FRANCIS let out a whistle. ‘And Dan doesn’t know! Are you going to tell him?’
‘No way.’ Joss shuddered at the thought.
‘But you must!’ said Sarah urgently.
Joss shook her head. ‘Fatherhood, he once told me, is definitely not on his agenda. In any case, Dan would never believe the child was his.’
‘Because of the incident you mentioned?’ asked Francis gently.
‘Not exactly.’ Joss shivered. ‘I met Dan only a short time after breaking up with someone else. How could I expect him to believe me?’
‘I think he has the right to know,’ said Francis decisively. ‘If Sarah were having my child I’d be furious if she didn’t tell me.’
‘The situation’s different, darling,’ Sarah pointed out.
‘I still think Dan should know—’ Francis halted mid-sentence. ‘Forgive me, Joss,’ he said in sudden contrition. ‘It’s none of our business.’
‘Nothing to forgive. In a way it’s a relief to tell someone.’ She sighed. ‘I couldn’t tell Anna, or her mother, before the wedding.’
‘What are you going to do?’ asked Francis, sounding worried.
‘I carry on with my job as long as possible, then hire a nanny afterwards and get back to work. No maternity leave in my kind of job. Nor am I the first lone parent in the world.’ Joss kissed them both suddenly. ‘Now go back to the pub—and go to bed. Make the most of your time away from Eastlegh.’
‘Percipient lady,’ said Francis, chuckling, and gave her a hug. ‘Sarah won’t even move in to Home Farm with me until we tie the knot.’
‘We’ll keep in touch,’ promised Sarah, kissing Joss. ‘Please don’t feel you’re alone in this.’
They saw Joss to the door of Glebe House, thanked the tired Herricks for inviting them to the wedding, then walked down the drive together, waving as they turned through the gates.
‘What a charming pair,’ said Mrs Herrick, and turned to her husband with a smile. ‘Robert, do you think you could make some tea? Joss and I are going to collapse in a heap and indulge in wedding talk.’
‘In which case,’ he said with a twinkle, ‘I’ll provide the tea, then smoke a cigar in the garden while I assess damage to the lawn.’
Mrs Herrick chatted about her pleasure in the happy day, then, once her husband had brought in a tea-tray, she filled two cups, sat back in her chair and smiled at Joss.
‘You can undo your jacket and be comfortable now, dear. I assume you bought the suit some time ago. How far along are you?’
Joss stared at her in blank dismay. ‘Is it written on my forehead? Sarah Wilcox guessed, too.’
‘I can’t answer for Sarah, but I’m familiar with the signs. Your bust measurement may be bigger, but your face is far too thin. I’ve had my suspicions all week, Joss.’ She smiled affectionately. ‘But of course you couldn’t tell Anna.’
‘No. Not before the wedding, anyway.’ Joss undid her jacket with a sigh of relief. ‘Thank goodness for that. I moved the jacket buttons to ease the fit. I thought of buying something else, but I’ll have to count the pennies from now on.’
‘Is Peter Sadler the father?’ said Mrs Herrick bluntly.
‘No. It’s someone I met the night of Anna’s engagement party.’
‘Does he know?’
Joss shook her head. ‘It’s my fault I got pregnant. I’d rather soldier on alone.’
‘It’s your choice about the baby’s father, Joss.’ Mrs Herrick eyed her sternly. ‘However, when your father was ill I promised him we’d take care of you. And we will.’
Anna’s mother meant what she said. She rang Joss regularly, with sensible advice, and other regular phone calls came from Sarah and Francis, and, after her return from the Seychelles, from Anna herself.
After the first shock of discovery Anna agreed with Francis, and left Hugh for a night to tell Joss so in person. Dan, she said trenchantly, had the right to know. But Joss was adamant. The mere thought of telling Dan gave her nightmares.
Eventually it was impossible to keep her condition secret, though workwise it made very little difference. She carried on with her job in much the same way as usual, finding she could cope well enough now she was over the dizzy spells and nausea of the initial stage of the pregnancy. But it was October before Joss received the promised invitation to the party at Eastlegh.
‘Thanks for asking me, Sarah, but I can’t come,’ she said adamantly. ‘My condition is pretty obvious now. All I lack is a scarlet A on my front.’
‘Anna and Hugh are coming,’ said Sarah, ignoring her. ‘And if you’re worried about meeting Dan he’s in the States on that date. Probably on purpose. It’s not a good idea to drive,’ she warned, ‘so come by train and put up for the night at Home Farm.’
‘Which is a stone’s throw from Dan’s father’s house! Thank Francis very much for the suggestion, but no way am I coming to your party.’
But in the end Joss gave in, because she was tired of the relentless hectoring she’d received on all sides, not least from Anna.
‘Oh, all right, all right, I’ll come,’ she said impatiently at last. ‘But I don’t have anything to wear. Where can I buy a silk tent?’
‘You’re not that big. Anyway, Mother’s buying the dress,’ said Anna, silencing her. ‘And if you think you can refuse my mother, Joscelyn Hunter, you’re a better woman than me. She’s knitting little white things, too.’
Joss wanted to bang her head on the wall. ‘Anna, I just hate all this. I always wanted a baby some day. You know that. But not now—not this way.’
‘Of course I know,’ said Anna in swift sympathy. ‘So stop being so damned independent and let us help. We worry.’
Joss took a train from Waterloo on the day of the party, and gazed through the carriage window in pensive mood. Though wild horses wouldn’t have dragged the truth from her, she’d changed her mind about telling Dan. A routine scan at the hospital had shown her a little moving entity on the monitor, and Joss had stared at it in wonder, and received a copy of the ultrasound in a state of shock. From that moment on, no matter how often she’d dismissed the change as pure hormonal imbalance, nothing could alter the truth. She was carrying a real live baby born of her love for Daniel Armstrong. Because however hard she tried she couldn’t stop loving him, and still missed him so badly that, unknown to her nagging mentors she’d picked up the phone several times to give him the unwanted news. But her courage had always deserted her at the crucial moment.
Francis met her at the station in a battered old Range Rover, and kissed her on both cheeks before lifting her up into the passenger seat. ‘You look blooming, Joss.’
‘Burgeoning, you mean,’ she said dryly. ‘You know I didn’t want to come.’
‘I could hardly fail to! But Sarah’s a determined lady.’ He chuckled. ‘As you probably guessed, she’d decided to marry me long before it dawned on me that she was the perfect wife.’
‘I knew that the day you gave me lunch at Home Farm.’
‘Talking of which, have you changed your mind about telling Dan?’
Joss shook her head, unable to admit that she had.
Francis changed the subject tactfully, telling her that the Wakefields were waiting for her at Home Farm. ‘They wanted to fetch you, but I had to go into Dorchester. Besides,’ he added, ‘I wanted a word in private before the party.’
When they drove past the brightly lit splendour of Eastlegh Hall to Home Farm, Anna and Hugh came hurrying out to the car, and Francis excused himself to rush off to his room.
‘You two show Joss where she’s to sleep. I must be ready and waiting with Sarah in the glad rags when the first guests arrive. Anna will give you some tea, Joss, then Hugh will drive you over to the Hall.’
‘I can walk that far,’ protested Joss.
‘Not tonight,’ said Hugh firmly. ‘You get off, Francis; we’ll see to the little mother here.’
‘Hugh, for heaven’s sake,’ Anna remonstrated, but Joss laughed.
‘I don’t mind. I prefer people to talk about it naturally—makes me feel less like the whore of Babylon.’
‘Who the devil was she?’ said Hugh, laughing. ‘Come on, wife. Give Joss some tea and buns, then bundle her into her party dress at top speed.’
‘Bundle being the word,’ said Joss ruefully.
Half an hour later she gave a last flick of mascara to her lashes, brushed more colour onto her bottom lip, then eyed herself with reasonable satisfaction in the mirror in one of the Home Farm guest rooms. Now that expensive haircuts were deleted from her budget her hair hung to the shoulders of her dress. She eyed herself wryly. The long, filmy sleeves, and deep, pearl-embroidered neckline could have belonged to any formal dress, but the generous folds of midnight-blue chiffon couldn’t quite conceal the bulge where her once-trim waist had been. Joss patted it tenderly, hung pearl drops from her ears, and slid her feet into the navy linen shoes bought to impress Dan at the interview. Four-inch heels were frowned on for mothers-to-be, she thought guiltily, so she would just have to sit down as much as possible. But just for tonight she wanted to show that, far from being embarrassed by it, she was proud of approaching motherhood.
Once she was enveloped in the laughter and music inside Eastlegh Hall Joss enjoyed the party far more than she’d expected. With Hugh and Anna never far away, she circulated among the other guests very happily after the first welcoming hugs and kisses from Sarah and Francis, and after talking to some of the latter’s neighbours for a while renewed her acquaintance with Elizabeth Wilcox, who was full of praise for the article Joss had written on Eastlegh’s corporate entertainment venture and called her husband over to add his own appreciation.
The party was a success from the word go, but by the time she’d eaten a delicious supper Joss was feeling the effects of unaccustomed socialising, and her feet were beginning to ache badly in the ridiculous heels. After telling Anna where she was going, Joss slipped out onto the terrace for some badly needed fresh air, her eye on one of the ornamental stone benches some former Morville had brought back from Italy after the Grand Tour. With a sigh of relief she sank onto the cold seat and eased off the shoes, thankful that the autumn night was mild enough to sit in comfort for a few minutes.
By the light of the full moon Home Farm and the Armstrong cottage were plainly visible in the distance. Joss sighed. She had disciplined herself to avoid thinking too much about Dan lately, but here, in these surroundings, it was impossible. She knew Dan had won his battle about the riverside development, but otherwise had had no news of him. She stared out into the moonlit night, wondering what Dan was doing in the States. And who he was doing it with. Then Joss heard footsteps on the stone flags, and bent hurriedly to thrust her feet into the crippling shoes. She looked up with a bright smile, prepared to make excuses for her sudden yearning for solitude. Then her eyes widened in shock as she saw a tall, unmistakable figure standing with a glass in each hand. Joss blinked, feeling as though she’d pressed a replay button on a video recorder. Barring one important detail, the scene was almost identical to their first meeting.
‘Hello, Joss. I was told you were out here,’ said Dan quietly.
Joss pinned the smile firmly back in place. ‘Daniel Armstrong, no less. For a moment I thought I was seeing things.’
‘Back in the same movie,’ he agreed.
‘Something like that. Why aren’t you in America?’
‘Why should I be?’
‘Sarah told me you were.’
The sudden silence was all the more marked for the sounds of laughter and conviviality in the background.
‘For probably the only time in her life Sarah was telling lies,’ said Dan. ‘I assume,’ he added carefully, ‘that if you’d known I was here you wouldn’t have come.’
‘Probably not,’ she said lightly. ‘Though I found it hard to believe you’d miss your oldest friend’s celebration. Are you pleased that he’s marrying Sarah?’
‘Of course I am. I’ve been expecting it for years.’
Joss smiled. ‘Francis must have been the last one to realise they were made for each other.’
Dan shrugged. ‘Not everyone falls in love at first sight.’
‘No,’ said Joss, her face suddenly shadowed. ‘Outside of fiction very few, probably.’ She braced herself, nerving herself up for confrontation. Showtime. No point in dragging it out. ‘Is one of those glasses for me?’ she asked, and moved forward into the light to take one.
Dan took an incredulous look and dropped one of the glasses on the stone flags.
‘Joss?’ cried Anna, rushing out with Hugh. ‘I heard a crash. Are you all right?’
‘Yes. I’m fine. You remember Dan Armstrong, of course?’ said Joss with composure.
The three of them muttered automatic greetings, but when Joss moved closer Dan shoved the glass in his hand at Hugh and leapt forward, hands outstretched to keep her back. ‘Don’t move; there’s glass everywhere.’
‘I’ll get someone,’ said Hugh, and whisked a reluctant Anna away, leaving a deafening silence behind them.
‘What’s known as a pregnant pause,’ said Joss at last, deliberately flippant.
‘How can you treat it so lightly?’ he demanded bitterly, then broke off with a curse as two of Elizabeth Wilcox’s team hurried outside to clear up the broken glass. He seized Joss by the hand. ‘It’s hot inside—fancy a walk in the moonlight?’ he said urgently, winning indulgent smiles from the women who’d known him all his life.
‘Lovely,’ lied Joss, and let him lead her down the steps, doing her best to ignore the crippling shoes.
‘Why are you limping?’ he demanded as they reached the gravelled terrace below.
‘My feet hurt.’
‘I suppose you’re tottering on six-inch heels as usual,’ he said irritably.
‘Four-inch tonight.’
‘Rather stupid in your condition.’
‘My condition is my own concern,’ she snapped, wincing as his grasp threatened to cut off her circulation.
‘Surely it’s also the concern of the man involved!’
‘Not in this case.’
‘You haven’t told him?’
‘No.’
‘Why the hell not?’
Joss spotted a bench at the edge of the knot garden. ‘Can we sit, please? Otherwise I may never walk again.’
Dan made for the bench in silence, then sat beside her, studying her face in the moonlight. ‘Is Sadler the father?’ he asked at last.
‘Certainly not,’ said Joss, eyeing his clenched fists.
‘Then is it mine, for God’s sake?’ he demanded, as though the words were torn from him.
‘Of course it is,’ said Joss, and turned her head to look at him.
‘Is this the truth?’ he asked hoarsely.
‘Yes. And nothing but the truth, so help me God. Whether you believe it or not is up to you, of course.’ Joss smiled comfortingly. ‘But don’t worry, Dan. Even if you do believe me I’m not asking you to do anything about it.’
‘Don’t be so stupid,’ he roared at her.
‘For heaven’s sake,’ she said irritably. ‘You’ll have Hugh charging to the rescue if you bellow like that.’
Dan controlled himself with obvious effort. ‘Is this the reason for your phone calls after—’
‘After you found me in what you took to be flagrante with Peter Sadler,’ she said with composure. ‘As a matter of fact, no. I didn’t know then.’
‘When did you find out?’
‘My embarrassing faint at the restaurant that day was the start of it. I kept feeling so weird from time to time after that I eventually saw a doctor.’
‘Surely you had an idea what was wrong!’
‘No. The usual indications were conspicuous by their presence, not their absence. It happens sometimes, apparently.’ Joss shrugged philosophically. ‘And I mistook my lack of appetite and so on for something else entirely.’
‘What do you mean?’
She laughed scornfully. ‘Use your imagination, Daniel Armstrong. I was in seventh heaven about to set up house with you, then wham. You dumped me, wouldn’t answer my calls, refused to have anything to do with me. Your attitude was a pretty effective appetite depressant.’
‘I did call you, after the interview. More than once.’ He looked down into her face. ‘Were you always out when I rang?’
‘No. I heard you every time.’
‘And refused to pick up the phone.’ His mouth twisted. ‘Was revenge sweet?’
‘Yes,’ Joss said frankly. ‘It was.’ She got to her feet, wincing. ‘Time we returned to the festivities.’
Dan leapt up, and seized her hands. ‘We can’t leave things like this. When’s the child due?’
‘In early spring.’
Dan held her hands wide, staring down at the curve filling out her dress. ‘That first night, you told me there was no danger of this.’
She detached her hands, and began to walk. ‘I’d forgotten that I gave up on birth-control after Peter walked out. I only started again after your reappearance in my life. Not quite soon enough, unfortunately.’
‘Unfortunate indeed,’ he agreed, pacing beside her. ‘I remember your views on motherhood only too well.’
‘Yours on fatherhood were even more negative,’ she said tartly. ‘Is it any wonder I didn’t tell you I was pregnant?’
‘I had a right to know.’
‘So everyone keeps telling me.’
Dan halted in his tracks, holding her by the shoulders. ‘So everyone knows I’m your child’s father except me?’
‘Only the people who matter.’
‘And I don’t!’ he said bitterly.
Joss removed his hands. ‘Last time we met you said you couldn’t bear to touch me. How on earth did you expect me to tell you I was carrying your child?’
‘If you’d answered my calls you’d know I’d got over that,’ he said gruffly, as they resumed walking.
‘You knew where I lived, Dan,’ she pointed out.
‘I’ve driven round more than once,’ he said savagely, astonishing her. ‘I was parked along your street one night, waiting, when you arrived home with two other women. The next time you never arrived at all. I found out later from Francis that you were in Warwickshire with Anna. Then I went to the States. When I came back Francis said you were coming to the party, so I thought I’d wait, bide my time until you felt less bitter towards me. But I was held up at Athena and arrived late tonight, at which point Francis told me you were out on the terrace. So I decided to try a rerun of our first meeting.’
‘And got the shock of your life!’
He nodded grimly. ‘Why the hell didn’t Francis warn me?’
‘He feels—quite rightly—that it isn’t his business.’ Joss caught sight of Anna and Hugh coming towards them. ‘Time to join the party again. Francis must be about to make the formal announcement. After which,’ she added, wincing as she stumbled, ‘I’m going back to Home Farm to bed. I’m tired.’
Dan held her arm in an iron grip. ‘How did you travel down? I hope you didn’t drive yourself in your con—’
‘If you mention the word “condition” I’ll scream,’ she informed him. ‘I came by train.’
‘Then I’ll drive you back,’ he said promptly.
‘No, thanks. I prefer the train.’
Secretly Joss felt rather crestfallen when Dan said no more, and because Hugh and Anna came hurrying to herd them back to the Hall for the big moment she had no more private conversation with him until she’d kissed Sarah and Francis goodnight, and it was time to leave for Home Farm.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ Dan stated, after Hugh had gone to fetch the car.
With Anna’s eyes on them Joss couldn’t bring herself to object. ‘Goodnight, then,’ she said politely.
Dan took his leave of them both with punctilious courtesy, and handed Joss into Hugh’s car as though she were a time bomb about to explode, something Anna commented on with great satisfaction once the car moved off.
‘How did he react?’ she demanded.
‘Stunned disbelief. You saw the smashed glass,’ said Joss, yawning. ‘Gosh, I’m tired.’
‘You’d better let us drive you home tomorrow,’ said Anna. ‘A train journey on top of tonight is a very bad idea.’
‘Certainly not; it’s miles out of your way,’ said Joss firmly. ‘I like travelling by train.’
Rather to her surprise Joss slept very well that night, and woke only when Anna came rushing in to announce that Dan was downstairs, demanding her presence.
‘At this hour? Demanding?’ said Joss, scowling as she struggled to sit up.
‘More or less. Imperious bloke, isn’t he?’
‘He’ll just have to wait.’ Joss swung her feet to the floor, then breathed in sharply, biting her lip.
‘What’s the matter?’ asked Anna in alarm.
Joss pointed to two hugely swollen ankles and feet, and sighed despairingly. ‘The price of vanity.’
‘I told you not to wear those shoes!’
‘But I did. And now I can’t wear any shoes at all.’ Joss stood up with difficulty, muttering something rude under her breath. ‘Now what do I do!’
‘Have a bath. Maybe the swelling will go down.’
‘Good idea. Tell Dan he’s in for a long wait.’
But neither a bath, nor the quantities of cold water Joss poured over them afterwards, did anything to reduce the size of her feet. In the end she gave up, pulled on black jersey trousers with a drawstring waist, and a large Cambridge-blue sweater bought in the men’s department of her favourite chainstore, then brushed her hair swiftly as a peremptory hand beat a tattoo on the door.
‘Joss?’ called Dan. ‘Are you all right?’
Joss hobbled painfully across the room and opened the door. Dan stood outside on the landing, looking so good in faded old jeans and an indigo shirt she felt a leap of unwanted response.
‘Good morning,’ he said, eyeing her feet.
‘If you say a word about silly shoes I’ll punch you in the nose,’ said Joss fiercely.
He looked up, smiling crookedly. ‘You and whose army, Joscelyn Hunter?’
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, glaring at him.
‘I came to deliver an invitation,’ he said, surprising her.
‘Invitation?’
‘From my father. He liked the piece you did about Eastlegh. Asked if you’d have coffee with him this morning.’
Joss stared at him in surprise, then gestured at her front. ‘Does he know about this?’
‘No.’
Joss shook her head vigorously. ‘Then please explain that I can’t come due to my feet.’
‘I brought the car. I can carry you downstairs and drive you over,’ said Dan, and eyed the swollen feet, frowning. ‘Do you have any socks?’
‘Yes. But they won’t go on. And I refuse to go anywhere barefoot and pregnant,’ she snapped, her colour rising.
Anna came hurrying up the stairs, with Hugh behind her. ‘How are the feet?’
‘Large as life, unfortunately.’
Dan shot a glance at Hugh. ‘Could you lend her a pair of socks?’
‘Of course.’ Hugh grinned. ‘What colour do you fancy, Joss?’
‘Size is the priority, not colour, Hugh Wakefield,’ she said tartly, red to the roots of her hair as the other three gazed at the offending extremities. ‘Could everyone stop that, please?’
Anna took her arm. ‘Sit down while I choose the socks. Afterwards you can carry her downstairs, Dan.’
‘There’s no need for that,’ said Joss explosively, then proved herself wrong when her progress to the nearest chair resembled a walk over hot coals.
‘How do you feel? Other than the feet,’ asked Dan, when they were alone.
Joss glared at him. ‘Just dandy.’
‘No more fainting?’
‘No.’
His eyes dropped to the bulge. ‘Is the baby fine too?’
‘Yes. I’ve got a snapshot to prove it. An ultrasound photograph,’ she added hurriedly at the look on his face. ‘If you’ll hand me that bag over there I’ll show you.’
When Joss handed the copy over Dan studied it in awe. ‘Do you know what sex it is?’
Joss shook her head. ‘No. I preferred to wait.’
Anna came hurrying in, brandishing a pair of large black socks. ‘Thank goodness Hugh has enormous feet. Try these.’ She knelt in front of Joss and drew the socks gently over the swollen feet. Joss nodded.
‘Fine.’
Dan bent and picked her up. ‘I’ll carry you down to the car.’
‘Car?’ said Anna. ‘She’s not leaving until after lunch.’
‘I’m taking her to have coffee with my father,’ said Dan rather breathlessly, descending the stairs with care. ‘It’s all right,’ he told Anna over Joss’s head when they reached the hall. ‘I’ll look after her.’
‘Don’t keep her long. She hasn’t had any breakfast,’ said Anna anxiously, as she went with them to the door.
‘When did I ever eat breakfast!’ said Joss.
‘Then it’s time you started,’ grunted Dan in disapproval. ‘Don’t worry, Anna. I’ll see she gets something to eat.’
‘I don’t want this,’ said Joss mutinously, once they were on the way to his father’s cottage.
‘No. I don’t suppose you do. But my father obviously took a fancy to you. Not,’ added Dan, ‘something he does very often.’
Joss sighed despondently. ‘He’ll probably change his mind when he sees I’m pregnant.’
Dan gave a bark of mirthless laughter. ‘Why the hell should he do that?’
She flushed irritably. ‘Does he know any single mothers?’
‘Francis employs two of them. My father’s unlikely to go into shock at the sight of you.’
Sam Armstrong came out of the house as the car stopped. His weathered face wore a welcoming look as he opened the car door. ‘Come in, Miss Hunter.’ He offered her his hand, and Joss took it, her heart in her throat as the keen old eyes took in the unmistakable bulge.
‘Father, I’ll have to carry Joss into the house,’ Dan warned. ‘She can’t get any shoes on.’
Sam Armstrong stood back, his face unreadable as he watched his son scoop Joss from her seat.
‘Best bring her in front of the fire, Dan,’ he said without comment. ‘It’s a bit nippy this morning.’
Dan deposited Joss in one of the leather armchairs drawn up to the fire in the familiar sitting room. ‘I’ll make the coffee,’ he said swiftly. ‘Joss hasn’t had any breakfast.’
‘Slice some bread, then,’ said Sam, seating himself in the other chair. ‘Bring it in and I’ll toast it in front of the fire.’ He reached under his chair, pulled out a foot-stool and pushed it near Joss. ‘Put your feet on that, my dear.’
‘Thank you. It’s lovely. Was it your wife’s?’ asked Joss, admiring the stool’s finely worked tapestry cover.
‘Yes—she was clever with a needle.’ Sam grimaced. ‘Now it’s mine. I get the odd bit of gout.’
‘And doesn’t take his pills,’ said Dan, bringing in a platter of bread. ‘I’ll bring butter with the coffee.’
Now the initial ordeal was over Joss felt oddly comfortable alone with Sam Armstrong, watching with pleasure as he held slices of bread over the flames with a copper toasting fork. ‘I haven’t had proper toast since I left home,’ she remarked.
Sam turned to look at her. ‘Dan says your father was a vicar.’
Joss nodded. ‘I miss him a lot. Especially now,’ she added, patting her front.
‘I hear you were seeing a lot of Dan, then there was some kind of quarrel,’ said Sam, going on with his task.
‘Yes.’
‘Is my son the father of your child?’ asked Sam bluntly, taking Joss’s breath away.
‘Yes, I am,’ said Dan, dumping a coffee tray on the table. He shot a look at Joss. ‘Are you all right? Your colour went for a moment.’
‘My house guest just did a little dance,’ she said breathlessly.
Dan filled a coffee cup and handed it to her, then hunkered down in front of the fire to butter two slices of bread. He handed her the plate, then looked at his father. ‘No comment?’ he demanded.
Sam Armstrong gave his son a piercing look. ‘Joscelyn tells me her father’s dead. So I’ll speak for him. In my day it was simple. If a girl got pregnant the baby’s father married her.’
‘Which is precisely what I’m going to do—now I’ve finally been informed,’ said Dan with emphasis, and returned his father’s look. ‘And not because you think I should, either. I decided that the moment I discovered Joss was pregnant.’
‘And when was that?’ demanded Sam.
‘Last night,’ said Joss, deciding to put her oar in. ‘But you must realise that the decision isn’t up to Dan, Mr Armstrong. It’s up to me. And I don’t want to get married.’
The disapproval in the two pairs of identical blue eyes was almost amusing. Joss smiled gently. ‘I prefer to manage on my own.’
Dan got to his feet, looming over her with such menace Joss exerted considerable self-control not to cower in her chair. ‘Don’t be silly,’ he said coldly. ‘We’ll get married as soon as I can arrange it.’
‘We will not!’ Her eyes flashed dangerously. ‘Not so long ago you couldn’t bear the sight of me.’
‘That’s not true,’ he said, his voice dangerously quiet. ‘And this is no place to discuss it. But get this straight. When I decide I want something, I get it.’
Sam stared at his son in disbelief. ‘Are you mad, boy? That’s no way to make a proposal of marriage.’
‘You keep out of it, Father,’ his son shot at him.
‘He wasn’t proposing, Mr Armstrong,’ said Joss scornfully. ‘He was acquiring a property. Buying a wife, just as he bought his title.’
Sam stared at her blankly. ‘What title?’
‘She means the manorial title I bought from Francis,’ said Dan impatiently.
Sam wagged a finger at Joss. ‘Now you listen, young lady. Young Francis—Lord Morville, I mean—owes a lot to my son.’
‘Father!’ warned Dan. ‘Keep out of this.’
Sam rose to his feet with effort, then straightened to look his son in the eye. ‘I’ll go in the kitchen and see to the meal. While I’m out talk to the girl like a human being. She’s not a board meeting.’
After he’d gone the only sound in the room was the crackling of flames from the fire. Joss went on eating her toast, hungry despite the tension in the air, and determined that if anyone was going to break the silence it would be Dan. He took his father’s chair, leaned forward with hands clasped loosely between his knees, gazing into the flames for a while. At last he cleared his throat, turned to look at her, and said, ‘Joss, let’s start again. Will you—?’