Chapter Ten #2
“I asked Dad to keep it brief,” he says. “I know you don’t like a lot of fuss.”
I’m touched, and go to tell him so when we’re interrupted by an older woman who Marcus introduces as Olivia Rutherford. Ohhh… is she a member of the Rutherford family who wants to buy the Ashford’s company? She’s clearly old money, elegant and a little aloof, but she seems nice enough.
They talk for a little while, and Olivia reveals that her husband is in finance, and she does “a little interior designing.”
“So, Wren, what do you do?” she asks politely.
“I’m a primary school teacher,” I reply.
Her eyebrows rise. “Oh, how…” she struggles to find a word. “Grounded,” she chooses. “Do you think you’ll keep working after you’re married?”
I stiffen. I don’t think she means to be rude. She just can’t understand why someone with money would want to go out to work.
“Wren teaches six-year-olds how to read,” Marcus says. “Personally, I think that’s a lot more impressive than anything the rest of us do.” He smiles to take the bite out of it, but then says to me, “There’s someone I want you to meet,” and excuses us before guiding me across the room.
“Thanks for defending me,” I murmur. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes I did,” he replies somewhat curtly.
“You’re my fiancée.” He smiles at a couple in front of us and introduces me.
I smile and chat, but I find it hard to concentrate.
I’ve had several glasses of wine, and I feel hot and distant, as if I’m having an out-of-body experience.
Eventually, I excuse myself and visit the ladies’, needing some time alone.
I splash some cold water on my face and try to gather myself, but I keep picturing Olivia Rutherford’s surprise as I told her what I did. I’m not ashamed of it—far from it! I love my job. But it only served to reinforce the gulf between me and a lot of the women here tonight.
Conscious that I can’t stay in the bathroom, I eventually head out, but I go over to the bar and ask for a glass of water, and have a few mouthfuls, hoping to clear my head.
“Everything okay?” Oh God, it’s Edward Ashford, the family patriarch, looking like a million dollars, even though he’s only wearing an open-necked shirt and casual trousers. Maybe it’s the cologne these guys wear—an eau de wealth they splash on their smooth jaws.
I nod, although I’m trembling a little. Edward notices and guides me away from the bar to a quieter corner. “Feeling overwhelmed?” he asks kindly. “We tried to keep it low-key, but I understand how it must feel if you’re not used to it.”
“No… everyone’s so nice… you’ve all been so kind…” Tears spring into my eyes, and I bite my lip hard to try to stop them falling.
Edward turns me so my back is to the crowd, collects a serviette from a nearby table, and surreptitiously hands it to me. “Would you like me to get Marcus?” he asks. “Or Cece?”
The thought of seeing Marcus’s mother just makes the tears roll over my lashes. “No,” I squeak. “Oh dear.”
“What’s the matter, honey?” He frowns, concerned.
Suddenly, I can’t do it anymore. “You’re so nice… you’ve all been so good to us. I feel awful.”
He sighs. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay. I’m so sorry. Marcus and I… it’s not what you think, and I feel terrible.”
“Wren, it’s all right…”
“No, I can’t do it, it’s not fair. All this,” I wave a hand around, “the marriage… everything… it’s fake.
I mean, we will be getting married, but it’s Marcus’s idea because I wanted a baby, and I tried to say no, but he insisted, and I really wanted one, and he needs an heir, so I agreed, and now I feel just awful…
” I struggle hard not to burst into tears.
“I know,” Edward says.
“And I thought I could keep it a secret, but then I…” My voice trails off. “Wait, what?”
“Well, I suspected,” he says again. “After Marcus brought you to the house, I guessed it was too quick for it to have been a love match for both of you.”
I feel a wash of terror. But his eyes are kind.
“I can’t presume to know the difficulties of dating as a woman in this day and age,” he continues. “And I understand how hard it must be if you want a family, but can’t find the right person to have it with. I don’t blame Marcus for leaping to the rescue. I know he wants to save the company.”
I’m so shocked, I can only stand there and stare at him.
“The thing is,” he continues, “if that was all it was, I’d probably advise him not to go ahead, because I happen to believe in the sanctity of marriage, and I wouldn’t want him to commit himself to marrying someone he didn’t love.
” He tips his head to the side. “But two things have convinced me otherwise.”
I blink. “Oh?”
“First, he told me you wanted a prenup to make it clear you didn’t want his money.
That’s a huge worry for me, for both the boys and Aurelia.
So having someone say that was a weight off my mind.
He then told me that you turned him down when he was eighteen, and he said it broke his heart.
I knew then that he has real feelings for you. ”
I inhale, my heart banging against my ribs.
“You see,” Edward says, “a similar thing happened to me. I fell in love with Cece the moment I met her. I asked her to marry me exactly one week after we started dating. She told me not to be daft, and that I couldn’t possibly know whether I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her, but I knew. ”
My face burns. “Oh, Marcus isn’t in love with me like that…”
“We’ll see,” he says. “I’m just trying to say, I understand why you’ve done it, and I think you should give it time.
” He looks over my shoulder and smiles. “Talk of the devil.” He claps his hand on Marcus’s shoulder as he arrives.
“I’m going to get another drink,” Edward says.
He pauses, then bends and kisses me on the cheek.
“You’re a good girl,” he says quietly. Then he walks off, back to the bar.
I press my fingers to my mouth. Marcus looks at his father, then back at me. “What was that about?”
“I told him,” I squeak. “I felt too bad for pretending this was real.”
“It is real,” he says, amused rather than annoyed. “So what did he say?” He doesn’t look upset, just interested.
I shake my head, unable to tell him that his father thinks he’s in love with me.
Marcus studies my eyes, then drops his gaze to my mouth. He takes my glass from my hand and puts it on a nearby table. Then he moves closer to me, backing me up against the wall.
Without saying anything, he tucks a hand beneath my chin and lifts my face. Then, with his other hand resting on my waist he dips his head and kisses me.
It’s a respectable, somewhat formal kiss—no tongues—but it sends fireworks shooting off all through me—sparklers and rockets and Roman candles and noisy firecrackers. I shiver, conscious of my nipples tightening beneath the slinky dress, and my pulse racing in my throat.
When he eventually lifts his head, his expression is ever-so-faintly smug.
“Yeah,” he says, “nothing real about this engagement.” Giving me an amused look, he takes my hand and leads me back into the crowd.
The rest of the evening, leading up to the New Year celebrations, passes uneventfully, but one thought remains in my mind. I can tell myself this is a marriage of convenience and insist all I like on separate bedrooms and independence. But I can’t deny any longer that I’m not attracted to Marcus.
What he doesn’t seem to understand is that it only makes things worse.
Because now I have to try even harder to keep my heart out of the situation.
I can’t let him anywhere near that delicate organ.
It’s not only been broken in the past; it’s been crushed and then ground to a powder, and I can’t bear the thought of being hurt again.
Leaving Cory nearly killed me, and I have a horrible feeling that I didn’t feel for him anywhere close to what I already feel for Marcus, and I haven’t even slept with him yet.
This has disaster written all over it. And to top it all, his dad has now given me his blessing.
God, when I screw things up, I really know how to do it with aplomb.