Unwanted Wedding

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Unwanted Wedding Page 10

by Penny Jordan


  ‘Ah, Rosy—and Guard!’ he exclaimed, his smile disappearing as he shook his head and told them dolorously, ‘Bad news, I’m afraid. We discovered last week that the subsidence at home which we thought was only a minor problem is far, far more serious. In fact, we’ve had no option but to move out of the house while the surveyors and lawyers get to work sorting everything out.

  ‘Margaret was worried about our moving in here without being able to let you know, but I told her she was being silly. After all, what else are families for if not to help one another out in an emergency? Where else could we go? With all my confidential papers and the work I do at home, it would be impossible for us to move into some hotel. The noise alone would play havoc with Margaret’s migraines, and then when the boys come home for half-term…No—I said immediately that we should come here.

  ‘Margaret is still at home, supervising the last of the packing, but she should be here soon. I’ve taken the liberty of instructing Mrs Frinton to prepare Grandfather’s suite for us, although of course we’ll have to have a couple of beds brought down from the attic floor. We prefer them these days, you know. Margaret doesn’t sleep well and…’

  Dumbstruck, Rosy stared at him, hardly able to believe what she was hearing.

  ‘Of course I know that you two young people are only just newly married, but I promise you you’ll hardly know we’re here and you’ll find Margaret a big help, Rosy, my dear. She’s used to running a large household—organising dinner parties, that kind of thing.’

  Rosy drew in a shaky breath, opened her mouth and then closed it again, not trusting herself to speak. Instead, she gave Guard an imploring look. Thank goodness he was here with her. He would know how to deal with Edward, how to make him leave.

  But, to her shock, instead of instantly demanding that Edward did leave, Guard said almost conversationally to him, ‘Rosy’s grandfather’s suite—that would be the master suite, I take it?’

  ‘Yes, that’s right,’ Edward agreed affably, and then added with what, to Rosy, was sickeningly fake concern, ‘Oh, I did check with Mrs Frinton that you and Rosy weren’t using it, of course. She didn’t actually seem to know where you’d be sleeping…’

  A look Rosy didn’t like flickered in the sharp, foxy eyes as he glanced from Guard to her and then back to Guard again.

  ‘Of course, the bathroom attached to the master suite leaves a lot to be desired and—’

  ‘Which is why, I’m afraid, you’ll have to pick another room,’ Guard interrupted him calmly, whilst Rosy’s eyes widened in disbelieving shock. What was Guard saying? Why hadn’t he told Edward that he couldn’t stay—that he must leave!

  She tensed as Guard reached out and placed his arm around her, drawing her closer, her body stiffening in outraged rejection as she glowered at him.

  ‘Rosy and I were just discussing our plans for renovating that part of the house on the flight home,’ Guard continued. ‘In fact I intend to get in touch with the architect tomorrow. To be honest with you, Edward, I should have thought you’d have found the upper storey bedrooms more appropriate. Especially, as you say, with half-term coming up. And, of course, as you remarked yourself, Rosy and I are still rather protective of our privacy…as newlyweds…’

  As he spoke, he turned towards Rosy and added tenderly, ‘Isn’t that so, my love?’

  Fortunately, he didn’t wait for her to make any reply and neither did Edward.

  ‘By the upper storey, I take it you are referring to the attic bedrooms,’ Edward demanded warily, ‘the servants’ quarters…’

  ‘That’s right,’ Guard agreed evenly. ‘And now if you’ll excuse us, Edward, we have one or two things we need to attend to. Since you aren’t here as a guest, I know you won’t expect us to stand on ceremony with you. Oh, and I’m afraid you won’t be able to call on Mrs Frinton for any assistance. I’m afraid I’ve behaved in what Rosy insists is a rather chauvinistic fashion and left it to them to organise the removal of my own possessions from my apartment and find new homes for them here. Which reminds me, Edward…I know you won’t take offence but, since we are to be sharing the same roof, I know you’ll understand if I say that the library and study will both be off-limits to you and your family. As a newly married man, I shall want to spend as much time as I can with my wife, which means that I shall be working, as far as possible, from home.

  ‘You don’t have to worry about anything on that side of things, darling,’ Guard added, smiling lovingly down into Rosy’s indignant eyes. ‘I’ll make all the arrangements with the technicians and so forth about installing the telex and the computer stuff.

  ‘Mrs Frinton—Rosy and I have both had a tiring few days. Do you think it would be possible for us to have a little light lunch in the winter parlour? I won’t ask you to join us, Edward,’ Guard continued smoothly. ‘I appreciate how busy you must be…Bad luck—about the subsidence, I mean,’ Guard added, as Edward watched him warily.

  It was only the almost painful pressure of Guard’s fingers round her arm that prevented Rosy from exploding into angry speech before they reached the sanctuary of the small, panelled winter parlour, but once they were there and the door was safely closed behind them, she pulled herself out of Guard’s restraining hold and demanded tearfully, ‘Why didn’t you tell Edward to leave? Why did you let him think it was all right for him to stay here? He can’t stay here, you know that. I don’t want him here. I don’t believe he really doesn’t have anywhere else to go. He’s just doing this because…because…’

  ‘Go on,’ Guard told her grimly. ‘Because what?’

  ‘Because he wants to spy on us,’ Rosy flashed fiercely. ‘Because…’

  ‘Because he’s obviously suspicious?’ Guard suggested grimly.

  Woodenly, Rosy looked away from him.

  She was only just beginning to realise the import of Edward’s presence at Queen’s Meadow and what it really meant. At first she had simply assumed that he had moved in to annoy them, out of spite and malice, but now Guard was making her acknowledge that he could have a far more sinister and dangerous purpose.

  As the seriousness of what Guard was saying sank in the colour seeped from Rosy’s face, leaving it pale and strained.

  ‘You’re saying that he suspects that we’re not…that we don’t…that our marriage…But he’s only guessing,’ she protested as she paced the floor nervously and then swung round to look pleadingly at Guard, willing him to agree with her.

  ‘At this stage, yes,’ Guard acknowledged. ‘But don’t underestimate him, Rosy. He’s a very dangerous man.’

  ‘If you really think that, then why are you letting him stay here?’ Rosy demanded. ‘You should have told him to leave.’

  ‘And risk making him even more suspicious? No, I couldn’t do that. I warned you that something like this might happen, right at the outset, Rosy.’

  ‘No, you didn’t,’ Rosy denied passionately. ‘You never said anything about Edward’s moving in with us or—’

  ‘Not specifically,’ Guard agreed. ‘But I did point out to you the risks we were taking, and I did warn you, as well, that there was no way I was going to allow my reputation—professional or personal—to be jeopardised by this marriage.

  ‘Don’t delude yourself, Rosy. It won’t just be Queen’s Meadow that we stand to lose. If Edward suspects that he might be able to make a case against us—’ He paused, shaking his head. ‘People have faced prison sentences for less.’

  ‘Prison…’ Rosy’s face went white with shock. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘No…You’re just trying to frighten me.’

  She tensed and Guard frowned warningly at her as someone knocked on the parlour door.

  When Guard opened it to admit Mrs Frinton carrying a large tray, she relaxed slightly, but her tension soon returned when the housekeeper looked uncomfortably at them both and then burst out, ‘I don’t want to say anything out of place, only I did work for your grandfather for a long time, and it was obvious that he and Mr Edward—Well, it’s
just that Mr Edward has been asking an awful lot of questions.’

  ‘What kinds of questions, Mrs Frinton?’ Guard asked her calmly.

  How could he be so calm after what he had just said to her, the fright he had just given her? she wondered miserably.

  Prison. It was impossible. Wasn’t it?

  ‘Well, he wanted to know what room you and Rosy would be using, for instance,’ she replied. ‘He said it was because he didn’t want to upset anyone by taking the room you wanted, and he said that he’d noticed how Miss Rosy’s things were still in her old room…’

  Rosy gasped in outrage. How dared Edward go into her room? If her grandfather were still alive, he would never—

  If her grandfather were still alive, none of this would ever have happened. She would have had no need to marry Guard. She would have had no need to lie and deceive.

  She could feel the hot, anguished tears burning the backs of her eyes.

  ‘I said as how I didn’t know which room you’d be using, but he kept going on about it. Asked which one you’d used after the wedding…’ Mrs Frinton flushed uncomfortably as he looked at them both.

  ‘It’s all right, Mrs Frinton,’ Guard assured her quickly. ‘As a matter of fact we were going to discuss with you which room we shall be using. As I’m sure you’ll understand, there are certain rooms which, for emotional reasons, Rosy doesn’t want to use. Her father’s bedroom, for instance, and her grandfather’s. I’ve already explained to her that I can hardly share the bed in her present room,’ Guard added softly, causing Rosy to give him a flushed and indignant glare. They had discussed no such thing, and if he thought he was being funny…Obviously Mrs Frinton knew they wouldn’t be using that room. It only had a single bed in it, for one thing.

  ‘We had thought we’d walk round the house together and make our choice that way, although I suspect whichever room we choose will only be a temporary arrangement, since most of the bathrooms need modernising. I personally rather like large Edwardian baths—for a variety of reasons,’ Guard added wickedly, with a look at Rosy that made both her and Mrs Frinton blush, ‘but Rosy insists that she would prefer something a little more modern and I must admit that I’m going to miss the high-powered shower in my apartment…’

  Rosy waited until Mrs Frinton had gone, angrily shaking her head when Guard asked her if she wanted something to eat, wondering how on earth he could so calmly tuck into the sandwiches Mrs Frinton had made, for all the world as though nothing was wrong.

  ‘You know we’ve already decided which rooms we were going to use,’ she burst out.

  ‘Were being the operative word,’ Guard interrupted her quietly, putting his plate to one side and getting up. ‘Things are different now, Rosy, which is why, for the duration of Edward’s and his family’s stay here, you’ll be sleeping in my bedroom.’

  ‘Your bedroom?’ Rosy questioned uncertainly. ‘But where will you sleep?’

  She had already guessed the answer, and the look he gave her confirmed her worst suspicions.

  ‘Oh, no,’ she protested quickly. ‘No…Not that. I’m not sharing a room with you, Guard—sleeping in the same…No…We can’t.’

  ‘We don’t have any alternative,’ Guard informed her grimly. ‘It’s either sharing a room and a bed with me, Rosy, or potentially sharing one in one of Her Majesty’s prisons with someone else.’

  ‘No,’ Rosy denied. ‘No. You’re just trying to frighten me.’

  ‘What? Do you really think I’m so desperate for a woman that I need to frighten you into sleeping with me? Grow up, Rosy,’ Guard told her sardonically. ‘It isn’t sex that’s worrying me right now. It’s fraud.’

  Rosy chewed worriedly on her bottom lip.

  ‘You really mean it, don’t you?’ she asked him slowly. ‘You really do think that Edward suspects.’ She gave a small shiver, her eyes registering her fear. ‘We wouldn’t really go to prison, would we, Guard? I mean, it isn’t as though—’

  ‘As though what? As though we’ve done anything wrong in conniving together to deprive Edward of his inheritance? I doubt that the courts would take such a lenient view.’ He gave her a wintry look. ‘Of course, if you prefer to ignore my advice and take the risk of—’

  ‘No,’ Rosy denied quickly. She was really beginning to feel afraid now.

  ‘I’m no more happy about the situation than you are,’ Guard told her. ‘I agreed to marry you, Rosy, not sleep with you and, believe me, if there’d been any way I could have got Edward to leave without adding fuel to the fire of his suspicions, I would have done so.’

  Guard didn’t want to sleep with her, to share his bed with her? Rosy frowned as she recognised that she was not finding this information quite as reassuring as she ought.

  Those odd feelings that floated, haze-like, just beyond her grasp—were they really chagrin, pique and the hurt of rejection? Surely not!

  ‘So…this room would seem to be the most suitable. Unless you’d prefer one of the others?’

  Silently, Rosy shook her head.

  She and Guard had just spent an hour inspecting the bedrooms.

  Rosy had paused briefly outside the door to the two adjoining rooms which she had originally believed they would occupy, but Guard had firmly taken hold of her arm and drawn her away, murmuring grimly to her, ‘Think yourself lucky that I’ve managed to insist that Edward isn’t sleeping on the same floor as us, otherwise I suspect we’d have him in the room next to us eagerly monitoring every sound—or lack of them.’

  When he saw the revulsion darken her eyes, Guard had grimaced cynically.

  ‘You find that offensive. Well, I promise you, it’s nothing to what could be dragged up in Court…’

  Now they were standing in a large, corner room at the opposite end of the house from the rooms she and her father and grandfather had occupied.

  Rosy stood in silent contemplation of the huge, four-poster bed.

  Perhaps at one time this room, with its large, comfortable bed, its warm panelling, its fireplace, and even its deep window-seat, had represented sanctuary to another woman—had even, perhaps, been somewhere where she had known love and pleasure—but she could not see it like that. She bit down hard on her bottom lip, trying to keep her anguish at bay.

  She was afraid, she recognised shakily, afraid for almost the first time in her life. Not of Guard, no matter how much she might balk at having to share a room—and a bed—with him. No, what she feared was the danger he had revealed so trenchantly to her.

  ‘We couldn’t…we wouldn’t really go to prison, would we?’ she asked him in a small voice through dry lips.

  ‘What do you want me to tell you, Rosy? A comforting lie to make you feel better? You’re the one who keeps telling me that you’re a woman and not a child,’ he reminded her.

  ‘But if Edward believes that we’re sleeping together, that we’re really married, then you think that he’ll stop being suspicious?’ she persisted stubbornly.

  ‘It would certainly give him less grounds for his suspicions,’ Guard agreed. ‘But don’t underestimate Edward, Rosy. He’s a liar and a cheat and, like all liars and cheats, he knows very well how to recognise those traits in others.’

  ‘I don’t think anyone’s slept in this room since Gramps’s seventieth birthday party,’ Rosy told Guard in a strained voice as she ignored his comment and walked over to the larger of the room’s two windows.

  The velvet covering the window-seat was old and faded, like the curtains and the bed-hangings, but it still had a richness, a softness, an air of luxury about it that no modern fabric could match.

  ‘This velvet came from Venice,’ Rosy told Guard stiltedly. ‘My grandmother bought it when she and Gramps were there on their honeymoon…’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ Guard responded quietly.

  There was a note in his voice that Rosy had never heard before. He sounded almost as though he felt compassion for her…pity…

  ‘Rosy, I know that this isn’t easy for you…’ />
  Rosy stiffened as she recognised that he had left the bed and was coming up behind her.

  If he touched her now—Her spine tensed as she turned away from the window, rushing into hurried speech.

  ‘We’ll need fresh bedding and…and towels. There are some linen sheets, I think, that should be large enough—Irish ones that were a part of my great-grandmother’s trousseau. It’s a very big bed…’

  ‘A very big bed,’ Guard agreed. ‘With more than enough room in it for both of us and a couple of bolsters.’

  ‘Bolsters?’

  Puzzled, Rosy turned round.

  ‘Yes, bolsters,’ Guard agreed. ‘You put them down the middle of the bed to split it into two. At one time, no romantic novel worthy of its name would have been without them, or so I’ve heard,’ Guard told her drolly.

  Rosy gave him a wan smile.

  ‘We couldn’t use them even if we had any,’ she told him. ‘Edward might see them…’ Her voice cracked suddenly, hot tears flooding her eyes. ‘I never dreamed it would be like this,’ she cried miserably. ‘I just wanted to protect the house, that’s all.’

  ‘Yes, I know. Come on, have a good cry. It will make you feel better,’ Guard told her, crossing the floor and drawing her into his arms with surprising gentleness.

  She had no time to reject him or to protest; this was a Guard she had not previously known, she recognised as she succumbed to the comfort of being held firmly in his arms, of having the warm solidity of his body to lean on.

  Being held like this by him brought home to her how alone she now was—her father and her grandfather both gone, no loving, paternalistic figure for her to turn to with her troubles any more.

  This knowledge made her tears flow faster, soaking through the fine white cotton of Guard’s shirt.

  ‘It wasn’t supposed to be like this,’ she protested, half hiccuping the words.

  ‘I know.’

  How comforting Guard’s voice sounded, as comforting as the protective way he was holding her.

  ‘Guard, I’m so afraid. What are we going to do?’

 

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