SUDDENLY the door flew open and Francis came in like a whirlwind, halting Dan mid-sentence. ‘Why the devil can’t you bend that stiff neck of yours, Dan, and tell Joss the simple truth?’
Dan leapt to his feet, glaring at him. ‘And why the devil can’t you mind your own business?’
‘This is my business,’ drawled Francis, suddenly very much the ninth Baron Morville. He stared Dan out, then turned to Joss. ‘Forgive me. How are you this morning? Anna tells me you find walking difficult.’
‘A self-inflicted problem, alas.’ Joss managed a smile.
‘What are you doing here, anyway?’ demanded Dan, looking like thunder.
‘Anna told me you’d brought Joss here so I came over to see how she was. On the way in your father told me you were being pig-headed about telling her the truth.’
‘Did he, by God?’ said Dan, striding to the door.
‘Dan,’ said Joss sharply. ‘Come back here. Stop behaving like a barbarian.’
He turned to stare at her in such blank shock that Francis began to laugh.
‘I think you’ve met your match, old son.’ He put out a hand in appeal. ‘Look at it from my point of view. I insist Joss knows the facts.’
Dan’s face relaxed slightly. ‘Then of course I’ve no choice—milord.’
‘Pack it in, Dan,’ said Francis irritably. ‘And for heaven’s sake sit down. I can’t talk with you looming over me.’
When Dan took his father’s chair again Francis perched himself on the arm.
‘As I told you once before, Joss,’ he began, ‘like a lot of my kind I’m perpetually short of funds when it comes to the upkeep of Eastlegh. And Dan, in his own way, is just as attached to the place as I am. So he continually thinks up ways for me to acquire money to keep it going.’
Dan, Francis went on, had asked to buy the gardener’s tied cottage, plus some land to grow vegetables, thus giving Sam Armstrong a home he could call his own at last, and at the same time providing an infusion of cash for Eastlegh. Then later, when the auctioning of manorial titles gained in popularity, Dan had hit on the idea of buying one of Francis’s extraneous titles to add to the deeds of a local manor house his company had restored, again a two-way benefit, as this had doubled the asking price of the finished property.
‘But the real brainwave came when Dan asked if he could hire Eastlegh for a weekend conference Athena was hosting,’ added Francis.
‘Lord Morville, of course,’ said Dan dryly, ‘was all for letting me have the place for free.’
‘But Dan stipulated a business transaction or nothing doing. And thus,’ finished Francis with a hint of drama, ‘was born the now flourishing Eastlegh corporate entertainment business.’
‘Was it your idea for Francis to move into Home Farm, Dan?’ asked Joss.
‘No, that was mine,’ said Francis. ‘It was obvious that I’d have more to offer if I could hire out the entire house. I love Eastlegh, but’s a big place to rattle round in on my own.’ He smiled. ‘So now you know, Joss. Dan never had the slightest desire to be lord of anyone’s manor.’
Dan gave her a sardonic look. ‘My motive, as always, was profit.’
‘So, Joss, does all this make you better disposed to marrying Dan?’ asked Francis, then winced as a hard hand clamped on his arm like a vice.
‘I’d be grateful for just a few minutes’ privacy to make my own proposals,’ said Dan with sarcasm, ‘so do me a favour—take my father off to admire his beloved garden, and give me ten minutes alone with Joss.’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Francis hastily, jumping to his feet. He bent to kiss Joss, grinned at Dan, then went from the room as quickly as he’d arrived.
‘It seems I owe you an apology,’ said Joss unwillingly.
Dan shrugged. ‘Not really.’
‘Though you deliberately mentioned the title at lunch that day to mislead me,’ she said, eyes kindling.
He snorted. ‘I thought you couldn’t stay meek and mild for long!’
Joss glared at her swollen feet in frustration, yearning to jump up and follow Francis from the room.
‘One way and another,’ he said, reading her mind with ease, ‘this time you can’t perform your famous vanishing trick.’
‘No,’ she said shortly. ‘In which case you can pour me another cup of coffee.’
Dan obliged in silence, then sat down again, a determined look in his eye. ‘As I was saying before His Lordship interrupted us, we’d better get married, Joss.’
She gazed at him in silence for so long Dan began to frown. ‘No,’ she said at last.
He stared at her, incensed. ‘What do you mean, no?’
‘The opposite of yes.’
‘You’re enjoying yourself,’ he said angrily. ‘Look, Joss, I know I hurt you—’
‘You certainly did,’ she agreed. ‘But don’t worry, I’ve got over that now.’ Her eyes clashed with his. ‘I’m good at getting over things.’
The irritation drained from his face, taking the animation with it. ‘In which case,’ he went on after a tense pause, ‘if I suggested a marriage in form only, for the sake of our child, would you at least agree to that?’
‘A marriage of convenience?’ said Joss, taking great pleasure in watching Dan’s struggle to control his temper. ‘How delightfully archaic. Like a Regency romance.’
‘You obviously find all this hilarious,’ he said harshly. ‘I happen to think it’s a bloody serious situation.’
‘So do I,’ she assured him, and shifted a little in her seat. The second cup of coffee had been a mistake. ‘I’m afraid,’ she said reluctantly, ‘I need your assistance.’
‘What’s the matter?’ he demanded, leaping to his feet.
She sighed. ‘Unlike heroines in Regency romances, I need to go to the bathroom. I hope your father’s got one on the ground floor.’
Dan’s lips twitched. ‘So do I. You weigh a ton these days.’
‘Your proposal technique could do with polish,’ she flashed at him, and put her hands flat on the arms of the chair, so obviously prepared to struggle unaided that Dan cursed under his breath.
‘Let me help you, Joss. Please.’
She gave him a dark, hostile look, but in the end let him take her hands and carefully pull her upright. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip as her throbbing feet took her weight, and with a look which dared her to object Dan picked her up and carried her along the hall and out into a back entry, where a door led into a very modern little cloakroom.
‘Can you manage now?’ he said with constraint.
‘Yes,’ Joss snapped, and shut the door in his face. When she emerged Sam Armstrong was waiting outside with Dan.
‘Are you all right, my dear?’ he asked, winning a surprised look from his son.
‘Yes, thanks,’ she said philosophically. Dignity, she was learning, was a luxury abandoned with the onset of pregnancy.
Dan picked her up again, then paused in the hall. ‘Where do you want to go now?’ he asked.
‘Put her back by the fire until our meal is ready,’ said Sam with authority.
When they were alone again, Joss watched as Dan added more logs to the fire. ‘I’m bidden to lunch, then.’
He shot her a wry look. ‘Apparently. My father seems to take it for granted you’ll stay. He doesn’t entertain much. You’re honoured.’
‘It’s very kind of him,’ she said soberly.
There was an awkward silence for a moment, broken only by the clashing of pots and pans from the kitchen. At last Dan broke it to ask about her work, and Joss responded with relief, eager to abandon the topic of marriage.
‘I ought to be out there, giving your father a hand,’ she added impatiently at one point.
‘Which you can’t, so stay where you are.’
‘I don’t have much choice!’
Dan’s mouth twisted. ‘You don’t have a choice in any of this,’ he said bitterly. ‘I remember your views on motherhood all too vividly—but an apology’s just an insult.’
‘And unnecessary,’ she informed him.
‘I disagree.’ Dan stared into the fire. ‘I should have been more careful. But it’s too damn late to say that now.’
‘Look, Dan,’ Joss began, doing her best to be reasonable. ‘I know that a child was never part of your plan—’ She broke off, smiling as Sam Armstrong came into the room. ‘I wish I could help, Mr Armstrong. Something smells delicious.’
‘Just plain cooking,’ he said gruffly, looking pleased. ‘The same as every Sunday. You’d better lay the small table in here, Dan.’
Two hours later Joss was sitting, resigned, in Dan’s car on the way back to London. ‘Sorry to add to your journey,’ she said eventually, as they left Dorchester.
He shot a sidelong glance at her. ‘If you want to apologise it should be for letting me find out about the baby in public.’
‘I didn’t know you were going to be there.’
‘Or you wouldn’t have come within miles of Eastlegh,’ he finished for her. ‘As a matter of interest, when were you going to tell me?’
When Joss made no answer, his hands tightened, white-knuckled, on the steering wheel. ‘Never?’ he demanded harshly.
‘What was the point? I was sure you’d refuse to believe the child was yours, especially after you found Peter Sadler in my flat that night.’
‘I suppose I can understand that,’ he said grudgingly, then fell silent. ‘You know Joss,’ he said at last, ‘I’m still in the dark about certain aspects of that night. I got your message, drove like a bat out of hell to your place, and then found your door ajar. I shot up those stairs, expecting to mug a burglar at the very least.’
‘I didn’t send any message—but don’t let’s go over all that again,’ she said wearily. ‘It’s all in the past.’
‘But the child is in the future, Joss.’
‘I know,’ she said quietly, with a familiar tremor of apprehension at the mere thought of it.
‘Have you made plans?’
She repeated her idea of hiring a nanny and returning to work as soon as possible after the birth.
‘With no time at all to spare for the baby?’ he demanded incredulously.
Joss made a superhuman effort to control her temper. ‘As you mentioned earlier, I don’t have any choice.’
‘Of course you do,’ he retorted grimly. ‘You can stop being so damned pig-headed and marry me.’
‘When you make the prospect sound so delightful,’ she threw back, ‘it’s hard to refuse. But I do, just the same.’
‘This isn’t the time and place to discuss it,’ said Dan coldly, as they hit heavier traffic. ‘We’ll talk again when we get home.’
The journey was a trial, made worse by an embarrassing request for a stop at a service station. Joss flatly refused to let Dan carry her, and after she’d hobbled back to the car with his help she sat in silence, trying to relay pleasant thoughts to the little intruder making its presence felt under her sweater. But when they were nearing London it dawned on her that Dan was taking her to his own home in Kew.
‘I want to go straight to my place,’ she said, very quietly.
‘Not yet,’ said Dan inexorably. ‘We finish our talk before I drive you to Acton.’
By this time Joss was beginning to feel very weary. ‘Oh, very well,’ she sighed. ‘But there’s not really much point.’
When they arrived at the house Dan bent to lift her out of the car, but Joss held him off.
‘No, please. I can walk. Well, hobble, really, but I can manage.’
Tight-lipped, he put a hand under her elbow and helped her into the house Joss had believed she’d never set foot in again. Dan released her outside the ground floor cloakroom, eyeing her warily.
‘I’ll make some tea. Are you hungry?’
Joss shook her head. ‘I’m still full of roast lamb and your father’s heavenly vegetables. But tea sounds wonderful.’
In the privacy of Dan’s cloakroom Joss eyed her reflection without pleasure, tidied herself a little, then with a sigh went outside, to find Dan waiting to escort her into the comfortable, informal room which opened into the courtyard at the back of the house.
Joss sat down in a corner of Dan’s vast sofa, and smiled her thanks as he pushed a couple of cushions under her feet.
‘Lack of footstools here.’ He handed her a beaker of tea. ‘No sugar and just a splash of milk,’ he said, then shot a look at her. ‘Or has your taste changed lately?’
‘No,’ she assured him. Her taste was exactly the same, both for tea and present company. Suddenly she noticed the initial J in black italic on the tall white porcelain mug she held.
‘I bought it when you were about to move in with me,’ Dan said without inflection.
Joss bit her lip, suddenly overwhelmed by thoughts of what might have been. She sat drinking her tea, deep in reverie, then gave herself a mental shake and looked round at the comfortable, masculine room as he took a chair opposite her. ‘Dan.’
‘Yes?’ he said swiftly.
‘The night we met—’
‘I haven’t forgotten it,’ he said dryly.
‘I’ve just thought of something. In fact,’ Joss added, ‘I’m surprised I never thought of it before.’
‘Go on.’
‘You suggested room service at the hotel. Why were you staying there when you had this to come back to?’
To her astonishment, colour rose along his cheekbones.
‘I wasn’t staying there,’ he said gruffly. ‘But if you’d said yes I would have reserved a room while you were saying goodnight to Anna.’
Joss stared at him. ‘Then you planned to get me to bed right from the first.’
‘No,’ he said coldly. ‘You disliked the idea of a restaurant, and this place is a long way out of town. So I suggested a meal in my non-existent room. The invitation to your place came as a surprise.’
She smiled coolly. ‘A convenient one, too. Look at the money I saved you.’
The dark blue eyes locked with hers. ‘I would have paid anything the hotel asked, just to keep you with me a while longer.’
Joss stared back, silenced, her heart beating thickly under the sweater.
‘You know I wanted you the moment I first saw you,’ he went on conversationally, as though they were discussing the weather. Then his eyes lit with sudden heat. ‘I still do.’
Wanting, thought Joss fiercely, wasn’t enough. ‘It’s not much of a basis for marriage.’
‘We’ve got a lot more going for us than that,’ said Dan swiftly, sensing victory.
Joss looked at him narrowly. ‘What do you mean?’
He frowned. ‘The child, of course.’
Her little flame of hope flickered and died. ‘Ah, yes. The child,’ she repeated, as though the idea were new to her. ‘Not something you ever wanted.’
‘I admit I wasn’t enthusiastic about the idea in theory,’ he admitted. ‘But now it’s established fact I’m fully prepared to share the responsibility.’
‘Very noble,’ she snapped. ‘But you don’t have to marry me to do that.’
‘True. But marriage is a practical option.’ Dan put down his tea untouched.
Practical, she thought sadly, and smiled a little. ‘You look as though you need something stronger than that.’
‘Damn right I do. But I still have to drive you home.’
‘There are usually taxis to be had, even in the wilds of Kew!’
He raised a sardonic eyebrow. ‘And what happens if you can’t make it up the stairs when you get to your place?’
Joss clenched her teeth. Crawling up her stairs on hands and knees was a lot preferable to sitting here listening to Daniel Armstrong talking about responsibility. Especially when one solitary word of love would put an end to all argument.
‘I’ll manage,’ she said tightly.
Dan’s eyes narrowed. ‘Not if I keep you here until you agree to marry me.’
Her eyes flashed scornfully. ‘First Regency, now the Middle Ages. You’re no feudal lord, Dan, and I’m not some kidnapped heiress.’
‘If you’d wanted a lord for a husband you should have aimed for Francis!’
‘I don’t want a husband of any kind,’ lied Joss. ‘I can manage on my own.’
‘So I see,’ said Dan with sarcasm, then took her breath away by sliding to his knees in front of her. But instead of proposing in true romantic style, as for one wild moment she’d thought he meant to, he pulled off Hugh’s socks to examine her still swollen feet. ‘And just how do you propose to get to work tomorrow on feet like pillows?’
‘The swelling will be down tomorrow,’ she croaked, choked with disappointment.
Dan slid the socks carefully back into place, then got to his feet. ‘More tea?’
‘No, thanks. I want to go home.’ Joss put the mug down carefully on the table beside her, passionately wishing she could get to her feet unaided. Without a word Dan reached down his hands to take hers, and equally silent she took them, and allowed him to help her up.
‘Stay here tonight, Joss—please,’ he said urgently. ‘I’ll sleep in one of the spare rooms and drive you home in the morning. Once I’m sure you can walk.’
Joss gave up. She was tired, and suddenly so depressed she didn’t care where she slept. ‘All right,’ she said listlessly. ‘As long as I can go to bed right now. Will you fetch my things from the car, please?’
He scowled. ‘But the whole object of your staying is to talk this through. And you should have something to eat—’
‘No,’ she said flatly. ‘I meant it, Dan. I’m tired. I need bed—and solitude.’
His eyes hardened. ‘If you object to my company that much I’ll drive you back to Acton right now.’
‘Which,’ she said, incensed, ‘is what I wanted all along.’
Joss would have given much to march out of Daniel Armstrong’s house with her nose in the air, but in the end was forced to accept his arm back to the car. And once they were on their way she felt so miserable it took superhuman effort to keep from crying her eyes out. Damned hormones, she thought, sniffing, and glowered at the large hand offering a box of tissues.
‘Thank you,’ she said with dignity.
‘Why are you crying?’ asked Dan.
‘I don’t need a reason these days.’ She sniffed loudly. ‘I suppose it was a bit ambitious to travel down to Eastlegh and go to the party last night on top of a working week.’
‘Why did you?’
‘Because Anna felt a bit of socialising would do me good. She kept on and on about it. And Sarah was on the phone so much I wonder she had time to organise the party.’
‘Francis was damned insistent where I was concerned, too.’ Dan shot a glance at her. ‘It was obviously a combined effort to enlighten me about the baby.’
‘Probably. I made Francis swear on oath that he wouldn’t tell you.’
‘Which gagged him pretty effectively.’
‘He thought you had a right to know.’
‘Would you really have kept me in the dark, Joss? Even after the baby arrived?’
Joss shrugged, her eyes on the traffic in front of them. ‘I intended to. I think I’d have kept to that. But fate—and friends—conspired against me.’
By the time they got to Acton Joss was sorry she hadn’t stayed the night at Kew after all. She felt desperately tired, vaguely unwell, her feet hurt and she wished she hadn’t eaten so much lunch. When Dan came to help her out of the car he took one look at her face and demanded her key.
When Joss meekly handed it over he unlocked the door and picked her up, ignoring her protests as he carried her upstairs to deposit her very carefully on her sofa. ‘I’ll just get your belongings, then I want no argument, Joss. You look exhausted. Before I go I want to make sure you’re in bed and out of harm’s way for the night.’
‘Will you give me a hand to the bathroom first?’ she asked, resigned.
When Dan got back with her suitcase Joss was leaning in the bathroom doorway, her face chalk-white. He leapt towards her, arms outstretched, his face suddenly as colourless as hers.
‘What is it?’
‘Something’s wrong, Dan,’ she said hoarsely.
A few hours later Joss lay propped against pillows in a hospital bed in a private room, feeling so tired it was an effort to summon a smile for Dan.
‘You look terrible,’ she commented, eyeing his haggard face.
‘Never mind me!’ He sat by the bed to take her hand. ‘I had a word with the consultant, and apparently the baby’s fine. But they want to keep you in for a couple of days for observation, and after that you’re to stay off your feet for a while, and rest.’
‘I know,’ said Joss despondently. ‘She told me.’
‘You know what this means?’ he said, his grasp tightening.
She nodded glumly. ‘Time off from the job.’
‘You can’t go back to it at all,’ he said urgently. ‘If you must work, surely with your connections you can do something from home, Joss?’
‘Yes. I can. But I won’t earn as much money.’
‘That,’ he said flatly, ‘is hardly a problem.’
‘It is to me,’ she said, eyes flashing.
‘It’s not a problem,’ said Dan, very deliberately, ‘because the solution lies in your own hands, Joss. Marry me, come and live in Kew, and work from there.’
‘It sounds so cut and dried, put like that,’ said Joss quietly. She looked at him intently. ‘Do you really want this, Dan?’
‘How many times do I have to say it? I wanted you the moment I first saw you. And I still do. But,’ he added quickly, ‘that needn’t worry you, if you prefer a more businesslike arrangement.’
At that precise moment Joss wanted nothing more than to sink into oblivion and forget any kind of arrangement, businesslike or otherwise. She felt deeply grateful when a nurse came in to tell Dan the patient needed rest.
‘I’ll come to see you tomorrow,’ he said, bending to kiss her cheek. ‘Shall I ring Anna?’
Joss shook her head. ‘No point in worrying her unnecessarily. I’ll do that when I get home.’ She bit her lip. ‘You might ring Jack Ormond in the morning, though. Say I won’t be around for a bit.’
‘With the greatest pleasure,’ said Dan grimly. ‘Think carefully about what I said, Joss, and we’ll talk about it tomorrow.’
By the time she was settled for the night Joss had made up her mind. Only a fool would turn down the chance of having the best of both worlds. If she married Dan she could still carry on with her freelancing to a certain extent, and do it in comfort, without having to worry about food and bills and all those other pressing little realities of life. Which all sounded so mercenary, she thought in distaste. Especially when she didn’t really care a hang about any of it as long as she could marry Dan. And any lingering doubts disappeared next morning, when a nurse came in with a box containing a dozen yellow roses on a bed of very familiar leaves.
‘Mr Armstrong rang to enquire how you are,’ she said briskly. ‘I’ll just put these in water, then I’ll have a look at you again.’
‘From Dan,’ said the message on the card. Joss smiled ruefully. No ‘love and best wishes’ from Daniel Armstrong. But the flowers were strong enough persuasion in themselves. The nurse arranged the roses against their fan of fig leaves, and when Joss was alone at last she settled back against the pillows and gazed at the perfect blooms, her hands protective on the mound moving now and then beneath the covers.
‘If it’s all right with you, little one,’ she whispered. ‘I think I’ll say yes.’