The Accidental Bride (Black Lace)

by Portia Da Costa

  ‘It’s a good job we don’t have to go to work tomorrow,’ she said presently, still not quite back in herself. ‘I’m knackered. I won’t be able to walk, or if I do, I’ll be bowlegged.’

  John rolled on his side, smiling. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll still fancy you if you’re bandylegged.’ Matter-of-factly, he rolled off the spent condom and Lizzie reached for a tissue from her bedside box to wrap it in. Sitting up, John tossed the little bundle in the direction of the adjacent waste bin, mouthing, ‘Yes!’ when he scored an easy hit.

  Lizzie supposed she should find her pyjama bottoms, but she couldn’t be bothered, for the moment. Instead, she snuggled up to John. He wouldn’t complain if her crotch and her arse were still bare.

  ‘So … that’s one way of celebrating an engagement,’ she said, stroking his chest. His smattering of soft body hair was damp still, with sweat, but she liked the feel of it, and the slightly foxy, raunchy smell of both their bodies.

  ‘Probably the most popular one,’ observed John, his hand over hers. ‘I’ll bet ninety-nine per cent of newly engaged couples mark the occasion with a glorious shag.’ He rubbed his face against her hair, nuzzling. ‘But not one of those engaged guys is as lucky as me.’

  ‘Or the girls as lucky as me. If you don’t mind the mutual admiration society.’

  ‘I don’t mind it at all, love.’

  They lay quietly for a little while. Lizzie tried not to think of anything but the moment, and the feel of John’s body against her, so warm, so sure. Stuff – their issues – tried to bubble up, but she squashed it down firmly. Not now. They’d deal with them when the time came; there was no need to spoil this beautiful golden hiatus of perfect peace.

  Eventually, John stirred. Kissing her face reverently, still holding her against him, he sat up. ‘I’m awfully thirsty. Banging the living daylights out of the woman you love can do that to a man. Would you like me to bring a drink to bed for you, love? We can have Champagne, if you like? Or water. Or even tea … Just say the word.’

  Hell, yes, thinking about it, Lizzie realised she had a raging thirst too. ‘Water would be lovely, I think. Lots of ice.’

  ‘Sounds perfect. I’ll go and get it. I won’t be long.’

  As if he couldn’t bear to stop touching her, John hugged her again, then put her from him, with obvious reluctance. His smile for her was the wonder-smile, but dazed too, as if he couldn’t quite believe what’d happened. As if he were as stunned as she was. Stunned to be engaged. But happy too, unabashedly happy, thank God!

  Still grinning, he sprang from the bed, grabbed up his robe and belted it quickly. At the door, he looked back at her, and seemed to give a little gasp.

  Yes, lover, I’m real, she wanted to say.

  Are you?

  15

  The Ring

  When Lizzie returned to the room from the bathroom, she found John sitting cross-legged on the bed, in his reassembled pyjamas. He was sipping straight from a bottle of mineral water, and there were more bottles in an ice bucket on the bedside table, along with glasses on a tray. One of his iPads lay on the bed in front of him, and leaning over it, he was swiping through pages.

  ‘Mm, heaven,’ said Lizzie, as she took a long draught from a bottle herself. She’d sipped a little water in the bathroom, but it didn’t have the same frosty deliciousness. ‘What are you looking at?’ She set the bottle aside as John did the same.

  ‘I’ve got something I want you to look at.’ John swiped through some pages on the iPad, then paused, staring down at the device. Lizzie couldn’t quite see the screen, but for a moment, he seemed deep in thought, frowning slightly.

  ‘Do you remember I told you about an aunt who let me have my bequest from her early, in order to pay for Rose’s care?’

  Lizzie nodded. She loved what John had done for Rose, whose mother had been killed, and who’d been left badly injured by Clara’s dangerous driving. He’d made sure that Rose had been given the very best medical treatment, and therapies, and he’d tried to do everything he could to ensure that she could lead a fulfilling and productive life, even though she’d never walk again.

  ‘Well, as her favourite nephew, she also set aside a family heirloom for me. A ring that I might give to my fiancée on our engagement.’ His long fingers tapped the edge of the tablet. ‘It’s documented for insurance purposes, and I thought you might like to take a look at it. It’s in the vault at my London HQ, but if you like it, I’ll get Willis to send it up by secure priority courier.’

  Crikey. A ring. Idiotic as it seemed, she’d never even considered the traditional symbol of engagement. Just the idea of being with John was precious enough, somehow.

  ‘OK, then.’ She nodded to the iPad. Why did he seem oddly reluctant to show it?

  John turned the device around. Lizzie gasped.

  Even simply as an image on the Retina screen, the ring was dazzling. Exquisite. Not at all what she’d expected, but much, much more lovely. Nestled in a bed of dark blue velvet was a delicate, beautiful vintage piece, Art Deco if she wasn’t mistaken, a sizeable marquise-cut diamond, surrounded by rubies, surrounded again by smaller diamonds.

  ‘Oh John, it’s gorgeous. Just gorgeous. I … I never imagined I’d ever have a beautiful ring like that. It’s awe-inspiring.’

  ‘You like it?’

  ‘I bloody love it, you idiot! It’s breath-taking.’ As if she might be able to feel its radiance, she touched the screen, making a fingerprint.

  ‘Intrinsically, it’s nowhere near as valuable as your diamond earrings, but, well, I was very fond of Aunt Constance, and I’d like to honour her wishes.’ He pursed his lips. ‘But only if you’re happy with it. If you’re not, we’ll choose something. We’ll go down to London, to Asprey or somewhere, and choose together.’

  Lizzie frowned, puzzled. ‘Why wouldn’t I want it? It’s glorious, and I’m very touched that you’d want me to have a special family ring.’ She blinked, all the more moved as she thought about it. If only John was as sure. What was bugging him?

  For a moment, he closed his eyes, and tipped his head back. It was almost as if he was trying to shake something from his mind. A worm of unease stirred in Lizzie’s middle.

  ‘It’s the ring I was planning to give to Clara,’ he said quietly. ‘We were never formally engaged. She was hard to pin down about it. But she had seen the ring, and I know she liked it.’ There was unease in his eyes too as he looked at her. Pain, even? Oh God, did that still hurt him? Even now? ‘If … If that puts you off it, because it would have been hers, you don’t have to have it. We’ll get something brand new. Together.’

  Clara. As ever. Those long blue-blooded fingers had reached out again, sneaking their way into everything.

  For a second Lizzie faltered, and the request that yes, she would like a new ring, hovered on her lips. But then …

  No! It’s a wonderful ring. I want it! She’s not taking the ring from me and she’s not taking John from me either. She had her chance and she chucked up the most wonderful man. She’s an idiot, not someone to fear or change my choices for. Sod her!

  ‘I like this ring, John.’ She put another fingerprint on the iPad, and looked up at him. ‘It’s sublime. It’s the one I want. Clara had her chance, and this is my chance. I’m not going to pass it up.’

  John beamed, relief and, yes, admiration, in his eyes.

  ‘You’ll have it on Monday, my love,’ he said quietly, as if greatly moved. ‘That, and anything and everything else you want. Just say the word.’

  Lizzie took the iPad from him and set it aside. ‘I’ve got everything I want.’ She reached out and cupped his face. ‘You, John. You’re all I’ll ever need.’

  As she so often did herself, he turned his face and kissed her palm, then took both her hands in his, leant across and kissed her on the lips. Up close, his blue eyes shone with a sharp glitter that might just have been a hint of a tear.

  ‘Me too, love. Ditto,’ he whispered against her lips, then kissed h
er again.

  Words, somehow, seemed inadequate, but the quiet, sweet, uncomplicated kiss spoke eloquently. It wasn’t to do with sex, just a gentle marking of their agreement, an acknowledgement.

  They were together. It was the real thing. The big thing. And they weren’t going to let anything, least of all anybody’s exes, stop them moving forward.

  For a while they just lounged against the pillows, talking about the ring, and John’s aunt, who’d gifted it to him. Aunt Constance, who’d been kind, and who, Lizzie suspected, had been as bowled over by her beautiful nephew as most other people were.

  In a natural lull in the conversation, though, a thought occurred.

  ‘What about Caroline? You were married to her. Didn’t she wear the ring?’ Lizzie had noticed Caroline’s impressive jewellery. A diamond the size of an asteroid and matching wedding ring. A couple of very beautiful and huge rings on her other hand. Had she worn the diamond and ruby treasure too, at one time?

  ‘No. She didn’t,’ said John after a while, his fingers gently smoothing over Lizzie’s shoulder. ‘We never discussed it, but I think we both knew our marriage wasn’t for ever. And we accepted that. Also, I wasn’t exactly rolling in cash at first, and she was. She bought herself a rather nice emerald to celebrate our arrangement, and she still wears it.’ Out of the corner of her eye, Lizzie saw him smile. Fondly. She didn’t mind that, because she liked Caroline and she’d been good to her beloved when he needed it. But what about Ralph?

  ‘Doesn’t her hubby mind?’

  ‘No, Ralph’s a sensible, down-to-earth guy, and their relationship is rock solid. I think he’s happy that I made his wife’s life pleasurable for a while.’ He laughed softly. ‘I was her sort of fill-in husband, a placeholder for him.’

  ‘Well, if you put it like that. It makes sense. Weird … but sense.’

  John cradled her face, making her look at him. ‘It’s fate, love. Maybe Caroline and I knew that the right woman, “the one”, would come along for me, if I waited long enough.’

  An evil worm of disquiet whispered in her ear. Had he been saving the ring, hoping Clara would eventually come back to him? Which she had done, even if only for a brief fling, not marriage.

  No, don’t go there.

  ‘No, I wasn’t saving it for her. At the time, I never thought I’d see Clara again, at least not in any way other than socially.’ His thumb moved against her cheek. Gentling her? Or distracting her? ‘And when we did get together, I … well, I did entertain the idea of marriage, but I’m still not sure I’d have wanted her to have Constance’s ring.’ He hauled in a great breath, as if perplexed.

  ‘Why? Because you subconsciously suspected she might do the dirty on you again?’ She spoke softly. She didn’t want to be confrontational, least of all now. But she couldn’t spend her life being scared of a name, much less the woman herself.

  John sighed. Not sadly, just wryly. ‘I wouldn’t have admitted it at the time, but yes, you’re right. Stupid me wanted to believe that we might marry; but deep down, the me who’d been through the mill was wiser, knowing she’d probably fuck me over again, just as she did before.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with hoping, is there? Hoping for the best, and believing things might turn out.’ She placed her hand over his, then turned her face so she could kiss his palm.

  John smiled, his eyes warming and losing that vaguely clouded look. ‘No, there isn’t. You’re very wise, my love. It’s the best way to live.’ He leant forward, and kissed her on the forehead, then, sliding his hand around her shoulders, drew her back with him, to lie against the pillows. The iPad slid to one side, on the bedclothes.

  ‘I wonder what everybody will think of our news?’ said Lizzie, snuggling in closer. ‘I mean, obviously a certain person won’t be too pleased, but what about everybody else? Caroline will be chuffed, I guess. She pretty much engineered it.’

  John grinned. ‘She’s in raptures, love. I just emailed her before you came in, and she answered straight away. I think she was waiting to hear the news.’

  ‘Good. I like your first missus very much. I mean, I know we only met this afternoon, but she feels like a kind of auntie somehow, or a fairy godmother.’ John’s arm tightened around her, a squeeze of approval. ‘She waved her magic wand today, and voila!’

  ‘Tom and Brent are thrilled too. I just texted Tom. Told him not to say anything up at the big house just yet, though.’

  Lizzie laughed. ‘Honestly, Mr Smith, you’re acting far more like an excited little girlie over this than I am!’

  ‘Not so much of the “girlie”, madam,’ John growled. ‘If you don’t watch it, I’ll show you who’s the girlie and who isn’t.’

  ‘Promises, promises. But seriously, I’m glad to hear about Tom. I thought he might be pleased. He’s lovely, and I’m so happy he and Brent are together. You don’t suppose, perhaps, that they might be next, do you?’

  John seemed to mull the idea over. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me. They make a great couple, so comfortable with each other. I’d be glad to hear it, if they decide to make a commitment.’

  ‘Me too.’

  Lizzie was just about to say more when the bedroom door, which had been open just a crack, swung wider and Alice the tortoiseshell cat prowled in. The little feline had been out and about in the park most of the afternoon, having put in an appearance beside the pool, and found the splashing of murder-tag-water-polo not to her liking. She’d accepted her rightful homage, and some fussing, then quit the scene. Now, she leapt onto the bed and crept up between Lizzie’s and John’s stretched-out legs.

  ‘Well, that puts paid to any further “celebration” for the time being,’ observed John, reaching down to stroke the cat’s ears and receiving the reward of a loud thrumming purr.

  ‘Looks like she approves too,’ said Lizzie, also stroking Alice. ‘That’s good to know.’

  ‘That just leaves my family, and your family, and Shelley and Mr Kraft,’ continued John. ‘We’ll see your mother and father next weekend, and perhaps my lot the weekend after.’ He gave a great, theatrical shudder. ‘And maybe you could text or call Shelley now? Or is it too late?’

  The clock on the mantelpiece read 1 a.m.

  ‘I’ll text her,’ said Lizzie, sitting up and reaching for her phone on the bedside table. ‘I won’t call. You never know what she and Sholto might be up to. I’d imagine they’re very sexually adventurous, not like us staid old engaged people.’

  ‘If this cat hadn’t settled in, I’d show you staid, young lady!’ said John with a saturnine smile.

  What to say? Lizzie debated a moment. Shelley would be pleased for her, she knew, but news like this marked a watershed in her relationship with her friend. They’d been close as close for quite a while; the two of them – and Brent – against the world. And now that configuration was radically changed.

  It’s John and me against the world now. And probably Brent and Tom, too. But how about you, Shell? Is it you and Sholto? I hope so, and if it is, I hope it works out for you.

  Tapping quickly, she decided to keep it simple.

  You won’t believe this. I’m engaged!!!!! I’ll phone you for a natter tomorrow, or in the week. But just wanted to let you know. Love and kisses, L

  She pressed send, and smiled at John as she set aside the phone.

  ‘That’s it, then. Everybody who needs to know at this stage knows. I’ll tell Marie when I go into the shop on Monday. What shall we do now?’

  ‘Well, I think that as soon as this cat moves her furry butt we should make love again.’ John pressed his thigh gently against Alice’s tortoiseshell flank, but to no avail. ‘But until then, maybe we could make a few plans?’ He leant over and kissed Lizzie on the cheek, while stroking the cat.

  ‘Plans it is, then,’ Lizzie affirmed.

  Heck, this was scary … but exciting!

  Shelley stared at the screen of her phone, feeling a little thud of ‘something’ inside her. What was it? Happiness for her f
riend, yes. Maybe just a little envy, obviously. John Smith was absolutely loaded, and Lizzie would never ever have to concern herself with money worries ever again. Wistfulness? Yes, that, but not about the money.

  She glanced across at Sholto. They were sitting on a bench in the party quarter of town, the Piazza, looking out onto the canal. Night-life was still in full swing as Sunday morning waxed, and loud but largely good-humoured posses of clubbers and other animals were milling about across the broad concourse, making their way from the venues that were closing towards the ones still open.

  What would Sholto think of this news? Shelley almost hesitated to tell him. He’d enjoyed the pool party at Dalethwaite, that was obvious, and everyone had got on well together, despite them being such a disparate bunch. But since they’d left in the taxi, he’d lapsed now and again into the deepest thought, sometimes with a slight frown on his tough-hewn face.

  Shelley had expected that they’d go straight back to St Patrick’s Road, on leaving the manor house, and they had done. But when they’d reached the house, Sholto had asked the cab to wait, and they’d dropped their bags with their swimming gear, and then jumped straight back in it, heading for town, and a drink at the Waverley Metro. Even though neither of them had been due to work there that evening, Shelley had still liked the idea. She always did. She loved the buzz of the Metro, and the crowd it attracted. Even on a normal night, there was always an electric atmosphere. On a fetish night, it made her heart trip just to walk in there.

  Unable not to take his job seriously, Sholto had checked in with Greg, who was duty man tonight. There was nothing to worry about, though: takings were up, the vibe was great, as always, and there’d been no incidents. Shelley and Sholto had a couple of drinks, and boogied to a couple of numbers on the dance floor, but then, by unspoken agreement, left after a last word with Greg.

  ‘What is it?’

  With a jump, Shelley realised Sholto was staring at her curiously, although she’d not spoken a word about the contents of the text. ‘Is something wrong?’ He nodded to her phone.