Читать книгу Baby Included - Mary Lyons - Страница 7

CHAPTER TWO

ACE put down his pen, sighing heavily as he leaned back in his chair and gazed out through the window of his study at the trees and parkland surrounding Ratcliffe Hall.

It was now three months since he’d returned from abroad. A hard, frantically busy three months, dealing with the burdensome legacy of his inheritance: a dilapidated ‘stately home’ and an estate which had been badly neglected for many years.

With so much work to do—including many long, drawn-out meetings with the family trustees—he’d had no alternative but to resign from his position as senior partner of the large firm of lawyers in London. However, while he’d originally thought that he might miss the cut and thrust of City business, Ace had been surprised to discover that he’d gained a considerable bonus. Despite now being forced by circumstances to live in the country, he’d found himself actively enjoying the slower pace of quiet, rural life. But that was just about the only silver lining to the dark clouds which still loomed over his unexpected inheritance.

His young daughter, Emily, appeared to find the whole situation highly amusing—‘It’s really cool, Dad—totally far out!’ But Ace wasn’t particularly thrilled about the fact that, following so many close relatives’ deaths, he’d now inherited a title first granted to his family by Henry VIII.

As he had told one of his oldest friends the other day, ‘Quite frankly, to be now known and addressed as Lord Ratcliffe has to be a complete anachronism in this day and age. Of course, it’s quite useful if I want to book a table in a restaurant,’ he’d added with a wry smile. ‘But in all other respects it seems a bit pointless.’

Ace was, in fact, far more concerned with the many important, vital decisions he would have to take concerning the large estate, amounting to some ten thousand acres.

After calling in agricultural experts, he had learned that, while the land itself was in good heart, the various farmhouses, farm buildings, machinery and livestock had been badly neglected. Unlike his uncle Hector, who’d successfully managed to ignore the problem for so many years, Ace felt it was both his duty and responsibility to do everything he could on behalf of the people and the families living on his estate. Unfortunately, there was also the serious problem of exactly what he was going to do about Ratcliffe Hall.

Pushing back his chair and rising to his feet, he began to prowl restlessly around the large room.

Having made enquiries, he was now in no doubt that, as matters stood at present, it was useless to even think of trying to sell the huge old mansion. No one with any sense would dream of taking on such a massive house. Especially one which needed a great deal of money to be spent on its restoration.

And that was proving to be a real problem. It wasn’t that he couldn’t afford to pay for the repairs—having worked so hard in the City for the last twenty years, he was now very wealthy in his own right—but, as his own financial advisers had pointed out, why would a divorced man, with no intention of remarrying in the foreseeable future, want to spend a fortune restoring such a huge building which was clearly designed for a large family?

In fact, the whole problem of what to do about Ratcliffe Hall had proved to be nothing but a major headache. Until he’d heard about the needs of film and television companies, who were continually searching for large old houses in which to film their various productions. Which was why, after he’d swiftly contacted several agencies, he’d been pleased to have a TV crew here last month, filming the exterior of the Hall for an Edwardian-style version of Shakespeare’s Comedy of Errors.

It wasn’t the complete answer, of course. Although the fee which he’d received for the use of the place was almost indecently large, it was a mere drop in the ocean as far as paying for any serious repairs was concerned. Still, it was a start. And with the arrival yesterday of an American-financed film company, prepared to take over and use the whole of the mansion for at least a month, it now looked as though he could stop worrying about the house. For the time being, at least.

He’d also been successful in persuading the tax authorities to take, in part-settlement of death duties, two huge Old Master paintings. While they had been all that was left of a once large, well-known collection, he wasn’t prepared to spend too long regretting their departure. Especially since the dark, gloomy scenes of religious life had been highly depressing.

So, all in all, he hadn’t done too badly over these last three months, Ace assured himself. In fact...

His thoughts interrupted by the shrill, ringing tones of the telephone, he strode back to his desk and lifted the receiver.

Grimacing at the all too familiar sounds of his ex-wife’s breathless, child-like voice, he waited with grim patience to discover what she wanted. Because, of course, Martina wouldn’t dream of ringing him up—not unless she needed something. He could only hope that there was no problem with his daughter, Emily.

Looking back, it seemed to Ace as if their marriage had been doomed from the start. Originally captivated by the tall, exquisitely beautiful model, whose face had adorned so many magazine covers, it hadn’t been long before he’d discovered that there was very little in that lovely blonde head. And, to be fair, she had obviously been disappointed to find that she’d married a man who not only took his work seriously, but whom she clearly regarded as a boring workaholic.

Missing the world of the media and show business, it hadn’t been long before Martina had run away from home to live with a cockney pop star. She had also taken their small young daughter with her. Despite desperately missing his little girl, and being prepared to do just about anything to ensure his daughter’s happiness, Ace had bent over backwards to ensure that he remained on good, friendly terms with both his ex-wife and the new man in her life, Joe Tucker.

Surprisingly, it hadn’t proved to be too hard a task. The pop star had turned out to be a basically kind and thoroughly decent man. And Ace could only admire the fact that Joe—professionally known as Frank N. Stein, and lead singer of the Raving Monsters—had turned out to be far too shrewd and down-to-earth to make the mistake of marrying Martina.

Unfortunately, as time had gone by, it began to seem that neither the pop star or Ace’s ex-wife had any idea of how to cope with Emily, by now a thoroughly difficult fourteen-year-old adolescent. And Ace himself was also becoming increasingly worried about the young girl—not only going through a typically ‘rebellious’ phase of life, but also receiving little discipline from her butterflyminded mother.

‘OK...OK...’ he sighed, cutting across his ex-wife’s ramblings. ‘I’ve got the picture. And you can tell Emily that I’m thoroughly ashamed of her behaviour. What on earth possessed her to swear at her teacher? There’s absolutely no excuse for such bad manners. Quite frankly, she’s very lucky to find herself suspended from school for only a few weeks,’ he added grimly. ‘Yes...yes, of course...if you’re having to go abroad for a few days she’s more than welcome to stay here with me. In fact, she can probably make herself useful by keeping the film company off my back.’

And that last remark, he told himself ruefully, putting down the phone some minutes later, had been a bad mistake. Because as soon as his ex-wife had heard the magic words ‘film company’ he’d had the greatest difficulty in persuading her that while Emily was more than welcome Martina definitely was not.

On top of which, there had been a decidedly unwelcome over-friendly tone in his ex-wife’s voice. In fact, he told himself with a frown, if it didn’t sound too ridiculous, it had almost seemed as if she’d been seeking some form of reconciliation...

However, he had absolutely no intention of going back down that road. His daughter, Emily, might be badly in need of a stable home environment, but there was absolutely no way he could ever face remarrying her neurotic, shallow and empty-headed mother.

He’d had several glamorous girlfriends since his wife had walked out all those years ago. But either he’d grown quickly tired of their company or they, too, had become fed up with always coming a bad second to his working life. In fact, Ace had never seen any reason to get married again—basically on the principle of ‘once bitten...twice shy’. Not until his heart had been totally captured following that brief, quite extraordinary meeting with the bewitchingly lovely Eloise.

It was three long months since their passionate encounter, but he could still recall his delight at the miraculous way their two figures had seemed to fit so perfectly together, and the excitement of gently caressing her quivering, trembling flesh, which had almost seemed to melt beneath his fingers. If he closed his eyes, he could still smell the intoxicating, sweetly perfumed scent of her body, still hear her soft moans and breathless gasps of pleasure as their lovemaking had become more intense, both inciting and increasing his own fastmounting desire.

Although he had tried to keep himself well under control, the thrillingly erotic, sensual touch of her hands and mouth on his body had overcome all restraint. Helplessly gripped by the fierce power of a deep primeval force, the like of which he’d never known before, he’d finally possessed her with a raging, thrusting urgency, the loud, pounding thud of her heart beating in rapid unison with his own as they’d both climaxed together in wave upon wave of ecstasy, before spiralling dizzily back down to earth.

Afterwards, as they’d lain entwined together in languorous warmth and tenderness, with Ace gently brushing tendrils of that wonderful fiery red hair from her damp brow, he’d known with absolute certainty that he had never, until that moment, experienced such overwhelming joy and happiness.

Try as he might, he’d been quite unable to forget the impact of that utterly astounding, spellbinding experience. Unfortunately, however much he might have loathed the idea, Ace had known that he had no choice but to return to his new, heavy responsibilities in England. It was also clear that, with the width of the Atlantic Ocean as a permanent barrier between himself and Eloise, there could be no ‘happy ever after’ ending to their brief night of passion.

Besides, he was old enough to know that the sooner he did his best to put Eloise out of his mind, the better. There was obviously no way that they would ever meet again. And to be continually recalling the wondrous, soft quality of her skin, the truly dazzling heights which they’d attained in their lovemaking, could only make his present-day life even harder than it was already.

Lois gazed out of the window of the limousine as it sped along the motorway. The countryside was so different from that in the United States; it was taking her some time to get used to the very small scale of local geography here in England.

London, of course, had been great. When she’d first arrived in the country, some three weeks ago, she’d managed to find the time—amidst costume fittings, voice coaching sessions and learning her script—to see the usual tourist sights of Buckingham Palace, the Tower and Westminster Abbey. But, this last week, which had been spent filming location shots outside various old houses all over the country, had been something else! In fact...

‘You’re going to love this house. It’s far grander than the others we’ve used so far.’

‘Hmm...?’ Lois turned to look at her personal assistant, Peggy Fraser. who was leafing through a large file on her lap.

‘Now... this is what I call a real stately home,’ the English girl said, handing Lois a large black and white photograph.

‘It certainly looks impressive,’ Lois agreed, gazing at the picture of a classical Georgian-style Palladian mansion, whose entrance was dominated by huge stone pillars above a broad, sweeping expanse of wide stone steps. ‘What’s the interior like?’

‘Absolutely frightful!’ the other girl laughed. ‘In fact, the main rooms are in a terrible state. But, as the producer says, that’s all to the good. It’s meant that we’ve had a completely free hand in the decoration.’

‘Are we really staying there?’ Lois frowned. ‘It looks pretty uncomfortable to me. What’s wrong with a nice, quiet local hotel?’

Peggy shrugged. ‘I understand the film company negotiated a really good package deal with the owner. Which means that we can use practically the whole house—including all twenty-five bedrooms!—and the catering company will have masses of room in the enormous kitchens. In fact,’ the small blonde girl added with a grin, ‘I reckon it’s going to be a lot of fun.’

‘In your dreams!’ Lois told her assistant gloomily. ‘I’ll lay you any odds that the plumbing will be practically non-existent. And I don’t suppose that anyone will be too familiar with those important words “constant hot water”, either!’

‘Well, you may have a point,’ Peggy admitted. ‘But with the schedules having to be altered at the last minute...’ She shrugged. ‘I suppose this is the best that the production team could come up with under the circumstances.’

‘I guess you’re right,’ Lois sighed, well aware that it was solely her fault that there had been such frantically hurried necessary changes in the film’s shooting schedule.

Unfortunately, her appointment to see an eminent doctor in Harley Street, two weeks ago, had been fairly traumatic. Not being entirely a fool, she’d had a very good idea that he would confirm her suspicions. But, all the same...the whole scenario was definitely an earth-shattering one.

However, she was going to have to pull herself together pretty damn fast. Especially since the American backers of this new film had made it abundantly clear that the whole show was now riding on her slim shoulders.

‘We know that you’ll do us proud,’ Sol Weiser had said, when she’d signed the contract some months ago, his wide, beaming smile not reflected in those cold, small piggy eyes. ‘But, let’s face it, darling—without your name on the credits, we wouldn’t have dreamed of putting up the money for this arty type of film. So, we’re all going to make sure it’s a success, right?’

‘I’ll certainly do my best. It won’t be my fault if this film bombs at the box office,’ she’d told him with a confident smile.

However, after leaving his office, Lois had known that she wouldn’t be human if she hadn’t been plagued by doubts. Which had made it all the more nerve-racking when she’d had to phone Sol last week and tell him the news: she’d just discovered she was expecting a baby.

There had been an ominous silence for three days, before she’d heard that the film had been given the goahead. Although, in view of her changed circumstances, the schedule had been drastically altered.

‘I’d like to pull the plug on this production,’ Sol had told her, his voice heavy with disapproval. ‘But the other backers seem to feel that if Madonna could manage to cope with the problem—and have such a great success with Evita—we ought to take a chance that you, too, can pull it off. But, I don’t want any press exposure. So I expect everyone to keep their mouths buttoned up real tight. Do I make myself clear?’ he’d added menacingly.

‘As daylight,’ she’d assured him fervently. ‘After all, Sol, I’m hardly likely to want to....’ Her voice had faltered as she heard him slam down the phone.

So, now only the director, the producer and Peggy Fraser had been told the truth.

Peggy’s involvement had been crucial, of course. Originally employed as the English costume designer, she’d also agreed to act as Lois’ personal assistant, so as to keep the pregnancy as secret at possible.

As Peggy had pointed out, the fact that the film was set in the nineteenth century Regency period was going to be an enormous help. ‘The high-waisted dresses of the time are just about perfect for your condition,’ she’d told Lois during the costume fittings in London. ‘We shouldn’t have a problem disguising any thickening of your figure.’

Let’s hope she’s right, Lois told herself now, turning her head to gaze out of the window once more. Because she really wanted this film to be a great success.

Adapted from a short story by Jane Austen, written when the author was a young girl, Lady Susan should—if everything went according to plan—provide her with a golden opportunity to prove that she could extend her repertoire and succeed in playing a classic role. Lois had been excited by the screenplay—and the opportunity to play the lead part of Lady Susan: a heroine who was both diabolically attractive and, at the same time, a thoroughly wicked woman.

Quite apart from anything else, it certainly made a change from her more usual roles, playing feisty, gogetting modern heroines, along the lines of her last Oscar-winning movie.

Unfortunately, the Harley Street doctor’s confirmation of what she’d suspected for the past few weeks had certainly thrown a spanner in the works.

Glancing down, Lois placed a hand on her stomach. While her breasts had definitely increased in size, there didn’t yet seem to be any other sign that she was now three months pregnant. And with a tight filming schedule she might still be able to get to the end of the shoot without anyone suspecting the truth. Besides, Sol’s fellow backers had been right. If Madonna had managed to make the film of Evita while expecting a baby—then surely she, too, should be able to cope.

It was all the fault of that bout of illness which she’d suffered in India, Lois told herself grimly as the limousine left the motorway and began moving smoothly through the Sussex countryside.

Despite the fact that she’d never been in any way promiscuous, Lois had always believed in taking sensible, safe precautions against an unwanted or unplanned pregnancy. Unfortunately, as the doctor in London had so accurately pointed out, while the mini-pill would normally have provided adequate protection against any unforeseen accidents, her tummy upset in India had left her unwittingly vulnerable.

Which was why it had never occurred to her—not in a million years!—that the quite extraordinary and totally mind-blowing brief episode with the highly attractive Englishman could have resulted in her conceiving a child.

However, while the idea of having a baby had, quite frankly, come as a terrible shock, there was no way she could ever contemplate having an abortion. Nor did it seem right to even try and trace the father. Although there couldn’t be too many Algernon Cedric Emersons hanging around England, she told herself wryly.

Besides, she could hardly blame Ace for the fact that they’d both been swept off their normally sane, sensible feet by an overwhelming tide of lust and desire. Since she had assured him that she was, as far as she knew at the time, taking adequate birth control precautions, it seemed totally wrong to expect Ace to carry any responsibility for the mess in which she now found herself.

What had happened was nothing more or less than a pure accident. And Lois had no doubts that she must be solely responsible for both the birth and upbringing of her child.

Leaning back in her seat, and resting her head against the soft leather upholstery, she gazed blindly past the dark figure of the chauffeur in the front of the vehicle. Oblivious of the green fields and small villages, her mind filled with memories of that extraordinary night of passion.

Goodness knows what it had been about Ace which had prompted her to so swiftly discard the cautious habits of a lifetime. Indeed, what had prompted her to behave and act so completely out of character was still a complete and utter mystery.

Maybe it was a legacy from her strict, God-fearing ancestors, who’d come to America from Europe at the beginning of the last century? Or perhaps it was her firm, no-nonsense upbringing by stern but loving parents? But, whatever the cause, she’d never felt at ease amongst those otherwise good friends who saw nothing wrong in hopping in and out of bed with complete strangers. She had always believed that a loving, long-term relationship was one thing—while a one-night stand was quite another.

And yet...how are the mighty fallen! Lois told herself with disgust. It certainly looked as though little Snow White had now ‘drifted’ more than somewhat!

Goodness knows why she’d behaved so totally out of character. Maybe it was something to do with the dangerous gleam in his sleepy-looking hooded grey eyes? But it had merely taken one glance at the tall, dynamically attractive Englishman—and she’d immediately taken leave of her senses!

Even when he’d been carrying her back to her small cottage on the beach, Lois had felt a desperate urge to remain clasped in his arms, and had felt almost totally bereft when he’d left her alone in the bedroom to call for the doctor.

Of course, the brandy she’d tossed so happily down her throat hadn’t helped the situation. She was normally only used to drinking a glass or two of wine, and the strong alcohol had seemed to release all her inhibitions. When he’d gathered her into his embrace, possessing her lips in such a tender, heart-stopping kiss, she’d... well, there was simply no other way of putting it...she’d totally lost all control.

Quickly shutting her eyes, it was all Lois could do not to moan out loud, as she recalled the exquisite warmth of his mouth on hers, the ever-increasing passion and desire, flashing like forked lightning through her entire being as she responded helplessly to the seductive, feather-light touch of his fingers tracing patterns of fire on her quivering flesh.

Firmly in the grip of a shuddering excitement at the feel of his naked, hard-muscled figure pressed closely to her own trembling body, she’d feverishly responded to his softly whispered murmurs of delight as his mouth and hands had moved so erotically over her quivering flesh. Nor, however much she had tried, could she forget the moment of his possession, the vortex of spiralling excitement produced by the hard, pulsating rhythm, until her world had seemed to explode in an amazing fireburst of convulsive, shuddering pleasure so intense that it had been almost more than she could bear.

Later, as she had lain sleepily enfolded in his arms, his fingers gently brushing the damp curls from her brow, she couldn’t recall ever feeling such happiness and contentment. But, waking with the dawn to find him gone, she had known—even as she’d wept painful, bitter tears—that he had done them both a favour.

Since they clearly came from two very different worlds, it would never be possible to recapture the joy they had experienced together. And even when Lois had discovered she was expecting his baby she had instinctively known that she must never hark back, regretting what might have been, but look forward to cherishing the new life which lay within her.

‘It seems as though we’re arrived at last.’ Peggy’s voice broke into her thoughts, and Lois looked up to see that their vehicle was now slowing down. Turning off the main road, the limousine drove past two small houses, standing guard on either side of a pair of large wrought-iron gates. It moved slowly down a long gravelled drive, and she noticed that they were surrounded by a large park dotted with clumps of tall oak trees.

‘It certainly looks like my idea of a grand English country estate,’ Lois said, smiling at the sight of a flock of sheep busy nibbling the long, lush green grass.

‘But all the same,’ she continued, her gaze narrowing as she peered through the open window, ‘I can’t help feeling it all looks just a bit...well, a bit run-down, if you know what I mean?’

‘You’re right,’ the other girl agreed, staring out at the sight of long, uncut grass swaying in the slight afternoon breeze. ‘However, the producer, Dave Green, was telling me that they’d chosen this location just because it looked so authentic. And, when you think about it, I suppose it’s obvious, really.’

When Lois turned to look at her in surprise, Peggy explained, ‘It didn’t occur to me, either. But of course there were no mowing machines in the eighteenth century. In fact, if anyone had wanted to cut the grass, it would have needed a large gang of men with scythes to do the job. Incidentally, I hear that the director is intending to add that sort of background, rural type of scene to the film schedule. Maybe shooting it some time next week.’

‘It’s amazing that just one family should live in such a large house,’ Lois murmured as the limousine swept up to the front of the house, dominated by the large stone pillars.

‘Well, they obviously aren’t living too well at the moment,’ the other girl pointed out as she gathered her papers and files together. ‘So, maybe the owner has fallen on hard times? Because Dave told me that Lord Ratcliffe is quite happy for us to do anything we like with the house and grounds,’ she added as the chauffeur came around to open the door and help them with their bags. ‘Which is fair enough, considering it’s costing the film company a staggering amount of money to hire this place.’

‘It certainly looks as if he’s going to need every dime he can lay his hands on,’ Lois agreed dryly as she gazed at the crumbling stonework and badly cracked flight of steps leading up to the front door.

Preceded by the chauffeur, carrying their suitcases into the house, Lois found herself amongst a crowd of actors, half of whom were in costume, all milling around the vast hall.

‘Lovely to see you, darling,’ the producer called out, hurrying through the noisy throng to greet her. ‘You’re looking great!’ he added, clearly relieved to note that the beautiful girl, casually dressed in slim-cut jeans and a white T-shirt under a navy blue blazer, didn’t seem to have put on an ounce of weight.

‘How’s everything going?’ she asked, staring up at the heavily decorated plaster ceiling.

‘Amazingly, we appear to be on schedule at the moment. Our beloved director, Peter, is busy rehearsing a scene in the Orangery at the moment. But he’s looking forward to seeing you at dinner tonight,’ he said, taking hold of her arm and warning her to be careful of the thick, electrical cables littering the marble floor. ‘Far more to the point, darling...how are you feeling?’ He grinned. ‘No morning sickness, I hope?’

‘For heaven’s sake—keep your voice down!’ she warned him grimly. ‘I hope you realise that if word gets out, Sol will be only too happy to pull the plug on this film. So, let’s cut out the wisecracks—huh?’

‘Oops! I’m sorry. You’re absolutely right,’ Dave admitted, the smile quickly wiped from his face at the thought of invoking Sol Weiser’s wrath. ‘Ah, there’s our host, Lord Ratcliffe,’ he added, obviously glad to change the subject as he waved at a tall figure standing in a doorway on the other side of the vast hall.

‘What’s he like?’

‘Absolutely divine! All the girls have fallen madly in love with our noble lord—and I bet you will, too!’

‘Ha-ha!’ she retorted, feeling too tired after the journey to put up with any of Dave’s usual camp style. Especially since she happened to know that he was a happily married man, and crazy about his two young children.

‘No, really, I’m not joking. Well...not entirely,’ Dave said as he led her across the room. ‘For instance, I’m sorry to have to tell you that Lord Ratcliffe is far more impressive than your leading man in this film.’

‘Oh, come on—there’s nothing wrong with Neil Gray,’ she protested. ‘In fact, he’s a damn good actor.’

Dave shrugged. ‘I’m not knocking Neil. It’s just that this guy has definitely got a lot more going for him.’

‘Oh, yeah...?’ Lois snorted derisively. But she didn’t have an opportunity to say any more as she was suddenly swept up in a large bear-hug from a well-known character actor whom she hadn’t seen for some years.

Busy catching up on his news, she was slightly irritated to find her arm being tugged by Dave.

‘Come on, Lois,’ he called out over the general hubbub, dragging her over to the tall, dark-haired man standing beside a marble column. ‘I’d like to introduce you to—’

‘For heaven’s sake, Dave, you might have let me finish talking to Bart. It’s years since we’ve seen one another.’

‘Lord Ratcliffe,’ the producer continued, taking no notice of her protest as he turned to their host. ‘I don’t think you’ve yet had the pleasure of meeting our famous leading lady—Miss Lois Shelton.’

It was clearly a close call as to which of the two people concerned looked the most stunned.

For her part, Lois knew that she ought to have the advantage in this sort of situation. Surely all those years of acting so many parts should have enabled her to swiftly assume an expression of polite disinterest?

Unfortunately, she couldn’t seem to get a firm grip on herself. Perhaps she was hallucinating? Because, although it couldn’t possibly be true...it definitely looked as if... Oh my God! What in the hell do I do now? she asked herself desperately, suddenly feeling sick as she realised that it really was Ace who was now staring down at her; the blood draining swiftly from his face, as if he’d just seen a ghost.

With harsh, cold reality beginning to break through the chaos and turmoil in her mind, Lois made a determined effort to pull herself together.

However weird or totally bizarre such a coincidence might be, she was going to have to face the fact that this man—with whom she’d had a brief, passionate encounter in the Philippines—was not just some anonymous English lawyer. Unfortunately, it now seemed that he was, in reality, Lord Ratcliffe, the owner of this huge old house.

It felt as if she had been standing here, in a state of numb disbelief, for an enormous length of time. However, she realised that she could only have been mentally paralysed for just a few seconds. With Dave continuing to chatter away, nineteen to the dozen, Lois gradually began to get a grip on her muzzy brain. While the man she’d known as Ace, remained staring down at her; his hawk-like features frozen into an expression of utter shock and bewilderment.

And it was the sight of Lord Ratcliffe—as she was now clearly going to have to call him—which helped her to make the first move.

Instinctively taking pity on the poor man—who looked as if he might expire from a heart attack any minute—Lois took a step forward and put out her hand.

‘How do you do, Lord Ratcliffe?’ she murmured, carefully avoiding his eyes. ‘It’s...um...it’s very nice to meet you.’

Clearly making a supreme effort to gather his scattered wits, Ace at last managed to find his voice.

‘I don’t think “very nice” are exactly the words I would use, Miss...er...Miss Shelton,’ he drawled slowly, gallantly raising her hand to his lips.

‘In fact, as far as I’m concerned,’ he added, the heavylidded, clear grey eyes now glinting with wry, sardonic amusement, ‘that well-known phrase “enchanted to meet you” would seem to be far more appropriate!’