His Independent Bride: Wife Against Her Will / The Wedlocked Wife / Bertoluzzi's Heiress Bride

Instead, he led her back across the room to where Gavin Langton was waiting to propose a toast.

‘To happiness,’ he said, raising his glass.

I can drink to that, Darcy thought. In principle, anyway. Perhaps in some distant day, I may even achieve it. But not in the foreseeable future.

Joel was still holding her hand, and she tried surreptitiously to ease her fingers from his clasp, but without success.

‘I gather you’re not planning to dine at the Ritz.’ Gavin tried to make a joke of it, but the note of faint disapproval was apparent.

‘I know quite a good bistro,’ Joel said. ‘I thought we’d have a quiet meal this evening so we can talk and make some plans.’ He smiled at Darcy. ‘Is that all right with you, my love?’

She muttered something in stiff acquiescence, and his smile widened.

‘Then, as I have a cab waiting, shall we go?’ He took the barely touched drink from her and set it aside.

She said a quiet goodnight to her father, flung her black pashmina round her shoulders, and followed.

Joel said, ‘So, why the second thoughts?’

The bistro was busy, but its clientele consisted mainly of couples, so the conversation level was held at a contented, even intimate, hum. The wooden tables were set at sufficient distance from each other to ensure privacy, and were set with candles in pottery holders, and bowls of fresh flowers.

It was a place for lovers, Darcy thought. And, in that case, what, exactly, were they doing here?

She’d been dismayed to find herself seated next to Joel on a cushioned settle, rather than at a manageable distance, across the table. Even during the silent taxi ride, she’d found his proximity disturbing. Now he was altogether too close for comfort, his knee inches away from hers, their arms almost brushing as they examined the short handwritten menus.

She wanted to edge away, but knew that he would notice and, perhaps, draw unwanted conclusions.

She said defensively, ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

He sighed. ‘Darcy, as an engineer you’ll learn about stresses and strains. And get to recognise them, too, so don’t play dumb. You’re considering reneging on our agreement. Why?’

She shrugged a shoulder. ‘How many reasons do you need?’

‘Not many,’ he said. ‘But they’d need to be good. Our marriage ticks a lot of boxes.’

‘Except the one marked “love”.’ Her voice was cool and brittle. ‘Which most people seem to consider the most important.’

‘I thought,’ he said softly, ‘you’d decided to opt for expediency rather than ecstasy.’

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I have. Yet, marrying someone—a comparative stranger—in a spirit of mutual dislike and contempt isn’t a path I ever saw myself taking.’ She drew a breath. ‘And making vows in church that we don’t intend to keep seems horribly wrong, somehow.’

‘You’re telling me you believe in the sanctity of marriage?’ he enquired mockingly. ‘You didn’t appear to have the same regard for the vows Harry Metcalfe was about to make with my cousin.’

She felt her stomach churn in swift revulsion. She wanted to turn to him, and scream the truth. Exorcise this ghost from her past, once and for all. But he’d accepted Harry’s version before. Why should he believe her now?

She said tautly, ‘Perhaps I felt he didn’t take them very seriously either.’

‘Just as long as you know now that he’s strictly out of bounds,’ Joel said curtly. ‘I won’t have Emma’s peace of mind troubled, particularly at a time like this. Understood?’

‘Yes.’ She controlled the shake in her voice. ‘I understand perfectly.’

‘As for this sudden attack of scruples,’ he went on, ‘you don’t have to worry. I won’t keep you tied to me longer than strictly necessary.’

‘Forgive me if I don’t find that particularly reassuring.’ ‘Well,’ he said, ‘we’re here to negotiate. What assurances do you require?’

She drew an uneven breath. ‘I have one, main condition. You have to accept that I will not, under any circumstances, sleep with you.’ She met his gaze directly. ‘Do you agree?’

He shrugged. His voice was level. ‘If that’s what you want. It’s really not that important.’ He paused. ‘However, I also require your assurance that during the term of the marriage, you won’t sleep with anyone else either.’

She went on staring at him. ‘Agreed. But why should that matter to you?’

‘It wouldn’t,’ he said. ‘But I’m investing quite heavily in you, Darcy, and your future.’ His smile was thin-lipped. ‘And I’d really hate to be made a fool of over an investment.’ He allowed that to sink in, then added, ‘In every other way, of course, I shall expect you to behave as if the marriage was a real one, instead of a sham.’

‘You mean I’m to keep my true feelings under wraps?’ She traced the grain of the wooden table with a forefinger. ‘Not easy.’

‘Nothing less will do. Meaning that if I have reason to touch you or kiss you in public, you’ll kindly remember that we’re newlyweds, and passionately in love, and not flinch from me as if you’d been attacked with an electric cattle prod.’

She said with difficulty, ‘My God, you don’t expect much.’

‘I could,’ he said slowly, ‘demand a great deal more. But I haven’t. And surely the ultimate reward is worth the inconvenience of a little public pretence? In private, of course, you can do as you like. And you can comfort yourself with the reflection that I shall be away a great deal on company business. Our paths may hardly cross.’

He paused. ‘And now shall we order some food?’

Reluctantly, she glanced back at the menu. ‘I’ll have the moules marinières to start with.’

‘So will I,’ he said. ‘And after that, shall we share a Châteaubriand? They’re intended for two people.’

‘If you wish.’ She stared at him. ‘What is this—an exercise in togetherness?’

‘Why not?’ Joel countered silkily. ‘God knows we need the practice.’

She could probably think of a hundred reasons, with more to follow, but it seemed pointless to voice them.

She’d agreed to marry him, and now she had to get on with that as best she could. It’s a business arrangement, nothing more, she reminded herself. A short-term contract that will eventually come to its end. And at least she’d had a chance to establish the small print.

When the mussels arrived they were in one big tureen, and even a few minutes’ mutual delving into the delicious white wine and shallot broth to remove the succulent contents from their shells totally scuppered any chance of maintaining an aloof distance for the rest of the evening.

It was clear that she was being treated to a crash-course in intimacy.

But then, he said he’d been here before, so he must have known how it would be when he placed the order, Darcy thought, resentment simmering quietly within her.

And for a brief, uncomfortable moment, she found she was wondering who his companion had been. And how the evening had ended…

None of my business, she told herself, firmly slamming the door on that kind of unhelpful speculation.

‘Here.’ Joel was proffering the largest mussel in the bowl. ‘My contribution to world peace.’

‘A sacrifice indeed,’ she said as she discarded the empty shell. ‘Or did you hope I’d say no?’