I'll Get By (33 page)

Nick’s yacht, she thought with some pride. He’d done it for her. Nick had risked his own life to rescue Leo. ‘Did Leo say who his rescuer was?’

‘He didn’t see anyone, though he formed the impression that his rescuer had a beard. He said it was all so very mysterious. He fell asleep. He thought he’d been given some knockout drops, because he woke up in Hyde Park.’

That was definitely a Nick touch. Imagine him giving Leo knockout drops? Goodness, she hoped Leo never found out. Stifling a giggle she quickly changed the subject. ‘What did Leo think of Johnno? I would have loved to have seen his face when he saw him for the first time.’

‘Leo thinks he’s the cat’s whiskers, and vice versa. I could swear that Johnno knew he was his father as soon as they set eyes on each other, and without me telling him. They can’t stop smiling at each other. I’ll tell you about it when you come down for your birthday. You’ll be here for it, won’t you, Meggie Moo? Livia is dying to see you.’

‘I’ll try and get some time off. Aunt Es . . . would you mind not calling me Meggie Moo any more. Just Meggie will do.’

‘Oh, dear, you have grown up, haven’t you? I’ll try to remember not to. You must ask that lovely boss of yours to the party. Bring him with you, he’s such a gentleman that he’ll impress your mother no end.’

‘I will if he wants to come.’

The doorbell rang and she finished her phone call hurriedly with, ‘I’ll call you again tomorrow, Aunt Es. Lots of love to Leo and Johnno.’

The nights were drawing in rapidly and there was a nip in the air. When she opened the door it was dark in both the porch and the hall.

She knew who stood there, a shadow against a darker shadow in the sandlewood-scented twilight. She breathed him in and his presence filled her.

In an instant she was in his arms, hugging him tight and feeling his body against hers, warm and reassuring. ‘Nick . . . oh, Nick. I’m so glad you’re safe.’

He kissed her, the sensation so tender, loving and possessive that she wanted to cry.

‘So am I. Fetch your coat and scarf. You’re coming home with me for dinner tonight. It was all William’s idea. He wants me to impress you, with champagne in crystal and candlelight, so you’ll accept my proposal when I offer it properly and officially.’

She pulled him inside and took him through to the kitchen where a candle glowed. ‘Offer it now.’

He took her hands in his, and his grey eyes engaged hers. They were soft in the candlelight. ‘My dearest lady, words can’t express how much I love you. Will you forgive me for all my faults and become my wife. I promise I’ll be good from now on.’

She threw an unbelieving laugh at him. ‘Not too good, I hope.’

He chuckled.

‘Does that mean you won’t keep disappearing.’

‘I can’t promise that, my love . . . not while there’s a
war on.’

‘But you will promise to be careful?’

‘I’ve got everything to stay alive for.’

She took the ring from the chain around her neck and handed it to him. It slid easily on to her finger, as she knew it would. ‘Will your father mind? He might think I’m not good enough for you.’

He ran a finger down her cheek. ‘He’ll adore you. He wants to meet you at the weekend.’

‘By the way,’ she said. ‘Bethuen carpeted me this morning. He demanded to know where you were and warned me of the danger a relationship with you would represent.’

‘The devil he did!’

‘I told Bethuen I didn’t know where you were, and to contact the appropriate authority if he had any complaints about my work. Then Gordon Frapp asked me the same thing.’

‘They’re both transparent. Gordon wants to be in charge, and Bethuen wants to go back to not doing anything much. What did you tell Gordon?’

‘That of course I knew where you were . . . I kept you in a pickle jar in the larder. He was not amused.’

Nick burst into laughter. ‘You’ve got more tricks than the two of them put together.’

She could have kicked him. ‘You’re not going to tell me anything I want to know, are you?’

‘I shouldn’t think so. You can keep on keeping me in your pickle jar for the time being.’

‘I can add two and two together, you know. I know much more than you know I know.’

‘Obviously you’re pickled too . . . which is why my wedding gift to you will be Girton College for a couple of years, if that’s what you really want to do. Once we’re married you can leave the Wrens if you want.’

When she opened her mouth he placed his finger over it. ‘You needn’t say anything.’

She pulled his finger away long enough to say, ‘But I want to say something. Unfortunately, Nick, I’m totally and utterly speechless . . . well almost. I thought I might go into a partnership with Judith, and open a secretarial school when the war ends. What will you do?’

‘Learn to run the family estate. It will be in my charge one day, and it’s what my father wants and expects of me.’

Arms around each other, Nick and Meggie strolled around Foxglove House, recently vacated.

‘You know, Meggie, it looks as though it might be rather beautiful under this institutional paint. If you want to keep it, you can. It has lovely ceilings, but it’s a pity they painted over the oak panelling. I suppose it could be restored. We could put an estate manager in to manage the farming side.’

‘I made my mind up long ago that I didn’t want to keep it. I’ve got a good offer for it, from someone who wants to convert it into four flats. The money will go to charity, probably to children in need. You won’t mind, will you?’

‘Not at all.’

She ran her hand over the piano; the once glossy top was covered in scars left by cigarettes and rings from drink bottles. The underside had names scratched into it.

‘We could get that repolished.’

‘I like it as it is. This piano has been played by heroes, including my father, and that’s a good way to remember it. Goodness knows how many of them died in our defence. Could we store it somewhere, in case there is a war museum set up? I’d rather like to preserve it.’

She fell silent. Although Rennie Stone’s name wasn’t on the piano lid, he’d been killed in France by a sniper’s bullet some eighteen months earlier. He was buried in France somewhere. Poor, dear Rennie.

Sliding on to the piano stool she began to play, and sang, wincing at the flat notes issuing from the ill-used instrument. ‘
I’ll get by.’

‘
As long as I have you,
’ Nick whispered, sliding next to her and planting a kiss on her cheek. ‘Does it still hurt?’

Here was a man who knew her better than she knew herself. ‘Sometimes. Rennie was a good man. He knew I had a crush on him. Luckily he wasn’t the type to take advantage of my feelings, and he let me down as sensitively as he could.’

‘Not like me then.’

‘It always felt as though we were right together, even when we argued. Allow me to tell you something you don’t know. In about six months’ time there will be three of us.’ She laughed when his mouth fell open, placed her fingertip under his chin to close it, then kissed him. ‘See, I can have secrets too.’

There were tears in his eyes now. ‘I love you, Lady Cowan.’

‘Come on you big softie, let’s go and inform my mother she’s going to be a granny.’

They walked through a misty, pale amaranth evening, the earth bursting with spring growth and the breeze stirring fresh and rousing with promise.

There was a faint smell of smoke in the air for it wasn’t yet warm enough in the evening to go without some sort of comfort.

‘Do you know what I miss the most now the war is ended, Nick? The sound of the planes flying over,’ she said. ‘It’s so quiet now.’

Nick missed the excitement of the danger that came with them. But he’d always known he’d have to grow up sometime, and Meggie was compensation for that.

They fell quiet.

Leo had worked under Denton for the past few months, refreshing his surgeon’s skills. He’d been offered a job with the Royal Flying Doctor Service in Australia, and they were leaving the next day from Southampton.

Meggie’s mother, Livia, was shedding a few tears over it. Meggie crossed to where she stood, gave her a hug and whispered something in her ear.

Nick tried not to grin as Livia’s eyes widened. So did her smile.

He watched the news pass round, and the hugging began. Meggie had warned him that they hugged a lot. He liked this family he’d married into. Mostly, he liked being part of a family.

They had mastered the art of precedence. Meggie was hugged, first by Livia, then Esmé and then Chad’s wife, Sylvia . . . all delighted by the news. Livia had gained a certain cache in the neighbourhood by having a viscount for a son-in-law, but she wasn’t a person who would show off for the sake of it, just enjoy her pleasure in it quietly.

As for his own father, the earl, he’d accepted Meggie with more than a little relief, alerting Nick to the fact that he’d always been aware of his son’s foibles.

His little unit had been dissolved, but Nick’s services hadn’t been dispensed with. He’d worked under cover for the rest of the war, by which time the adventure had become a chore, and he’d experienced a need to settle down.

Denton slapped him on the back. ‘Congratulations, my boy.’

Nick nearly said ‘my pleasure’ before he remembered he’d taken his pleasure with the man’s stepdaughter – on many occasions, and it just got better and better.

Denton was followed by Leo with, ‘Ever since I first met you I’ve been puzzling about where I know your face from. Now I remember.’

‘Enlighten me,’ he said.

‘Have you ever been a postman?’

Chad laughed. ‘It sounds like you’ve had one too many, Leo. There wouldn’t be too many lords of the realm out there delivering the post.’

‘Could be. All the same, I’m sure we’ve met before. I’ll remember it eventually.’

Not until he was safely back in Australia, Nick hoped.

Meggie joined him and took his arm. ‘I’m sure you’d make an excellent postman, darling? I can just see you on your little bike delivering parcels. Have you been offered a job then?’

Leo laughed. ‘I’ve been trying to remember where I’ve seen Nick before.’

‘There was a picture of his father in the paper last week. They look rather alike.’

‘That was probably it.’

Nick exchanged a grin with her and planted a kiss on her mouth. ‘I could smack your bottom,’ he whispered.

‘Not here, you couldn’t. I must go and get the champagne glasses. Daddy wants to make a toast.’

She gave her two brothers a gentle shove when she passed them. They were tall and looked like Denton.

Nick listened as Denton made his farewell speech to Esmé and Leo. The surgeon was grey-haired, conventional, calm, and satisfied with his lot in life. Livia Elliot was a good-looking woman, like her sister Esmé Thornton, though not quite as elegant. She was a motherly type.

Denton lifted his glass a second time, and he looked at Meggie and Nick and smiled. ‘And to our darling Meggie, who has finally decided what she’s going to do with her life . . . with a little help from her husband.’

Meggie blushed.

After the laughter died down Denton made another toast.

‘To peace.’

To which they all raised their glasses.