Mansfield Lark. Katie Oliver

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СКАЧАТЬ her high opinion of her son. ‘He and Gemma are perfect for each other. Gemma’s wonderful, and she loves Dominic very much.’

      ‘I’m sorry, my dear,’ Lady Mary said firmly, ‘but I still believe that you and Rupert ought to be the ones getting married here at Mansfield.’

      ‘How do I look?’ Gemma asked Dominic the next morning.

      Dominic bit back a groan. If there was ever a more loaded female question, he didn’t know what it was. The only worse question was ‘does my bum look too big?’ No matter what answer he gave, Gemma wouldn’t believe him. And if he didn’t answer, she’d accuse him of hating her outfit…and of thinking her bum was too big.

      Which it was, actually; but he liked her bum just as it was.

      ‘You look lovely. Perfect. Can we go now, babes?’

      Gemma hesitated. ‘Do I have on too much slap?’ she asked Dominic anxiously as she leaned closer to the mirror. ‘Is my lippy too bright? Perhaps I should wear a different shade—’

      He took her firmly by the arm and dragged her towards the hotel room door. ‘Your lippy’s fine. You’re only meeting my mum, after all. Come on, or we’ll be late.’

      ‘Your car needs an alternator,’ the garage mechanic told Natalie as he wiped his hands on a cloth. ‘Have to send over to Todenham for the part. It’ll be here by Wednesday morning.’

      ‘Wednesday morning!’ Natalie said, dismayed. ‘But it’s only Monday! What am I to do in the meantime?’

      ‘You can get a hire car in the village,’ he replied, already turning away. ‘We’ll call when your car’s ready, love. Oi!’ he shouted as one of the mechanics backed his van out of the work bay and nearly ploughed into a Citroën. ‘Watch it, you muppet!’

      Lady Mary, who’d walked with Natalie to the garage, said reassuringly, ‘Don’t worry, darling – of course you must stay at Mansfield until the car’s ready.’ She tucked her purse under her arm. ‘You’re welcome to join us for lunch.’ She rather liked the idea of having Natalie along when she met Rupert’s new girlfriend.

      ‘Thank you,’ Natalie said, ‘but I think I’ll pop over to the high street and buy a few things. I’ll meet you back here in–’ she consulted her wristwatch ‘–an hour and a half?’

      ‘Perfect. I’ll see you then.’ So saying, Lady Locksley strode off to the hotel to meet her son’s new girlfriend with the gleam of combat in her eye.

       Chapter 8

      The Locksley Arms Tap Room was all but deserted at 11:45 as Gemma and Dominic sat down at the bar to wait for Lady Mary.

      ‘Whisky for me, mate,’ Dominic told the bartender, ‘and a Bloody Mary for the lady, please.’

      ‘Make it two Bloody Marys,’ Lady Mary called out as she joined them at the bar. She laid her clutch down and added, ‘A rather appropriate drink, under the circumstances, isn’t it?’

      ‘Mum!’ Dominic stood to give her a quick embrace and turned to Gemma. ‘Gemma, this is my mother, Lady Mary Locksley. Mum, this is Gemma Astley.’

      Gemma smiled and extended her hand – her nails were newly manicured and painted ‘Foxy Fuschia’ to match her suit – to the slim older woman in the elegant tweed suit. ‘It’s nice to meet you, your, erm… ladyship,’ she stammered.

      ‘Oh, Lady Mary, please! No need to stand completely on ceremony.’ She seated herself on the barstool Dominic held out for her and crossed one slim leg over the other. ‘Have you been waiting long? I thought I was a bit early.’

      ‘No, we only just got here,’ Dominic answered as the bartender placed their drinks on napkins in front of them. ‘Where’s my father? Getting off some target practice with my picture on the bullseye?’

      ‘He’s with your brother, overseeing the shearing.’ She stirred the celery stick round in her glass and added, ‘I do wish you’d make a tiny effort not to discuss family matters, Rupert – especially not in front of—’ she paused ‘–outsiders.’

      ‘Gemma’s not an outsider,’ he snapped.

      ‘I only meant that she’s not a member of the family,’ his mother responded, unperturbed.

      ‘It’s okay,’ Gemma said, and laid a quelling hand on Dominic’s arm. She turned to Lady Mary. ‘I know all about Dominic and his dad,’ she informed the older woman. ‘I told Dominic, ‘It’s not right not to get on with your dad. Your family’s everything.’ I convinced him to come here and try and patch things up.’

      ‘How commendable.’ Lady Mary gave her a chilly smile and turned back to her son. ‘Did you know that Natalie is here?’

      ‘Natalie Dashwood?’ He set his whisky down abruptly. ‘Here in the hotel – or here in the village?’

      ‘She’s staying at Mansfield. Her car broke down last night and she needed a telephone.’

      ‘That’s bad luck,’ Dominic said. ‘Is the car being fixed?’

      ‘Apparently the part’s been ordered but won’t arrive until Wednesday.’ Lady Mary took a sip of her Bloody Mary and added, ‘I invited her to stay as long as she likes. We adore Natalie, you know,’ she told Gemma airily. ‘She’s a lovely girl. She and Rupert have known each other for yonks, they practically grew up in each other’s pockets—’

      ‘That was ages ago, Mum.’ Dominic’s voice was low but firm. ‘Nat and I are through.’ He put his arm around Gemma’s shoulders and squeezed her reassuringly. ‘I’m with Gemma now.’

      Lady Mary pressed her lips together. ‘Yes, I can see that. Tell me, Miss Astley–’ she turned an enquiring, guileless gaze on the girl ‘–where exactly is your family from?’

      ‘Essex,’ Gemma said.

      ‘I would never have guessed,’ her ladyship murmured.

      ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Dominic demanded.

      ‘Oh, nothing,’ his mother said with an arched brow, ‘it’s just common knowledge, isn’t it, that most Essex girls like flashy designer clothes, gaudy jewellery, and fake tans. Of course, Gemma’s nothing like that.’

      Dominic locked eyes with his mother, but was spared a reply when the maître d’ appeared.

      ‘Your table is ready, Lady Locksley.’

      ‘Thank God,’ Dominic muttered to Gemma as they rose, drinks in hand, and followed the maître d’ and Lady Mary into the dining room.

      ‘Your mum hates me!’ Gemma hissed in his ear. ‘She thinks I’m a tart who’s after your money.’

      Thankfully Dominic was spared a response as the maître d’ – who looked uncannily like Basil Fawlty – seated them in a small, private dining area. ‘Monsieur Heath will not be disturbed by the paparazzi,’ he said with a СКАЧАТЬ