Читать книгу Diamonds are for Deception: The Carlotta Diamond / The Texan's Diamond Bride / From Dirt to Diamonds - Julia James - Страница 11

HE LED the way to the library, which was a large, handsome room with book-lined walls and an elaborately decorated plaster ceiling.

There was a soft leather suite and a Turkey red carpet with matching velvet curtains held back by tasselled cords. Though the day had remained sunny, a cheerful log fire burned in the wide grate.

In front of the window an imposing leather-topped desk, with a matching chair, held all the latest state-of-the-art office equipment. Sitting down at the desk, Charlotte dialled her parents’ number.

When, after a short delay, her mother answered, she blurted out, ‘Mum, it’s me.’

‘It’s very late to ring. Is there something wrong?’ Joan asked, her voice concerned.

‘No, there’s nothing wrong. Just the opposite. I know it’s a bit late, but I wanted to give you the good news without delay. I’m getting married.’

Quickly, before the questions started to flow, Charlotte told her mother the relevant details.

‘This Wednesday!’ Joan sounded staggered. ‘It’s all so sudden. Why didn’t you tell us sooner?’

‘Well, everything’s happened quite quickly and—’

‘But I’ve never even heard you mention anyone called Simon.’

Somewhat hampered by Simon’s presence, Charlotte said carefully, ‘We haven’t known each other all that long. You might say it was love at first sight—’

Only when the words were out did she realise it was the wrong thing to say.

Sounding even more anxious, Joan broke in, ‘I’ve always mistrusted that kind of thing. Too often it’s just infatuation. Love should have time to grow.’

‘Normally I would agree with you but—’

‘Surely it would be a lot wiser to wait a while and give it some thought?’ Joan insisted.

‘Simon doesn’t want to wait, you see—’

‘As you don’t have to get married…’ Then, obviously horrified by the idea, she cried, ‘You don’t, do you? You’re not pregnant?’

Feeling guilty because she could so easily be, Charlotte said, ‘No, of course not.’

Joan breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Then it would be a big mistake to rush into things. My advice is, take your time.’

‘We haven’t much time. You see, Simon would like his grandfather, who is terminally ill, to be present at the wedding, and—’

‘But we don’t know a thing about this Simon; we haven’t even set eyes on him. You might be making a terrible mistake, and you know what they say—marry in haste, repent at leisure…’

Seeing the hunted look on Charlotte’s face, Simon took the phone off her and said quietly, ‘Mrs Harris, this is Simon Farringdon. I realise the suddenness must have come as something of a shock for you, and I do apologise. However, all the arrangements are in place, and things will be going ahead as planned—’

‘I do think you should—’

‘It would give us great pleasure if you and your husband could get over for the wedding,’ Simon cut in smoothly. ‘And we’d be delighted if you would be our guests at Farringdon Hall.’

‘As it’s such short notice, I—’

‘There’s no need to worry about arranging flights; I’ll be happy to send the company jet for you.’

‘How very kind,’ she said faintly. ‘But I don’t think…’ Then in a rush, ‘To tell you the truth, I’m frightened to death of flying. Just the thought makes me ill—’

‘That’s a great pity, but we do understand.’

His voice holding a polite but decided finality, he added, ‘Now, as it’s so late, we’d better wish you goodnight. I’m sure Charlotte will fill you in on all the details when we get back from our honeymoon.’

He replaced the receiver, before asking half-jokingly, ‘How on earth did you survive?’

‘She loves me. It’s just that she’s always been overly concerned about me.’

‘So much concern must have been a little bit wearisome.’

‘Dad diluted it somewhat, and shortly after he died I went away to college.’

‘That must have been a relief.’

‘It was,’ she admitted. ‘Though at the time I felt terribly disloyal.’

He raised a level brow. ‘Why was that?’

‘Because I was one of the lucky ones,’ she said quietly. ‘Some of my fellow students had no one who cared, and everyone needs someone to love them and be concerned about them.’

A strange look flitted across his face, but before she could decipher it, it was gone.

Rising to his feet, he suggested, ‘Perhaps you’d like to take a look at the books, while I go and put Grandfather in the picture?’

Books had always been a pleasure to her and for the next fifteen minutes or so, putting aside the slight feeling of agitation caused by the phone call, she browsed happily.

She was sitting on the couch, a seventeenth-century volume open on her lap, when Simon returned. Coming over to sit by her side, he took her left hand and slipped a ring onto her fourth finger.

A single magnificent diamond in a simple gold setting, it fitted perfectly.

‘This was my mother’s, but if you don’t like it please don’t hesitate to say so, and tomorrow we’ll look for something else.’

‘It’s absolutely beautiful,’ she said huskily, and lifted her face for his kiss.

Instead of kissing her, however, with an almost businesslike air, he took a slim leather case from his pocket and flicked it open with his thumb nail.

On the blue velvet lining lay a thin gold chain with an exquisite, many-faceted diamond ‘teardrop’ that seemed to sparkle with an inner fire.

She caught her breath.

‘It would please Grandfather enormously if you would wear this on your wedding day.’

‘Is it a family heirloom?’

‘In a manner of speaking. In the early fifteen-hundreds it was given to Carlotta Bell-Farringdon by an Italian nobleman who was madly in love with her. Since then it’s been known as the Carlotta Stone, and, as Carlotta is the Italian form of Charlotte, it seems very fitting.’

Charlotte reached the stone gently. ‘It’s beautiful and I’d love to wear it,’ she said.

‘Ah, this appears to be Miss Macfadyen arriving.’

Following his gaze through the leaded window-panes Charlotte saw a grey chauffeur-driven limousine was just drawing up on the gravel apron.

‘If you want to go and meet her…?’ He closed the jewel case with a snap. ‘I’ll just lock this away before I join you.’

As she made to take off the ring, he said, ‘No, leave that on. I’d like you to wear it.’

A smile on her lips, Charlotte hurried outside to see Sojo descending from the car with all the panache of visiting royalty.

Her blonde hair had been newly washed and tamed into a shining, two-layered, shoulder-length bob. She was dressed up to the nines in her best jade-green trouser suit and a trailing scarf of the type that strangled Isadora Duncan.

While the chauffeur lifted out the luggage, her gaze ranging over the Hall, she exclaimed, ‘Imagine you living in a place like this…!’

Then, catching sight of Charlotte’s ring, ‘Wowee! Just look at the size of that rock! A family heirloom at a guess?’

‘It belonged to Simon’s mother.’

‘Do you know I’m black and blue? I’ve been pinching myself all the way here just to make absolutely sure I wasn’t dreaming.’

‘I must admit I’ve felt like doing the same,’ Charlotte confessed. ‘Everything’s happened so fast.’

‘You’re not kidding! By the way, the two big cases are full of your stuff. I’ve packed everything I could find, but if I’ve missed anything—’

‘Don’t worry, if it’s at all important I can always collect it later.’

‘Of course.’ Sojo looked relieved. ‘It’s just that when you said you wouldn’t be coming back, it sounded so final…’

Simon, who had joined them unnoticed, held out his hand. ‘Welcome to Farringdon Hall, Miss Macfadyen… I’m Simon Farringdon.’

He smiled at her, a smile that trebled his already powerful sex appeal.

Just for a second or two she goggled at him, then, recovering her poise, she shook his hand and said politely, ‘It’s nice to meet you, Mr Farringdon.’

Leading the way into the hall, he suggested, ‘I think it would be a good idea if we skipped the formalities and went on to first-name terms.’

Straight-faced, he suggested, ‘If you call me Simon, I’ll call you Sojourner.’

‘You will not! Or if you do, it’ll be at your peril!’ Then, seeing the gleam of devilment in his green-gold eyes, she grinned broadly. ‘I see Charlotte has already put you in the picture.’

‘How do you come to have such an interesting name?’ he asked blandly.

‘An aberration on my mother’s part.’ Darkly, she added, ‘Parents who give innocent little children interesting names have a lot to answer for.’

He acknowledged the riposte before saying, ‘I tend to agree with you. Where did she get Sojourner from?’

‘She’d just finished reading a novel called Southwest of Georgia. Would you believe she still can’t see what she did to me?’

‘Sojourner’s not that bad,’ Charlotte protested.

‘Go wash your mouth out with soap and water.’

At that instant Mrs Reynolds appeared.

A smile playing around his lips, Simon said, ‘Ann, this is Miss Macfadyen.’

‘It’s nice to meet you, Miss Macfadyen,’ the housekeeper greeted the newcomer cheerfully. ‘I’ve put you next door to Miss Christie. If you’d care to follow me, Martin will bring the luggage up.’

Sojo glanced at Charlotte, who, interpreting that silent plea, offered, ‘I’ll come with you so we can have a chat while you get settled in.’

‘When you girls come down I’ll be in the library,’ Simon told them. Then to Mrs Reynolds, ‘If you’re not too busy, Ann, perhaps we could have some tea?’

‘Certainly.’

It was obvious that he could do no wrong in the housekeeper’s eyes, and if he’d asked for the moon she would have done her best to provide it.

When the luggage had been brought up and the two girls were alone, Sojo, who had been obviously simmering, burst out excitedly, ‘Isn’t he just something! My fingers were itching to sketch him. Those eyes and that mouth—’ she shivered deliciously ‘—and those shoulders… He makes Wudolf look like an immature schoolboy.’

‘I thought you fancied Rudy?’ Charlotte teased.

‘I thought I did at the time. It just goes to show what a dearth of personable men there’s been in my life over the past couple of years.’

While Sojo unpacked her case, she continued to wax lyrical. ‘I find it most inspiring to know that men as gorgeous as Simon Farringdon do still exist. Though they’re obviously few and far between, so my chances of actually meeting one must be pretty slim,’ she added gloomily.

Then, brightening, ‘Still, it’s nice to feel the old libido stirring again.’

Hiding a smile, Charlotte queried, ‘Do I gather you fancy him?’

‘Like mad. He has enough sex appeal to set fire to a swamp,’ her friend declared.

‘But do you like him?’ Charlotte asked.

‘Yes, I do.’ Sojo’s answer was unequivocal. ‘Not only is he one of the most attractive men I’ve ever met, but even more important, he seems genuinely nice. I like the way he treats his staff. He’s also mature in a way that Wudolf never will be. If things didn’t go his way I can’t imagine Simon acting like a petulant child. Mind you, having said he’s nice, I don’t mean weak in any way. I imagine, if justified, he could be quite formidable. Not a man to cross swords with…’

The last of her things put away, she said enthusiastically, ‘Right. Ready when you are. Let me go and take another look at this idol, see if I can spot any feet of clay.’

‘I rather hope you can,’ Charlotte told her half seriously. ‘Perfection must be terribly hard to live up to.’

While they descended the stairs Sojo gazed around her with wide-eyed admiration. ‘If I asked him nicely, do you think he might find time to show me round the old ancestral home?’

‘I’m sure he will. He seems to genuinely love Farringdon Hall.’

‘What about you?’

‘It’s already starting to feel like home,’ Charlotte said simply.

Satisfied, Sojo nodded.

When they reached the library, Simon rose from behind his desk and joined them in front of the fire.

Waiting on the low table was a tray that held everything needed for tea, including dainty sandwiches and buttered scones.

As soon as the two women were seated side by side on the settee, Simon reached for the silver teapot and began to pour.

Sojo’s sigh of relief was audible.

He glanced at her, one eyebrow raised.

‘I dread the question, who’s going to be mother?’

The phrase was delivered in such mincing tones that Simon threw back his head and laughed. ‘Do people still say that?’

‘One of my boyfriends did. That’s why he’s an ex.’

‘Milk and sugar?’

‘Just milk, please.’

‘Speaking of boyfriends,’ Simon pursued, ‘I hope this invitation hasn’t ruffled any male feathers?’

‘Nary a one. I’ve gone off men for the moment.’

‘Any particular reason?’

‘The last two have been nerds.’

‘Oh? In what way?’ Simon asked interestedly.

As though wondering if she was hogging the conversation, Sojo glanced at her friend.

But, only too happy that the liking appeared to be mutual, and the pair were getting on so well, Charlotte was content to sit back and listen.

Seeing this, Sojo continued, ‘Mark, the latest, was totally boring. He had only one thing on his mind, and hands like Velcro.’

His face straight, Simon commented, ‘A very descriptive phrase. What about the previous one?’

‘He didn’t live in the real world. Mind you, with a name like Tarquin, who could blame him? Thank you…’

When she and Charlotte had both accepted a cup of tea and a plate, Simon drew the table closer so they could help themselves. Then, his tawny eyes sparkling with laughter, Simon remarked, ‘I can quite see why you’ve gone off men.’

‘Not all men.’ An inveterate flirt, she fluttered her new false eyelashes at him shamelessly.

‘I’m flattered,’ he assured her gravely. ‘Though I’d rather like to know why I’m an exception.’

‘Well, for one thing you’re obviously good for Charlotte. I’ve never seen her look so happy…’

Just for a split-second he appeared to be disconcerted, then his expression cleared, and, one eyebrow raised, he queried, ‘And?’

‘And I wondered, if I said pretty please, if you would show me round the Hall some time?’

‘I’d be delighted.’

‘Providing, of course, that you’re not too busy running the Bell-Farringdon business empire?’

So Sojo had been checking up, Charlotte thought, and hoped Simon wouldn’t mind.

But he was answering calmly, ‘From now until the wedding’s over I’m leaving Michael Forrester, my right-hand man, to deal with everything and taking a complete break.’

‘Wonder of wonders! A top businessman who’s willing to delegate.’

‘I admit to having been a workaholic in the past, but no longer. From now on I intend to work much shorter hours. I want time to relax and have fun, time to spend with my wife and family.’

Sojo gave Charlotte a speaking glance. Didn’t I tell you a man of his class would want a family to inherit things? Aloud, she remarked, ‘That sounds too good to be true.’

‘Not a bit of it. I’ve started as I mean to go on… Now, if you’ve finished your tea I’d be pleased to give you the Grand Tour. That is, if Charlotte doesn’t have any objections?’

‘Of course not,’ Charlotte said. ‘In fact I’d love to come with you.’

‘Then we’ll leave the Long Gallery until last, and I’ll point out the more interesting portraits.’

Apparently stunned by the height and grandeur of the Great Chamber, and the beauty of the house itself, Sojo followed in awed silence while Simon provided a wealth of interesting historical details.

Finally, he remarked, ‘Well, that’s about it; apart from the Long Gallery, which is on your right, you’ve seen all the rooms of any interest.’

Sounding disappointed, Sojo asked, ‘Don’t you have a haunted room?’

‘Not really.’

‘But surely you have a ghost?’ she persisted hopefully.

‘Not one you need worry about,’ he said smoothly.

‘Oh, I’m not worried. Just fascinated.’ She gave an excited wriggle. ‘There’s nothing I enjoy more than a nice spooky ghost.’

Simon laughed. ‘Sorry to disappoint you, but it isn’t the kind that wanders about moaning and rattling its chains.’

‘What does it do?’ Then, aware she must have appeared flippant, she said quickly, ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that like it sounded. What I meant to ask is, what kind of ghost is it? Someone who was walled up? An ancestor who died in battle?’

He shook his head. ‘Nothing so exciting, I’m afraid. If it exists at all, it’s just the spirit of a young girl…’

As they turned into the Long Gallery, he invited ironically, ‘Come and meet the ancestors.’

Gazing at the portraits in amazement, Sojo asked, ‘Do all these belong to the Farringdon family?’

‘Most of them are of the bloodline, the others are in-laws.’

As they paused in front of the portrait of a handsome, dark-haired man with a short, pointed beard, a luxuriant moustache and a rakish air, Sojo commented, ‘Now, he looks as though he could have been a bit of a lad.’

‘That’s a pretty fair assessment.’ Turning to Charlotte, Simon asked, ‘Can you guess who he is?’

‘Sir Roger Farringdon?’

‘Got it in one.’

‘Better known as the queen’s favourite,’ Charlotte added.

‘Why was that?’ Sojo asked innocently.

When Simon had explained, they strolled on while he named various people and gave brief details of their role in the family.

‘Who’s that?’ Sojo enquired, pointing to a picture of a beautiful young girl with high cheekbones and a passionate mouth. Her black hair was taken up into an elaborate chignon, and she was wearing a gold brocade evening gown and a magnificent teardrop diamond around her swan-like neck.

‘That’s Carlotta Bell-Farringdon,’ Simon answered.

‘I must say that’s some rock she’s wearing…if it’s real?’

‘Oh, yes, it’s real enough.’

As Sojo’s eyes widened, he explained, ‘The diamond was given to her by her lover, who was the descendant of a doge known as the Lion of Venice. It’s come to be called the Carlotta Stone.’

‘Did she and her lover marry?’

‘Unfortunately they weren’t able to. He already had a wife.’

‘So she died an old maid pining for him?’

‘Not at all. Shortly after the portrait was painted she married the Duke of Cessina.’

As they neared the end of the gallery, indicating three portraits by Samuel Launston, he said, ‘That’s Sophia and Joshua, my great-grandparents, and the young man next to them is Grandfather when he was twenty-one.’

‘I would have known,’ Charlotte said. ‘Other than getting older, Sir Nigel hasn’t altered all that much. He’s still a nice-looking man.’

‘Now, that’s strange…’ Leaning forward, Sojo was studying the portrait intently.

‘Strange in what way?’ Simon queried.

‘The young girl there, the delicate-looking one…she’s very like Charlotte.’

His expression impassive, Simon said nothing.

Returning her gaze to the picture, Sojo pursued, ‘She has the same-shaped eyes… And look at her ears… See what I mean? Small and neat, hardly any lobes? Just like Charlotte’s.’

She turned to Charlotte and, only half joking, asked, ‘You were adopted, weren’t you? So it’s possible you’re related to the girl in this picture in some way.’

Feeling uncomfortable, Charlotte said crisply, ‘The very idea’s ridiculous.’

Sojo sighed. ‘As I’ve said before, you have no sense of the dramatic.’

‘You’re very good at spotting a likeness.’ Simon observed admiringly.

‘A trained eye. Ever since I was able to hold a pencil I’ve sketched people. I spent a year at art school, hoping to become an artist, but it didn’t work out… So who is she?’

Glancing at Charlotte, Simon asked, ‘Who do you think she is?’

Gazing at the small, heart-shaped face, its childish beauty framed by a cloud of dark, silky hair, she ventured, ‘Mara?’

He nodded. As they moved on, turning to Sojo, he explained, ‘Grandfather had twin sisters. Mara was the younger one. She died when she was seven.’

‘And she’s your ghost?’ Sojo guessed shrewdly.

‘In a manner of speaking.’

‘Does she still haunt the place?’

‘No, I don’t believe she does. Though perhaps her spirit lingered for a while. Who knows?’

‘Sounds fascinating. Tell me more.’

‘I will over dinner tonight. I’m taking the pair of you to dance and dine at Rumplestiltskins.’

Fluttering her eyelashes at him, Sojo asked audaciously, ‘I take it there’s no chance of the car breaking down again on the way back?’

Simon looked at Charlotte.

As her cheeks grow hot and her grey eyes fell beneath that ironic gaze, he answered lightly, ‘‘Fraid not. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt, it’s never to use the same ruse twice.’

The last portrait was of a couple. A man who had an unmistakable look of Sir Nigel, and a flaxen-haired woman with tawny-green eyes whose face, rather than being merely pretty, was strong and full of character. She was wearing the ring that now graced Charlotte’s finger.

‘Your parents,’ Charlotte said to Simon with certainty.

‘Yes. As you can see, I take after my mother.’

‘I was wondering how you came to be blond,’ Sojo remarked, ‘when most of the Farringdons seem to have dark hair.’

As they left the gallery behind them, she added, ‘Well, thank you for the Grand Tour. I’ve really enjoyed it.’

‘My pleasure. Now, suppose you and Charlotte go and get your best bib and tucker on, and I’ll see you in the hall in about half an hour.’

‘It’ll have to be my second best. I’m saving my best dress for the wedding,’ Sojo teased.

‘There’s no need. Tuesday I’ll be taking the pair of you to town to shop for your wedding finery.’

‘You don’t mean…?’

‘Ring, bridal gown and veil, bridesmaid’s dress, accessories, the lot,’ Simon stated.

‘It just gets better. Have you anything lined up for tomorrow?’ Sojo asked.

‘Tomorrow we’ll need to make all the arrangements for Wednesday. Cars, catering, bridal flowers, church flowers, an organist, someone to take photographs, last minute invitations, et cetera…’

‘Can it all be put in place in such a short time?’ Charlotte wanted to know.

‘Certainly it can.’

‘Money comes in handy, I dare say,’ Sojo twinkled up at him.

‘It can be used to grease a few palms where necessary,’ he agreed, quite unruffled. ‘But your practical help will be even more useful.’

Sojo beamed with pleasure. ‘I really do love weddings! I haven’t had this much fun since my sister got married.’

The wedding morning dawned clear and bright, a golden September day, warm and welcome as a blessing. To avoid the media descending on them, they had done their best to keep the whole thing a secret. Nothing had been put in the papers, and there was to be no official photographer.

Following tradition, Simon kept out of the way while the girls—Sojo, bubbling with excitement, Charlotte a little quiet, but both conscious that things would never be quite the same again—prepared for the wedding.

When Sojo had helped Charlotte put on a deceptively simple ivory silk dress and a matching circlet that went round her dark chignon and held her short veil in place, she stood back to admire her handiwork.

‘Well, all I can say is, Simon’s a very lucky man.’

With a grin, she added, ‘Discreet too. Though I’m right next door at nights I’ve never heard so much as a latch click.’

‘There’s been nothing to hear,’ Charlotte said.

‘You went to his room?’ the other girl asked.

‘We both stayed put.’

‘Your choice?’

Charlotte shook her head. It hadn’t been her choice. If Simon had lifted a finger, she would have gone running. But since the wedding arrangements had been made he had barely touched her, let alone kissed her. Although he had laughed and joked with Sojo, he had treated her with a kind of distant courteousness that was somehow chilling.

A tap at the door interrupted her thoughts.

It was Mrs Reynolds bringing two Cellophane boxes containing the flowers, and a message asking if Charlotte could spare a moment to see Sir Nigel.

‘Of course,’ Charlotte agreed, and hastened along the corridor, her skirts sweeping the floorboards.

Having refused any medication that might make him sleepy, and sent his nurse packing until he called for her, Sir Nigel was already dressed and seated in a wheelchair, a cream carnation in his buttonhole.

He studied Charlotte for a moment, then, his eyes growing misty, he said, ‘In true Bell-Farringdon tradition, you make a beautiful bride.’

She smiled at him shakily. ‘Thank you, Sir Nigel.’

‘No more of that Sir Nigel stuff. From now on I’d like you to call me Grandfather. Go on, let me hear you say it.’

‘Thank you, Grandfather.’

He smiled at her. ‘That’s my girl. It’s going to be a great day. My only regret is that Simon’s sister can’t be here.’

‘I was very sorry to hear about Lucy’s accident,’ Charlotte said sincerely. ‘It must have been a big worry for you all.’

‘Thank you, my dear. It has been pretty grim.’

‘How did it happen?’ she asked.

‘She and her husband had just left the hotel they’d been dining at, when their car clipped another one, went off the road and rolled down an embankment. It was towards the end of March and bitterly cold. There was black ice… Luckily the driver of the other car was uninjured.’

‘Was her husband…?’

‘He got off practically scot-free, just cuts and bruises—’ there was bitterness in the old man’s voice ‘—whereas Lucy suffered severe internal and spinal injuries. Not only did she lose her baby, but also the hope of having any more.’

Shocked, Charlotte breathed, ‘How awful for her.’

‘Would you like a family?’ he wanted to know.

‘Yes, I would.’

He smiled. ‘I’m delighted. It means the Bell-Farringdon bloodline will go on.’

‘That’s important to you,’ Charlotte realised.

Though it was a statement not a question, he answered, ‘Yes, my dear, it is. Very important.’

‘I’m truly sorry about Lucy…’

‘It was a blow to us all,’ he admitted. ‘With losing their parents so young, Simon and his sister have always been very close. He’d do anything to make her happy. When she fell in love with a man we both thought was worthless and unprincipled, Simon tried hard to talk her out of marrying him. But she was quite determined, and in the end they ran off and got married at a register office. After that we had no choice but to make the best of it for Lucy’s sake…’

Charlotte had just decided Sir Nigel wasn’t going to say any more when, frowning a little, he went on, ‘When they’d been married a few months, she said he was getting restless and asked Simon to give him a job. Rather than see him live off Lucy’s money, Simon agreed, and, never a man to do things by halves, put him in a position of trust. I believe he’s regretted it since. By the way, he mentioned that you would have asked Lucy to be one of your attendants. It was very thoughtful of you, and I’m quite sure that she and Miss Macfadyen would have got on well.’

Catching Charlotte’s look of surprise, he added, ‘I like your friend. She shares the same kind of spirited, yet down-to-earth, approach to life that Lucy has…’ His face clouding, he added, ‘Or had before the accident.’

Then, perking up, ‘But the latest news is good. The doctors believe there’s a fair chance she’ll be out of bed and starting to walk again by the new year, so we have a lot to be thankful for. Now, my dear, time’s getting short, and, as it’s supposed to be unlucky for the groom to see the bride before they get to church, I thought you might allow me to put this on.’

He held up the Carlotta Stone.

She went down on her knees by his chair and, after a brief struggle, he fastened the chain around her neck and slipped home the safety catch.

‘There!’ he said with satisfaction. ‘It looks well on you.’

Touching it, she began, ‘I’ll take great care of it and return it as soon as—’

‘I don’t want it back,’ he said firmly. ‘I want you to keep it.’

‘Oh, b-but I couldn’t possibly,’ she stammered. ‘I insist.’

‘Shouldn’t Lucy—?’

‘Apart from the fact that Lucy is a rich woman in her own right, she has her mother’s jewels,’ Sir Nigel said.

‘But what will Simon say?’

‘I’ve already discussed it with him and he agrees that you should have it.’

She made another attempt. ‘But apart from the fact that it must be priceless, it’s a family heirloom. Suppose something happened—?’

Shaking his head, he broke in decidedly, ‘Whatever happens, my dear, the Carlotta Stone is yours to keep, and Simon fully approves. Now, off you go, and I’ll see you downstairs as soon as they’ve finished putting the chairlift in place.’