Over the past five days she’d had time to reflect on her behaviour, deciding that she had been wrong and cowardly not to tell him. Yet it had seemed the only thing to do at the time, and it was now far too late to make amends.
But sooner rather than later he was going to find out that she had no intention of letting Georgia be adopted, and if he was going to demand access, which she was certain he was going to do, then it would be infinitely preferable if their relationship was polite and civilised rather than as tempestuous as it had been up until now.
‘Hello,’ she said.
He stared at her swiftly, seeming to gauge her mood. ‘Hello.’ He glanced over at the crib. ‘How is she?’
Kimberley smiled. ‘Just perfect—though I’m biased, of course! She’s——’
‘I have a car waiting,’ he said abruptly.
Kimberley blinked. ‘What for?’
‘To take you home, of course—or did you imagine that I would have you call a cab?’
Kimberley held her chin up—he was making it sound as though she had no one in the world to care about her. ‘As a matter of fact, James is on his way to collect me.’
The face blackened. ‘Then he’ll have a wasted journey, won’t he?’ he snarled.
‘Meaning?’
‘You’re coming with me, Kimberley—and that’s that. Now, would you mind getting dressed?’
Feeling cornered, she gave a nod, biting her lip as she did so. She mustn’t keep antagonising him; he would make a cruel adversary. ‘Would you mind turning your back?’ she asked stiffly.
‘A little late in the day for modesty, wouldn’t you say?’ came his harsh rejoinder, but he did as she asked, and Kimberley silently put on a lemon silk shirt and a grey pleated skirt with trembling fingers, amazed that the waistband of the skirt wasn’t in the least bit tight.
‘You can turn around again now,’ she told him.
He narrowed his grey eyes as he watched her pull the brush through the thick black silk of her hair, seemingly fascinated by the movement as it spilled glossily down over her breasts.
A muscle worked in his cheek as he gestured towards the baby. ‘Do you want to carry her, or shall I?’
And then, remembering the tender way with which he’d handled the baby, she managed a smile. ‘You can carry her if you like.’
His mouth twisted; she was becoming used to that critical curve. ‘Of course,’ he mocked.
The nurses came in, an absolute gaggle of them, to say goodbye and to thank Harrison. Apparently he had not only left them chocolates, champagne, fruit and flowers, but had stuck a very hefty cheque into the Nurses’ Benevolent Fund, with instructions that they use it for their Christmas dance. Whereupon he had immediately been invited to be guest of honour!
Kimberley watched all the laughing interaction with a growing uneasiness which she was reluctantly beginning to recognise as jealousy.
Outside she did not see the ridiculously expensive black car, but instead a discreetly gleaming green Bentley, complete with a chauffeur who held open the back door, and Kimberley climbed in, followed by Harrison holding on to Georgia.
There was a tiny baby-seat in place, and Harrison gently clipped the baby in.
Kimberley grew confused. ‘Your car is different. I thought you drove a black car.’
‘Not exclusively. This is one of several I own.’
‘And I suppose they all have baby-seats?’
‘The ones which aren’t sports models do. Now. I had them installed last week—it seemed practical.’
Kimberley swallowed. He’d talked about adopting Georgia, but that had been before—before she’d decided that she couldn’t let her baby go. ‘Harrison——’
He frowned. ‘Let’s not begin what is obviously going to be a difficult conversation in the car, Kimberley. In the circumstances, I feel it is more prudent to wait until we get home.’
‘Prudent?’ she demanded, angry at being spoken to in that admonitory manner, but even angrier at the way he was fast taking the upper hand. She turned her face to stare sightlessly out of the window—anything was better than having to be made aware of that daunting physical presence. And she was supposed to be adopting a civilised attitude towards him, she reminded herself. She might find it difficult, but she really ought to try. ‘It’s very kind of you to give us a lift home,’ she said.
‘My pleasure,’ he answered, in a tone which made mockery of his words.
But the car was going nowhere near Hampstead. Instead she started to recognise signs for the southwest. ‘Where are we going?’ she asked suddenly.
‘To Kew.’
‘Why Kew?’
‘It’s where I live.’
‘Harrison—I want to go home.’
‘And that, too, is something we must discuss. But not now.’
He was quite emphatic in his refusal to say anything further, and he didn’t utter another word until the car had drawn up outside some wrought-iron railings in front of an enormous double-fronted house which stood in its own walled garden.
As he walked alongside her, carrying Georgia, she became aware that the garden was a scented paradise—there were stocks and honeysuckle, tobacco plants and sweet roses, and, with the mellow brick of the wall acting as a backdrop, tall delphiniums and hollyhocks, too. She liked it; she liked it very much. Did he garden, or did someone do it for him? But even if he did employ a gardener he surely must have had some input in the creation of this country garden right in the middle of the city? Ironic, really. How little she really knew about the father of her child.
She followed him inside, but by this time she wasn’t taking very much in—only that the ceilings were high and the rooms large and well-proportioned. In the spacious wood-panelled entrance hall stood a top-of-the-range pram, with a flaxen-haired doll smiling inanely at them from its depths.
Panic mounting, Kimberley turned to him. ‘What on earth is going on, Harrison? Why have you brought me here? And why are all these baby things lying around?’
He gave her a chilly smile. ‘I brought the baby here because there was nothing for her at your house. Not a single item of clothing, not even a cot for her to sleep in. But then, I suppose as you had planned to hand her over to someone else just as soon as you could——’
Past feeling the pain of his censure, Kimberley caught his arm. ‘I want to explain to you——’
‘Frankly, I’m not interested in your explanations, but I will give you a chance to speak. After we get Georgia settled. She is, after all,’ he emphasised, ‘the important one.’ But the look on his face suggested that she thought otherwise. And who could blame him? thought Kimberley wildly, seeing her actions through his eyes for the first time.
And waiting for them in the drawing-room was a girl of around twenty-three, with a cap of gleaming blonde hair surrounding a serene and smiling face. She was dressed in a brown and white uniform which stirred some vague memory in Kimberley’s mind.
‘Hello, Sarah,’ smiled Harrison. ‘We’ve brought the baby home, and I’d like you to meet Kimberley Ryan, her mother.’
Kimberley’s heart gave a great leap of alarm and she looked up at Harrison, a question in her eyes.
‘This is Sarah Hansford,’ he said in a neutral voice. ‘Who is to be Georgia’s nanny.’
Georgia’s nanny!
‘I’m pleased to meet you,’ said Sarah, and held out her hand, but her pale eyes were not on Kimberley, or on Georgia, instead they were fixed very firmly and adoringly on Harrison.
Kimberley felt faint. How could he have appointed a nanny without consulting her? ‘And is this your first job, Sarah?’ she probed.
Sarah’s eyes glinted, and she almost seemed to inflate herself before their eyes. ‘Oh, no. I worked for a member of the royal family until I accepted Mr Nash’s offer of a job.’
‘I see.’ Kimberley felt as though the world around her was going mad, as if she’d somehow managed to lose control of her own destiny.
‘I’d like
to talk to you, please, Harrison. Alone,’ she added pointedly. ‘I’ve fed Georgia, Sarah—I think you’ll find she’s ready for her bath before bedtime. Then I’ll come up and settle her down for the night.’
Sarah took Georgia into her arms, and Kimberley couldn’t fault the way she held the baby. But her next words filled her once more with an inexplicable dread. ‘Oh, don’t you worry about a thing, Miss Ryan. I’d prefer to adopt my own routine, if you don’t mind. Nanny knows best—doesn’t she, Georgia?’
Kimberley let her go. There was too much which needed to be sorted out. But once they had disappeared she turned to Harrison. ‘Who is this girl?’ she hissed as she watched Sarah carry the baby upstairs. ‘I don’t know her from Adam.’
‘She comes highly recommended. She looked after a friend of mine’s children for several years.’
Was he talking about the royal? wondered Kimberley faintly.
‘She’s excellent,’ he continued. ‘Firm, kind, with the sort of old-fashioned methods of child-rearing which I thoroughly approve of.’
He had thought everything through, Kimberley realised. With as much detail as a military campaign. ‘And which methods are they?’
He shrugged. ‘Regular meals, regular bedtimes. Firm handling with limitless love. How does that sound?’
‘And how many other staff do you have?’ she asked, imagining a legion of maids suddenly appearing.
‘Just someone to clean and to garden, and Mrs Caithness prepares the food—although I use a firm of caterers for large functions, of course. But that doesn’t really concern you, does it, Kimberley? I mean, it’s not as though you’re staying.’
Kimberley’s head swam. ‘Could we please talk now?’ she asked desperately.
‘Sure.’
‘Don’t you think that you ought to have consulted me about something as important as hiring a nanny?’
‘Frankly, I didn’t think that you’d be particularly concerned about it either way,’ he said sardonically.
‘Well, I w-would,’ she stumbled, then closed her eyes quickly, lest he see the tears that glittered there.
But if he didn’t see the tears then the tremor in her voice alerted him, made him look up sharply. He studied her face very closely for a long moment, and when he spoke his voice was quite gentle. ‘You’re very pale. Why don’t you make yourself comfortable and we can talk?’ He gestured towards a sofa. ‘Would you like some wine?’
She would have loved some, but had grown so used to avoiding alcohol, avoiding smoke and smokers, and considering all the other responsibilities of pregnancy, that it was going to take a little time for her to relinquish them. ‘I’d love some. But I wonder would a glass be OK—with me feeding Georgia?’ she asked automatically.
Another quick glance, definitely tinged with surprise this time—as though he was taken aback at her solicitude. He looked as though he was on the brink of smiling, then appeared to change his mind. ‘I’m sure that one glass won’t hurt. Wait here while I fetch some.’
He left the room and reappeared moments later, carrying a bottle and two crystal goblets. There was silence as he opened it, and she found herself observing him unobtrusively while pretending to study a superb water-colour which hung over the fireplace.
He looked so tense, his face so grave and unsmiling. She found herself remembering that night of love, the rapture on his face when he’d told her that she was beautiful, and she’d given him that cold and, she’d thought, clever little reply. Another wall she’d built around herself.
Since the moment she’d met him she’d been constructing walls to protect her from being hurt by him. And every one of her actions had been badly misconstrued by him. She had always wanted him to think the worst of her, and he did. But she found herself wanting to defend herself on something as important as this—not so that he would think well of her, but so that he would trust her to bring up their child properly.
And it was therefore vital that she convince him she had thought that she had acted in Georgia’s best interests in trying to conceal her from him. For it seemed the most awful kind of crime that a man— and not just any man—that Harrison should imagine that she had cared nothing for the child which had grown within her.
‘Here.’ He interrupted her reverie, handed her a glass of red wine and motioned for her to sit down. She perched down on the sofa but he remained standing, his face unreadable as he started to speak.
‘I told you that I intended speaking to my
lawyers, and now I have. They——’ he began, but
Kimberley began to tremble and she quickly put the glass of wine down on the small table. Still it slopped over the side, her hand was shaking so much.
‘Please, Harrison, before you say anything more about lawyers, I want you to know that I’ve had a good chance to think things through, and—well, the point is that things have changed, or rather I’ve changed. And I don’t want Georgia to be adopted.’
There was silence. He sipped his drink. ‘I see,’ was all he said for a moment or two. He took another sip of wine, before studying her with those clear grey eyes. ‘And what brought all this on— this sudden change of heart? Or is it simply to prevent me from having her?’
Surely he knew? And hadn’t he felt it too—that overpowering surge of emotion at holding a child that you’d created in your arms? ‘I just—didn’t know that I’d feel this way about her. I think that I must have been very slightly mad to think I’d ever be able to give her up for adoption,’ she finished quietly.
A slight inclination of the dark, elegant head was the only indication that he’d heard her softly spoken words. ‘And just what are you proposing to do? How will you manage?’
‘I’ve got to speak to James, see if he’ll let me go back to work part-time——’
‘And if he doesn’t?’
‘I’m kind of depending on him saying yes, but if he doesn’t—well, then I’ll have to rethink. But I’m young—adaptable. I’ve got a brain in my head. I’ll take whatever work comes along to support us. It might be a bit of a struggle, but I’m prepared for that.’
‘And isn’t that the very scenario which turned you against single parenthood in the first place?’
Kimberley swallowed. ‘You know it is. Perhaps now you’ll realise that I was thinking of the baby’s best interests. This way will be harder financially, but emotionally—there really is no alternative. Now I’ve got her—I can’t let her go.’
He nodded his head, as if considering what she’d said. ‘And what about me?’
She knew immediately what he meant. ‘Oh, I have no intention of denying you access,’ she told him quickly.
‘That’s terribly generous of you,’ he said sardonically. ‘What kind of access did you have in mind?’
‘The usual,’ she said bluntly.
‘The usual?’ he bit back. ‘And what’s that? Every other weekend? A few weeks in the summer?’
‘I’m prepared to be more generous than that——’ she began.
‘Well, let me tell you that I am not prepared to accept any grudging bits of largesse you may condescend to bestow on me. If you had gone through with your plan to give her up for adoption, I would—as I told you—have been perfectly agreeable to adopting her myself.’
‘But now I’m not going to do that, am I?’
‘No. And, while I am not cynical enough to try and deprive a child of her mother, neither do I intend to be a part-time father. Which leaves us only one alternative.’
‘Which is?’
‘That she has two parents.’
A frown creased her forehead. ‘But how——?’
‘There’s only one way.’ He said it without expression. ‘That you marry me.’
Kimberley stared at him. ‘You cannot be serious.’
He reached forward, tipped some more of the wine into his glass, then came and sat down beside her, leaning back against the sofa and sipping his wine, watching her coolly, as though he had not just dropped a bo
mbshell. ‘Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, Kimberley.’ He smiled. ‘I am. Deadly serious.’
‘But—men don’t have to marry women for that reason any more. Not these days.’
‘I know they don’t. But perhaps sometimes they should. Particularly in our case. Imagine the hurt we’re going to cause our families, just for starters. Your mother has yet to find out that you have a child, and she is bound to want to know who the father is. Now, while you might be tempted to tell her yet another lie——’
‘I——’ She tried to interrupt, but he shook his head and refused to let her.
‘I have no intention of letting Georgia’s paternity remain a secret,’ he continued, unperturbed. ‘As I also have no intention of becoming a father on the very part-time basis which you wish to bestow on me. I want to be involved in her life. I want her to have stability—both emotional and financial—and I can provide that.’
Kimberley shook her head sorrowfully. ‘But you seem to be forgetting our mutual antipathy and distrust—do you think that’s going to provide much stability?’
His eyes glittered. ‘That depends on how we set this marriage up.’
He was unbelievable! ‘You mean, like setting a company up?’
‘Why not? Any institution works best within a framework—provided that framework is not too constricting.’
‘And what “framework” did you have in mind for our marriage?’ she asked quietly.
‘You shall have all the independence you require. The best nannies, staff—you can start back to work just as soon as you like.’
‘That sounds exceedingly generous, Harrison. And just what would you get out of it?’
‘I would expect you to play the corporate wife— within limits, naturally. But you would be required to host dinners, and weekends occasionally, at whichever house I happen to be staying in. There will be some travel—but that can be tailored to suit the needs of your career. What I require most, of course, is the opportunity to be a hands-on father, and marriage is the most sensible way for me to accomplish that.’
Part-Time Father (Harlequin Presents) Page 9