The Second Bride Read online

  'Right,' said Rufus, when his brand-new dishwasher was switched on. 'Come upstairs and tell me if I made the right choice of present.'

  'Couldn't you bring it down?' she asked as they went up the curving staircase together.

  'Not without risk to my person,' he assured her with a grin, and showed her into the smaller of the two main bedrooms with a flourish.

  The room was bare except for a small, beautiful desk under the window, complete with laptop computer. Jo gave an exclamation, and looked up at Rufus in delight. 'Both of them for me? Rufus, what a wonderful present!'

  'Eighteenth-century elegance allied to twentieth-century technology,' he said, with a flourish. 'The rest of the furnishings I leave to you, of course. But I thought if inspiration struck when you weren't in the mood for transferring to Bruton Road you could jot notes down here.'

  'Thank you so much, Rufus.' Jo decided against kissing him, and gave him a radiant smile instead. 'It's the best present I've ever had. I just love the desk.'

  She pulled out drawers reverently, then opened the computer like a child with a new toy. After a moment or two she closed it again. 'No,' she said firmly. 'If I start playing with that I'll never stop. I'll wait until I move in.'

  'Talking of which,' said Rufus as they went downstairs again, 'I'm afraid you'll have to take a day off again on Monday to choose your bedroom furniture. Meet me for lunch again?'

  Jo nodded. 'I'll work longer tomorrow instead.'

  Rufus frowned. 'I thought you never worked on weekends.'

  'I don't normally, but if I do the last two thousand words or so tomorrow I've finished.'

  'A good thing I refused, then, when Mother asked us to Sunday lunch. I thought you might have had enough of my family for a while, so I refused—very gracefully, of course—on your behalf.'

  'Oh, did you?' she said belligerently.

  'Which is just as well,' he said smoothly, 'since you're bent on labouring all day tomorrow instead.'

  The wind taken out of her sails, Jo couldn't let fly with the angry protest she'd been about to make, and Rufus, lips twitching, suggested he come round late the next evening instead, to make sure she didn't write all day.

  'I'd rather my bride had circles under her eyes after the honeymoon than on her wedding day,' he said, smiling at the wave of scarlet which rose behind Jo's rapidly fading tan.

  She gave him a hostile glare and marched into the small, elegant drawing room to collect her hat. 'In that case, rather than let you down on the day I'd better go home and get some beauty sleep.' Not that any amount of beauty sleep would transform her into a bride as dazzling as Claire.

  Rufus caught her by the shoulders and turned her round. 'I was joking,' he said roughly. 'I'm worried about your health, Jocasta Fielding, not your appearance. I'll come round about eight tomorrow night—and I'll expect to find that blasted computer of yours turned off when I do.'

  She stared at him mutinously for a moment, then shrugged. 'Oh, very well. Though you did promise you wouldn't fuss.'

  'This has nothing to do with the baby,' he said with emphasis, his eyes boring into hers. 'When I came back from London on Thursday you looked like a ghost. I was worried.'

  Jo's eyes fell. 'You needn't worry about me,' she muttered. 'I can look after myself.'

  'Perhaps you'd furnish me with proof of that statement,' he said sardonically, 'by doing a rather better job of it from now on.'

  She smiled sheepishly. 'It's only because I'm so near the end, Rufus—like a racehorse in sight of the finishing post.'

  'And what happens once you've finished the novel? Will you suffer from anticlimax?'

  'Possibly.' She eyed him narrowly. 'You've never asked me what the book is about, Rufus. Does that mean you're not interested?'

  'Hell, no—quite the reverse.' He gave her a crooked grin. 'But our relationship is beset with rather more pitfalls than the normal kind, Jo. With you I proceed with care, afraid of trespass.'

  'How very cautious!'

  He raised an eyebrow. 'Wary, rather than cautious.'

  'It's a rites-of-passage theme, about two girls growing up, their lives taking different directions, and what happens to them as adults.' She nodded in answer to the involuntary question in his eyes. 'Yes, there's a lot of Claire and me in it. At least to begin with. But after a while the girls took on personalities and characters of their own, and the story develops very differently. They both fall in love with the same man.'

  'Definitely fiction,' he said drily.

  Jo laughed, and detached herself. 'And now I must go home and get to bed. Weddings are tiring.'

  'I hope you won't find ours too exhausting.'

  'With only a handful of us to celebrate, I doubt it.' Jo smiled at him as they went outside to the car. 'Thank you again for the present, Rufus. I'll do my best to think of something equally inspired for you.'

  Rufus halted halfway down the steps to the pavement. 'I don't need a present from you, Jo. That wasn't the object of the exercise at all.'

  'I know,' she said calmly, and patted his arm. 'But it seems only fair you should have something to mark the occasion.'

  'I doubt that I'll find it easy to forget, gift or no gift,' he assured her, and she giggled as they drove off.

  'No, I don't suppose you will. Especially if the bride turns pea-green with morning sickness during the ceremony!'

  'Are you likely to do that?' Rufus inquired with interest.

  'No—I was only joking. I feel very well, actually.' She shot a look at his profile. 'Would you prefer it if I did?'

  'What kind of a man do you think I am?' he demanded irritably. 'Of course I wouldn't.'

  'I merely meant,' said Jo patiently, 'that you might see it as confirmation of my condition. Because I don't seem to be suffering from any of the usual symptoms.'

  Rufus stopped the car in Bruton Road and turned to her. 'Are you hoping against hope that maybe there was a mistake?'

  Jo sighed. 'If I'm honest. . .'

  'And you invariably are!'

  She shrugged. 'I suppose I'd rather not be pregnant, but since I am I promise to make the best of it. Not that I know much about babies.'

  'Neither do I. We'll learn together.' He leaned across and kissed her cheek. 'Goodnight, Jo. I won't come in. Have an early night.'

  'Do you want me to cook for you tomorrow night?'

  Rufus shook his head, giving her a smug smile. 'No, thanks. I may have refused the lunch invitation on your behalf, but / shall be wolfing down Mother's roast beef and Yorkshire pudding as usual, believe me!' 'Pig,' said Jo wrathfully. 'I think I've changed my mind about marrying you after all.'

  Rufus looked at her, suddenly very sober. 'Have you, Jo?'

  Her eyes fell. 'No. No, of course not. As I told you before, once I make a promise, I keep it.'

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The following week went by rapidly. Jo finished the first draft of her book in triumph and in the ensuing haze of euphoria made only half-hearted noises about extravagance when Rufus insisted on an antique brass bed for her room rather than the modern, far less expensive piece of furniture she'd expected. The bed was wide and handsome, its only flaw from Jo's point of view the fact that she would sleep in it alone, instead of in her husband's arms every night, like any other self-respecting bride.

  Jo described it with sparkling eyes during the family lunch that Sunday, her mother laughing when Rufus said he'd expected warfare at the shop over the price.

  'Your daughter possesses an over-developed streak of economy, Rose,' he told his future mother-in-law.

  'I'm afraid her upbringing is to blame for that,' she said ruefully.

  'You should be thanking your lucky stars for it, Rufus,' said his mother.

  George Grierson winked at Jo. 'Best not to economise over the nuptial couch, my dear! '

  The lunch party was a great success, and afterwards Rufus left his parents chatting with Rose Fielding over coffee while he took Jo for a walk before driving his parents home.
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  'I thought it best to stay with Mother this last week. I knew she wouldn't suggest it herself,' Jo added as they strolled through the parkland surrounding Willowdene Manor, 'but she was very pleased when I did.'

  'Only a week to go,' said Rufus, taking her hand. 'Any regrets?'

  Jo stopped and looked up at him very squarely. 'Qualms rather than regrets. How about you?'

  He shook his head. 'I think we'll do very well together.'

  'And baby makes three,' said Jo pensively. 'I still can't quite believe that bit.'

  'Neither can I,' said Rufus gravely, then smiled. 'But no doubt our offspring will make his—or her— presence felt soon enough. Too soon for you, probably.'

  Jo nodded philosophically, and waved at the west wing of Willowdene Manor as they approached it. 'That's Thalia's bit. You'll like her husband, Charlie. They don't get back from their holiday in Italy until Tuesday. She'll be furious she missed lunch today. If she'd been home she'd have tried bullying Mother into having it at her place.'

  'Your mother doesn't strike me as the type to give in to bullying.'

  'She isn't—which doesn't stop Thalia from trying.' Jo giggled. 'She was mad as fire because I didn't invite her along to choose the dress.'

  'Will I like it?' asked Rufus.

  'I hope so—I don't know.' Jo bit her lip in sudden anxiety. 'There's so much I don't know about you, Rufus.'

  'Nor I about you,' he agreed, unmoved. 'We'll learn as we go along.'

  'You make it sound like the easiest thing in the world!'

  Rufus stopped under the shedding leaves of a beech tree. 'Then I'm wrong. Marriage isn't easy—both partners need to work at it to make it a success.'

  'But you've been married before,' Jo said bluntly. 'I'm a novice.'

  He looked down at her, his face giving no clue to his thoughts. 'Will you take umbrage, Jocasta Fielding, if I say that my first marriage is unlikely to be of help with my second?'

  She looked away. 'I realise that. Claire was the perfect wife. And you were in love with her,' she added quietly.

  'Actually I didn't mean that at all. I meant that you are as unlike Claire as it's possible to be, so marriage with you will be correspondingly different.'

  'Claire was happy just to be your wife,' said Jo morosely. 'I'm not like that, Rufus. I'm just not the type to revel in lunchtime drinks parties and having people to dinner. She adored all that.'

  'Don't worry.' Rufus smiled. 'When we entertain I'll get someone in to cater.'

  'You don't trust my cooking, then!'

  'As a matter of fact, I do. But if you're coping with a baby and a deadline simultaneously I won't expect you to produce a cordon bleu meal as well.'

  'Good! I'm relieved.' Jo's eyes darkened. 'Your friends are bound to make comparisons.'

  'We entertained Claire's hunt crowd far more than my own particular friends,' he said, shrugging. ' "To be honest"—I quote—I would have been quite happy to eat a scratch meal in the kitchen now and then, or eat supper off a tray sometimes in front of the television. It was Claire who insisted on candles and flowers in the dining room every night.'

  'I suppose it was the way she was brought up,' said Jo sadly. 'I wasn't.'

  'That needn't worry you either. Do whatever you want, Jo. And forget the entertaining. I suggest we get used to entertaining each other for a while first.'

  'That worries me even more,' she said candidly.

  'You're afraid I'll bore you?'

  'No, that I'll bore you.'

  'Would you care if you did?' he asked with interest.

  'I'd care if I bored anyone,' she retorted, indignant as she saw his eyes were dancing. 'It may be a joke to you, Rufus Grierson—'

  'Of course it's a joke,' he said forcefully, and caught her by the elbows. 'If we run out of conversation you can read me extracts from your book, and I'll regale you with witty legal anecdotes. As a last resort we'll watch television. And after the baby comes we won't have time to bore each other. We'll be taking turns to entertain our offspring when he cries all evening.'

  'She,' contradicted Jo, laughing, as they resumed their walk. 'By the way, are you wearing a morning coat on the day, Rufus?'

  He paused as they reached the Lodge gate, his eyes narrowed. 'Would you rather I didn't?'

  Jo smiled diffidently. 'Couldn't you just wear one of your ordinary suits? Not that any of your suits look ordinary, precisely, but you know what I mean.'

  'I know exactly, Jo,' he said quietly. 'You'd rather your wedding was as different as possible from Claire's.'

  'Yes.' Her eyes met his squarely. 'Does that sound petty?'

  'No. I'm in full agreement. I'll spread the word.'

  'Thank you, Rufus.'

  Rose Fielding appeared at the Lodge door, and beckoned them in. 'Come on, you two, I've made tea.'

  When Jocasta Grierson was shown into the hotel suite that Rufus had reserved for their honeymoon she was too tired to feel the awkwardness she had been convinced would be inevitable once they were alone together as man and wife. But she was impressed, she admitted secretly as Rufus tipped the porter. The rooms were furnished with the essence of luxurious comfort, the windows overlooked Hyde Park in all its autumnal glory, and for the crowning touch Rufus had ordered champagne and flowers to make the occasion as special as he possibly could for her.

  'They wanted to throw in chocolates as well, but I declined,' he said, smiling as Jo explored.

  'Wise move,' she agreed, yawning. "Thank you very much for the rest. It's all quite wonderful—and frighteningly expensive too, I imagine.'

  'It's only for four nights,' he reminded her. 'You jibbed at a longer stay.'

  She bounced gently on one of the large beds. 'The city lights would pall if we stayed longer.' She smiled up at him. 'I'm definitely a small-town girl.'

  'Then why choose London for the honeymoon?' he demanded, loosening his tie.

  'Because in our particular circumstances London, and all it has to offer, seemed the most sensible choice.'

  'You mean that theatres and museums might prevent me from hankering after the delights normal bridegrooms expect,' said Rufus suavely.

  Jo glared at him. 'Since you mention it, yes,' she snapped, and opened her case to unpack.

  Rufus came to her swiftiy and turned her to face him. 'Pax, Jo. I was teasing. When I made the reservation I stipulated two beds, remember. But if you're that nervous I can sleep on the sofa in the other room.'

  Which was so far from what she really wanted that her lashes came down like a screen to hide her eyes. 'Of course not,' she said stiffly. 'It's just that it's been a lovely day after all, Rufus—'

  'After all?' he said quickly.

  She nodded. 'I didn't expect it to be so relaxed, I suppose. Because of Claire. But the ceremony was so quick and simple, and the lunch afterwards was such fun, I enjoyed it all far more than I'd dared hope. So don't spoil it for me now, Rufus.'

  He touched a finger to her cheek. 'I'm sorry, Jo. Look, leave the unpacking for a while—let's have some champagne.'

  Jo smiled at him hopefully. 'I'd rather have some tea.'

  'Then tea you shall have, Mrs Grierson,' he said promptly, and went over to the phone to call Room Service.

  From then on Rufus set out deliberately to be the perfect companion, beginning that evening with dinner in the hotel's famous dining room. They ate late, giving Jo the respite of a long, leisurely bath beforehand and a rest on one of the beds while Rufus watched satellite television in the other room. She slept for a while, and when she woke Rufus was dressed, ready for dinner, a drink beside him as he read the evening paper.

  Jo slid off the bed in a hurry. 'Sorry, Rufus—shan't be long.'

  He looked up from the paper with a smile. 'Take as long as you like. You look better.'

  'I feel better. I seem to need more sleep these days.'

  When Jo was bathed and made up and looking, even to her own eyes, rather stunning in her wedding dress, she rejoined Rufus and handed him a
box. 'Your wedding present.' She watched in trepidation as he opened it and drew out a gold half-hunter watch with a chain ending in a quartz and crystal fob.

  He stared at it, utterly taken aback. 'Good Lord— Jo, I don't know what to say.'

  Jo bit her lip. 'Don't you like it?'

  Rufus smiled at her with a warmth he rarely displayed. 'How could I not? It's magnificent!'

  'The provenance is in the box,' said Jo breathlessly. 'The watch dates from about 1900 and the chain a little later.'

  Rufus stripped off his wrist-watch and threaded the new chain through the buttonhole in his lapel, then inserted the watch very carefully into his top pocket. He laid the box on a table, then bent and kissed her very deliberately on the mouth. 'Thank you very much indeed, Jo. A special kiss for a very special present. I'll treasure it—keep it to hand on to our son.' He slid a hand down and patted her stomach.

  'Or daughter,' she said firmly, and he laughed.

  'Whichever.'

  The days passed quickly in visits to the British Museum and the National Gallery, to Westminster Abbey and St Paul's Cathedral. They walked in Hyde Park and did some shopping in Bond Street, saw a hit musical and a straight play, and afterwards dined late at the hotel. Jo went to bed each night too tired to lie awake longing in vain for her husband to make love to her.

  The last night before their return to Pennington, Jo refused another trip to the theatre, preferring an earlier dinner and a film afterwards on the satellite television in their suite.

  'Whatever you say,' yawned Rufus, professing himself only too pleased with the arrangement, 'in fact you can have dinner up here if you like.'

  Jo liked the idea a lot. 'My feet are hurting after all that shopping,' she confessed.

  'Then take a long, hot bath, get into your dressing gown and we'll choose something special for our last evening.' Rufus smiled at her lazily. 'Are you sorry to be heading back to life in Pennington?'

  'No, not a bit!' Jo slumped on the sofa beside him to watch the television news. 'I've got the draft of my novel to work on, remember.'

  'I've been thinking about that,' said Rufus, eyeing her. 'I know we agreed you'd use your flat for your writing, but for the time being could you work on your draft at home?'