“It’s complicated,” Ashley said. “But of course I’ll tell the Byrneses the truth. I have too much respect for them not to tell them. They understand my situation.”
“My sisters could cause trouble,” he said, “although my mom and Frankie are on our side.”
“Why? Oh, yeah, you mean your older sisters.” Ashley groaned.
He laughed. “Yep, the harpies, but actually it’s my mother who suggested to Ray that he find me a nice wife. You see, she and Dad were an arranged marriage.”
“Oh,” Ashley replied. Great! Just great! He had a mother who had had an arranged marriage, and it was a happy marriage. And seven kids to boot. She would probably blame Ashley when she and Ryan divorced a few years down the line. Hell, Carson’s mother blamed her because he was gay. Mothers and sons were a force of nature not to be reckoned with.
“Just oh?” Ryan said, curious.
“I don’t know what else to say,” Ashley admitted. “I thought arranged marriages went out a couple of hundred years ago, except maybe for third-world countries. How come an arranged marriage? I mean, you’re a reasonably good-looking guy, so your parents have to be good-looking. It was the twentieth century. Couldn’t they find each other another way? It seems so odd, but then, hell, this is odd, isn’t it?”
“I liked it better when we were talking about sex,” he teased.
“I don’t remember us talking about sex,” Ashley responded, feeling her cheeks grow warm again. It had been years since she had blushed, and now twice in the last few minutes he had managed to make her blush.
“The bed situation,” he reminded her. “Have you got a king-size bed? I’m a big guy, and can only sleep in a king-size extralong.”
“I’ve got a double bed,” she said. And it’s just big enough for me, she thought.
“Gotta order a king, extralong,” he told her.
“We’ll have to move into Grandfather’s old rooms,” Ashley said, thinking. “I’m like Goldilocks—my rooms are just right. For me. I hope you’re not going to be more trouble than you’re worth. Are you, Ryan?” Her eyes were twinkling.
He picked up the last strawberry from his meringue shell, popping it into his mouth. His tongue licked a drop of chocolate from the side of his lips. “Then we’re doing this?” he asked her.
Seeing the tip of his tongue lapping at the chocolate had momentarily rendered her dizzy, but she still managed to speak. “I guess. You check out. You’re not an ax murderer. You seem a reasonable man. Yeah, I guess we are doing it.”
“It?” Ryan couldn’t help leering at her. Bringing a blush to her pale cheeks was proving to be a lot of fun. He suspected from her consternation that it had been a long time since anyone had made her blush.
“Damn it, you’re doing that deliberately!” she swore at him.
He burst out laughing. “Guilty as charged,” he admitted. “I see you have a little bit of a temper too. I like my gals with spice,” he drawled in his best Texas accent.
“And you seem to be a tease, Mr. Mulcahy,” she shot back. “Okay. Yes. We will get married to preserve our fortunes and our livelihoods. It would seem that neither of us has any other choice, except to transfer our funds to numbered accounts in the Caymans, take on new identities, and run. And I’ve never run from anything in all my life!”
“Neither have I,” he said, serious now. “How do we explain our marriage to everyone? It’s going to seem really strange if we just do it without warning.”
“I suppose we could date for a little while,” Ashley suggested. “I could get to know your family. I have no real family left, but you could get to know my friends. But I don’t want to have to plan another extravaganza, Ryan. When we set the date I want it to be simple. No fuss. No muss. Your mom. My friend Nina. That’s it. I realize your family will probably want a big show, but I have ended up the Bad-luck Bride three times now. I’m pretty certain that the florist here in the village has put one kid through college on my three canceled weddings.”
“But it has to be in church,” he said. “Ma will insist on that.”
“No problem. You’re an R.C., I presume?”
“Baptized, confirmed, but I’m not much on church,” he admitted.
“I’m an Anglican,” she told him. “But I want your mother happy in this, because I can see she means a lot to you. St. Anne’s is the Roman church. St. Luke’s is the Anglican. We’ll get married at St. Anne’s. They’ve got a new priest, Father Donovan. He’s a pretty cool guy. And my priest, Father Edwards, will co-officiate. That okay with you, Ryan?”
“You want to set the date now?” he asked her. “No one except the lawyers has to know we’re going to be pretending to date.”
“How about the last Saturday in August?” Ashley asked.
“That’s good. I don’t travel in August,” he agreed.
“How are we going to say we met?” she asked him.
“No lie there,” he said. “Our lawyers are cousins, and they introduced us.”
She nodded. “Yes, it’s the truth, isn’t it?”
The door to the conference room opened, and the partners in the company of Ray Pietro d’Angelo came back in.
“Lunch was okay?” Joe asked.
“It was lovely,” Ashley said. “Whoever chose the menu did a good job.”
“Have you decided what you want to do?” Ray inquired of them.
Ashley looked at Ryan questioningly.
“You explain it,” Ryan said.
“Ryan and I thought it might be better if a relationship between us seemed normal. We’re going to have a whirlwind courtship,” she said with a smile. “We will tell everyone that we were introduced by our lawyers, who are cousins—which is, of course, the truth, isn’t it? And I think sticking to the truth is best. We will date for a few weeks, then surprise everyone by getting married. Ryan has agreed to make his legal residence here in Egret Pointe. We’ll be married at St. Anne’s, because it will please his mother.”
“No,” Ray said. “No church wedding.”
“Why not?” Ryan wanted to know.
“Because this marriage isn’t going to be a long-term thing. It’s just to save your asses,” Ray said. “One day you could find the love of your life, and you’ll want to be married in the church. You can’t if you’ve already been married in the church and then divorced. For this marriage we’ll want a local judge. I want it to be legal in this state, especially because otherwise your sisters are going to raise hell when they see all that money Jerry Klein has promised them going bye-bye. They may even threaten legal action, although they won’t have a leg to stand on. All your dad said was, married by forty. He didn’t specify how or to whom or even how long. Now, how long is this union going to last for you two? I’d suggest a two-year minimum.”
“That sounds fine to me,” Ryan said. He looked to Ashley. “You?”
She nodded. “Yes, that seems right.”
“Okay,” Joe said. “We don’t need you two now. We’ll work out all the details. When we’ve got a working draft of the prenup we’ll have you each look at a copy, make corrections, do a final draft, and you’ll sign it. So when’s the wedding?”
“August twenty-fifth,” Ashley said. “And it will be extremely low-key.”
“What?” Joe teased. “No twelve-piece orchestra? No thousands of dollars’ worth of flowers? No catered feast? The hospital thrift shop is going to be very disappointed.”
“None of the above,” Ashley said. “If we can’t do it in church then we’ll do it up at the hall. You, Rick, Ray, and your wives. Nina. The Byrneses. Joe’s mom and favorite sister. A nice sit-down dinner in the dining room afterward. The flowers will come from the gardens, and if you want to dance afterward we’ll put a CD on. After all, it’s a sudden wedding after a whirlwind courtship, gentlemen.”
“Sounds good to me,” Ray said. He turned to his client. “The limo will take you back into the city, Ryan. It was a good meeting, yes?”
Ryan nodded. “
Thanks for solving the problem,” he said.
“Would you have time to see Kimbrough Hall?” Ashley asked him.
“Why not? It’s Friday, and I don’t have to do the driving. Yes, I would very much like to see Kimbrough Hall. I never knew anyone who lived in a hall.”
“We’ll call it our first date then,” Ashley said with a small smile. She turned to the partners. “Thanks, guys. And Joe, call Tiff. If you wait until you get home there will be no living with her.” She turned to Ryan. “We’ll tell the driver to follow me,” she said. “That way you won’t have to drop me back in town later.” She led him from the boardroom and from the law offices of Johnson and Pietro d’Angelo.
Ryan went over to the limo and gave the driver his instructions. Ashley waved him over to her Solstice. He eyed the hot little car and climbed in on the passenger side. Ashley gunned the vehicle and they were off, heading back the way he had come, except when they came to a turn in the road she swung the car onto a narrow paved road. She moved so fast that he almost missed the stone pillars, and just barely caught a glimpse of two brass-and-bronze markers affixed to them. The trees thinned as they reached the top of the hill where the house sat. The view of the bay was spectacular.
The house was beautiful: brick with white trim, gracious and welcoming, with a portico of elegant white pillars in front. He could see the colorful gardens behind and around the house. Two greyhounds loped up to the car as it pulled to a stop. He felt as if he were in a 1940s movie. He hadn’t thought houses like this existed anymore. All this land, and it was obviously hers. I wouldn’t want to lose it either, he thought.
“Welcome to Kimbrough Hall,” Ashley said as she stepped from the car, giving the dogs a pat. “I hope you’ll like it here, Ryan. I realize it is very different from the city. Is your apartment big?”
“No,” he said, getting out and letting the dogs sniff him. “I have a one-bedroom in a prewar. Three apartments to a floor. I’ve got the C apartment with a view of the backs of other buildings. I don’t need a view, as I’m there only at night and first thing in the morning when I get up. This place…it’s incredible. And you grew up here? Wow!”
Ashley smiled. She was pleased that he liked it. “I couldn’t live anywhere else.”
She led him inside as Byrnes opened the door as if he had been waiting for her.
“Good afternoon, Miss Ashley, sir,” the butler said.
“Afternoon, Byrnes. This is Mr. Mulcahy. Would Mrs. B. bring us some iced tea out to the porch?”
“At once, Miss Ashley,” was the polite reply.
She led Ryan through the house, and he couldn’t stop turning his head as he spotted valuable antique after valuable antique. The house was pristine, and everything belonged. It looked like a perfectly dressed movie set. He was fascinated by it all. The porch on the side of the house was filled with wicker furniture, the chair cushions done in a green-on-white fabric. “Sit,” Ashley invited him.
“How big is this place?” he asked her.
“This floor, kitchens, pantry, living room, dining room, library, the ballroom, although it hasn’t been used in years, and a small office. Second floor is bedrooms, bathrooms, a nursery wing. There’s a wing over the kitchens for Mr. and Mrs. B. Attics above everything else. They used to be servants’ quarters in the glory days of the house, along with storage. Three-car garage, but we use only two bays—one for my car, the other for the Byrneses car. The housemaid who cleans lives in town, as does the gardener.”
“Big house for just one girl,” he noted.
“I know,” Ashley said, “but it’s home, Ryan, and maybe one day I’ll find the right man to share it with, and have lots of kids.”
“You want kids?”
“Oh, yes! It was such fun growing up with Ben, even if I was a lot younger than he was. He was a terrific big brother.”
Ryan saw tears well up in her eyes, but said nothing.
The butler brought in a small silver tray with two glasses of iced tea, and set the tray down. “Will you require anything else, Miss Ashley? If not I’ll want to go to the garden and pick some peas for dinner.”
“No, this is lovely, Byrnes. Thank you,” Ashley said, and the butler withdrew.
“You have a garden?” He was surprised. With the supermarkets offering such a variety of foods today, he was fascinated that there was some sort of garden here growing vegetables along with the beautiful flowers.
“Byrnes and Tony, our gardener, love doing a vegetable garden every year,” Ashley told him. “Who am I to refuse fresh veggies?” She smiled. Then she surprised him. “Would you like to come out next weekend? I suppose we really ought to start being seen around Egret Pointe.”
He thought a moment, and then answered, “Yes, I would. If I’m going to be living here I ought to get to know the village.”
“Bring a bathing suit. I have a pool, and it’s heated,” Ashley said.
He was surprised, but why he was surprised he didn’t know. She was obviously old money. Not the kind you heard about in the society columns—real old money. The old-fashioned kind that showed up only in wedding and death announcements. “I will indeed bring a suit. I love to swim,” he said. Then he stood up. “I had better be going. I usually have Friday-night dinner at my mom’s, and I don’t want to be late. She’ll want to know why, and I’m not certain I’m ready to tell her.”
“Why not?” Ashley said. “After all, according to Ray it was her idea that you have an arranged marriage to save your inheritance. I think you would want to tell her right away so she would stop worrying,” Ashley told him.
“You wouldn’t mind? She might even end up calling you,” he warned her.
“That would be lovely. Intimidating, but lovely,” she said, and stood up. “I’ll go with you to the door, and then I’m off back to the shop. It’s only a little after three, and I’ve got a lot to do. June is always a busy month, with weddings and anniversaries.”
The limo was waiting for him outside the house. They smiled and shook hands, and then, getting in, he settled back for the ride into the city. It had probably been the most interesting day of his life, Ryan Finbar Mulcahy thought.
Ashley watched the car disappear down the drive. The day had seemed like a dream, and yet it was reality. In a few short weeks she was going to marry a stranger. And this groom wasn’t gay, or a con artist, or going to die in Vegas from too much sex. They had a similar problem, and united in matrimony they would solve that problem. And the wedding would take place. Suddenly she was afraid, but then she forced back her fears. He was handsome, well-spoken, and the only agenda he had was to hold on to his money. It was her agenda too, wasn’t it?
CHAPTER THREE
“You’re late,” Angelina Mulcahy said to her son as he came into the house.
“I’ve been in a little town called Egret Pointe meeting my bride-to-be,” Ryan told his mother as he bent to kiss her smooth cheek.
“What?” Angelina Mulcahy looked astounded.
“Well, you did tell Ray to find me a wife, didn’t you?” he teased her, sitting down in a living room chair and taking the aperitif from the small tray she held.
“Yes,” she answered him slowly, “but I didn’t think he could find a girl from the old country so quickly.” She sat down opposite him.
“What old country? She’s a nice American girl with the same problem I have. Her grandfather’s will says she has to marry or lose everything. I saw some of the everything, Ma. Her house is called a hall. It’s beautiful. It’s going to be a wonderful place to entertain my clients,” Ryan told his mother.
“I thought…” Angelina Mulcahy looked thoughtful. “I thought Ray would find you a nice young woman from Italy or Ireland. Where did he find this girl?”
“His cousin, another lawyer, is Ashley’s attorney,” Ryan answered.
“So this rich girl won’t be rich if she doesn’t get married?” She sipped her own drink slowly. “I don’t know, Ryan. This isn’t quite what I had in min
d when I asked Ray to find you a wife. I thought a nice, unspoiled girl who would be a good wife and mother. But a spoiled rich girl who doesn’t want to lose her inheritance…I don’t know.”
“She’s rich, Ma, but she isn’t spoiled. She’s got a degree in business, like I do. Her late grandfather invested in her business, and she’s his only heir. She has to marry before she’s thirty-five or she loses it all, including her shop, and she’s just now expanding her little empire.”
“She’s nice?”
“Very nice,” Ryan told his mother.
“Pretty?”
“As a matter of fact she is,” he said with a smile. “But nothing like I would have thought I’d pick. She’s got dark hair, very fair skin, and the greenest eyes I ever saw. And she’s not a twig. She’s got to stand at least five feet eight or nine inches.”
“A big girl,” Angelina Mulcahy mused. Well, that wasn’t bad at all. She sounded like she was healthy. Angelina didn’t approve of those women who starved themselves into wraiths and waiflike figures, but had the best boobs that money could buy. “Not fat?”
“No, just tall, and proportioned right,” Ryan said. “And she likes her food, Ma. We had lunch together, and she scarfed down her ravioli like a champ. And bread too.”
“Dessert?” Now Angelina was interested.
“Every crumb, Ma,” he told her.
Angelina nodded. “So when do I get to meet her?” she wanted to know.
But before he could answer her the doorbell rang.
“This conversation is over if that’s someone else for dinner,” Ryan said.
“It’s Frankie,” Angelina said, getting up to go to the door and let her youngest daughter in, kissing her as she did so.
Francesca Mulcahy O’Connor was thirty-seven years old, and the mother of a single child. She had lost her husband, an investment banker, during 9/11. “Ma,” she said, returning her mother’s greeting. “Hey, big brother.” She took the aperitif her mother poured her. “So, what’s new?”
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