A Suitable Groom

by Liz Fielding

  ‘Julie—’ he warned.

  She flicked the paper and then began to read. ‘“The Carteret wedding celebrations were considerably enlivened this weekend by the surprise announcement that Veronica Grant, once reported to be contemplating marriage with George Glendale, the Seventh Earl of—”’

  ‘That’s enough, Julie. You can stop right there.’ He had no wish to hear any more about George Glendale, his title, or his damned moat.

  ‘“Interesting”, I think you said.’ Julie dropped the newspaper on the pile with the others. ‘You did not exaggerate. And somewhat sudden.’

  ‘Sudden?’

  ‘Considering you knew so little about the lady on Friday morning that you were asking for press cuttings. She must have made quite an impression.’

  ‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘She did.’

  ‘May I offer you my sincerest congratulations?’

  ‘I’ll settle for a cup of coffee,’ he replied, noncommittally. The telephone on the desk beside him began to ring. ‘And you can answer that. I’m not here.’

  She picked up the receiver. ‘Mr Kavanagh’s office.’ She listened. ‘I’m terribly sorry, Miss Grant, but I’m afraid that Mr Kavanagh isn’t in his office at the—’

  Fergus stood up and took the telephone from his grinning PA. ‘Coffee, Julie,’ he said. Then, ‘Please.’ He waited until she had closed the door behind her. ‘Veronica?’

  ‘Hello, Fergus. I thought you were unavailable?’ Her voice teased him, and suddenly things weren’t quite so black.

  ‘I’ve just seen the newspapers.’

  ‘Only just? You didn’t read the FT over your kippers this morning?’

  ‘No, I decided to drive up to town.’

  ‘Ah.’ The word conveyed a world of understanding that the train, Peter and the daily ritual of kippers had not been quite to his taste this morning.

  ‘Julie took great pleasure in marking the stories for my attention, though.’

  ‘Julie?’

  ‘My PA.’

  ‘Yes, well, my Lucy had fun that way too. I was rather hoping she might miss them, but the editor of one of the society gossip magazines telephoned while I was in an early meeting and left a message asking if they can do a feature on the wedding.’

  ‘Oh, my God—’

  ‘She was rather quick off the mark; they usually wait until there’s a formal announcement. Still, now I’ve seen the papers I can understand her hurry. I have to tell you, Fergus, that my stock with the female staff here is at an all-time high.’

  ‘I can imagine. What did you say?’

  ‘To the society editor? Simply that I was delighted they had thought my wedding important enough to be featured in their delightful magazine, but that I would have to talk it over with you.’

  ‘A simple “no” would not have sufficed?’

  ‘Of course not. They would have assumed I was angling for a higher fee.’

  ‘A higher fee? These people pay?’

  ‘Oh, dear, should I have said yes?’ she asked. Her laughter was warm and gentle, and quite suddenly he didn’t care about the newspapers. Unfortunately, they were impossible to ignore.

  ‘I don’t understand how all the papers have the story. One I could understand—I’ve no doubt that there was someone at the wedding who has a contact—but even the financial papers had a paragraph.’

  ‘I know. Whoever filed the story wanted to be sure that everyone heard the news,’ she agreed. ‘Now, who is the one person who leaps to mind?’ When he didn’t immediately answer, she laughed again. And again the world seemed a better place. ‘There’s no need to be tactful, Fergus. My mother has outdone herself. When you feel overcome by the urge to strangle her, just hold on to the thought that, after your sister’s wedding, she will have to call them all again and tell them that it was a mistake.’

  ‘You’re going to own up, then? I thought we were going to let this thing run for a while.’

  ‘I know, but—’ But. He didn’t like the sound of that but ‘—there are implications—’

  ‘People will expect to see us together?’ he offered, cutting off her objections before she could voice them. ‘That had occurred to me, too.’ He’d thought of nothing else all weekend.

  ‘You don’t mind?’ She sounded surprised. ‘I mean, it’s one thing kidding interfering relations, but you have a reputation to consider. I have a reputation to consider …’

  ‘You’d rather tell your mother that it was a hoax?’

  ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘And then expect her to call the diary editors and explain that the announcement of our forthcoming marriage was a mistake.’ Quite suddenly, the newspaper coverage didn’t seem quite the disaster he had first thought it. ‘Isn’t that a little unfair? After all, we made no effort to correct her mistake.’

  ‘With Dora standing right beside her? I thought you wanted her convinced. Well, she’s convinced. The whole world is convinced. You don’t have to worry about a thing now.’

  ‘I’m very glad you think so,’ he said drily.

  ‘It was your contingency plan,’ she pointed out. ‘You were the one who raised your glass …’ It must have occurred to her that she could have objected at that point, and that she hadn’t, because all at once she changed tack. ‘And once the date was set, my mother was too busy ordering up a crate of champagne— which you paid for—and telling all and sundry the good news.’

  ‘And Dora had already rushed off to find a telephone so that she could tell Poppy.’

  ‘Have you spoken to Dora or Poppy since Friday?’

  ‘No. Poppy and Richard went home on Friday afternoon, and Dora and John were up in town for the weekend. Neither of them rang.’

  ‘They didn’t want to disturb you.’ She paused. ‘Us. You do realise they will have assumed—everyone will have assumed—that we spent the weekend together.’

  ‘That had occurred to me, but—’

  ‘Oh, Fergus. I’m sorry. I thought this was all going to be so simple.’

  ‘We’re in this together, Veronica.’ And, for his part, he didn’t consider a general assumption that Veronica had stayed at Marlowe Court for the weekend any great cause for regret. His only regret was that it was fiction rather than fact. But maybe she didn’t feel the same way.

  ‘We’ll have to make a clean breast of this, I suppose. We can’t let it go on.’ She actually sounded quite disappointed at the prospect, he thought, which was hopeful.

  ‘Whatever you say. Shall I call your mother, or will you?’ There was a really promising groan from the other end of the line, and he chose that moment to offer her a temporary reprieve. ‘Of course, it would be helpful if you could leave it until after Dora’s wedding. That’s only two weeks away. Less.’ She didn’t answer. ‘That is, if you’re still prepared to come to Dora’s wedding.’ Julie tapped circumspectly on his door and waited. ‘Will you hold on for just a moment, Veronica? Come in, Julie, for goodness’ sake.’ He waited while she practically tiptoed across his office and put a tray down beside him. ‘Thank you. And Julie?’

  ‘Yes, Fergus?’

  On the point of saying that he would explain everything later, he changed his mind, shook his head. ‘Nothing. I’ll buzz you in a few minutes.’

  ‘Fergus?’ Veronica’s voice was like silk in his ear. ‘Are you there?’

  ‘Someone came into the office,’ he said. ‘So, what about Dora’s wedding?’

  ‘Of course I’ll come. I promised. And Fergus?’

  His grip tightened on the phone. ‘Yes?’

  There was a moment of hesitation. ‘I was just going to say that you’re right. After all, what difference will a week or two make? The damage is done, and if we rush to deny it now, people might begin to think there’s something really odd going on.’

  He had been so sure that the newspapers would have put her off. Ruined everything. Which just went to prove the old saying that there was no such thing as bad publicity. ‘If you’re quite sure?’
<
br />   ‘Quite sure. It’s the least I can do after you went to such lengths to be convincing on my behalf. And you were very convincing.’

  ‘Too convincing?’

  She didn’t comment on that. ‘May called me yesterday to tell me how glad she was that I’d made the right decision.’

  ‘Did she?’

  ‘Actually, that was rather an odd thing to say, don’t you think?’

  ‘May is a decidedly odd lady.’ But he wondered if perhaps they were wrong about Annette calling the papers. May had been the one doing all the pushing. Maybe she’d thought they might need an extra shove …

  ‘You made quite a hit with her,’ Veronica said.

  ‘That would have been the large Scotch and the winner at Ascot.’

  ‘That’ll do it every time with May.’ There was a pause. ‘Well, I’ll see you in two weeks’ time, Fergus. At Dora’s wedding. Perhaps you’d let me know the time and place.’

  ‘An invitation is in the post.’ He’d dealt with it himself.

  ‘Right. Well, I’ll say goodbye, then.’

  ‘Yes. No. No, wait—’ She waited. He’d worked all this out over the weekend, but the newspapers had driven everything out of his head; her voice had driven everything out of his head. ‘I’m going to a business dinner in Melchester on Wednesday,’ he said. ‘Do you think it might look odd if you aren’t with me?’

  ‘It might. But if it’s the Melchester Business Group Dinner, I’ll be there, Fergus.’

  ‘On your own?’

  ‘Not exactly. Jefferson’s have a table. But if you’re going to be on your own why don’t you join us?’

  This, then, was equality? An invitation to a business dinner from a lady. It was certainly different. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I should enjoy that very much.’

  ‘I’ll ring the organiser and ask her to reseat you.’

  ‘No. Don’t do that,’ he said quickly. ‘I’ll see to it. I’ll pick you up at seven.’ Then, because he didn’t want her to think he was presuming too much, ‘That is if you would like me to?’

  ‘It would look odd if we arrived separately.’

  His entire world had become a very odd place indeed since Friday morning, but he didn’t intend to argue. ‘Seven o’clock?’ he suggested.

  ‘Seven o’clock will do just fine.’

  Veronica replaced the receiver very gently in its cradle, a small smile playing about her lips. The invitation had been unexpected, and yet she should have known. Fergus Kavanagh was a man whose attention to detail was famous. A man who strove, as she did, for perfection in everything. Which was perhaps why neither of them had ever come close to marriage.

  Such a man would hardly overlook something as obvious as the need to be seen in public together. Even games had to be played to win.

  ‘My God, Veronica. You look like a cat with a bowl of double cream and the prospect of smoked salmon to follow,’ Nick Jefferson said, coming to a halt in the doorway of her office. ‘But then, I suppose in a manner of speaking you are.’ He grinned as he dropped a file on her desk. ‘Can you spare a moment to look at these proposals? When you can tear your mind away from all those really important decisions about catering and bridesmaids—’

  ‘Hello, Nick. How’s Cassie?’ she asked, cutting off his nonsense.

  ‘Disappointed not to see you on Saturday. She hasn’t seen you for weeks.’

  ‘No. I’ve been rather busy.’ At least she had a genuine excuse for not going to supper on Saturday. ‘Will you apologise for me? Fergus brought me home and—’

  ‘I was kidding,’ he said gently. ‘I’m sure you had a lot more interesting things to do this weekend than play guinea pig for one of Cassie’s recipes.’ Then he frowned. ‘Actually, it’s just as well you didn’t come.’

  ‘She’s all right?’

  ‘Blooming. Full of energy. It’s just that she’s stopped cooking and taken it into her head that the entire house needs cleaning from top to bottom,’ he said.

  ‘You’d better keep an eye on her, Nick, it sounds as if she’s nesting,’ Veronica said a little anxiously. ‘Has she got her suitcase packed for the midnight dash? You need to be ready—’

  ‘Hey, don’t worry. Everything is in hand. I’ve read the handbook for expectant fathers,’ he reassured her. ‘Twice. Although why these things always happen in the middle of the night beats me.’

  ‘I suppose it’s an atavistic, caveman sort of thing. The primitive instinct is to give birth under cover of darkness.’ She paused. ‘Or at least with the eyes very tightly closed.’ She realised Nick was staring at her. ‘What?’

  ‘Is this the new, about-to-be-married Veronica Grant? Earth mother? Wise in the ways of womanhood? I never thought I’d live to see the day that you would abandon the boardroom for domesticity.’

  ‘You won’t.’ She forced the detachment back into her voice. ‘And I’m not. You know me better than that, Nick.’

  ‘I thought I did.’ He propped himself on the edge of her desk. ‘I can’t count the number of times I’ve heard you arguing with Cassie about whether it’s possible for a woman to have both a successful career and a successful marriage. Not that you’ve converted her. Can it be that she’s finally converted you?’

  ‘Cassie works from home, Nick, at her own pace, and she has a lot of help. Even so, she plans to cut back for a while once the baby arrives.’ And Veronica came back down to earth with a bump as she realised just how far down the fantasy trail she had travelled in the last three days—a trail for ever barred to her. ‘It’s always the woman who has to make the sacrifice,’ she said, switching into feminist mode.

  ‘Raising a family is every bit as worthwhile as running a company, Veronica.’

  ‘That’s easy for you to say, Nick. You’re not the one carrying the baby.’

  Nick’s brows rose a fraction at the sudden sharpness of her tone. ‘Does Fergus Kavanagh know how you feel, Veronica?’ She didn’t answer. ‘Big estate, family business. I would have thought he’d want—’

  ‘Sons to carry on the family name?’ she snapped. ‘We are on the edge of the twenty-first century, for heaven’s sake …’ She stopped as she saw Nick’s concern.

  ‘You’d better make sure you have an understanding, then, that the firstborn will inherit. Boy or girl.’

  He’d misunderstood her, she realised with relief. ‘Yes.’ The word caught in Veronica’s suddenly dry throat. She tried swallowing. Then, ‘We already have an understanding.’ To remain unwed, despite all the best attempts of their relations. She’d better remember that, because she wasn’t any wife a man like Fergus would want. ‘Which reminds me,’ she said, glad of an excuse to change the subject, ‘Fergus will be joining us on Wednesday evening.’

  ‘Us? At our table? At the MBG dinner?’

  ‘That’s right. He was going anyway, so I’ve invited him to join us. There’s nothing wrong, is there?’

  ‘Not a thing,’ Nick said. ‘Although I imagine His Worship the Mayor will be a bit peeved that we’ve hijacked his guest of honour.’

  ‘Fergus is the guest speaker?’

  ‘You didn’t know?’

  She was still staring at him when the telephone rang. ‘Veronica Grant,’ she snapped into the receiver.

  ‘Veronica?’

  His voice, so close, so unexpected, made her go suddenly and ridiculously weak. ‘Fergus?’

  ‘Is this a bad moment? I can call back—’

  ‘No.’ Was her voice shaking? Everything else seemed to be. She took a deep breath, carefully avoiding Nick’s eyes. ‘No, of course not,’ she said, with a commendable stab at briskness. ‘What is it, Fergus?’

  ‘I just realised, I don’t have your ring size.’

  ‘Ring size?’ she repeated stupidly.

  ‘You should have an engagement ring, I think. Just to complete the picture. People …’ he paused ‘… and when I say people, of course I mean Dora and Poppy, will expect to see it. At the wedding.’

  ‘Will they?’ Th
en, ‘Yes, I suppose they will.’

  ‘Your mother too, of course.’

  ‘Of course.’ She couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  ‘Do you want to come up to town and choose something yourself, or will you trust my judgement?’

  ‘I can’t get away today. Why don’t you surprise me?’ she invited.

  ‘Well, I thought a plain solitaire diamond, but just say if you’d prefer a coloured stone. A sapphire, perhaps?’

  Veronica was finding it difficult to think straight, especially with Nick grinning from ear to ear. ‘I … er … ’

  ‘Would you like a little while to think about it?’

  ‘No. No, a diamond will be lovely. They … it … will go with everything,’ she stuttered inanely.

  ‘And the size?’ he prompted.

  He was asking her how big a stone she wanted? ‘Good grief, Fergus, I don’t know—’

  ‘I meant the ring size, Veronica.’ He sounded amused, cool, utterly in control. That was her role. She was always the one in control. She’d been in control when she’d picked him up over breakfast; she’d been in control this morning when she’d called him, determined to let him know that the publicity wasn’t a problem for her. And that she would make sure it wasn’t for him. It hadn’t been quite like that, though. And now, with Nick watching her, an eyebrow cocked in amusement at her confusion, she could feel the hot colour surging to her cheeks. She was blushing. Blushing! It was impossible; she didn’t blush … At least, she hadn’t blushed until she’d met Fergus Kavanagh.

  ‘Oh, yes. Sorry. I seem to be …’ Wittering. ‘I don’t know it, Fergus. I’ll call you back later,’ she said, and hung up quickly. ‘Well?’ she demanded, as Nick continued to grin in open amusement. ‘What’s so funny?’

  ‘You, in a dither. I just can’t wait to meet the man who can reduce the ice queen to mush.’

  ‘He hasn’t. He doesn’t … ’

  ‘If you were standing on this side of the desk, you wouldn’t be saying that.’ Then he shook his head, laughing. ‘You’ll be in that maternity ward faster than a rabbit.’

  His words, meant to tease, cut her to the quick. ‘You think that’s funny?’

  ‘A baby within a year. A crate of champagne on your first anniversary if I’m wrong.’