Falling for her Convenient Husband. Jessica Steele
inheritance?’ she questioned. Even while wanting to get away from the environment she lived in, she discovered that she did not trust her father enough to go into this blindly.
‘That’s what I’ve just said,’ he replied tetchily.
At that stage Phelix had not known just how diabolical and underhand her father could be if the occasion demanded it. But, even so, something just didn’t seem to her to tie up.
She started to use what her teachers had said was her good brain. ‘What is in it for him?’
‘What do you mean, what’s in it for him?’
Phelix had no idea of her potential. All she saw was that she was a dowdy, unemployable newly eighteen-year-old, with little to recommend her. And while it was true that by the sound of it her marriage would be annulled as quickly as made, she could not see any man willingly marrying her just because her father asked him to.
‘Does he work for you?’ she asked, suspecting that some poor man was being pressured in some way to do the deed.
Edward Bradbury’s thin mouth tightened at having his slip of a daughter daring to question him. ‘He and his father have their own scientific electronics company,’ he answered shortly.
She knew she was making her father angry. Indeed knew she should be jumping at this chance to have her own money. But, ‘I don’t get it,’ she persisted.
‘For heaven’s sake!’ her father erupted on a burst of fury. But he managed to control himself to state more calmly, ‘If you must know, I heard a whisper that Nathan Mallory and his father are in a hole, financially. I approached the son and said I’ll bail him out if in return he’ll do this small thing for me.’
Her father was helping out a competitor? She found that hard to believe. On the other hand, as her need for freedom gave her a nudge and then a positive push, what did she know about what went on in big business?
‘You’ve said you’ll give him some money if—’
‘Not give!’ That sounded more like her father. ‘I’ve said that in return for him marrying you—a marriage he will not be stuck with—’ thank you very much ‘—I will that day hand over a substantial cheque, a loan repayable two years hence. Now, anything else you need to know before…?’
By the sound of it she would be doing this Nathan Mallory as much of a favour as he would be doing her. That made her feel a little better. ‘He—er—knows it isn’t permanent?’ She found she needed to qualify. ‘The marriage, I mean. You’re sure he knows…’
Her father did not attempt to spare her feelings but, as harsh as he more normally was, told her forthrightly, ‘I’ve seen a sample of the fashionable beauties he favours—take my word for it, he’ll be at his lawyers annulling your marriage before the first piece of confetti has blown away.’
It had not turned out quite like that. Nor had there been any confetti. In fact it had turned out vastly different from the way Edward Bradbury had had in mind. He had thought they could be married by special licence and it would all be over and done with within a week. But in actual fact they’d had to appear at the register office in person, and give fifteen clear days’ notice of their intent to marry.
So it was that, three weeks before the proposed marriage date, Phelix had presented herself at the register office and met for the first time the man she was to marry. Had she been hoping that her father would be there to ease any awkwardness, then she would have been disappointed. He had an ‘important business meeting.’ Why would he need to be there, for goodness sake!
‘How will I know him?’ she’d asked anxiously.
‘He’ll know you.’
From that she’d gathered that her father had given him a description of her. As it appeared he had, for a tall dark-haired man had been there a minute after her and had come straight over to her. ‘Hello, Phelix,’ he’d said, and she had almost died on the spot. Already, aged twenty-eight, there had been an air of sophistication about him. Oh, my heavens—and she was going to marry him!
‘Hello,’ she’d answered shyly, knowing she was blushing, but calming herself by remembering that this was not going to be a marriage, just a ceremony.
‘We seem to have a minute or two to wait. Shall we sit over here?’ he’d suggested, his tone cultured, well modulated.
Lightly he touched a hand to her elbow and directed her to a corner of the room which for the moment they had to themselves. She wanted to say something, anything, but even if she could have thought of anything remotely clever to say she felt too much in awe to say a word.
But not so him, and it appeared, while being perfectly civil and polite, he wanted there to be no misunderstanding of the reasons why they were both doing what they proposed to do. Because without further delay, he asked, ‘You’re quite happy to go through with this, Phelix?’
Shyly she nodded. ‘Yes,’ she answered, her voice barely above a whisper.
‘And your reasons are as your father stated?’ he pressed, clearly wanting everything cut and dried before he committed himself further.
‘My gr-grandfather… Um, I can’t claim my inheritance from my grandfather until I’m twenty-five. But if I marry I can have ten percent of it,’ she began, her voice growing stronger. ‘And—er—the thing is, I’d quite like to have some money of my own.’
‘You’re thinking of going to university?’ Nathan enquired.
‘No,’ she replied, feeling it would be disloyal to reveal that her father had vehemently vetoed that suggestion long since.
‘You don’t work?’
She blushed again. How could she tell someone who must obviously respect her father that her father was so controlling that anything she suggested, or her mother when she had been alive, had always been very firmly trodden on by Edward Bradbury?
‘No,’ she repeated. And, fed up with herself that she seemed to be totally spiritless, ‘I believe you have financial considerations too, for going through with this?’ she said.
Nathan Mallory looked at her then, taking in her long pulled-back hair that revealed her dainty features, observing her splendid complexion, seeming to drink in her face with his steady grey eyes on her wide green ones. ‘It will be years before I’m financially in a position to marry for real,’ he stated. He was serious still as he dotted the last i and crossed the last t. ‘You understand, Phelix, that our marriage ends at the register office door?’
‘That will suit me perfectly,’ she responded primly. And suddenly he had smiled—and she had fallen a little in love with him.
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