The Wedding-Night Affair. Miranda Lee

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СКАЧАТЬ to talk, believe me. I made Crocodile Dundee sound cultured back in those days. No, Owen, Mrs Forsythe won’t recognise me. And Mr Forsythe senior won’t have the chance. He passed away a couple of years back.’

      ‘Did he? I didn’t know that.’

      ‘Cancer,’ Fiona informed him. ‘It didn’t get all that much coverage in the papers. The funeral was private and closed to the public.’

      There’d only been the one photo, Fiona recalled. That had been of Kathryn climbing into a big black car after the funeral was over. None of Philip.

      Philip was not like his mother, or the rest of the Forsythes. He shunned publicity, and the media. Not once in the past ten years had Fiona ever caught a glimpse of him, either on television, or in the papers or magazines.

      ‘And what was he like?’ Owen asked.

      ‘What?’ Fiona looked up blankly. ‘Who?’

      ‘The groom’s father,’ Owen repeated drily.

      ‘Actually...he was very nice.’

      ‘Goodness, Fiona, your past seems peppered with very nice men. How is it, then, that down deep you’re a man-hater?’

      Fiona was startled for a moment, then defensive. ‘That’s a bit harsh, Owen, and not true at all. I love you, and you’re a man.’

      ‘I’m not talking about me, Fiona. I’m talking about the men you’ve dated, then discarded without so much as a backward glance. They thought you really cared for them but the truth is you just used them. That’s not very nice, you know.’

      Fiona stiffened for a moment, then shrugged. ‘Sorry you think that, Owen, but they all knew the score. As for really caring for me, I doubt that very much. After an initial burst of pique at having their egos dented, they moved on to the next female swirftly enough. Now, let’s get back to the subject at hand, which is that Kathryn Forsythe won’t recognise me. Philip will be the only one who might. Though I stress the word might. Still, it’s the mother who matters, isn’t it? She’s the one I’m meeting. Believe me when I assure you she won’t know me from Adam.’

      Owen stared at his partner and his friend and felt terribly sorry for her, because she was nice. Underneath all that delusionary and self-destructive bitterness, she was a genuine person, decent and kind, hard-working and generous. She cared about her clients and their worries. She always remembered everyone’s birthday in the office, and was the softest touch when it came to charities. She never walked past one of those people selling useless badges and biros in the street, always stopping with a smile and a donation.

      Goodness knows what had happened in those marriages of hers to make her hard where men were concerned, because she wasn’t hard in any other department of her life. Determined, yes. And ambitious. But that was different. That was business.

      Which reminded him. He had a business to protect here. He could not allow Fiona to carelessly endanger what they’d taken years to build together.

      ‘We can’t rely on Mrs Forsythe not recognising you, Fiona,’ Owen said firmly. ‘If you don’t reveal who you are up front and it comes out later, then she’s going to be furious and your name will be mud. Which means our name will be mud. I see no other solution than for you to keep the appointment I made for you, confess your identity with tact and diplomacy, then offer her my services once again. At least that way, even if she decides against using Five-Star Weddings, she won’t be inclined to blacken our name.’

      Fiona leant back even further in her chair and mulled over Owen’s suggestion. It made sound business sense, she supposed. And she would still have the satisfaction of seeing Kathryn Forsythe’s face when she revealed her true identity.

      In a way, it would be better than tricking her, showing the hateful woman in person that the one-time object of her snobbish scorn was no longer as ignorant as sin and as common as muck. Philip’s derided and despised first wife could pass muster in the best of circles these days!

      Fiona now knew how to dress, how to talk and how to act on whatever occasion was thrown at her. She owned a half-share in a blossoming business, a beautiful flat overlooking Lavender Bay, and a wardrobe full of designer clothes. She had a vast knowledge of food and wine. She had an appreciation of art and music of all kinds. She could even ski!

      But, best of all, she could have just about any man she wanted, if and when she wanted them, for as little or as long as she wanted them.

      For a moment Fiona wondered ruefully what would happen if she ran into Philip again. Would he recognise her? If he did, what would he think of Fiona as compared to Noni? Would he want Fiona as he’d once wanted Noni?

      It was an intriguing speculation.

      As much as she was over her love for Philip at long last, she still felt an understandable curiosity about the man. What did he look like now? And what was the woman like he’d finally decided to marry?

      ‘Very well, Owen,’ she agreed, and snapped forward in her chair. ‘I’ll go and throw myself on Mrs Forsythe’s mercy. But first, do tell. Why is it Kathryn’s job to organise her son’s wedding? Doesn’t the lucky bnde have a mother?’

      Owen shrugged. ‘Apparently not.’

      ‘So who is this undoubtedly beautiful and well-brought-up creature who’s to be welcomed into the bosom of the Forsythe family?’

      ‘I have no idea. We didn’t get that far.’

      ‘So when’s the appointment for?’

      ‘Tomorrow morning at ten.’

      ‘On a Saturday? You know I never see anyone on a Saturday! For pity’s sake, Owen, I have a wedding on tomorrow afternoon.’

      ‘Rebecca can handle it.’

      ‘No,’ Fiona said sharply. ‘She’s not ready.’

      ‘Yes, she is. You’ve trained her very well, Fiona. You just don’t like delegating. Much as I admire your dedication and perfectionism, the time has come to give Rebecca some added responsibility.’

      ‘Maybe,’ Fiona said, ‘but not this time. The bride’s mother is expecting me. I refuse to let her down on such an important day.’

      ‘Maybe you could do both,’ Owen suggested hopefully. ‘The appointment and the wedding.’

      ‘I doubt it, not if Mrs Forsythe still lives way out at Kenthurst, which by the look on your face she does. That’s a good hour’s drive through traffic from my place, and far too far from tomorrow’s wedding down at Cronulla. You’ll have to ring back and change the appointment to Sunday, Owen. Make it for eleven. I’m not getting up early on a Sunday morning for the likes of her.’

      ‘But...but...’

      ‘Just do it, Owen. Tell the woman the truth: that Fiona has a wedding to organise tomorrow and can’t make it. She’ll probably admire my...what was it you said?...my dedication and perfectionism?’

      Owen groaned. ‘You’re a hard woman.’

      ‘Don’t be silly. I’m as soft as butter.’

      ‘Yeah, СКАЧАТЬ