Don't Marry Thomas Clark (18 page)

I haven't heard a word. All I can think about is the scent of his aftershave and the warmth of his body on my back.

I turn slightly to look into his eyes, only to find myself an inch away from his mouth, and, with trembling hands and suddenly out of breath, I'm hurled back in time to almost eleven years ago.

‘I'm sorry, but I'm starting to feel sleepy…'

‘Sandy, be reasonable,' he urges in a gruff voice.

‘Scared?'

‘Of you? Am I hell!'

‘That's not how it seems,' I say, giving him a challenging look.

‘It this a declaration of war?'

‘I think it might be,' I admit, tilting my head slightly. A lock of my hair slips out from under my hairgrip, and his hand glides over my face and moves it out of the way, his fingertips brushing my skin gently.

‘Enemies again?' he asks, while that delicate gesture turns into a caress which glides lightly across my cheek.

‘As you see, some things are destined never to change,' I reply, and stop him before he can get to my lips.

No resistance. He moves back a few steps and allows me to escape his embrace. My legs are trembling, my heart pounding, but I won't give him the satisfaction of realizing just how powerfully he's managed to affect me.

When I reach the door, I turn and look at him one last time, and right at that moment a bulldog pup slips between my legs. He wags his tail cheerfully showing me his latest prey: a man's slipper, completely covered in canine dribble.

As soon as he sees it, Thomas's eyes open wide, but before he can start hurling insults, I seductively whisper, ‘Oh, darling –
this
is Rudy. He's our engagement gift from Aunt Polly. She was going to give us a silver centrepiece, but I talked her out of it by reminding her how much you love animals. I warn you: he hates sleeping alone, he hates cats and he isn't properly housetrained yet – so if he sleeps with you, watch where you put your feet when you get out of bed. I'll let you two get to know each other. Sweet dreams.'

Predictably, it doesn't take Thomas long to start fighting back.

At six o'clock one morning a few days later, I'm awakened by the loud noise of what, looking out of the window, I discover is a cleaning business, and I find out soon after that it has been called to tidy up the estate in preparation for the engagement party that he has decided to organize to officially introduce me to his family and his closest friends – a total of two hundred and twenty hoity-toity guests I won't have anything in common with.

Well, as they say, live by the sword…

I climb out of bed in a daze and throw myself into the shower, hoping it'll wake me up, but just as I finish soaping myself the water dwindles from a powerful jet to a limp trickle and then stops altogether, leaving me standing there staring at the shower head, whispering, ‘No. Not now.
Not now
!'

I fiddle manically with the controls. Nothing doing – it's completely dead!

Still soaking wet, I wrap myself in a towel and leave the room, hoping to meet Clementine or one of the estate's housemaids. The staff that have been booked for the occasion, though, are completely unfamiliar to me and the only one I find in the hallway keeps on shaking a noisy vacuum cleaner and repeating, ‘No understand.'

Gripped by a terrible suspicion, I rush into Thomas's room, opening the door without even knocking. He's standing there next to the wardrobe, listlessly doing up a white shirt. The sight of his naked torso momentarily shakes my resolve and stirs my libido, but I recover as soon as I realize that he's staring at me insistently.

‘Have you come with a proposal for a ceasefire?' he asks, his lips twisted in a smirk.

‘There's no water!' I shout, leaving little room for any misunderstanding.

‘What, didn't they tell you?' he asks in astonishment.

‘Tell me what?'

‘Remember the problem with the pipes? Well I decided to take advantage of the hole to have an automatic irrigation system put in. We won't have any water until this afternoon.'

‘What? Are you joking?'

‘No.'

‘And what about me? What the hell am I going to do? Look at me! I'm covered in soap!'

He gazes at me absently.

‘Thomas, my eyes are up here!' I shout, my face purple with rage.

‘Wait a minute,' he snorts, and walks into his bathroom, re-emerging shortly after with a large transparent container filled with some yellowish liquid.

‘They left me a couple of these before starting work. There's nothing else I can do, I'm afraid. I'm sorry, but if you're careful, it might be enough,' he surmises, dumping it in my arms with total indifference. Free of his burden, he walks past me and disappears down the hallway, doing up his collar as he goes.

‘Do you think I'm going to wash myself with
this
? Are you crazy?'

‘Come on boy,' I hear him calling from halfway down the corridor, and from under the bed out bounds Rudy and trots cheerfully after him, one of my tennis shoes in his mouth.

The little turncoat!

‘Rudy, give that back to me immediately!' I shout, venting all the irritation I've been accumulating since I woke up, and the dog, startled by my reaction, seeks refuge with Thomas, who takes him in his arms and begins to stroke him, pulling out the shoe and throwing it to the ground.

‘You shouldn't blame him. I think he's teething,' he scolds me. ‘Don't worry, Rudy Boy, I'll protect you from the evil witch. It's time for din dins! I think I saw a juicy pair of ballerinas near the fireplace.'

‘Another sandwich, Miss Price?' asks one of the waiters asks, walking over to me.

‘Just leave the tray!' I snap, and carry on shamelessly gorging myself.

Counts, countesses and barons accompanied by half-naked starlets, entrepreneurs and half of the Clark dynasty parade past me, while Thomas, in his impeccable smoking jacket, mingles with the guests like the perfect host, warmly thanking anyone who congratulates him on the happy event and listening with resignation to those who don't consider it impolite to express their concerns about our union and pull him aside to encourage him to break it off while there's still time.

And what am
I
doing? Well, I'm pretty much just standing there watching…

My presence is entirely superfluous, and my point of view blatantly unnecessary.

I stuff myself with sandwiches, knock back the champagne and curse the will, the Clarks and every single penny I had to shell out for the evening dress. Wondering how long it will take them to realize that I'm missing, I try to stay out of the way – for the moment no one seems to have noticed, and I'm hoping it stays that way until we're supposed to exchange wedding rings.

‘Miss Price!' says an astonished Clementine, making me jump. ‘What are you doing behind the curtain?'

‘Letting my survival instincts guide me.'

‘What do you mean?' she laughs. ‘Come on, come out of there. Everyone will be waiting.'

‘I'm not so sure about that,' I reply sceptically. ‘Now get away, or everyone will notice me,' and I gesture for her to go away.

‘But Miss Price, you can't seriously be thinking about spending the whole evening here?'

‘Would that be a problem? I have an aversion to aristocrats.'

‘But it's your engagement party! Just think about poor Mr. Clark. He's so sensitive. He'll feel abandoned.'

‘I'm sure he'll survive.'

‘Now you're being unfair. Just today he was telling Mr. Hill how happy he was to finally have you with him in Garden House.'

‘Really? He said that?'

‘I swear! I don't want to meddle in your business, but I'd just come into the study to serve his tea and I couldn't help but hear part of the conversation. You should have been there! He was so passionate!' she sighs. ‘He started talking about the days when his parents were still alive. His pain over the sudden loss of his family. Loneliness. Resignation…' she recalls gesturing. ‘And then…'

She blinks excitedly.

Oh God – I don't know if I want to hear the rest.

‘And then he started talking about your relationship, what it means for him to have you at his side again,' and she fans herself with one hand, trying to keep her emotions in check. ‘When he said he finally felt hope surging again within himself and that…' she falters and stops.

‘There, there, come on,' I comfort her. ‘You can do it.'

‘I don't think I'd ever heard such beautiful words,' she confesses blissfully. ‘I was so moved for him, for you… Oh… It was… Even Mr. Hill was moved and couldn't help hugging him. And then he… he… he cried!' she concludes with her eyes closed. ‘It was a very touching moment, Miss Price. I've never seen him so much in love. Never, I swear!' and she puts her hand on her heart. ‘Don't tell him I told you,' she begs me, worriedly. ‘I know he'd never want to put any pressure on you, but I couldn't not tell you. No. You need to know what a wonderful person you're going to marry.'

The bastard! The low-down cheating bastard! He
cried
. Would you believe it? He cried! And he waited for the maid to be there too, knowing full well that she'd tell all the rest of the staff!

My anger begins to mount until I feel like I'm about to have a stroke.

‘Clementine, are you
sure
that Cameron Hill was here today? I don't think I saw him.'

‘Absolutely sure, Miss Price. He arrived shortly after you'd gone out. But don't worry, Mr. Thomas apologized for your absence, and he explained that you're often away due to the bistro that you're opening with your friends. He was so understanding. Times might have changed, yes, but not everyone would happily accept their partner spending so much of their time away from home. He must love you very much.'

‘He apologized for me?'

‘Sure!'

‘Because I'm always away, right?'

Just to avoid misunderstandings about the motive for my next murder.

‘Well, no, he didn't put it exactly like that, but…'

‘He didn't put it exactly like that. Of course not,' I say to myself, scanning the crowd with furious eyes.

‘No, honest, he didn't! He was so happy for you and your career.'

‘Really?' I laugh scornfully.

‘Of course! He said it himself. I imagine that's why he invited him over here tonight. Especially because he was so sorry for not having had a chance to say hello. It was nice of Mr Clark to ask him to come, wasn't it? But he didn't want to disturb you. Seeing he's neither a relative nor a family friend… He thought he was in the way. It's understandable. But Mr Clark insisted. Just think, he told him that he owed all his happiness to you. After a comment like that, how could he refuse?'

I lose the thread in the flow of words and have to ask her, ‘Who? Who are you talking about? Who did he invite?'

‘Mr. Hill!'

‘What? He invited him? Here? Tonight?'

Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.

‘Of course! He wanted him to share this joyful moment with him.'

‘What a sweet thought…'

Have I got any Gaviscon with me?

‘Wasn't it? I thought so too. Even more reason, Miss Price, why you should come out from behind that ficus plant. I'm sure he'd be upset by your absence.'

‘And we don't want him to be upset, Clementine, do we?' I say, faking a big smile and realizing that I have no choice. If I leave him to it, God knows
what
he might get up to!

Taking a deep breath, I summon up all my dignity and self-control and prepare for battle.

The first thing I do after emerging from my hiding place is seek the treacherous conspirator in the crowd. I spot him almost immediately, parked there by the balcony, amiably chatting away with an elderly couple.

‘Darling,' I say, joining him. ‘I couldn't find you.'

At the sight of me, he stiffens. He didn't expect me to come out of hiding – he knows all too well how much I hate his world.

‘Did you miss me?' I ask him mischievously, standing on my tiptoes and kissing him on the cheek.

‘Immensely,' he says with difficulty, preferring to direct his attentions elsewhere and indicating the elderly gent dripping with medals to whom he was talking.

‘You haven't met Lord Mitchell and his wife, Mrs Mary Cathleen Mitchell yet, have you?'

‘Delighted,' I reply, holding out a hand in greeting.

The first to answer is Lord Mitchell, who looks at me admiringly and lavishes a kiss on my hand before whispering, ‘Enchanted, I'm sure!'

Much less forthcoming but nonetheless polite is Mary Cathleen Mitchell, who simply gives a shy nod and looks immediately for her husband's approval.

‘Let me express my best wishes. Sir Roger waited a long time for this moment. He would certainly have wished to be present at the announcement of your engagement.'

‘Thank you, Brendan,' replies Thomas, using a familiar tone that suggests they are particularly close. ‘Yes, I agree. That's why we chose to come back to Garden House. It's as if he were here with us.'

Lord Mitchell nods, twisting his moustache between his fingers.

‘I think uncle Chester and his wife Josephine have arrived,' resumes Thomas, looking to the other side of the room. ‘Forgive me, I must just pop over and greet them.' And he walks away, dragging me with him and barely giving me time to say goodbye.

‘Why are you in such a hurry?' I whisper in his ear, trying to keep up.

‘I'm not, but I enjoy watching you staggering about in high heels,' he replies, an angelic expression on his face.

‘Well just think how much you're going to enjoy watching me stagger down the aisle of the church, then!' I hiss wickedly, bringing him to an impromptu stop. ‘Come on, we don't want to keep uncle Chester waiting, do we?' and I set off again towards the buffet, where the uncle in question is waiting impatiently for us in the company of his wife.