‘So nice to meet you. A pity you’ve eaten already—we could have joined forces.’ A slender arm adorned with a diamond bracelet waved imperiously. ‘Over here, Jerry.’
A tall, heavily built man came strolling to join them. ‘Hello, there,’ he said, shaking hands with March. ‘Haven’t seen you in ages.’ He smiled at Jo and gave her a graceful bow. ‘Jeremy Fox-Hatton.’
After another introduction, and a few minutes’ chat, he announced that he was ready for his dinner and took a noticeably reluctant Lavina away to a table on the far side of the room.
‘Sorry about that,’ said March when they were alone again.
‘Why? Was it painful to meet up with the love of your life again?’ said Jo tartly.
He shook his head, surprised. ‘It’s a long time since I thought of her like that, but, since you ask, it wasn’t painful in the slightest. I meant I was sorry that our meal was interrupted. Won’t you finish your dinner, Joanna?’
She looked at her half-empty plate and shook her head. ‘No, thank you.’
‘Then you must have a pudding.’
‘I won’t, if you don’t mind.’ Jo glanced at her watch. ‘In fact, could we start back now? I have to drive home to my place after we reach Arnborough.’
‘As you wish,’ he said formally, and held up a hand to summon a waiter. ‘I’ll pay the bill while you get your coat.’
In case she met any more of Lord Arnborough’s friends on the way out, Jo redid her face and hair in the powder room before she took her coat which the attendant brought. With a feeling of doom she braced herself as Lavinia rushed in.
‘Off home this early?’ she said, looking disappointed. ‘I’d hoped we could all get together for coffee after dinner.’
Joanna smiled brightly. ‘Sorry. Long drive home.’
Lavinia fiddled with her perfect blonde hair as she looked at Jo in the mirror. ‘Have you known March long?’
‘No. Not long.’
‘Did he tell you he was engaged to me once?’
‘Yes.’
‘Seeing him again, I can’t imagine how I brought myself to break it off. He was so in love with me, poor darling.’
‘I know. He told me.’
‘Did he?’ Lavinia smiled like the cat who’d stolen the cream, then fixed Jo with a steely blue eye. ‘Are you in love with him?’
‘We’re just good friends.’ Jo smiled, doing her best to look coy. ‘Forgive me, I must go. March can be so impatient. I hope we meet again,’ she lied. ‘Goodnight.’
As Jo hurried through the foyer a young man in hotel livery intercepted her, armed with a large umbrella.
‘Miss Logan? Lord Arnborough is waiting outside in the car. Allow me.’
The journey home on the cross-country route was unpleasant. The rain was so heavy they drove through sheets of water in some places.
‘You’re very quiet,’ said March after a while.
‘I was afraid to distract you. It’s not fun driving in these conditions.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll get you there safely.’
Jo had no doubt of that. It was the prospect of her own journey home afterwards that worried her.
‘I met Lavinia again in the cloakroom,’ she said, after a while.
‘I know. I saw her go in. Did she upset you?’
‘Of course not. Why would she do that?’
‘God knows,’ he said darkly. ‘I thought she might be responsible for the froideur between us.’
‘She did tell me you’d been very much in love with her.’
‘But you knew that.’
‘Yes. I told her so. She seemed very pleased.’
‘It was a long time ago, Joanna. Lavinia has been married to Jerry Fox-Hatton and his millions for years.’
‘How nice for her,’ Jo said, in a tone which put an end to further conversation. Which, she assured herself, was just as well when the rising wind had begun snapping debris from the hedgerows to add extra hazard to the driving conditions.
‘I should have brought the four-by-four,’ said March, after swerving to avoid what looked like half a tree in the headlights.
‘Afraid you’ll hurt the car?’
‘No,’ he said through his teeth, ‘I just want to get you home safely.’
But by ‘home’ March meant Arnborough Hall. When they arrived, Jo made for her car the moment he helped her out of his.
‘I’ll take off right away—’ she began, but he seized her arm and ran with her towards the main door.
‘Not in this,’ he said flatly, and rushed her into the Great Hall which, despite its size felt like a haven of calm after the storm outside. All the lights were on, to Jo’s surprise, and she experienced a surprising feeling of homecoming as she looked at the big, comfortable furniture which blended so well with the background of stone walls and ancient portraits, even with the suits of armour in their niches. She watched as March locked the doors, then smiled at him uncertainly.
‘I’d better be on my way.’
‘No. Stay the night. Please. You can’t drive all that way in this.’
She glanced at the rain blowing in gusts against the windows, hating the very though of an hour’s drive in this weather.
March looked at her steadily. ‘There’s no shortage of bedrooms. Will you stay?’
So he didn’t expect her to share his, which took the pressure off. ‘I want to,’ she admitted, weakening at the persuasion in his eyes. Then a particularly wild gust hurled rain against the windows and made her mind up for her. ‘That does it. Thank you. I’ll take you up on your kind offer.’
‘Excellent.’ March took her hand to pull her to her feet. ‘How do you feel about four-poster beds?’ he asked as they went up the main staircase.
‘I’ve never slept in one.’
‘Now’s your chance,’ said March. At the other end of the landing from his bedroom he opened a door and switched on lamps to show her a room with similar windows to the solar, but here they were softened with damask curtains which matched the hangings round the bed and the skirt on the dressing table. A buttoned blue velvet chaise stood at the foot of the bed, with a vast double wardrobe and a bow-fronted dressing chest providing masculine notes of contrast in the feminine room.
‘How lovely,’ said Jo softly.
‘This was my parents’ room. Although my mother died in hospital, Father could never bear to sleep in here again,’ said March. ‘But he always kept the bed made up, and I’ve done the same.’ As the words left his mouth a crack of thunder followed a lightning flash, and March grinned. ‘Glad you agreed to stay?’
‘Oh, yes,’ she said thankfully, and looked round the beautiful room. ‘Has anyone of note ever slept here?’
‘Only my parents. And Hetty sometimes, on her own. She loves this room, but Cal’s a bit long in the leg so they use Rufus’ room, which has a bigger bed like mine. My grandparents used the King’s Bedroom.’
Jo removed the damask silk cover and folded it carefully to leave on the chaise.
‘No wonder your sister loves sleeping here.’
‘Hetty will be delighted I’ve brought someone like you to sleep in it. Dinner invitations to the house in Sonning are fraught with danger because she usually invites some scary single female for me.’
‘What do you do?’ asked Jo curiously.
‘I listen politely, make equally polite small talk, and make it clear I’m not on the lookout for a wife.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Surely they can’t all want to marry you?’
March gave a snort of laughter. ‘True. But one or two have hinted that dinner and a sleepover would do for starters.’
‘And you never take up the offer?’
‘No. I prefer to make my own choices.’ He looked at her steadily. ‘Where a wife and all other aspects of my life are concerned.’
‘You lead a strange life in this great house of yours,’ said Jo. ‘You’re Lord of the Manor, yet more self-sufficient than any single man I’ve ever met.�
�
‘The shock of death duties tends to do that for one,’ he said soberly. ‘I had to find some way to keep this place. So economy, like charity, began at home. I do the land management side of things myself, and a surprising amount of revenue comes from letting the Hall out as a location. Also the dining room and ballroom are very popular for weddings—particularly in summer, when the garden is in full bloom. It’s a photographer’s paradise.’ He smiled wryly. ‘My father drew the line at weddings, but I live in the real world. As my practical sister said, if they do it at Blenheim Palace, why not at Arnborough Hall?’
‘She’s right. But the other thing you could do,’ said Jo sweetly, ‘is to follow in your father’s footsteps and marry an heiress.’
‘Like you?’ he said swiftly, and gave her a look which set her hormones dancing. ‘Rather than marry for money I’d prefer to wait until I find a wife willing to share this strange life I lead. One who cares for me enough to help with it.’
‘So, instead of socialising with these importuning females your sister finds,’ asked Jo, ‘what do you do with yourself in the evenings?’
‘I pop up to town and stay with friends sometimes. At home here I go over to the pub, catch up with paperwork, or even watch TV. Cal wanted to make me a present of one of those great flatscreen things, but even he had to admit defeat on that one. There’s no place to put it. I keep mine in the oak cupboard by the fireplace.’ March grinned. ‘Cal’s a really great guy, and oddly enough quite fond of me. I think the charm of my British eccentricity really gets to him.’
Jo had an idea that March Clement’s charm probably got to most people he came in contact with—including the unimpressionable Molly and, that hardest of men to impress, her father. ‘He sounds rather charming himself.’
‘He is. Cal’s no film star when it comes to looks, but he swept Hetty right off her feet just the same. He met her when he was checking out Arnborough for a film.’
‘Did they get married here in your beautiful church?’
March chuckled. ‘No, in Las Vegas.’
Jo rounded on him, grinning. ‘You’re joking!’
‘I kid you not. Hetty was staying with a friend in Nevada, and Cal flew from California to meet her there. Like me, he believes in seizing the day. He railroaded her into saying yes, and then rushed her off to Las Vegas before she could change her mind.’
‘Not in an Elvis chapel!’
‘Unfortunately not. The ceremony was in some mock Victorian set-up Cal thought suitable for his English bride.’ March smiled indulgently. ‘But Hetty didn’t feel quite married enough after that, so they came back here for a blessing in the church, and a reception for family and friends afterwards.’
‘In the ballroom?’
‘Yes. Though otherwise we do most of our entertaining in the Hall. Which is mainly when Hetty comes home. Cal spends Christmas here with us, instead of with his family, so I’ve solved that problem by asking the Sterns to join us for the past couple of years. It works well, because Cal takes Hetty home to California for Thanksgiving to even things out. Where do you spend Christmas, Joanna?’
‘At Mill House, naturally. And this year I’ll make sure I do everything possible to help Kate.’
‘So you’ll cook the turkey?’
‘I’ll do the entire meal. It’s no hardship.’
‘But you’ll party a bit too?’
‘Of course. I’ll also babysit for Kate and Jack.’
March leaned against the bedpost, smiling. ‘In short, you’re a model daughter.’
‘Now, maybe. But it wasn’t always the case.’ She flushed. ‘I didn’t mean to sound so Goody-Two-Shoes. It’s just that my family means a lot to me.’
‘Because you were late in getting together as a unit,’ he said with understanding, and sighed. ‘My family means a lot to me, too, but it’s just Hetty and Cal these days. My parents were both only children, so I’m a bit short of relatives. And I’m damned if I can get Rufus to come home since Father died. I get over to the Parisis’ place to see him when I can, but he’s—I don’t know—remote. He’s been like that ever since—’
‘I couldn’t prevent my boyfriend from half killing him,’ Jo finished for him.
March’s eyes were suddenly stern as they bored into hers. ‘Stop that, Joanna. You are not to blame. Nor will I allow it come between us. When I first saw you that day at the garden centre I thought you were married to the man with you, and I cursed fate for playing such a hellish trick on me. Then heaped blessings on it later, when I found you were single.’ His mouth twisted. ‘Tell me you felt at least something in return.’
‘Oh I did,’ she assured him. ‘I told my mother I’d met this really hot gardener—’
‘What?’ March grinned, delighted. ‘Is that true?’
‘Oh, yes.’ Jo looked up at him ruefully. ‘I wish you still were.’
‘I’m not hot any more?’ he demanded, aggrieved.
She gave him a sharp dig in the ribs. ‘I mean that I wish you were still just a gardener. But you’re Lord Arnborough, and you live in this extraordinary place. While I’m just plain Joanna Logan.’
‘Beautiful Joanna Logan,’ he contradicted. ‘And I believe we were meant for each other.’
To prove his point March lunged away from the bedpost to pull her into his arms. He kissed her hard and, having started, couldn’t stop. When he raised his head at last they were both flushed and breathing raggedly, and he buried his face in Jo’s hair, holding her close against his chest as though he would convince her by the hammering of his heart against hers.
Chapter Eight
THE room was very quiet for a long time as their breathing slowed. March took one arm away at last, but held Jo close in the crook of the other.
As though he thought she might run away if he slackened his grip, thought Jo. And smiled.
‘What are you smiling at?’ he asked huskily.
‘My own arrogance.’
‘Not a word I associate with you, Joanna. Explain.’
‘I thought maybe you were holding me so tightly in case I ran off if you let me go.’
‘You were right.’ March smiled possessively. ‘Though I’d catch you before you got very far.’
She looked him in the eye. ‘Then I won’t run.’
He breathed in deeply. ‘So, Joanna Logan, have we finally managed to evict the elephant from the room?’
‘Elephant?’ Though she knew perfectly well what he meant.
‘My title. It’s such a huge obstacle for you it’s dominating the space between us,’ March said flatly. ‘I may be the umpteenth Baron Arnborough, but I’m a perfectly ordinary bloke like anyone else.’
‘A little less ordinary than some,’ she retorted, and threw up her hands in surrender. ‘All right. No more talk of titles.’ She yawned suddenly. ‘Sorry. I’m not bored, I promise—just a bit tired. It’s been an eventful day.’ She took her coat off and laid it over a chair, then sat down on the chaise.
‘What do you normally do on a Saturday?’
‘I usually go out with Isobel for a meal and a film, or a spot of clubbing sometimes. One or other of the twins tags along now and again. But last time Josh fell asleep in the taxi on the way back to the hospital, and it took Isobel and me, plus the taxi driver, to get him out.’
March grinned. ‘Is he as hefty as the twin I met?’
‘Carbon copy. In the struggle Isobel broke a nail or two, and I tore my dress. Luckily a hospital porter came to lend a hand, and we managed to load Josh onto a trolley. It was just exhaustion, poor thing. He’d only had one glass of wine.’
‘You’re very fond of him?’
‘Very fond. And of Leo. But Isobel and I made a pact. Next time the twins want to socialise we meet up at her place or mine for a meal. If they fall asleep they can just stay put until they wake up.’ Jo yawned again, and smiled ruefully. ‘Sorry.’
March smiled. ‘I’m selfish, keeping you talking instead of letting you get to bed.’
‘It’s early yet,’ she said brightly, ‘I wonder how things are at Mill House tonight? Jack’s probably walking the floor with Master Tom as we speak.’
‘I still find it so hard to picture that,’ said March, shaking his head.
‘Because my father’s such an alpha male?’
‘Probably. And I suppose I assumed a nanny would be looking after the baby at this stage. Sorry,’ he added hastily. ‘Absolutely none of my business.’
‘Don’t apologise. Jack was with you all the way on that, but Kate wouldn’t hear of it. She’s got Hazel in charge of the domestic side of things, which means she can look after the baby herself. She did the same with Kitty, too. I think it’s because she was never able to do any of that for me,’ added Jo, and changed the subject. ‘Tell me about your childhood. It must have been wonderful growing up in a place like this.’
March smiled reminiscently. ‘It was. For a long time parts of it were like a building site, which was paradise for Hetty and me—and for Rufus when he was old enough to trail round after us. My grandfather had settled a sufficiently large sum on my mother at the time of her marriage to finance some of the repairs and restoration necessary to turn Arnborough Hall into a viable family home. Far from being a spoilt beauty unwilling to lift a finger, my mother rolled up her sleeves straight after the honeymoon and helped her husband in every possible way. Our childhood was idyllic,’ said March, a distant look in his eyes. ‘But with hindsight I realise that my parents enlisted our help in countless small ways to make us part of things, to care for our inheritance. It seemed like play to us.’ He sighed. ‘Playtime ended for me the day I went away to school.’
‘Eton?’
The Mistress of His Manor Page 10