Читать книгу Convenient Engagements: Fiance Wanted Fast! / The Blind-Date Proposal / A Whirlwind Engagement - Jessica Hart - Страница 11

WELL, if he couldn’t, there wasn’t much she could do about it now, she realised. A certain fatalism crept over Phoebe. It was too late to change her mind, and confess that she had invented herself a lover. That would really spoil everyone’s day, hers most of all.

And she had to admit that Gib was doing a great job so far, being amusing without being too pushy. Her mother was obviously charmed, and Phoebe could tell that her father was impressed too, which surprised her. With his military background, she would have expected Gib to be exactly the type to set his moustache bristling.

Perhaps it was the suit? Gib certainly looked different today. Phoebe studied him surreptitiously as they made their way into a charming circular tower room. It was hard to believe this was the same irritating man who lazed around her kitchen all day. He looked broader, and more solid somehow, and while the suit might be conventional it would take more than that to make him look like the serious, sensible men her father approved of. His face was too mobile, his eyes too full of laughter, his mouth too ready to twitch into a smile. Even straight faced, there was a daredevil quality about him, a reckless edge that set him apart from all the other identically dressed men in the room. Phoebe was amazed that her father couldn’t see it.

Lara was beckoning, and Phoebe and Gib edged past others in the row to sit next to her.

‘Are you OK?’ Lara whispered to her.

‘I’m fine,’ said Phoebe. ‘Why?’

Lara nodded towards the front of the room where the groom was waiting nervously with his best man. ‘I was afraid it might be difficult for you seeing Ben again,’ she explained tentatively.

Ben. Phoebe stared at him, confused. He was the love of her life, her soul mate, the man she had dreamed of marrying as long as she could remember. Shouldn’t she have noticed him as soon as she came in?

She shook her head a little as if to clear it. This was the moment she had been dreading for months. She couldn’t believe that his presence hadn’t even registered with her until Lara had pointed him out. Something was wrong somewhere, surely?

‘No … no, I’m fine,’ she said again to Lara, but she didn’t feel fine really. She felt disorientated and unnerved, as if the one certain thing in her life had suddenly vanished.

‘I’m not surprised,’ Lara whispered back. ‘I’d be fine if I had a man like Gib,’ she added enviously. ‘He’s a bit gorgeous, isn’t he?’

Involuntarily, Phoebe’s eyes returned to Gib on her other side. He was talking to a couple on his left, and making the girl giggle. His head was turned away so that all she could see of his face was the lean line of his jaw, but her heart dipped and lurched anyway. She swallowed.

‘He’s all right,’ she said, knowing that Lara wouldn’t expect her to gush, but her sister only laughed.

‘You’re not fooling anyone, Phoebe! It’s obvious you can’t keep your eyes off him.’

After that, of course, Phoebe tried everything not to look at Gib again, but it was impossible when she was sitting right next to him. She tried to concentrate on the ceremony, but no matter how fiercely she stared ahead, her eyes kept drifting sideways, distracted by ridiculous details, like the length of his thigh, or the whiteness of his collar against his brown skin, or the laughter lines fanning the corner of his eyes, and the memory of how it had felt to kiss him flared along her veins all over again.

Once, Gib caught her looking at him. His eyebrow lifted in a faint question, obviously wondering why she kept staring at him. Terrified in case he thought that she had already forgotten their first rule of engagement and was reading more into that kiss than the practice it had been, Phoebe jerked her gaze away so abruptly that her dark hair swung beneath her hat.

At the front of the room, Ben and Lisa were about to exchange rings. Shifting upright in her chair, Phoebe’s brows drew together in an effort of concentration. This was Ben, she reminded herself. Ben, whom she had loved and wanted as long as she could remember. It had felt so right and so comfortable to be with him, that she had never imagined that he would be making those vows to somebody else. She should be thinking about him, not about Gib and the way they had kissed in the car.

As Ben promised to love and to honour Lisa ‘so long as we both shall live’, Phoebe found herself remembering when he had told her that he would love her for ever. They had been so happy together for so long. Impossible not to think about the times they had shared or to feel a pang as she watched him slide the ring onto Lisa’s finger.

But it was just a pang. She had dreaded this moment for months, expecting to feel a terrible, tearing pain in her heart, not this wistful sadness for the dreams she had nurtured for so long.

So this was it. Ben was married and there was no way to turn back the clock. No more pretending that he might, maybe, change his mind, or that somehow Lisa would disappear and everything would be the way it had been before. It was time to stop wishing and hoping and dreaming that things could be different, time to start accepting that she was on her own and making the best of it.

Phoebe wasn’t aware of her expression changing, but she suddenly found her hand gathered into Gib’s. He held it in a warm, strong clasp that was amazingly comforting, and although she didn’t dare look at him, she didn’t pull her hand away either. Instead, she watched Ben kiss Lisa and felt Gib’s fingers tighten around her own and wondered how it was possible to feel aware of every tiny millimetre of his skin pressed against hers.

The string quartet in the bow-window struck up a suitably celebratory tune and the bride and groom turned, beaming, to their guests, who stirred in anticipation of the champagne to come.

It was over, thought Phoebe, and knew that she ought to feel relieved while feeling only a curious sense of deflation when Gib let go of her hand. People were standing up and pressing forward to congratulate the happy couple, but Lara was already nudging them towards the door.

‘Might as well get a head start on the champagne,’ she said. ‘We can do the kissy-kissy bit later.’

They weren’t the only ones to have the same idea, and the walled garden, romantically lined with herbaceous borders and climbing roses, was soon crowded with little groups of guests clutching flutes of champagne and, in the case of the women, trying not to get their heels stuck in the grass.

This was the big test, thought Phoebe, her stomach clenching with nerves again. Gib was going to be exposed to some pretty expert questioners, beginning with her mother, who was making a beeline for them. She would have to stick beside him until she could manoeuvre him over to Ben’s tedious uncle, who could be relied upon not to talk about anything but sport, or if things got really bad to Penelope and Derek’s neighbour who was about ninety-seven and unlikely to cross-examine him on the detail of banking or be able to hear much about his supposedly passionate affair with Ben’s ex-fiancée.

Not that you could ever tell with old ladies, of course. In Phoebe’s experience they were much sharper than they let on, and could hear perfectly well when it suited them.

‘Careful,’ she said in an undertone as her mother rushed up. ‘You’re about to be exposed to advanced interrogation techniques. The SAS send soldiers to Mum for practice on withholding information if they’re captured by enemy forces, and very few of them pass the test!’

Gib only sent her a glimmering smile before he turned to greet her mother. For a while they chatted easily, and Phoebe could see her mother’s smile broadening as she ticked her way through a mental check-list, obviously awarding Gib full points.

Now they had moved on to discuss the wedding. ‘It’s a beautiful setting,’ commented Gib, glancing around him at the battlemented walls with their mullioned windows, spectacular doors and worn old stone.

‘Ye-es.’ Her mother clearly wasn’t convinced. ‘Ben and Lisa were very keen on the idea of having the wedding at a castle, but personally I prefer a more traditional setting. I’m hoping Phoebe will choose to have a church wedding.’

‘Mu-um!’ Phoebe shot her an agonised look.

‘Oh, don’t worry, dear, I’m not hinting,’ said her mother airily.

Not much! Phoebe thought bitterly.

‘It’s just that there’s such a pretty church in the village, it seems a shame not to make the most of it.’

‘Well, maybe we’ll bear that in mind,’ said Gib, unable to resist the opportunity of putting an arm around Phoebe. ‘What do you think, darling?’

‘I think it’s too early to be talking about weddings,’ she said tightly, acutely aware of his arm around her and of her mother’s eyes bulging with interest at that carelessly dropped ‘darling’ and the even more casual way he had suggested that they were thinking about getting married.

‘It’s never too early to start making plans,’ her mother said eagerly. ‘Sometimes you have to book the church months in advance.’

‘Yes, well, we’re nowhere near that stage yet,’ said Phoebe firmly. She tried to move out of the circle of Gib’s arm but he held her against him without any apparent effort and, short of an undignified struggle, it looked as if she would have to stay where she was.

She could see her mother’s mind already flickering to dresses and flowers and coordinating table arrangements, and hastened to nip the very idea of marriage in the bud before her mother got out a megaphone and announced it to the entire county.

‘Now, hold on, Mum,’ she said firmly. ‘We haven’t decided anything definite yet. Have we?’ she added to Gib with a look that dared him to contradict her.

Gib met it blandly before turning back to her mother. ‘I’ve asked Phoebe to marry me every day since we met,’ he confided. ‘She won’t give me an answer one way or another, so I’m just going to have to keep on asking until she does.’

‘Well, it’s not like you to be coy, Phoebe!’ said her mother, clearly thrilled.

‘I’m not being coy,’ snapped Phoebe, shooting a dagger glance at Gib. What had happened to the second rule? Stick to the story and keep it simple: it wasn’t that hard to remember, was it? Still, in one way she was relieved at the rush of nervous irritation. It was much easier to be cross with Gib than to be burningly aware of him the way she had been since he kissed her. That kiss had seemed a good idea at the time, but Phoebe wasn’t so sure now.

‘I just think that marriage is an important step,’ she told her mother. ‘It’s not something to rush into.’

‘I’m the last person to suggest that it was,’ her mother said, bridling. ‘But if you know you’ve found the right person for you, there’s no reason to wait, is there? And you don’t want to wait too long, dear,’ she added with a pointed look.

Phoebe rolled her eyes. ‘Go ahead, Mum, why not say it? You’re thirty-two, time’s running out, beggars can’t be choosers?’

‘Don’t be so silly, Phoebe,’ her mother tutted. ‘Having a man like Gib want to marry you hardly makes you a beggar! I’m sure there would be thousands of girls who’d be more than happy to have him if you don’t want him.’

Gib laughed. ‘I don’t think so, but even if there were, it wouldn’t make any difference to me.’ His arm tightened around Phoebe and he smiled down into her indignant face. ‘I knew the moment I saw Phoebe that she was the only one for me, and I’m just going to keep on asking her until she gives in.’

Of course, her mother was delighted. ‘That’s right, don’t you listen to her, Gib dear,’ she said, patting his arm. ‘She’s always been so stubborn! She just doesn’t know what’s good for her sometimes.’

‘Mum, I think I see Penelope over there,’ said Phoebe through gritted teeth. ‘I want her to meet Gib. We’ll catch up with you later.’

She practically dragged Gib away. Yes, this was excellent. She really was cross with him now. ‘I don’t know who I want to kill first,’ she muttered furiously out of the side of her mouth like a gangster. ‘You or my mother!’

Gib was all outraged innocence. ‘Why, what have I done?’

‘You know perfectly well! All that stuff about getting married!’

‘I didn’t say that we were getting married. I said that I wanted to marry you.’

‘It’s the same thing! Now everyone will be on at me to announce our engagement!’

‘I was just being creative,’ Gib objected. ‘I made it obvious that I’m in love with you, and your mother will remember the fact that you were hesitating when you tell her you’ve dumped me. It’ll make you look much better in the end. I thought that was what you wanted.’

‘What I wanted was for you to do what I’m paying you to do!’ snapped Phoebe, only to press the heel of her hand against her forehead a moment later. ‘Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry,’ she sighed. ‘I’m just on edge. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I know you’re doing me a favour by coming along today.’

It was Gib’s turn to feel guilty. ‘No, it’s my fault,’ he apologised. ‘I just thought it would be more convincing if I seemed to be thinking about marriage.’

‘Maybe you’re right.’ Phoebe helped herself to a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and took a gulp. She would need it to get through today! ‘We may as well go with the idea that we’re getting married now,’ she went on, resigned. ‘After all, if we can fool Mum, we can fool anyone, and she’s bound to tell everyone that we are engaged anyway. She’s probably been on to the vicar already, checking out which Saturdays are free!’

Spotting Ben’s mother bearing down on them, she gave Gib a nudge. ‘Careful now, this is Penelope.’

‘Hello, darling.’ Penelope enveloped her in a warm embrace before turning with undisguised interest. ‘So this is Gib? We’re so glad you could come,’ she told him, giving him a hug for good measure. ‘We were all thrilled when Sheila told us that Phoebe had met a gorgeous man! She seemed to think it sounded quite serious?’

She looked hopefully between them, and Phoebe bowed to the inevitable.

‘Well, we’re thinking about following Ben and Lisa’s example,’ she said. Snuggling against Gib in a suitably besotted pose, she felt his arm close around her with disturbing speed.

Penelope clapped her hands together. ‘Oh, that’s marvellous news! Your mother must be thrilled! She’s been so worried about you.’

‘It’s just maybe at the moment,’ Phoebe stressed. ‘We haven’t made any definite plans yet,’ she hurried on before Gib could jump in and invent a date. She wouldn’t put it past him. Left to his own devices, he would no doubt be dressing her up in a meringue and saddling her with a string of little bridesmaids in matching taffeta dresses!

Distracted by someone waving at her behind Phoebe’s shoulder, Penelope clicked her tongue in frustration. ‘Look, I must go. It’s hopeless trying to talk to anyone at this stage, but we’ll have a proper chat later tonight. It’s just family and close friends staying, and we’re all dying for the chance to get to know you properly,’ she added, beaming at Gib.

‘Oh, Gib won’t be here,’ Phoebe put in quickly, straightening out of his hold. She had had enough of being winsome. ‘He’s got to get back to London tonight. In fact, we were just saying he should get the receptionist to book him a taxi, weren’t we, Gib?’

‘We couldn’t talk about anything else,’ he agreed.

‘Oh, but why?’ cried Penelope, looking from one to the other in disappointment and missing the irony in Gib’s tone.

Phoebe nudged Gib. ‘An important business meeting, I’m afraid,’ he said obediently.

‘Not on a Sunday, surely?’

‘It’s first thing on Monday. In Switzerland,’ Phoebe added with an edge of desperation. ‘So he’ll have to fly there tomorrow.’

‘Still, it’s only a couple of hours to London from here, so even if the flight’s at lunchtime, you’d have plenty of time to catch the plane,’ Penelope pointed out.

‘That’s true,’ said Gib slowly.

Phoebe stared meaningfully at him. ‘What about all the preparation you’ve got to do?’

‘I’ve done most of that,’ he told her with an easy smile. ‘I just need to read through a report, and I could do that on the flight.’

‘Oh, do stay!’ Penelope implored him. ‘I’m sure it would mean a lot to Phoebe if you were here tonight, and we all want a chance to meet you properly. It’s not as if we can’t squeeze you in, either,’ she added with a twinkling look. ‘Phoebe’s got a huge room over in the tower, and she’ll be rattling around in it all on her own. You’d much rather Gib was with you, wouldn’t you, Phoebe?’

What could she say? Phoebe gritted her teeth and managed a smile. ‘I just don’t want to affect Gib’s work. I know he’s under a lot of pressure at the moment,’ she added with a look that she hoped would remind Gib just what work he was supposed to be doing today.

‘You’re more important than work,’ said Gib, ignoring it completely.

Penelope beamed at him, delighted. ‘So you’ll stay tonight?’

‘Yes, I’d like to. Thanks.’

‘Wonderful! Oh, there’s Ben.’ His mother waved him over excitedly. ‘Look who’s here,’ she told him, ‘and with the most marvellous news!’

Ben had become separated from his bride somewhere in the crowd, so he had to face Phoebe unsupported while his mother bustled happily off. He looked a bit uncomfortable—as well he might, thought Gib sourly as he watched the other man plant an awkward kiss on Phoebe’s cheek.

‘Thank you for coming,’ he told her. ‘I hoped you would.’

‘Of course I came,’ said Phoebe, feeling very poignant as she returned his kiss. Once they had been everything to each other, and now Ben couldn’t quite meet her eyes. ‘I couldn’t miss your wedding.’

Gib watched her narrowly. She was smiling, but he thought he could see a strained look around her eyes and a sadness in her smile. He wanted to punch Ben on the nose and gather her into his arms and make everything better. As it was, all he could do was stand there and watch her being brave.

‘I hope you and Lisa will be very happy,’ she was saying to Ben. ‘I’m sure you will.’

‘Thank you,’ said Ben, which Gib thought was a bit inadequate. He could at least have acknowledged what a difficult moment this was for Phoebe, or said how much he appreciated her efforts to pretend that everything was absolutely fine and that he hadn’t broken her heart.

As it was, the other man looked distinctly ill at ease. Gib studied him, unimpressed. What did Phoebe see in him? He looked pleasant enough, but dull, Gib decided dismissively. Not enough character in his face to deal with Phoebe. She needed someone with a bit more fire to appreciate her.

‘This is Gib,’ Phoebe introduced him awkwardly, and the two men shook hands without any noticeable enthusiasm.

‘Congratulations,’ said Gib.

There was a tiny pause. Phoebe kept her smile pinned to her face and tucked her hand in Gib’s arm. ‘Congratulate us, too, Ben. Gib and I are thinking about getting married.’

‘Really?’ Ben looked taken aback for a moment.

Gib could practically see the relief warring with surprise and a touch of chagrin in his face. No doubt Phoebe was supposed to stay broken-hearted for ever, not find someone else.

‘That’s great news,’ Ben recovered, kissing Phoebe again. ‘Congratulations, Phoebe.’ He looked warily at Gib. ‘You’re a lucky man.’

‘I know,’ said Gib discouragingly.

The moment Ben had moved on to greet other well-wishers, Phoebe rounded on Gib. ‘Did you have to be quite so unfriendly?’ she demanded. She had never seen him behave like that before. For a moment there he had looked quite grim. ‘This is Ben’s wedding day. You’re supposed to be nice to him!’

‘You can’t expect me to fawn all over the man who hurt the woman I love,’ said Gib with a slight edge.

‘I don’t think there’s any need to take your role that seriously! Ben looked as if he were afraid you were about to punch him.’

‘It might have livened him up a bit,’ Gib beckoned a waiter over and exchanged his empty glass for a full one. ‘What do you see in that guy, anyway? He’s not exactly a ball of fire, is he?’

‘Ben is a very nice man,’ said Phoebe defensively. ‘He’s kind and honest and … and reliable—unlike some people I could mention! Why on earth did you tell Penelope you would spend the night when we had already agreed you would go back to London?’

‘Because no self-respecting fiancé would leave you on your own the very night you most need support. Even if you were madly in love with me, it would be hard for you to see Ben getting married, and Penelope obviously knows that. If I’d gone back to London making some lame excuse about flying to Switzerland on Monday it really would have looked suspicious.’

Gib told himself that he was only trying to offer her support. He did think it would be easier for Phoebe if she had a friend with her tonight. He had hated the idea of getting on a train and leaving her to cope on her own. She might not want him, but he thought that she would need someone, and it might as well be him. The fact that he had leapt at the opportunity of staying had absolutely nothing to do with knowing that this might be the only chance he would have to get this close to her.

Of course not.

Phoebe eyed him with some frustration. It sounded reasonable enough, and the only argument she could really come up with was that he wasn’t doing as he was told, which would come across as a bit childish.

Feeling rattled, she sipped edgily at her champagne. How could she tell Gib that she was far more bothered by the prospect of spending the whole night with him than she had been about coming face to face with Ben? She wasn’t even sure that she was ready to admit it to herself.

‘It’ll certainly look suspicious if you leave now!’ she said crossly. ‘Then Penelope really would think we’d had a row. I suppose we’ll just have to make the best of it.’

Suppressing a sigh, she looked around her, and forced a smile as she caught the eye of an old friend of Ben’s family. ‘We’d better circulate. From now on, could you please not introduce any more variations on the story we agreed? If we get separated, say as little as possible, and when you do, stick to neutral topics. Talk about cricket or something.’

Gib snapped into a mock salute. ‘Whatever you say, boss.’

* * *

Phoebe picked up a plate and joined the queue for the buffet. Round tables had been set out where the guests could sit down or move around informally, and she looked around as casually as she could, trying to spot Gib, who had drifted from her side in far too relaxed a fashion. She didn’t trust him now.

A girl who had known her when she was going out with Ben was standing next to her, rabbiting on about some skiing holiday, but Phoebe was too busy wondering where Gib was and what he was saying to concentrate. She nodded and put in an occasional ‘yes’ or an ‘oh, really?’ while her eyes scanned the crowd with increasing nervousness.

There he was! Phoebe’s gaze did a double take and swung back to where she had spotted Gib sitting at a table with—oh, God!—her parents and Lara, and they all seemed to be getting on famously.

Typical, she fumed. There must be a hundred strangers here Gib could have picked to sit and make small talk with, but no! He had to choose the three people who were most likely to interrogate him closely and pick up on any weaknesses in their story!

Hastily grabbing a couple of vol-au-vents and a chicken leg, Phoebe muttered an excuse and, leaving Vanessa still yapping about drag lifts and chalet girls, fought her way across the room towards him to try and stop him before he embellished any more aspects of their supposed relationship. It took ages, though, as people kept hailing her, all delighted to see her again and eager to tell her how much they liked Gib.

He was so charming, they told her.

So funny.

So interesting.

‘So attractive!’ sighed more than one girl enviously. ‘You are lucky, Phoebe.’

Hadn’t she told Gib very clearly to stick to neutral topics? It didn’t sound as if he had listened to a word she had said, Phoebe thought furiously. Far from lurking quietly on the sidelines talking about the weather or the lack of hold-ups on the motorway, he had obviously been in the thick of things, circulating breezily and talking to everyone who knew her!

Smile fixed, she agreed for the umpteenth time that Gib was wonderful and struggled on through the tables to her family.

‘Ah, there you are!’ her mother waved gaily and Gib turned quickly to see Phoebe suck in her breath to squeeze in between two chairs, holding her plate high to clear the heads. She looked hot and flustered, and beneath her hat he could see that her jaw was gritted and her smile decidedly brittle.

He got to his feet and pulled out a chair for her to sit down beside him. ‘I lost you,’ he said, taking the plate from her as a precautionary measure. Now that she was close, he could see that her eyes were flashing an unmistakably irate message, and he didn’t want vol-au-vents all down his suit. ‘I was hoping you’d find me eventually.’

‘Gib’s been keeping us entertained,’ Lara told Phoebe, who was half tempted to refuse to sit next to Gib but couldn’t think of a reason that wouldn’t make her look childish.

‘So I saw,’ she said rather grimly instead as she sat down in the chair he still held.

‘He’s been telling us all about how you met,’ Lara went on. ‘You never told us it was quite that romantic, Phoebe!’

Romantic? What had he been telling them? Phoebe looked at Gib with foreboding, which only deepened when she saw his eyes dancing. She wished they wouldn’t do that. It only made her more nervous.

‘I didn’t tell them everything,’ he assured her, straight faced, and to Phoebe’s consternation her family laughed merrily, as if he had already told them more than enough.

‘Perhaps I should know what he did tell you,’ she said, holding on to her temper with difficulty.

‘He said it was a very easy mistake to make.’

‘And that it was wonderful to meet someone without any preconceptions about him.’

‘Yes, and that one of the reasons he loves you is that you just don’t care what he does.’

They beamed at her.

Phoebe looked at Gib. ‘Is that right?’ she said, unable to think of anything else, other than the obvious option which was that she had no idea what any of them were talking about.

‘I didn’t tell them what an idiot you felt when you realised that I was the president of the bank and not the layabout you thought I was when you were trying to get an interview.’ Gib’s eyes gleamed with appreciation as he saw her struggling to come to terms with the sheer nerve of him. ‘You were expecting the president to be someone a lot more formidable, weren’t you, darling?’

Somehow Phoebe managed to stretch her mouth into a ghastly smile. ‘It was quite a surprise,’ she said.

‘I must say, darling,’ said her father, ‘you might have told us what Gib did. You just told your mother he worked for a bank, as if he was some teller. I felt a complete fool when I realised!’

‘It sounds wonderful, too,’ said Lara, equally impressed. ‘It’s not as if an ethical bank is something to be ashamed of. Not like … I don’t know … being an arms dealer or a politician or something.’

Gib put a consoling arm around Phoebe’s shoulders. ‘But that’s exactly what I love about Phoebe. She just doesn’t care what I do or how much money I have.’ He smiled teasingly into her eyes. ‘You love me for what I am, don’t you, bunni—’ He pretended to catch himself up guiltily. ‘Don’t you, honey?’

‘You know exactly how much I love you,’ she said, meeting his gaze directly, and he laughed and released her.

‘What did you feel when you found out that Gib was actually the president?’ Lara asked eagerly. ‘You must have felt a bit stupid, didn’t you?’

‘To tell you the truth,’ said Phoebe, a decidedly crisp edge to her voice, ‘I didn’t believe a word of it!’

‘President!’ she bit out the moment the door to their bedroom closed behind them. The guests had begun to drift away from the reception and they had a couple of hours to recover before they had to go back down for dinner and dancing. ‘Couldn’t you have chosen something a bit more likely, like Chancellor of the Exchequer or Director General of the United Nations?’

‘I always fancied myself running a bank,’ said Gib by way of an excuse.

‘Why stop at a bank? Why not pretend you were President of the United States?’

‘They would have known that wasn’t true.’

Phoebe ground her teeth at the reasonableness of his tone. ‘Whereas, it’s so believable that you should be running your own bank?’

‘They did believe me, didn’t they?’ he replied, unanswerably.

‘I thought we agreed that you would stick to our story?’ she accused him, wrenching off her hat. She had a massive tension headache, and the champagne she had been reduced to gulping to cope with the stress of Gib’s increasingly ridiculous lies hadn’t helped any.

‘No more variations, we said. Now I’m not only supposed to be engaged to you and spending the night with you, I’m an accessory to illegal impersonation! Have you thought what will happen if J.G. Grieve hears that you’ve been impersonating him?’

‘I don’t think that’s very likely,’ said Gib soothingly. He hadn’t been able to resist the temptation to tease Phoebe a little by elaborating on the basic outlines they had agreed. ‘How’s he going to know what goes on at an obscure English wedding?’

‘These people have lawyers, you know,’ said Phoebe with a dark look. ‘If he sues you, you needn’t think I’m going to support you. God, what a day!’ she sighed, sinking down onto the edge of the vast four-poster bed and easing off her high-heeled shoes so that she could rub her sore feet.

Flopping back across the bed, she stared tensely up at the embroidered canopy. ‘And we’ve still got tonight to get through!’