Mr Right All Along. Natalie Anderson

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ be able to lay my hands on another ticket, in a good cause.’

      ‘I have a standing invitation to the Cup Final, Miss Grant.’

      ‘Of course. Lunch with the directors, a seat in their box. Nothing less will do for Mr Fergus Kavanagh.’ He didn’t deny it. ‘I’m not sure what else I could offer …’ she paused so briefly that he might have imagined it ‘… a gentleman.’

      He had thought for a while that she might be having a little joke at his expense. But she wasn’t. ‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’

      ‘In deadly earnest. You see, you fit the profile perfectly.’

      He considered asking just what the ‘profile’ might be. Then thought better of it. ‘But you don’t know anything about me.’

      ‘That’s not entirely true. I know, for instance, that you are the most eligible of men—that is, you’re wealthy and unmarried, which for the purpose of this little exercise is all that is required—although to be honest I cannot think how you have escaped the clutches of some matchmaking mama for so long.’

      ‘Just lucky, I guess. Of course, I don’t have a title,’ he said, his tongue firmly in his cheek, beginning to enjoy himself as the germ of an idea began to take hold, grow … ‘Maybe that’s the reason.’

      ‘Two out of three isn’t bad,’ she pointed out. ‘And you’re bound to turn up in the New Year Honours sooner or later. So, what do you say, Mr Kavanagh, are you free this afternoon at two o’clock?’

      Dear God, but the woman was cool. He wondered what it would take to heat her up. And would it be a slow overnight defrost, or was she the kind of woman who would simply explode in a rush of steam like a volcanic geyser?

      ‘Where is this wedding?’ he asked, to take his mind off such disturbing thoughts.

      ‘St Margaret’s.’

      ‘St Margaret’s, Westminster?’

      ‘Fliss’s mother is a Member of Parliament.’

      ‘Formidable women run in the family, then?’ His eyes creased in amusement.

      ‘At least one in every generation,’ she confirmed. Then, ‘The reception is in Knightsbridge. We wouldn’t have to stay late. In fact, if we appeared desperately keen to leave early it would be a positive bonus.’ She lifted her shoulders in the most elegant of shrugs. ‘My mother wouldn’t bother me about biological clocks for months.’

      Fergus sat back and regarded the lady with interest. Such quick thinking was rare, and he could well understand how she had made it to the boardroom at such an early age. But he wasn’t slow on his feet when it came to taking advantage of unexpected opportunities. He might not want a ticket for the FA Cup Final, but Miss Veronica Grant had just offered him the perfect answer to his own difficulties.

      ‘You have gone to great lengths to ask me for a favour, Miss Grant,’ he said, ‘and such quick thinking should not go unrewarded.’

      ‘Is that a yes?’ she enquired hopefully.

      ‘A qualified yes. My top hat and brand-new morning suit are at your disposal this afternoon …’

      Her smile was tinged with uncertainty. ‘But—?’ she added, after a small pause.

      He returned her smile. He’d known she would understand. ‘But,’ he confirmed, ‘I shall require a small favour in return.’

      ‘Well, that’s only fair,’ she agreed, happy to indulge him in whatever sporting fantasy turned him on. ‘What event did you have in mind?’

      ‘Event?’

      ‘A day at Lord’s? The Centre Court on Finals Day at Wimbledon?’

      ‘Could you manage even that?’ he asked.

      ‘It wouldn’t be easy,’ she admitted. ‘But then, nothing worth the effort is ever easy.’

      Fergus decided that Miss Grant was a woman with more than good looks to commend her. ‘On this occasion it will be. That is, if you are free on the seventeenth of this month. It’s a Saturday.’

      ‘I’ll make sure that I am,’ she said, without hesitation, without even asking what he wanted in return. Gutsy as well as cool. Or maybe just desperate. Her mother must be right out of the boys’ book of dragons.

      ‘Then all I ask in return for my company this afternoon is that you don your wedding hat again and come to my sister’s wedding as my guest.’ He could see that she was puzzled. ‘We’ll form our own escort agency, you and I. A very exclusive one. I will keep at bay the suitors your mother has lined up for you; your task will be to fend off a gaggle of hopeful spinsters, widows and divorcees that Dora and Poppy have targeted as prospective wives for me.’

      ‘You’re joking!’ she gasped.

      ‘I sincerely wish I was,’ he replied.

      He’d overheard them quite by chance. He had been about to risk the dining room, which had become the centre of operations for wedding planning, and take the girls a drink to fortify them as they sorted out the final details, when Dora’s voice had brought him up short.

      ‘Ginnie Metcalfe would be the perfect wife for Gussie, you know. She’s not too old for babies, but not so young that he’d look stupid. I can’t bear old men with young wives, can you?’ Old? Thirty-eight wasn’t old! ‘She’s been brought up to run a big house and she’s got the most wonderful seat on a horse.’

      ‘Darling, Ginnie Metcalfe looks like a horse,’ Poppy had replied, and the pair of them had dissolved into giggles. Giggles! It was not in the least bit amusing, and he’d been about to march in there and tell them so when Poppy had said, ‘I think Sarah Darcy-Williams is our best bet. If you made her your matron of honour, you could sit her next to him at the reception.’

       Sarah Darcy-Williams! Never. Not in a million years. Not if she was the last woman on earth.

      ‘She’s been married before,’ Dora had said doubtfully. And the poor guy had had to run for his life after two years. The mystery of it was how he had managed to stick it out for so long. ‘Of course, that does mean she’ll have had the romance knocked out of her, and let’s be honest, Poppy, Gussie isn’t one of life’s great romantics. I mean, can you imagine him sending a woman red roses?’

      ‘Or silk underwear.’

      ‘Silk underwear?’ Dora had given a little whoop of astonishment. ‘Are you telling me that Richard buys you silk underwear?’

      ‘Just a little something now and then, to wrap around a pair of earrings or a pendant …’ This had been followed by a deep sigh from Poppy.

       Romantic? When the hell had he had time to be romantic? Keeping one step ahead of them had taken every vestige of wit he possessed. Not that he was a total stranger to the florist, or to long-stemmed red roses come to that—but buying a woman silk underwear …? Maybe he was getting old, because he would have thought that was the quickest way to a black eye known to man, even if you were married to her.

      While СКАЧАТЬ