A Suitable Groom. Liz Fielding

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СКАЧАТЬ for a moment, unable to quite decipher his tone of voice. Was that a compliment? His face gave nothing away. She suspected that it never would … unless he wanted it to. She looked up, grateful for the interruption, as the steward approached with the bill for breakfast, quickly putting some money on the plate in order to forestall Kavanagh’s offer to pay for hers.

      Having hijacked him, she knew she should offer to pay for both of them, but he would certainly refuse to allow her to do that, and she had no wish to cause any unnecessary awkwardness between them. It was beginning to occur to her that the possibilities for that were already legion. Instead, she looked out of the window at the bleak concrete retaining walls that lined the last mile or so of the track into London. ‘We’re nearly there.’

      ‘Where are you going? If we’re heading in the same direction, we could share a taxi.’

      She turned back to face him. ‘I’m staying with a friend near Sloane Square. Just off the King’s Road.’

      ‘Is she going to the wedding, too?’

      ‘Well, yes—’

      ‘Then it might be a good idea if she sees us together,’ Fergus said. ‘What’s her name?’

      ‘Suzie Broughton, but I thought you had an urgent appointment with your tailor.’

      ‘He’ll wait.’ Irritating his tailor was a small price to pay for the enjoyment of this highly original woman’s company for a few more minutes. ‘As a matter of interest, what would you have done if I hadn’t been about to pick up a morning suit?’

      ‘Nothing.’ She smiled as his eyebrows rose in surprise. ‘I’m sure you’re more than capable of renting one without any help from me. If not, you wouldn’t be the man for the job.’

      There was no answer to that. Or, at least, not one that immediately leapt to mind. Instead, he stood up and took his overnight bag from the rack. ‘Is this yours?’ he asked, turning to the Vuitton case. Without waiting for an answer, he lifted it down and stood it alongside his, remaining on his feet as the train slid into the station. ‘You know, it has occurred to me that we should spend a little time getting our stories straight. Where we met—that sort of thing. It wouldn’t do to contradict one another. If your mother is the least bit suspicious—’

      ‘Why should she be?’ She stood up, easing her lovely legs from beneath the table. She was tall, five-ten at least, and her dark, pencil-slim skirt stopped a long way short of her knees. She slid her arms into a matching jacket that skimmed her hips and stopped a few inches short of the hem of her skirt.

      ‘She sounds like the type of woman who takes a keen interest in your affairs,’ he said, more to distract himself from her legs than for any genuine concern that they would be found out.

      Veronica grinned. ‘If you mean nosy, Fergus, just say so. You won’t be far from the truth.’ He simply smiled, deep creases adding character and warmth to his face, but he had a point. The potential for disaster suddenly seemed endless, and she looked up at him. ‘Are you quite sure you want to go ahead with this?’ she asked. ‘I should warn you that she’s a hard woman to fool, and I’d really hate to cause you any embarrassment.’

      ‘Don’t worry about it, Veronica. I’ve brought up two younger sisters; I’m impossible to embarrass. Besides, I am at least as eager for your aid as you are for mine, possibly more so. If you knew Dora and Poppy, you’d understand why,’ he added feelingly. ‘Why don’t we take time out for coffee and I’ll tell you all about them?’ She didn’t exactly leap at the offer, Fergus noticed. ‘Or perhaps you’re too busy this morning?’

      Veronica was old enough to recognise when she was being offered an escape route. Fergus Kavanagh looked every inch a gentleman, and clearly he had the instincts of the breed. Her hesitation was unworthy of him. Unworthy of her. ‘I’d love to, but once I’ve dropped my things off at Suzie’s I have to get to the hairdresser’s.’

      He felt the desperate urge to say something absolutely crass, such as her hair was perfect already, but he restrained himself. If the lady believed she needed a hairdresser, he was well aware that nothing on earth would convince her otherwise. Instead, he smiled reassuringly. ‘It’s not a problem. We’ll simply parry all awkward questions with an enigmatic smile.’

      ‘I don’t think that will work on my mother.’

      ‘You’d be surprised. If she quizzes me, just follow my lead.’ She looked doubtful. ‘It’ll be fine.’ She was rocked against him as the train came to a standstill, and as Fergus held her arm briefly to steady her, her scent seemed to steal over him. Sophisticated, cool, distinctively floral. He searched his memory in an attempt to place the flower, but for the moment it eluded him … ‘Just fine,’ he repeated.

      ‘If you say so. It’s a little late to exchange detailed biographies, although maybe we should have a mutual exchange of faxes before your sister’s wedding?’ she offered.

      Putting a stop to any suggestion that they might meet and get their stories straight in the meantime?

      Maybe.

      But he didn’t argue. Her swift move to forestall any move he might have made to pay for her breakfast had not gone unnoticed, and she had stooped to pick up her bag before he could do it for her. Miss Veronica Grant was clearly a lady who took equality seriously.

      Then Peter appeared with her hatbox, and Fergus was able to demonstrate his own commitment to equality—at least to the extent that he was unfazed by such feminine trivia. Poppy and Dora had knocked all that rubbish out of him long ago.

      ‘Thank you, Peter, I’ll take that.’ He exchanged the hatbox for a discreetly palmed banknote. ‘Have a pleasant weekend.’

      ‘And you, sir.’

      ‘Are you going to see the Rovers play on Saturday?’ he asked.

      ‘Never miss a game, sir,’ Peter replied, without batting an eyelid. ‘Goodbye, Miss Grant.’

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