Mr Right All Along. Natalie Anderson

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СКАЧАТЬ to me. But to my mother …’ She lifted her shoulders a fraction. ‘And I do love her, even when she’s being absolutely impossible.’

      He could understand that. He loved Poppy and Dora, and they were impossible most of the time.

      ‘You said it: weddings are hell.’ He forked up a little of one of the kippers. ‘Couldn’t you take along an escort as protective colouring?’ he suggested, after a moment. Dora had put ‘and partner’ on invitations to people whose relationships were informal or uncertain. ‘There must be someone you know, work with, perhaps, you could have asked along?’

      ‘I thought about it, but I couldn’t find anyone who would do.’ She glanced up. ‘Women have to be so careful when they’re in business. It’s so easy for motives to be … misunderstood. Besides, all the nicest men I know are married.’ She concentrated on her egg for a while and he, too, gave his breakfast his undivided attention. Well, almost undivided attention. Veronica Grant was not a presence it would ever be possible to totally ignore. ‘I actually did consider hiring someone,’ she said, after a while.

      ‘Hiring someone? Are wedding guest agencies listed in the Yellow Pages?’ If so, he might be tempted to use their services himself.

      ‘No, but escort agencies are.’ She saw his expression and shook her head. ‘Not that kind of escort agency. There’s one which provides well-groomed men who are guaranteed to know which fork to use and not to flirt with your best friend.’

      ‘Is that important?’

      ‘The fork or the flirting?’ she enquired.

      ‘Both.’

      ‘Absolutely vital if you want to provoke envy. A friend of mine hired an escort when she had been invited to a rather grand party at which she knew her ex-husband would be appearing with his new trophy wife. She said it was worth the fee just to see his jaw drop when she waltzed in with this dishy man who was at least five years her junior. He could dance, too. The escort. A skill her ex had never been able to master. The trophy wife actually flirted with him.’

      ‘A perfect result, then.’

      ‘A-plus,’ she agreed. ‘And at the end of the evening it was a quick shake of the hand, a cheque in an envelope and goodnight. No strings. No complications.’

      ‘It’s an interesting idea.’

      ‘I have to admit that I was sorely tempted. They have an Italian count on their books whom I thought might be rather fun.’

      ‘That’s a terrible idea,’ he said, truly hating the thought of her hiring some dreadful gigolo type. Then, because she was looking at him rather oddly, ‘Your mother doesn’t sound like the kind of woman to be impressed by a fake Italian count.’

      ‘Who said he was fake? Impoverished European aristocrats have to eat too, you know. But you’re right. I’m afraid a good-looking toy boy simply wouldn’t cut the mustard on this occasion. I need someone who would give the appearance of being a serious contender. Someone like you, Mr Kavanagh.’ She picked up her cup, sipped her tea and then replaced her cup carefully on the saucer before looking him straight in the eye. ‘Which is why I bribed Peter to put you at my table.’

      Fergus Kavanagh could not remember the last time that anyone had reduced him to silence. ‘You bribed Peter?’ he managed finally.

      It was time to come clean, own up, face the music. ‘I’m afraid so,’ Veronica admitted. ‘I saw your dash for the train and I asked him if you ever came into the restaurant car for breakfast. He assured me that you never missed.’

      ‘Did he, by God? Well, I have to say that Peter is a great disappointment to me. I had always assumed that he was thoroughly discreet. Tell me, what did it take?’

      Oh, Lord, he was angry. She’d got Peter into trouble and made an utter fool of herself into the bargain. For nothing. ‘I’m sorry?’

      Fergus was not fooled by her apparent innocence. ‘What did it take to bribe him?’ he said carefully.

      ‘Oh, I see.’ She hesitated, then gave a little shrug. ‘I’m not sure that I should tell you.’

      After the initial shock, Fergus decided that he was rather enjoying himself. ‘Force yourself,’ he urged.

      ‘A ticket for the Cup Final?’ she offered.

      ‘The Cup Final?’ This woman could get tickets for a sporting event at the top of every red-blooded male’s wish list? ‘The FA Cup Final?’ he asked, to be quite certain. She nodded. ‘But that’s only a week away. There can’t be any tickets left,’ he said, rather stupidly.

      ‘I have two.’ It suddenly occurred to her that he wasn’t so much angry as taken by surprise. ‘Had two,’ she amended.

      ‘And you thought one of them worth my presence at your breakfast table?’

      She put her head to one side and regarded him for a moment. In for a penny, she thought … after all she had nothing to lose … ‘Now that I’ve met you, Mr Kavanagh, I am of the opinion that you would have been worth both tickets.’

      She didn’t mince her words. Formidable indeed. And Fergus couldn’t bring himself to blame Peter for accepting her offer. ‘I have the feeling that I should be flattered,’ he said finally.

      She spread her fingers in a gesture that left it entirely up to him whether he was flattered, or merely intrigued. Just as long as he was one of them. ‘It was the best I could do at short notice. I had to think quickly, you see.’

      He did. And she’d certainly done that. ‘Your best is very good, Miss Grant.’

      But was it good enough? ‘Not really. Jefferson Sports are a major sponsor. I’m expected to attend and bring a guest.’

      ‘Peter?’ His disbelief was understandable.

      ‘Peter,’ she confirmed. ‘He’ll have a lovely day. Lunch, a chance to meet some former players—’

      ‘I don’t doubt it,’ he said, cutting her short. ‘But aren’t you supposed to take along one of your major customers?’

      ‘I’d far rather take someone who really enjoys the game, someone who can tell me what exactly is happening. Peter is a keen follower of Melchester Rovers, you know. And besides, major customers can pull enough strings to get their own tickets.’

      ‘I hope Nick Jefferson sees it that way.’

      ‘Nick has his mind on other things at the moment. Anyway, Peter is a customer. He bought a set of our golf clubs a few months back. I got him a discount.’ Veronica Grant smiled at him, inviting him to join in her little joke. Instead, Fergus gave her an old-fashioned look. ‘You know Nick?’ she asked.

      ‘I’m afraid not.’

      ‘The man has a highly developed sense of the ridiculous,’ she assured him.

      ‘With you as his Marketing Director, he must need it.’ Then, ‘Suppose I hadn’t co-operated?’ He indicated the seat at the far end of the carriage that had originally caught his eye. ‘I might have chosen to СКАЧАТЬ