The Right Bride? (44 page)

Colly knew, for all her heart had given a little flutter, that she could not get excited about that ‘I didn’t want to wait’. Silas had wanted that marriage certificate with all speed—she, his bride, was incidental to his forward planning.

‘Um…’ she murmured, and saw she had his full attention. ‘Er—this dinner tomorrow…’ she began, hardly knowing how to continue. Silas looked at her, but was not saying another word, and she felt forced to continue, ‘I mean, do your parents think ours is a love-match?’ There—it was out.

‘I haven’t said so in as many words. But my mother certainly will be sure that ours is a love-match. Or—’ suddenly he was grinning a wicked grin ‘—or at least that no woman could know me and not love me.’

‘Which just goes to show how terribly blinkered mothers really are!’ Colly said acidly. And because it was so true that she did love him, so very much—only he was not to know it—she got up from the sofa commenting, ‘I just thought I ought to know—er—whether I’m supposed to—um—show a bit of affection for you.’

‘Well, if your feelings really do get too much for you, and you feel you just have to hold and kiss me…’ he began to tease. Then, seeing how tense she suddenly seemed, he left the sofa and came to stand next to her. ‘Nervous about tomorrow?’ he asked kindly.

Petrified, if you must know. ‘You could say that,’ she re
plied, and suddenly found herself in the loose hold of his embrace.

‘Don’t be,’ he said softly, as her heart went into overdrive. ‘My parents will love you. Just be yourself and everything will be fine.’

She wished she could believe him. The truth was, she did not feel she knew what was herself any more. She shook her head in some kind of bewilderment. ‘All I did on Monday night was say I wasn’t free, add that I was getting divorced—and now look where we are!’

‘Things have moved on at something of a pace,’ Silas agreed quietly.

‘Something of a pace! They’ve positively galloped!’

‘Don’t fret about it. What’s done is done.’

And she was the one who had done it. ‘I’m throwing you out,’ she told him, knowing she quite desperately needed to get herself more of one piece. Just being held in the loose circle of his arms was making her head chaotic.

‘I thought you might be,’ he replied, lightly kissed her cheek, and then walked to the door.

Colly did not sleep well that night. In her head she imagined all sorts of disasters at Friday night’s dinner—when she would meet her in-laws. The only way she was able to get any rest at all was by repeatedly reminding herself that Silas would be there too. She would have his support.

But it was while she was showering on Friday morning that the trepidation of her thoughts about that evening let up to let in an even bigger cause for worry. And it had nothing to do with that evening—but the following one.

Because only then did something she had been too preoccupied to think about suddenly jump up and hit her. What about tomorrow evening? Or, more specifically, tomorrow night? Only then did it dawn on her that, unless Silas Livingstone Senior lived in a house that had a separate suite
for overnight guests, tomorrow night she was going to have to share a room with Silas!

There was one thing about this new source of inner conflict, she discovered, it certainly transferred some of her agitation away from that evening’s dinner party. She hoped with all she had that Silas had plans to sleep elsewhere. But, bearing in mind they’d barely been married four months, she could imagine his grandfather looking askance at the mere idea of them sleeping in separate rooms.

She was glad when later that morning her phone rang, and a difficult conversation with Henry Warren gave her head some respite from her concerns about meeting her in-laws—both in London and in Dorset.

‘Is it true?’ Henry Warren asked.

She knew what he was talking about and realised she should have guessed he would take a financial newspaper and might pick up that which Silas had dictated.

‘Yes, it’s true,’ she replied. ‘I’m sorry, Uncle Henry, I should have told you. But…’ But what? He had been untold good to her, and must think her silence about something as important as this very strange. ‘I’ve been a bit—um—mixed up,’ she added lamely.

‘Because of your father?’

‘I—er—Silas was at my father’s funeral.’

‘You met him that day?’

Sort of. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.’ She felt she had to apologise again. ‘But Silas and I, we wanted a quiet wedding. His parents didn’t even know about us until quite recently.’

That seemed to mollify him a little. But, maybe out of duty to his old friend, he still had questions to ask. ‘But what are you doing living in that apartment alone?’

‘The apartment belongs to Silas’s grandfather, but he doesn’t use it and doesn’t wish to sell it so we sort of keep the place aired. Silas goes abroad on business from time to time, but for the moment when he’s home he likes to some
times stay here.’ Colly was not at all happy about embroidering the truth the way she was doing. ‘And,’ she hurried on, forestalling what she anticipated would be his next question, of why she had been so relieved when he had got some funds through for her, ‘Silas is more than generous,’ she explained—she still had ten thousand pounds of his that he was refusing to take back—‘But I felt such a pauper going to him penniless; it was a pride thing, I suppose. I was so grateful to you when you were able to get me some money of my own.’

‘You always were a proud little thing,’ he commented when she had finished, and while she was swishing around in guilt he went on more warmly—perhaps he more than most was aware of the joylessness of her existence prior to her father’s death. ‘You deserve some happiness, Colly.’

She thanked him and, while regretting she could not be entirely open with him, felt better that their phone conversation had ended in a friendly and affectionate way.

By four that afternoon, however, thoughts of the impending evening had taken most other thoughts from her mind. She supposed it was usual for most women to be apprehensive on meeting their in-laws for the first time. Though everything, she felt, about this meeting was
un
usual.

Because of her fidgety unable-to-settle feelings, Colly left the apartment ten minutes before she should. She hoped to feel better once everything was under way. She was wearing an emerald-green chiffon-over-silk evening trouser suit and, having noticed an absence of flowers in Silas’s home, was carrying a sizeable bouquet of flowers when she rang his doorbell.

She wondered who would answer the door—Silas or Mrs Varley. It was Silas. He had said he would leave work early, and had. But while she thought he looked absolutely wonderful, he seemed impressed that she had made a bit of an effort herself.

‘You look just a touch gorgeous,’ he said softly, not mov
ing back to let her in, but just standing there, his eyes showing his admiration.

Theirs was a non-personal relationship—most of the time. But to hear that Silas thought she looked a touch gorgeous was what she needed to hear. ‘Just something I threw on,’ she murmured offhandedly, every bit as though she had not changed three times before deciding to stick with the first outfit she had tried on. And, feeling unutterably shy suddenly, she thrust the flowers at him, ‘Here,’ she said, ‘take a hold of these before they die.’

His face was alight with laughter as he took the hint and invited her in. She felt good suddenly. Perhaps the evening would not be such a trial after all.

‘Where do you keep your vases?’ Colly asked as they went along the hall.

‘Good question.’

She wanted to grin—it was good just to be with him. ‘I’ll try the kitchen,’ she decided, and found he was right there with her when she went in that direction.

In the kitchen was where Mrs Varley was, putting the finishing touches to a smoked salmon and watercress starter. ‘Oh, Mrs Livingstone.’ Mrs Varley beamed before Colly could say a word, and Colly hid her small moment of shock—but owned she was delighted at being so addressed. ‘Mr Livingstone has told me of your marriage.’ And, clearly a born romantic, ‘I know you’re both going to be very happy.’ She beamed again.

‘Thank you,’ Colly answered. She felt stumped to know what to say next, but beamed a smile back and asked, ‘Am I going to be in your way if I arrange the flowers in here?’

It took longer for her to arrange the flowers than she had thought—they just did not go right—and Colly was glad she had arrived ten minutes early. But by a quarter to seven there were two flower arrangements brightening up the otherwise
masculine-looking drawing room, and one arrangement in the dining room.

Her chores, if chores they were, completed, Colly was starting to feel more nervous than ever. Mrs Varley assured her she had everything under control, so Colly left her and went to the bathroom to check her appearance. She ran a comb through her hair, touched up her lipstick and left the bathroom. Wishing the evening were over, she went to the drawing room. Silas was there waiting for her.

Whether or not he could tell she was being attacked by nerves she had no idea, but he smiled a smile that warmed her heart, and, coming over to her, asked, ‘What would you like to drink?’

How he could sound so unconcerned when she felt such a wreck, she had no idea. But she drew strength from his easy manner. ‘Nothing, thanks,’ she refused. She had warned him that she was no good at subterfuge, but if he still wanted this evening to go ahead, so be it.

He took her refusal to have a drink without comment, but continued to come towards her, halting barely a step away. ‘Perhaps you’d better wear this,’ he said, and, putting his hand into his pocket, took out the wedding ring she had returned to him.

‘I forgot!’ she exclaimed, realising that while some women might prefer not to wear a wedding ring, she was not one of them. And, as he had once before, Silas took a hold of her left hand and slipped the gold band over her marriage finger.

‘You’re shaking!’ he remarked in surprise at her trembling hand.

She felt absurd. He was so sophisticated, so able to carry off any situation. ‘It’s all right for you!’ she accused snappily. ‘You know my in-laws. I don’t!’

He burst out laughing. ‘Oh, I do l—like you, Colly Livingstone,’ he said, and while her heart raced at the sudden warm look in his eyes, so the doorbell sounded.

‘They’re early!’ she gasped.

‘It’s the season,’ he said, and to her gratitude did not leave her alone to wait while he went to let his parents in, but caught hold of her hand. ‘Come on—let’s go and get it done,’ he said, and led her to the door.

The next few minutes passed in a haze of beaming smiles of hugs and kisses that left Colly, who had missed a mother’s love, feeling very emotional.

‘How beautiful you are!’ Paula Livingstone exclaimed, tall, distinguished and all heart. ‘And, oh, how pleased I am to meet you.’ She was still bursting with joy when she pulled Colly to her and just had to give her another hug.

Silas’s father, Borden Livingstone, was more subdued than his wife, though it was possible that he had not spent the last few years waiting for this very day the way his wife had.

Colly recognised him as the man who had been with Silas at her father’s funeral, and warmed to Borden Livingstone when he offered his condolences and apologised that he had not spoken to her then.

‘Would you like something to drink first, or are you ready to eat?’ Silas asked as they ambled into the drawing room.

‘We’d better eat,’ his mother declared, her eyes approvingly flicking from one flower arrangement to the other. ‘I’ve hardly been able to eat a thing all day. I’d better get something solid down before I attempt anything alcoholic.’

Colly liked her mother-in-law. She was such a warm and natural person and Colly felt it would be difficult not to like her. She wished she could be as natural in return, and did try her very hardest so to be. But she was aware that she had to be on her guard; any small slip and she could see they would have to confess the truth.

Though as they chatted all through the first course, and enjoyed each other’s company, so Colly did begin to feel a little more relaxed.

It was midway through the main course, however—Mrs
Varley having excelled herself with crispy roast duck in a black cherry sauce—that Colly realised she just could not afford to relax.

Paula Livingstone made some passing reference to the tropical bug Silas had picked up, and said how heartily relieved she had been to know that someone he might be serious about was going to collect him from the hospital and would look after him. ‘Of course I didn’t know then that you and Silas were married,’ she went on warmly, with a happy glance at Colly’s wedding band before going smilingly on, ‘We very nearly met then, when I came to check on him—but you’d already left.’

Oh, grief, what could she say? Colly recalled that she had left the apartment before nine that morning—she had no idea how soon afterwards Silas’s mother had arrived.

‘I don’t think Colly will mind me telling you—she’s been having a few problems in connection with her father’s will,’ Silas slotted in smoothly. Colly glanced to him and supposed that, given the problems that had faced her when she had thought herself left out of her father’s will, Silas was speaking only the truth.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry, Colly.’ Paula was instantly sympathetic. And, turning to her husband, ‘I’m sure our legal advisers would be—’

‘It’s no longer a problem,’ Silas informed her.

How could he say that when the consequences of the action she had taken when thinking herself homeless, jobless and penniless were still reverberating around her? And what consequences! For heaven’s sake, unless she could think up something close to brilliant, she was going to have to share a bedroom with him tomorrow night!

‘I’m so glad you’ve been able to resolve matters,’ Paula said kindly.

‘The house is being sold.’ Colly, not wanting to think about anything to do with that trip to Dorset, was ready to chat about
anything to keep her mind off it. ‘It’s a large house, with years of accumulated impediments to sort through. I’ve been spending most of my days there.’

‘I shouldn’t know where to start should we ever decide to sell our house,’ Paula sympathised. ‘Borden has so much clutter.’