Scandalous Bride. Diana Hamilton
memory is of them fighting. I never saw him again. He hadn’t wanted children; Mum never stopped telling me that. Then, oh, years later, she met a former mutual friend who told her Dad had remarried, had had three children and was completely content. It made her even more bitter. She’d told me so often that Dad had left because I was a burden he didn’t want. Having to face up to the fact that he was perfectly happy with a full-blown family took the blame for the break-up from me and put it on her. After that she became impossible to live with.’
She stood up, smoothing the silky fabric of her dress over her hips, and Nathan asked slowly, ‘Is that why you married so young? To get away from home?’
‘Probably. Although I’d been living on my own for twelve months when I met Max,’ she said dismissively. She didn’t want to talk about it. But she caught his disappointment; it blanked the life from his expressive eyes.
She sucked her lower lip between her teeth, knowing intuitively that he’d wanted to hear her affirm it, tell him that her marriage to Max hadn’t been born of the kind of passion they shared but had been her way out of an intolerable home situation.
But it was too late now to repair the damage and her years with Max were something she never talked about, something she never thought about if she could help it.
She glanced at her watch. ‘It’s time we went down. We don’t want to keep dinner waiting any longer.’
The Spencers, Nathan’s parents’ oldest friends, were a comfortable couple, and the panelled dining room, with the tall French windows open to the soft summer evening, the oval mahogany table set with glittering crystal and the heavy family silver, was the perfect setting for convivial conversation over the hot lobster bisque and cold pheasant and salads.
More at ease after two glasses of superb wine, Olivia caught the gleaming humour in Nathan’s eyes across the candlelit table and smiled at him softly, her heart lifting because she felt close to him again, knowing what he was thinking.
Angela Monroe was enthusiastically relating the success of her favourite charity work, but Olivia couldn’t see anyone yawning yet and her smile deepened.
She already felt at home here, accepted, and the misery, the plain nastiness of what had happened last night had assumed the mantle of a bad dream, no more, a fading dream that would soon be entirely lost to memory.
Once he’d got over the shock of what he’d heard last night, Nathan wouldn’t believe a single word of it. And sooner or later he’d agree to discuss their future, listen to what she had to say on the subject of her resignation, and they’d reach a decision they could both be comfortable with.
And she couldn’t imagine, as she saw the soft glow of love in Nathan’s eyes as he watched her across the table—and that couldn’t be merely a trick of the candlelight, could it?—that everything could start to go wrong again. Badly wrong.
‘We’re really going to miss you on the committee, Ruth,’ Angela sighed. ‘Apart from that, I don’t know what I’ll do without you. If you’d asked my permission to sell up I’d have flatly refused!’
Nathan turned to Ruth Spencer, his dark brows raised in mild surprise. ‘Are you and Lester moving? I thought you were as deeply rooted here as the Monroes.’
Ruth shook her head, her white curls bobbing. ‘Hardly. We can’t claim to have been here since William the Conqueror!’ She glanced at her husband. ‘We can’t say it was an easy decision. But The Grange is too big for two old codgers.’
She turned to Olivia. ‘Sadly, we didn’t have children so we don’t even have the excuse of handing the place on through the family. So we’re bowing out gracefully, before we get too old to stand the trauma of moving, and retiring to the coast. We’ve found a manageable cottage with a small garden that’s crying out for reclamation. So that leaves The Grange looking for the owners it deserves—a young family, ideally, to fill all those rooms.’
‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Angie?’ Edward grinned at his wife down the length of the table. He was still a handsome man, his iron-grey hair thick and strong, the family resemblance between him and his son unmistakable—which meant, Olivia thought contentedly, Nathan would mature spectacularly well.
‘I’m sure I am!’ Angela put her cutlery neatly on her plate and planted her elbows on the table, cupping her chin in her hands, her merry blue eyes fixing on Nathan’s. He returned her fizzling look with an amused smile.
‘Thinking of buying it, Ma? Housing a few more homeless families? Or are we into craft centres for struggling artisans? Whatever, I’m with you, as always. You can count on my donation.’
Watching him swallow the last of his wine, Olivia thought she had never loved him more. The close family bonds were evident, his interest in what his parents were doing, his open-handed support for his mother’s charities, totally endearing. She closed her eyes briefly, her happiness almost uncontainable. What had she ever done to deserve Nathan’s love? She had never felt so protected, so secure, in the whole of her life.
‘No, darling, not this time.’ Angela tipped her head on one side. Her rich auburn hair had only a few strands of silver and it glowed warmly in the subdued, intimate lighting. ‘Livvy and I had a real heart-to-heart this afternoon. You’re married now, so it’s time you put down roots and stopped jetting all over the world like a demented gnat!’ Her loving smile took any sting out of the words, but Nathan, Olivia noted, didn’t return it. His face had closed up and her heart sank.
‘I know you have the mews cottage, which is fine, I suppose. Livvy says she loves it, and she does have her job to keep her occupied while you’re flitting off here and there, so for the time being I can see you need a London base—and that’s an improvement on hotel rooms and suitcases!
‘But you need somewhere bigger,’ she burbled on in blithe innocence, blissfully unaware of the building tension. ‘The Grange would be perfect. You could come down most weekends and when the children begin to arrive—and I hope that won’t be too far down the road—you could move in permanently. You could fill one of the rooms with all that electronic gadgetry people like you seem unable to function without, and I could have my new daughter, and my grandchildren, practically on the doorstep. I know you’ll have Rye House one day—’ she crossed her fingers elaborately and wagged them at her husband ‘—but that won’t be for ages yet! And it would be lovely to have you settle so near!’
‘Brilliant!’
‘A splendid idea!’ the Spencers enthused as one.
‘You’ve really excelled yourself this time, Ma,’ Nathan said tonelessly. ‘Take your oar out, for God’s sake! Olivia and I are more than capable of sorting out our own future.’
Silence. Angela looked more surprised than stricken. It was probably the first time her adored son had slapped her down, Olivia thought. Whenever she’d tried to interfere in his life before he would have given her that lazy, stupendous smile and just got on with doing exactly what he wanted to do.
Nathan had no intention of settling down; she knew that now. There hadn’t been the time or the inclination during their brief, passionate courtship to think of their future. They had been too obsessed with each other.
She wished, with painful intensity, that her mother-in-law had kept her mouth shut. The relaxed persona Nathan had been acquiring throughout the evening had been wiped away by his mother’s artless interference.
But, even though she was shocked by his cold incisiveness, Angela wasn’t to be deflected. She was his mother, after all, and entitled to open her mouth when no one else would dare.
‘I’m sure you are, dear. But as The Grange is on the market it wouldn’t do any harm if you took Livvy to see over it, would it, now? You could walk across tomorrow morning, if that’s all right with Lester and Ruth.’
Whether or not it would be convenient no one would ever know, Olivia decided sinkingly as Nathan stated flatly, ‘Not possible. We’re leaving directly after breakfast Ten, at the