rose, picking up his jacket and tie. ‘Now, I must get back to the office.’ He paused. ‘Do you want me to say anything to Lynne?’
‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘Oh God, no.’
He nodded. ‘Then I’ll leave it to you. But please don’t let it slip your mind,’ he added evenly. ‘And when I come back at two to collect you, Marin, make sure you’re here.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I will be.’ Her smile hurt. ‘After all, what real choice do I have?’
‘None,’ Jake said harshly. ‘But, in case you’ve forgotten, that applies to us both.’
She was aware of him crossing the room. His footsteps in the hall. The outer door closing.
Then and only then, as silence closed in on her and she could be quite sure she was alone, she buried her face in her hands and stayed without moving, crouched in her corner of the sofa, for a very long time.
‘WHY DID YOU cancel your medical appointment?’ Jake asked as they drove out of London that afternoon.
‘It seemed pointless to ask the doctor about food poisoning when I knew the real diagnosis.’ Marin didn’t mention that she had done a second test in case, by some miracle the first result had been wrong. Nor did she tell him that, at that point, she’d cried until she had no tears left as she contemplated the bleak future awaiting her as Jake’s unwanted wife and mother of his only child.
Eventually, she’d regained a measure of composure and had done something about her appearance too. She’d been appalled when she’d looked in the bedroom mirror and saw herself as he must have done—the pale, drawn face, the lank hair and elderly dressing-gown.
I’m amazed he didn’t run out screaming, she thought wanly.
But then her lack of physical attraction no longer mattered. Not when he’d made it clear his sole concern was the tiny life they’d unintentionally created together.
So she showered, washed her hair, then dressed in a pale blue denim skirt, and a sleeveless white top. She made discreet use of concealer and blusher to disguise her pallor.
Now if only they’d invent a cosmetic called ‘happy’, she thought, it would make pretending much easier.
She’d also heated some soup and managed to keep a whole bowlful down, which was quite an achievement, considering the state of nervous tension she was under.
‘Well, it doesn’t really matter. When you get to Chelsea you’ll be seeing my doctor, anyway,’ Jake said, frowning. ‘I’ll call him tomorrow.’
‘Isn’t that a little soon?’ she asked tautly.
‘No.’ He sent her an unsmiling glance. ‘Because you’re moving in with me tonight.’
There was a silence, then Marin said unevenly, ‘Please don’t make me do this. I’m fine where I am with Lynne.’
‘And I prefer you to be under my roof where I can keep an eye on you.’ He added flatly, ‘Anyway, Lynne won’t be staying at the flat much longer. She and Mike have found their own place, and it’s ready to move into.’
‘They didn’t tell me.’ Only a month, she thought, but everything was changing, the ground shifting under her feet.
‘They were probably waiting until you felt better.’
‘Presumably you don’t feel the same need to be considerate.’
‘It’s hardly inconsiderate to want to take care of you,’ Jake retorted. ‘And, as we’re going to be married, living with me beforehand is no big deal.’ He added drily, ‘Lynne and Mike certainly don’t think so, anyway.’
She thought with swift desolation, ‘But they love each other…’
Aloud, she said, ‘When you say—I’ll be living with you…?’
‘Ah,’ he said softly. ‘Can we be back to the vexed question of sleeping arrangements once again?’
‘Yes,’ Marin said baldly. ‘Please understand I want my own room. Before and after the wedding. Not conditional.’
There was a sudden tension in the car, flowing between them like an electric current.
But when Jake spoke he sounded relaxed, even faintly amused. ‘Now, how did I know you were going to say that?’ he asked. ‘Don’t worry, Marin. I’ve already given the appropriate instructions.’ His mouth twisted wryly. ‘Although, as we both know, separate rooms is hardly any guarantee of good behaviour.’
Marin felt the colour rising in her face. ‘On the contrary.’ She kept her voice steady. ‘I have no intention of making the same mistake twice.’
‘Nor have I, darling,’ Jake said softly. ‘Nor have I.’
She decided it would be wise to change the subject. ‘Did—did you speak to your mother?’
‘Yes,’ he said after a pause. ‘We had a fairly frank discussion.’
‘Is she very angry?’
‘She’s certainly disappointed,’ he returned. ‘But she appears to have accepted the situation.’
‘Lucky you,’ Marin said bitterly. ‘I suspect my mother will react rather differently to the news.’
‘Just as well we’re not having the banns called,’he said pleasantly. ‘ She might have forbidden them.’
‘This is not some kind of joke,’ she flared.
‘No,’ he said tersely. ‘It’s not. And I’ve never felt less like laughing in my life. But we have to get through this, Marin, so weeping, wailing and teeth-gnashing will do no good, either.’ He paused. ‘Agreed?’
She looked down at her hands, gripped together in her lap, and nodded silently.
She was never to forget her first glimpse of Harborne Manor.
She’d half-expected something formal and Georgian, on the lines of Queens Barton, not this graceful mass of grey stone topped by tall, eccentric chimneys, its age enhanced by its mullioned windows and wide-arched entrance, which seemed to lift itself from the surrounding grassland as they approached.
She leaned forward. ‘My God.’ Her voice was stunned. ‘It’s beautiful. I never dreamed…’ She swallowed. ‘Is it open to the public?’
‘No, it’s not,’ Jake returned. ‘It is and always will be a private house. Although, we allow visitors in to our Garden Day in June to raise money for the Red Cross.’
‘Garden Day?’ Marin repeated in a hollow tone, and saw his mouth relax into something like genuine amusement.
‘Don’t
