The Bride In Blue. Miranda Lee

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СКАЧАТЬ black and white tiled foyer.

      ‘Sophia was under the misconception that I might want a divorce as soon as her baby is born,’ Jonathon explained. ‘I was reassuring her that wasn’t the case.’

      Ivy turned alarmed eyes towards Sophia. ‘Dear child, you shouldn’t be worrying about such things at this moment. Why, even when you and Jonathon do eventually get divorced, you’re going to stay here with us and we’re going to look after you and your baby just as poor Godfrey wanted. We all love you already, don’t we, Jonathon? You’re the daughter I never had, the sister Jonathon never had. Tell her she must stay.’

      Though touched by Ivy’s warmth and kindness, Sophia only needed a quick glance Jonathon’s way to see he didn’t concur with his mother’s sentiments. There was no affection for her in his staunchly held face, not even a brotherly one. She was a burden he had to endure, a cross he had to bear. All she could hope was that time would soften his hard heart towards her. Maybe when his niece or nephew was born, his attitude might change. Babies had a way of winding themselves around even the hardest of hearts.

      And she did want Jonathon to warm to her. He was the brother of the man she’d loved so very deeply. She wanted her baby’s uncle to like her at least. It hurt her that he didn’t seem to, especially when she didn’t know why exactly.

      To be honest, she didn’t like him much either. He made her so uncomfortable. Maybe she made him just as uncomfortable. One didn’t always need a reason to dislike someone. It could be an instinctive reaction.

      Come to think of it, Jonathon had been cold to her from the very first moment they’d met, in Godfrey’s hospital room. At the time she’d thought he was embarrassed, because he’d walked in on them embracing, but, looking back, she believed there had been an instant antagonism on his part.

      ‘I’ve already told Sophia she was welcome to stay,’ Jonathon informed his mother somewhat impatiently. ‘And that there’s no hurry for a divorce. What there is some hurry for, however, is the marriage itself. The celebrant told me he has another appointment at six, so let’s go in.’

      The celebrant looked relieved as the three of them entered the formal sitting-room where the ceremony was to take place. So did the others.

      Wilma shot Jonathon a reproachful glare, which brought a tiny smile to Sophia’s lips. Wilma did not fit the stereotyped image of a tycoon’s private secretary. She wasn’t at all beautiful or glamorous or gushingly attentive of her boss. She was pushing forty—skinny, plain, opinionated and downright prickly.

      She had been Mr Parnell Senior’s secretary before he died, Jonathon inheriting her, along with the family business. In Wilma’s words, their relationship had been rocky for a while, but in the end, she and Jonathon had forged an understanding.

      Sophia was astounded at the way Wilma spoke to her boss at times, but there again, Jonathon gave as good as he got. Worse, most of the time. Sophia suspected that if she’d been his secretary she’d have quit within a week. In a weird way she gained a degree of secret satisfaction at Wilma’s liberated stance.

      Wilma’s scowl vanished when she shifted her regard to Sophia. Now she smiled, mouthing, ‘You look beautiful.’ Sophia smiled back, feeling a warm gratitude swell her heart. Wilma had become a good friend over the past few weeks. If it hadn’t been for her sound common sense and pragmatic advice, Sophia suspected she might have cracked up entirely.

      The lady standing next to Wilma had been similarly supportive. Maud had been the housekeeper in the Parnell household since the year dot. No one knew how old she was, but sixty-five would not have been far astray, though she was very sprightly for her age. And a hard worker.

      She’d been cool to Sophia at first, till Sophia had made it clear that she had no intention of lounging around Parnell Hall like some parasite. From day one, she’d insisted on doing her own room and en-suite, as well as helping in any way she could.

      Sophia had had plenty of practice with housework during her growing-up years and saw no reason to sit around like a useless lump, simply because she was pregnant. Maud had become her champion in this regard a week or two after her arrival when Jonathon expressed the opinion—quite dogmatically—that she shouldn’t be doing the cleaning in her ‘condition’.

      ‘The girl’s pregnant, not sick!’ Maud had argued with a forthrightness reminiscent of Wilma. ‘When I had my Jerry, I worked right up till they carted me off to the hospital. Provided the girl is healthy, then no harm can come to her. What do you expect her to do, sit around painting her nails all day?’

      Sophia had been astounded when this last remark seemed to strike Jonathon dumb, though his eyes spoke volumes. He’d given Maud a savage look and marched off, clearly furious. Maud’s grin of secret triumph had sparked a curiosity within Sophia that she hadn’t as yet satisfied. Though she did suspect that the lady who had filled in her time painting her nails must have been Jonathon’s ex-wife. Who else could have inspired such a reaction?

      Sophia found herself thinking of Jonathon’s ex-wife again as they stood, side by side, in front of the marriage celebrant. All she knew about Jonathon’s first marriage was that the divorce had become final only recently. Had his wife been beautiful? Had he loved her as much as she had loved Godfrey? If so, who had divorced whom, and why?

      Wilma had implied once or twice that Jonathon had been deeply hurt by his divorce, suggesting that his wife had been at fault. Maybe she’d had an affair…

      Sophia found it hard to imagine any woman being unfaithful to Jonathon. Who would dare?

      She slid a surreptitious glance over at him, standing ramrod-straight, his shoulders as squared as his chiselled jaw-line. There wasn’t a weak line in either his face or his body. Sophia realised some women might be attracted to Jonathon’s strong silent type, but she knew she could only ever be drawn to a man who showed a degree of sensitivity and compassion.

      Godfrey had been all sensitivity and compassion.

      Sophia could still remember the day they’d first met, when she’d stumbled, weeping, into the old orchard behind the deserted farmhouse next door. She’d thrown herself down into the cool sweet grass under the spreading branches of an ancient apple tree and cried and cried till there were no tears left.

      It was then that Godfrey’s gentle voice reached her ears.

      ‘What has happened, lass, to upset you this much? Sit up and tell your Uncle Godfrey all about it.’

      Frightened at first, she had shot to her feet, about to run, but the sight of Godfrey sitting at his easel, looking so unlike an accoster of young ladies, eased her fears. His eyes were a gentle grey, his soft brown hair already receding, and he had a way of looking at one that warmed and gladdened the soul.

      Jonathon accused his older brother of being a dreamer and a fool, but to her he’d been a saint and a saviour. She hadn’t fallen in love that first day when she’d poured out her heart to him. But by the time he’d given her sanctuary two years later he’d meant the world to her.

      Her whole chest contracted, her eyes shutting momentarily as she struggled to gather herself. She shouldn’t have started thinking about Godfrey. Biting her bottom lip till the pain propelled her out of her reverie, Sophia still found that her fingers had begun twisting feverishly together.

      Jonathon clamped both of his large hands over hers, holding them in a rock-like grip as the celebrant started speaking.

      ‘We’ve СКАЧАТЬ