too surprised by his outburst and change of subject to prevaricate.
A dark brow climbed quizzically. ‘No one, not even you colleagues at work, your friends?’
‘No.’ Josie felt the colour rise in her cheeks, and tried to justify her reticence. ‘You were there that night you heard Charles tell your father; it was to be unofficial until...’ She swallowed remembering what had happened to Charles and what day it was. ‘Well, until he was supposed to return—today.’ She lowered her eyes from his knowing gaze.
‘You do surprise me! A woman who can keep a secret about her personal life. I thought you would have bragged to all and sundry you had caught the county’s most eligible bachelor.’
‘Sorry to disappoint you but I didn’t.’ Not for a million pounds was she going to admit it was because she had intended calling the whole thing off. Even discovering she was pregnant had not persuaded her to marry Charles.
‘So only your father, the Major and I know about your engagement to Charles. You’re absolutely sure?’ he demanded.
‘Yes,’ she repeated, glancing briefly back up at him and wondering why it was so important.
‘Great.’ A triumphant gleam shone in his golden eyes. ‘And it’s a safe bet Charles never mentioned it to anyone so that makes everything much easier.’ He slid one hand into his pocket.
Why was he so certain Charles had kept it a secret? Josie wondered, but she was distracted as her eyes involuntarily followed his hand and she gulped as the fabric of his jeans pulled taut across his thigh outlining exactly how masculine he was. Appalled at the direction her thoughts had taken, she scrambled to her feet, and stepped past him, her face burning. Then, turning and tilting her head to look up at him, she managed to ask, ‘Why easier?’
He withdrew a small box from his pocket. ‘Simple, Josie.’ Opening the box, he caught her hand and slipped an exquisite diamond and sapphire ring in an antique setting on the third finger of her left hand.
Josie looked at the ring, and up at Conan, and back at the ring. He had certainly come prepared, she thought, angry at his arrogant assumption that she would accept his proposal. ‘But...’
‘No buts, Josie. It’s perfect. You and I are engaged. If anyone asks, we met in August at the church fair. You took yesterday afternoon off to have lunch with me, and we got engaged. Then imagine our horror when we returned to the Manor to hear that Charles had died. It’s perfect. We will attend the funeral on Tuesday as a couple, and we have a perfect excuse for a small, quiet wedding—we are in mourning for Charles.’
She had thought he was ruthless but, listening to Conan, she realised he was diabolically devious. It all fitted, and yet she wanted to dent his superior male attitude. ‘What about the clinic I visited?’
‘So what? How long were you there—an hour, two? And did you tell the doctor the name of the father? Somehow I think not.’
He was right again. She had deliberately travelled to Oxford, where no one knew her, and had spent most of the afternoon sitting in a coffee bar deciding what to do.
‘No, I didn’t,’ Josie admitted, and closed her eyes, overcome by sadness for poor Charles. When she opened them again, Conan was slowly assessing every one of her features, from her flushed face to her small hand that wore his ring. He gently caught her hand and, raising it to his lips, kissed her fingertips.
‘Don’t worry, Josie; you won’t regret marrying me, and it’s the best for everyone. Believe me.’
Josie snatched her hand back; the touch of his lips on her skin disturbed her, more than she wanted to admit. ‘Oh, I do... You have everything worked out beautifully,’ she snapped sarcastically. ‘And hey! We can always get divorced once...’ She stopped; she could hardly say when the Major died or when Conan had Beeches Manor—it sounded too callous, even if it was true.
Conan slanted her a sardonic glance. ‘You’re quite right. But let’s get married first, hmm?’
‘Yes.’ For the sake of her unborn child, and her father’s peace of mind, she would do anything. Marrying Conan could not be that bad, she told herself. He said he spent a lot of time in America so she might hardly ever see him.
‘Good. I am glad we understand each other. I have to leave now but I’ll be back to take you to dinner on Monday night. As I said, the funeral is on Tuesday and we’ll go together.’
She never got a chance to answer as her father walked into the room. He looked at Josie, then at Conan.
‘When is the funeral? Have you got it all organised?’
‘Yes, Mr Jamieson—on Tuesday at two. But I need to speak to you on another matter.’ And, suddenly snaking an arm around Josie’s waist, he hauled her into his side. Josie tensed and tried to ease away from his iron grip, but his fingers dug sharply into her side, as a warning.
‘Your daughter has kindly agreed to be my wife, and I want your blessing,’ Conan said smoothly, bending his dark head towards Josie and brushing his lips along her brow, before clasping her hand and lifting it to show her father the ring on her finger.
‘Is this true, Josephine? You are engaged to Conan?’ Her father turned puzzled eyes on her flushed face. ‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing?’
Conan’s fingers dug deeper in her flesh. ‘Yes—yes, Daddy,’ she said, forcing a smile to her lips.
‘I love your daughter, Mr Jamieson, and I want to take care of her.’ Conan’s dark eyes lingered lovingly on her small face. ‘And she has made me the happiest man in the world today.’
Josie stared in dumb amazement at Conan. Talk about over the top! Her father would never believe that. She glanced at her father, and she was stunned to realise he half did...
‘Do you really think you will be happy, married to Conan?’ he queried, his pale eyes, hazed with concern, clinging to hers. ‘You don’t have to rush into marriage, you know.’
‘But I want to, Daddy’ she said firmly, and, making herself look up into Conan’s dark face, she added, ‘I have no doubt at all; I adore Conan.’
‘Well, if you’re sure Josephine,’ he said, his glance lingering on her. ‘And you do look better—you have some colour back in your face.’
The colour was the result of anger at being pressed from leg to shoulder against the hard heat of Conan’s body. But the relief in her father’s eyes prevented her from disillusioning him. ‘I’m sure, Daddy,’ she said through clenched teeth.
‘In that case, Conan, of course you have my blessing. It was good of you to ask me.’
Josie looked at her father’s smiling face and was amazed at his blindness. Conan had not asked, he had told him. Surely he’d heard the sarcasm in Conan’s tone? But apparently not.
‘I am so happy for you both,’ her father continued. ‘The death of Charles is a tragedy, but there is no point in adding tragedy upon tragedy. Josephine is a very lucky girl.’
Lucky was not how she would have put it, Josie thought as she pulled her hand free of Conan’s and he finally let her move from his side, only to find herself enfolded in her father’s arms
