Marriage on the Agenda

by Lee Wilkinson

  Mark’s heavy head swung round, and he glared at the younger man. ‘What the hell are you up to, Drummond?’

  At that moment Mrs Delacost came down the stairs and crossed the hall, holding a package in her hand.

  Glancing curiously at the little group, she addressed Loris, ‘I wonder if you happen to know where Sir Peter is? I’ve some pictures taken in Monte I promised to show him.’

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t—’

  ‘I’ve just this minute been speaking to him.’ Mark produced a charming smile. ‘He rang to apologise for leaving his guests so long, but unfortunately he’s been delayed by a slight accident.’

  ‘Oh, dear! He wasn’t hurt, I hope?’

  ‘No, I’m happy to say. He and his bailiff were returning from checking on storm damage to the estate when a plank bridge they were driving over collapsed and the Land Rover ended up in the stream.

  ‘Luckily the water was only a few feet deep, so neither man was in any real danger. At the moment they’re trying to drag the Land Rover out with a tractor.’

  ‘Oh, dear, I’m so sorry. So terribly sorry. Poor, poor Sir Peter! What a perfectly dreadful thing to happen, and just when—’

  Mark cut short the commiserations. ‘As our hostess is lying down with a migraine, I wonder if you’d be kind enough to tell the other guests what’s happened and convey Sir Peter’s sincere apologies?’

  ‘Oh, certainly.’ Apparently well pleased at being given such an important task, she hurried towards the sitting-room.

  Seeing Mark was about to return to the attack, Loris suggested urgently, ‘If there’s no one in the library, let’s go in there. We don’t really want to stand about in the hall.’

  The library was a big, handsome room, with a billiard table at one end and a low leather suite grouped around a glowing log fire. Twin standard lamps were burning and it was comfortably warm.

  As soon as the door had closed behind them, and swinging to face the younger man, Mark said brusquely, ‘I asked you what the hell you’re up to.’

  ‘Up to?’ Jonathan drawled. ‘I’m afraid I don’t quite understand.’

  ‘Don’t come the innocent with me. First you push your nose in and ask Loris to dance, and then you go out of your way to drive her down here.’

  ‘Well, if you remember, you were otherwise engaged.’

  ‘What the devil do you know about it?’

  Loris noticed that though Mark loomed over the other man somehow he failed to diminish him in the slightest. Size, she realised, wasn’t important. Jonathan exuded a kind of quiet strength, a feeling of authority, that made him any man’s equal.

  Now he answered blandly, ‘I happened to notice you leaving the hotel with another woman.’

  ‘That’s none of your damn business.’

  ‘I decided to make it my business when I saw your fiancée standing abandoned in the rain.’

  ‘So you turned into Sir Galahad?’ Mark sneered.

  ‘If I remember rightly, Galahad was a knight of immaculate purity, so I’m afraid the comparison is hardly fitting in view of—’

  Terrified of what he was going to say next, Loris rushed into speech. ‘Jonathan offered to drive me home when there were no taxis immediately available.’

  ‘A likely story.’

  Coldly, Loris remarked, ‘I understood you drove Pamela home for the same reason?’

  Looking momentarily disconcerted, Mark decided to ignore that and press on. ‘But instead of taking you home Drummond drove you all the way down to Monkswood, no doubt hoping to get a foot in the door.’

  ‘I couldn’t go home because I’d lent my flat to Judy and her husband for the weekend, so I asked Jonathan to bring me here.’

  ‘Well, it seems he made the most of the opportunity.’

  ‘Driving conditions were so bad I begged him to stay the night.’

  Mark grunted his displeasure. ‘Well, it’s now late afternoon, so what’s he still doing here?’

  Hating the way they were talking about Jonathan as though he wasn’t there, she said, ‘Mother invited him to stay for the rest of the weekend.’

  ‘If he wasn’t planning on staying, how come he had clothes with him?’

  ‘He didn’t—’

  ‘Isobel was kind enough to lend me some of her stepson’s,’ Jonathan finished evenly.

  Loris felt sure he’d deliberately used her mother’s name to rattle the older man.

  If so, he’d succeeded.

  Red in the face, Mark bit out, ‘You’re a damn sight too presumptuous. Who the hell gave you permission to call her Isobel?’

  ‘She did.’

  ‘No doubt because she thought you were somebody. How many lies did you tell her?’

  ‘None.’ A gleam in his eye, Jonathan admitted, ‘Though I may have misled her a little.’

  ‘I bet you did. Well, get it into your head that you don’t belong here. You’re not in our class, and never will be.’

  ‘I think I can stand it.’

  ‘Damn and blast your arrogance! Take it from me, Drummond, you’ve outstayed your welcome. You can leave as soon as you like.’

  ‘I’ll be happy to leave when my hostess tells me I’m no longer welcome.’

  His brown eyes blazing with temper, Mark said, ‘I’ve had more than enough of your insolence. You can get out of here now! This minute!’

  Standing his ground, refusing to be intimidated, Jonathan murmured, ‘Strange… I must have missed something somewhere. You see, I hadn’t realised this was your house.’

  Baring his teeth, Mark cried furiously, ‘You think you’re mighty clever, but if you don’t leave of your own accord I’ll have you thrown out.’

  ‘Then you don’t think you’re big enough to do it personally?’

  ‘Plenty big enough, and believe me it’ll give me the greatest pleasure.’

  ‘Don’t!’ Loris cried as Mark advanced threateningly on the younger man. ‘This isn’t your house and you’ve no right to throw anyone out of it.’

  ‘Try to throw anyone out of it,’ Jonathan goaded.

  ‘You’re asking for it,’ Mark snarled.

  ‘Leave it, Mark,’ Loris said sharply. ‘You know as well as I do that my father won’t want any trouble when there’s a house party going on.’

  ‘So you feel you need to protect your Sir Galahad?’ Mark sneered. ‘Well, I bet he’ll be only too happy to hide behind a woman’s skirts… Won’t you, Drummond?’

  ‘Not at all. I’m quite capable of fighting my own battles.’

  ‘Then why aren’t you squaring up to me now?’

  ‘Firstly because you’re six inches taller and several stone heavier than I am. Secondly because I’m in someone else’s home. And, thirdly, because I don’t want to have to hurt you.’

  Infuriated beyond endurance, Mark made a lunge at his tormentor.

  Jonathan sidestepped and, using his opponent’s weight and impetus to his own advantage, executed a textbook judo throw.

  Mark’s heavy body thudded onto the carpet and, half-winded, he lay for a second or two before struggling unsteadily to his feet. Shaking his head as if to clear it, he muttered, ‘Why, you…!’

  As he drew back his fist Loris cried, ‘Stop it, the pair of you! How can you behave like this when at any moment one of the guests might walk in?’

  Still groggy, Mark staggered a little, and, seizing his arm, she steered him to the nearest chair and pushed him into it.

  Then, her knees feeling like jelly, she sat down abruptly in the chair opposite and glared angrily at Jonathan who, looking cool as a cucumber, was lounging against the mantel.

  He raised his hands in mock surrender. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘So you should be. You’re equally to blame.’

  ‘You mean I should have let him throw me out?’

  ‘I don’t mean anything of the kind. But you know quite well you deliberately provoked him.’

  ‘And you would have preferred me to have kowtowed?’


  ‘No, I wouldn’t. But I would have preferred you to have been a little more…’ She hesitated, trying to find the right word.

  ‘Conciliatory?’ he suggested.

  ‘Reasonable.’

  ‘Do you really believe that my being “a little more reasonable” would have made any difference?’

  Sighing inwardly, she silently admitted that she didn’t. Mark had been out for blood from the word go. If Jonathan hadn’t stood up to him he would only have taken it as a sign of weakness. Now at least, Mark being Mark, he would respect his adversary…

  But it seemed she didn’t know him after all.

  ‘Damn you, Drummond,’ Mark muttered. ‘You may think you’ve won, but you’re nothing short of a fool if you imagine I’m going to let someone like you get the better of me. I’m running BLC, and you’re just a jumped-up office boy…’

  ‘Oh, I’m a little more than that,’ Jonathan said mildly.

  ‘Well, whatever you are, you won’t be with the firm much longer.’

  ‘If that’s a threat—’

  Mark showed his teeth in a smile that was more like a snarl. ‘It is indeed. Make no mistake about it. You’re for the chop.’

  Loris’s stomach tied itself in knots. Mark had reacted just as she’d first feared… And before he’d even discovered the worst.

  But, appearing far from concerned, Jonathan was advising him coolly, ‘As Cosby’s own BLC, I doubt if you’ll be able to get rid of me without their say-so.’

  ‘I’ll get their agreement, no matter what it takes.’

  ‘Personal likes and dislikes don’t figure in the equation. You’ll have to put forward a good reason for dismissing me.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll find one. And if I can’t find one I’ll invent one.’

  ‘I noticed you were pretty good at inventing things when Isobel gave us your version of why you drove Pamela Gresham home.’

  Seeing Mark was about to explode, Loris took a deep breath and seized the initiative. She leaned forward and asked shortly, ‘Do you still want to marry me?’

  Startled, he said, ‘What?’

  Focusing all her attention, blotting out the man who was standing quietly in the background and forcing Mark to do the same, she repeated, ‘I asked if you still want to marry me?’

  ‘Of course I still want to marry you. You know I’m mad about you.’

  ‘In view of what’s happened I thought you might have changed your mind.’

  ‘If you mean Pamela, before you start accusing me of anything, I told your mother—’

  ‘She might believe that absurd story about taking the woman home because she was ill, but in view of what you said earlier I certainly don’t.’

  He ran a restless hand over his dark crinkly hair. ‘Now look here, Loris, I only said what I did to make you jealous. You must know I had no intention of going through with it.’

  Ignoring his bluster, Loris demanded, ‘Did you take her back to your flat?’

  ‘No. Like I said, I took her to her place.’

  ‘And you stayed.’

  ‘No, no I didn’t…’ He couldn’t look her in the eye.

  ‘Come off it,’ she said bluntly.

  ‘Well, just for a coffee.’

  ‘Don’t take me for a fool, Mark.’

  His face sullen, he said, ‘All right, so I did stay. But it’s your fault. You drove me to it. A man has needs.’

  Guiltily, Loris had to acknowledge this as the truth. It had been partly her fault that Mark had gone off with Pamela, but she needed to make sure it never happened again.

  ‘What about a woman?’

  Looking nonplussed, he began, ‘But you—’

  ‘I’m talking in wider terms. If men have needs, wouldn’t you agree that women do too?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so,’ he said grudgingly.

  ‘Only suppose?’

  ‘Very well, they do. But it’s different for a man.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘A man can satisfy those needs and it doesn’t have to mean anything.’

  ‘But not a woman?’

  ‘With women it isn’t just physical. They have to have emotional ties.’

  ‘Is Pamela in love with you?’

  ‘What? No, of course she isn’t.’

  ‘She merely fancied you?’

  ‘Look, Loris—’

  ‘So it can be purely physical?’

  ‘All right, so it can.’

  ‘And if a man can make love to a woman without it “meaning anything”, and expect to be forgiven, then you must admit that the reverse is true?’

  ‘Okay, I admit it.’ Then, warily, ‘Though I don’t understand what you’re getting at.’

  ‘I’m trying to put paid to the old double standard that some men still cling to.’

  ‘Men tend to be possessive about their women. It’s natural.’

  ‘But is it just? These days we have equality, so shouldn’t it work both ways? You slept with Pamela and you expect me to forgive you, to go on as if nothing had changed…’

  ‘Well, it hasn’t—’

  Cutting through his words, she demanded, ‘But would you forgive me if I told you I’d slept with Jonathan last night?’

  Knowing her too well to be alarmed, he asked with mock seriousness, ‘Did you?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said baldly.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  JUST for an instant he looked shaken, then, obviously deciding it was merely an attempt to pay him back, he changed his expression to one of amused indulgence.

  ‘I’m quite serious, Mark.’

  Though his slight smile disappeared, she knew he didn’t believe her.

  He couldn’t credit that she’d held him off for so long and then chosen to go to bed with a man she’d only just met. A man he’d contemptuously called a wimp and whom he still regarded as his social inferior.

  But, pretending to take it seriously, he asked, ‘So because you thought I was sleeping with someone else, you made up your mind to do the same?’

  ‘I didn’t make up my mind to do anything. It just happened. He was using your room…I took him one of Simon’s razors…’

  ‘Then I suppose he made a pass at you and you just couldn’t resist his manly charms?’

  Ignoring the sarcasm, she agreed quietly, ‘Something like that.’

  ‘Very well,’ Mark said magnanimously, ‘I forgive you. It’s over and forgotten. We’ll never mention it again.’

  He totally refused to see the truth, she realised, because it was wounding to his pride, his self-esteem, to even consider that she might seriously have preferred another man to him.

  ‘And you still want to marry me?’

  ‘Yes, I still want to marry you. But I think it would make sense to bring the date forward. It’s not as if we’re planning on a big wedding, so instead of waiting until June let’s get married as soon as possible.’

  After a moment’s thought, she said, ‘I’ll agree to that on two conditions.’

  ‘What are they?’

  ‘First, I’d like to keep on working…’ Seeing his face darken, she specified, ‘At least up until the time we were going to be married.’

  ‘All right,’ he agreed reluctantly. ‘What’s the second condition?’

  This was the most important one, and Loris paused to choose her words with care. ‘I want you to promise me that, no matter what, you won’t take any further action against Jonathan.’

  As though just remembering the other man’s presence, Mark scowled in his direction.

  ‘You seem mighty keen to protect him.’

  ‘Please, Mark.’

  ‘Very well, but I want your promise that you won’t see him again, or have anything else to do with him.’

  ‘I’ll promise, in exchange for your assurance that you won’t have anything else to do with Pamela—or any other woman for that matter.’

  He nodded, and had the grace to flush slightly. ‘I give you my word that I won’t.’ He smiled tent
atively at her and Loris smiled back, convinced he meant it.

  Then, turning to the younger man, who was still leaning against the mantel, his face inscrutable, Mark said curtly, ‘And in the future you’d better keep your nose clean and stay well out of my way. In fact it would be no bad thing if you asked to be transferred back to the States…’

  When his adversary said nothing, Mark added, his ego fully restored, ‘Now, suppose you get out of here?’

  Coolly, Jonathan informed him, ‘I’ll go when Loris asks me to.’

  Just as he finished speaking the library door opened and Peter Bergman walked in. He was wearing smart country tweeds, and his iron-grey hair was smoothly brushed and still damp from the shower.

  ‘What a day! The weather’s absolutely foul, and I’ve been out since just after breakfast.’ Then, to Mark, ‘It’s a pity you weren’t with me. Reynolds isn’t the most useful man in a crisis, and I could have done with your help.’

  ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t here in time.’

  Peter frowned. ‘But I thought… You didn’t come down last night?’

  ‘No, I was held up. I only got down here a couple of hours ago.’

  His cold-blue eyes fixed on his daughter, Peter demanded, ‘Then how did you get here?’

  Before she could answer, Jonathan said levelly, ‘I drove Loris down.’

  As though becoming aware of the other man for the first time, Peter said, ‘I know your face. You’re with Cosby’s aren’t you? PA to William Grant?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t recall your name.’

  ‘Drummond. Jonathan Drummond.’

  In answer to her father’s unspoken What the devil is he still doing here? Loris explained, ‘The conditions were so bad that I asked Jonathan to stay the night.’

  ‘Which room did you put him in?’

  It could have been a casual enquiry, but Loris knew only too well that it wasn’t. Having gained assurance from her earlier stand, however, she replied steadily, ‘Mark’s.’

  His face darkening with anger, Peter turned to glower at Jonathan.

  Bearing in mind that there were now two people who had it in for him, and fearing the promise she’d extracted from Mark might not be enough to keep him out of trouble, she added hurriedly, ‘Mother did ask Jonathan to stay for the rest of the weekend, but unfortunately he can’t.’