The Bridesmaid's Secret

by Sophie Weston

  ‘Tony is my real father. The other was just a biological accident.’

  Gil digested this. ‘I’ll take that as a no, shall I?’

  She shrugged. What did it matter, after all? She might as well tell him the truth. She was going back to New York tomorrow. After today she would probably never see him again.

  ‘He was a classic. Good-looking kid with a guitar wants to be a rock star. He trailed mum around all over Europe, looking for the breaks. She used to work at all sorts of casual jobs, just to keep us going. She can pour drinks in five languages, do you know that? He used to spend our money on cutting terrible discs.’

  ‘You remember him?’

  ‘Sort of.’ She paused. Then, quite suddenly, it burst out of her. ‘And the fights. And the parties. Micky used to bring home guys from the clubs where he was playing. They would jam for the rest of the night. Mother and I would be huddled in a corner trying to sleep. We never had more than one room. He frightened me.’ She glanced at him sideways. ‘Have I shocked you?’

  There was a pause. Then he said carefully, ‘Did you want to shock me?’

  She made an unusually clumsy gesture. ‘I’ve never told anyone that. Not even my mother.’

  He drew a sharp breath.

  Bella did not notice. ‘I never thought I would tell anyone,’ she said, more than half to herself. ‘I guess it was waiting to come out and today just pulled the plug. Bloody weddings.’

  It was dark and rain thundered on the roof. Trees bent in the wind. The car was luxuriously heated but she shivered all the same.

  ‘What happened to him?’

  ‘He ran out on us,’ she said in a hard voice. ‘When Tony wanted to marry my mother, they had a really hard job to track him down to give her a divorce.’

  ‘But he did.’

  ‘Oh, yes. Unloading the wife and child was all Micky ever wanted to do as long as I knew him.’

  ‘And now?’

  She shrugged again. ‘He was running the cabaret in some beach resort hotel the last I heard. That would suit him. He thinks life is one long party.’

  ‘Sounds like you haven’t forgiven him.’

  ‘Forgiven him?’ she said jeeringly. ‘What have I got to forgive? I’m just like him.’

  Gil didn’t answer for a moment. Then he said in a carefully neutral voice, ‘You’re musical?’

  It was so unexpected it startled a choke of laughter out of Bella.

  ‘No,’ she allowed grudgingly.

  ‘Then in what respect do you resemble him?’

  ‘You sound like a professor,’ she complained. She primmed up her lips and mocked his precise accent, echoing his words. ‘“In what respect—?” Pff!’

  ‘I have been a professor in my time,’ he said, unoffended. ‘If Watifdotcom goes down the tubes, it’s back to teaching for me. I’ve even held on to the website I set up when I was an academic, so my colleagues don’t forget me.’

  ‘Sensible,’ said Bella in a depressed voice.

  Gil sent her a shrewd look. ‘OK, come on, give. What makes you like this guitar-playing hellion?’

  ‘I’m a party girl,’ she said, goaded.

  ‘Ah.’

  ‘Don’t you believe me? You should have listened to the guests back there. “Give twenty reasons why Bella is not a marriageable proposition.”’ She laughed again, but there was an edge to her laughter. It mocked herself, not kindly.

  He did not answer. He seemed to be deep in thought.

  Then he said, ‘Do you want to be?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘A marriageable proposition. Do you want to be married?’

  But she skittered away from answering that one.

  ‘Who knows?’ She shivered again, looking out at the darkness of the rural lane. The wind sounded like a banshee and the trees looked tortured. ‘This is a terrible night.’

  A small lake of water had accumulated at the side of the road. He did not see it until they were nearly in it. A tidal wave splashed Bella’s window and she jumped. He slewed out into the middle of the road at once.

  ‘Damn.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Driving without proper concentration. You’re a distraction, Bella Carew.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. She sounded forlorn, even to her own ears.

  He sent her another of those quick, shrewd glances. Bella felt it, even though she was not looking at him. Her body was taut as a spring.

  ‘It’s a compliment.’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘It is, believe me. Takes a lot to distract me. I’m famed for my concentration.’

  ‘Then, I’m flattered,’ she said, politely disbelieving.

  He gave an exasperated sigh. But at that point a car came round a curve in the road towards them, its headlights blazing, and he had to divert all his attention to the road.

  ‘Either this road surface is exceptionally uneven or that car is flashing us,’ he remarked. He slowed the car to a crawl.

  The approaching vehicle slowed too. As they came abreast, the driver stopped and lowered his window.

  ‘Sit back,’ said Gil, pressing the switch to slide the driver’s window down.

  At once the cool, damp air filled the car. Driving rain turned the shoulder of his jacket black as he leaned out.

  ‘Tree down,’ yelled the other driver. ‘Road’s blocked. And the river broke its banks. The back road is under three feet of water. We’re stuck until they clear it. I’m going home.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Gil raised the window and sat back, looking at Bella.

  ‘Want to go back?’

  She thought of the dance. All that unbridled merriment. ‘No.’

  He did not argue but he said, ‘Interesting choice for a party girl.’

  He thought for a bit, then put the car in gear and turned it round neatly in the middle of the dark road.

  ‘I said I didn’t want to go back.’ Her voice rose.

  ‘Relax. I know a place we can stay round here. I played cricket in the village once. The pub has rooms. All I’ve got to do is find it.’

  ‘Oh.’

  He didn’t speak again until suddenly there were intermittent street lamps. One house, two, then a cluster of workman’s cottages behind densely planted gardens. And then the road curved, and the hedgerows and houses gave way to a village green like a lake of blackness in the prevailing dark.

  ‘There,’ said Gil with satisfaction.

  The rain lashed across the windscreen blindingly. On the far side of the green, lights flickered as a creeper blew back and forth across their welcoming warmth. The pub sign creaked on its hinges, flying as high as a six-year-old on a swing.

  Bella shivered. ‘It looks like the end of the world.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ said Gil bracingly. ‘The place is pure Pickwick. You’ll feel better when you’re out of the storm.’

  He was right.

  Inside there were two blazing fires, a dart’s match in one bar, a lively debate about the spring horticultural show in the other. No one paid any attention to the storm raging outside. But they made room for Bella by the fire while Gil negotiated accommodation. Bella pushed wet hair out of her eyes and held out her hands to the flames.

  ‘Come far?’ said one of the daffodil growers kindly.

  Bella looked across the room. Gil was deep in conversation with the landlord. Firelight glinted off his hair. He looked as timeless as the copper jugs and polished wood all around him. Timeless and strong. Some sleeping thing turned over inside her.

  The daffodil grower repeated his question.

  ‘Far?’ echoed Bella.

  In the flickering light she saw his profile suddenly illuminated: high, autocratic nose; deep, deep eyes; passionate mouth…Why had she forgotten how she’d responded to that Regency-rake mouth?

  He must have felt her eyes on him. He looked up. Bella felt the world lurch. The sleeping thing was asleep no longer. Suddenly she was furnace-hot.

  He looked away. The landlor
d said something. Gil leaned forward, concentrating. But she could see the way his chest rose and fell. She did not think she was the only one who felt the heat.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she said softly to the daffodil grower, ‘I’ve come a long, long way.’

  Gil came back to her. His breathing was under control now. He smiled at her companion and slipped easily into the commonplace of practicalities. But she knew him now. Everyone else in the room might be oblivious but Bella had seen the little flame in his eyes. She knew that, under the cool control, he was shaking. Because she was too.

  ‘They’ve got room for us. Probably a bit makeshift. It’s early in the season for tourists, so they weren’t really prepared. I said that would be all right.’

  Bella listened carefully. He did not say they had to share a room. He did not say that they didn’t. Maybe she had a choice. Did she want a choice?

  She felt bewildered and off balance, as if she had suddenly found herself on the wrong aeroplane: she did not know where she was going but it was not possible to get off until she got there. It might be interesting. It might be terrifying. She had no way of knowing. Or how she was going to find her way back.

  She swallowed. ‘Yes. That’s fine.’ Her voice didn’t sound like her own.

  He said her name. His voice was so low, she did not think anyone else could hear. It seemed to reach right into her. She gave a low laugh, half excitement, half pure panic. Not that she would have admitted it. Party girls didn’t panic.

  She said sedately for the others to hear, ‘Can you find out if there’s any chance of food?’

  ‘I knew you’d ask that.’

  ‘Really?’ She smiled into his eyes and watched them darken with desire. It seemed there were two conversations going on here. But only one was in words. ‘Why?’ she said, making him focus on the audible one.

  ‘You didn’t eat a thing at lunch. I saw you push the food all around your plate.’

  ‘You watched me?’ She was not sure how she felt about that. It was slightly alarming to feel that she had been under surveillance and had not known it.

  ‘All the time. I nearly killed that kid with the clapping game.’

  ‘What? Why?’

  ‘He had you and I wanted you.’

  She was breathing unevenly. ‘You could have come and joined us.’

  ‘No I couldn’t.’ His voice dropped. ‘I wanted you to myself.’

  Bella swallowed. He saw it and smiled. A little shiver ran through her, like the ripple on a lake before a storm.

  Gil saw that too. She knew he saw it. But he carried on the verbal conversation as if nothing had happened. ‘They can do something simple. Home-made soup. Something grilled.’ His eyes caressed her.

  Bella was suddenly conscious of breathing. It didn’t seem to be as easy as it was supposed to be.

  ‘Fine,’ she said with an effort.

  ‘So what would you like?’

  She couldn’t think about food. She couldn’t think.

  ‘You choose,’ she said, impatient with herself.

  ‘Do you trust me?’

  There was a sharp little silence. Bella gave herself a mental shake.

  ‘We are still talking about food, right?’

  He looked innocent. ‘What else?’

  Damn, but he was good at this.

  She said drily, ‘Do a lot of this, do you?’

  ‘That’s a loaded question.’ His eyes, she found, were very intent. ‘Do you?’

  Ouch!

  ‘Soup,’ she said loudly. ‘I’m not very hungry.’

  He did not push it. But she could see from the speculative look in his eye that he was not going to let it rest. There was a question there that he wanted to know the answer to. And, from what she had seen of Gil de la Court, he got all the answers he wanted. Eventually.

  The food was served in an alcove in the dining room which was specially opened up for their convenience. The proprietor lit candles, brought soup and crusty bread and retreated to the bar, closing the door behind him.

  Alone in the candlelight they looked at each other.

  Gil said softly, ‘Your eyes are blue. I couldn’t remember.’

  Bella felt inexplicably shy. Her eyes fell. She stirred the thick broth absorbedly.

  ‘Did you tell them to leave us alone?’

  Even though she wasn’t looking at him, she could feel his amusement.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then, why?’

  ‘I imagine because they weren’t expecting guests and they’ve got a couple of rooms to make up.’

  She was so startled, she forgot that she wasn’t looking at him.

  ‘A couple?’

  He held her eyes steadily. ‘Yes.’

  ‘But I—’

  He leaned forward and took her hand.

  ‘Bella, listen to me.’

  She could not believe it. ‘You don’t want me,’ she said numbly.

  ‘Of course I want you.’

  She shook her head. ‘More games,’ she said almost to herself.

  His hand tightened over her fingers.

  ‘No. Listen. This is important.’

  She was so humiliated she hardly heard him. He drummed their clasped hands on the table.

  ‘Look at me.’

  It would be a total defeat if she didn’t. Fighting to keep her expression under control, Bella raised her head.

  ‘Oh, my love,’ he said on a shocked breath. Then, rapidly, he went on, ‘I want you all right. Of course I do. I want you to sleep with me. I hope you will. But there’s a force ten gale out there and you’ve had a hell of a day. I’m not sure you know what you want. Or whether what you wanted when we left the party is the same as you will want an hour from now.’

  Bella stared.

  He raised her hand. Still holding her eyes he brushed his mouth gently across her knuckles. It was nowhere near a kiss. But it started a trembling deep inside her, more insistent than any kiss she had ever known.

  ‘I just want you to be clear. You have a choice,’ he said simply. ‘You will go on having a choice.’

  She was shaken to the core.

  But Gil picked up his spoon and began to drink his soup as if nothing very momentous had happened. He kept hold of her hand though.

  Eventually Bella pulled herself together enough to say, ‘You must think I’m an awful fool.’

  He looked faintly surprised. ‘No. Why?’

  ‘Well—’ she was floundering ‘—having to spell it out like that.’

  ‘Spell it out?’ For a moment he was blank. Then he smiled, shaking his head. ‘Oh, the bedrooms. That’s for my benefit, not yours. I’m sure you don’t need things spelled out. It’s me. I’m not what you call good at this sort of thing.’

  Bella forgot her embarrassment—and that steady inner trembling—in sheer fascination. ‘Are you trying to tell me you don’t date?’

  He was rueful. ‘That’s one way of putting it.’

  ‘How would you put it, then?’

  ‘I’d say I have a general blind spot when it comes to human nature.’

  Bella leaned forward and scanned his expression. He looked back openly enough but she had the impression that, for all his matter-of-fact tone, this was a sensitive subject. That he minded.

  She said quite gently, ‘Want to tell me about it?’

  ‘What’s to tell?’ He shrugged. ‘I was a fully classified genius before I was ten. There’s a certain sort of education that goes along with being a genius. It doesn’t include the signs that ordinary people take for granted.’

  Bella was bewildered. ‘Signs? What signs?’

  He looked round for inspiration. ‘Oh, stuff like candlelight and romance. By the time they’re adolescent, most people know there’s a connection. People like you, for example. I had to be told.’ And, as she still stared, he said in exasperation, ‘I suppose I mean non-verbal indicators.’

  Bella gave a gulp of startled laughter. ‘Non-verbal—! What on earth is a non-verbal ind
icator?’

  ‘Dancing. Kissing.’ He listed them, concentrating. ‘Sex.’

  She choked on her soup.

  ‘Sex?’ She used his own words back to him. ‘You have a blind spot when it comes to sex?’ She looked at that passionate mouth and was justifiably incredulous.

  ‘As a tool of communication, yes.’ He was dispassionate, dry as the professor he’d said he had been.

  ‘I don’t believe this,’ Bella muttered.

  He shrugged.

  ‘It’s not supposed to be a tool for anything. It’s supposed to be fun.’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘Hey, lighten up.’ She tipped her head on one side and batted her eyelashes at him, deliberately exaggerated. ‘See?’

  Gil surveyed her, unmoving, for a moment. Then he sighed.

  Bella stopped batting her eyelashes, disgruntled. ‘What?’

  ‘You don’t have to perform for me,’ he said drily. ‘I respond to all the usual stimuli.’

  ‘Oh!’ She flushed furiously.

  ‘I’m just not good at knowing what it all means. Really means.’

  She pressed her hands to her hot cheeks. How could he make her feel so small? Without even trying, it seemed.

  He said again, quietly, ‘Look at me Bella.’

  Reluctantly she did. Her flush was taking a long time to subside. How long had it been since she blushed like that? Not since she was a teenager, anyway.

  Gil said levelly, ‘Everyone thinks I’m brilliant. In some ways it’s true. I can do sums—see pathways—very quickly. It’s a useable talent in this day and age. I’ve built a business on it and I will go on building. But it’s no guide to human nature.’

  She scanned his face. This was obviously important to him. But—

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Bella said honestly.

  He sighed. ‘Let me give you an example. I have a team that depends on me to go on building that business. Friends, most of them. And I nearly blew it because I didn’t see what was going on under my nose.’

  She struggled to translate and failed.

  ‘You were having an affair with someone you worked with?’

  ‘No. No, these weren’t sexual signs. This was other sorts of behaviour. But it was there, plain for anyone to see who was a fully paid-up member of the human race. Annis was. I wasn’t.’