The Second Bride (20 page)

'Rufus is taking me to the Mitre, so I can boast to all my old pals.'

'Oh, brilliant. Have a really lovely time.' Susannah smiled cajolingly. 'And please make it up with Rufus, Jo.'

Easier said than done, thought Jo later, as she got ready for the evening. By the time Rufus came home she was ready in the black cashmere dress her sisters had clubbed together to give her for Christmas. Thalia and Callie never stopped trying to improve her appearance, thought Jo affectionately as she viewed the finished result in the hall mirror, but their taste, as always, was impeccable. The dress clung flatteringly in all the right places. She fastened the gold hoops in her ears, and surveyed the result critically just as Rufus came through the front door carrying an enormous bunch of tawny roses.

They both spoke at once, then stopped, smiling at each other.

'I'll go first because I must tell you at once how beautiful you look,' said Rufus, and handed her the roses. 'For my talented wife.'

'Why, thank you, Rufus,' she said, touched.

'I brought them home at lunchtime,' he said, surprising her. 'When I found you were out I took them back again.'

'You could have left them with a note.'

'I preferred to present them in person.'

Having started on such a harmonious note, the evening was more of a success than Jo had expected, after the weeks of frosted, barely civil coexistence. Her choice of the Mitre for dinner was inspired. Because Rufus had told Phil Dexter the good news Jo was given red-carpet treatment from the moment she arrived. She was hugged, kissed and bombarded with congratulations, then served with champagne before and during dinner, which was excellent, as always at the Mitre.

'Perhaps I can get a toast in now,' said Rufus drily, when they were left to eat their main course in relative peace. He raised his glass, his eyes warm as they smiled into hers. 'To Jocasta Fielding, and the success she richly deserves.'

Jo acknowledged the toast with gratitude. 'Thank you, Rufus.' Her eyes danced suddenly. 'If I sell well enough, and Diadem want a follow-up, things could change a lot in the future.'

His face drained of animation. 'In what way?'

'I might make so much money, you could retire and be a kept
man!'
She eyed him searchingly. 'Why the poker-face, Rufus?'

'I thought you meant something quite different.'

'What, exactly?'

He abandoned his meal and leaned back in his chair, his eyes hard to read in the discreet lighting of the
Mitre's
dining room. "That you might want to leave Pennington. And me,' he added without emotion.

Jo laid down her knife and fork, aligning them on her half-full plate with
finicking
precision, keeping her eyes on the task. 'Is that what
you
want?' she asked very quietly, her words almost drowned by the buzz of general conviviality in the restaurant.

'No, I do not!' He leaned forward. 'Look at me, Jo. Let's bring this out into the open. The last few weeks have been hellish. For me, at least.'

Her eyes flashed. 'I haven't enjoyed them much either.'

'I know that.' He held out his hand, and after a moment she put hers into it. 'Jo, I know you would never have married me if I hadn't forced your hand. But until Christmas we were getting along reasonably well together.' Rufus smiled a little. 'You're very easy to live with.'

'So are you,' she admitted, and gave him a sudden, mischievous grin. 'Much to my astonishment.'

He sobered, his fingers tightening on hers. 'You haven't shown much pleasure in the arrangement lately.'

'Can you blame me?' she asked quietly.

'If you're referring to the episode at Christmas—-'

'Of course I am, but I'd rather not again. Tonight or ever,' she said flatly. She lifted her chin. 'If you want to revert to our pre-Christmas relationship, Rufus, I'm in full agreement. But you're a man, and a very attractive one, and I quite understand how difficult it is for you—'

'I doubt it,' he broke in sardonically, and raised an eyebrow, keeping tight hold of the hand she tried to pull away. 'But I'm not perfectly clear as to your drift. Are you saying you'll turn a blind eye if I satisfy my male urges elsewhere occasionally?'

Jo's eyes gleamed dangerously. 'No way. I'm saying I'll be perfectly happy to divorce you if you do.'

'Will you really? And does this code of
behaviour
work both ways?' he enquired silkily. 'How about your libidinous urges?'

'In my life they happen once in a blue moon,' she said tartly, and tugged her hand free. 'They're unlikely to pose a problem.'

'So if I agree to quell mine you're willing to stay married to me?'

It wasn't what she wanted at all, but it was a start. Perhaps in time. . . Jo nodded. 'Yes, I suppose so.'

'Any more enthusiasm like that and I'll get above myself!'

She smiled. 'But seriously, Rufus, I meant what I said. If you do want out I wouldn't be difficult about it.'

He looked at her narrowly. 'And if you want the same I assume I'm not required to be "difficult" either.'

'Exactly.' Jo spotted a waitress bearing down on them. 'I don't want anything else, Rufus. Can we go home now?'

From the night of the celebration dinner life reverted to the friendly companionship Jo and Rufus had shared before Christmas, so that Jo was in a far better
frame of mind for several reasons when they went down to
Willowdene
Lodge the following Sunday for lunch with Rose Fielding. Thalia and Charlie were there to share in the celebrations, but Callie had rung Jo previously, warm with praise, excusing herself from the family lunch due to her temporary problem with the smell and taste of any food other than breakfast cereal.

Jo and Rufus drove home in the evening afterwards, discussing Jo's visit to Diadem.

'I'll buy you a train ticket tomorrow,' said Rufus as they drank coffee later at the kitchen table.

'I still can't believe it,' said Jo dreamily. 'It's an extraordinary feeling, to know someone might actually read—and enjoy—what I've written.'

'When do
I
get to read it?' he asked, smiling at her.

'When I get the first hardback copies. I want you to believe you're reading a proper book, not just your wife's outpourings.'

'You think of yourself as my wife, then?'

Jo flushed a little and drank down the rest of her coffee. 'Well, yes, I do.' She looked up to meet his eyes. 'You find that odd?'

Rufus shook his head. 'No. I'm—gratified.'

'You always choose your words so carefully, Rufus Grierson. Don't you ever say something spontaneous off the top of your head?'

'Never,' he said promptly, and raised an eyebrow. 'By the way, what do you intend to wear on Tuesday?'

'I'd like to be all nonchalant and say I haven't thought about it, but I have,' she said sheepishly. 'Any suggestions?'

'Yes. Buy yourself a new winter coat tomorrow— and wear it over that dress.' He wagged a long finger at her.
'So far
you haven't used the credit card I sorted out for you.'

Which was deliberate on Jo's part. She'd felt so hostile towards Rufus since Christmas that she'd made sure she spent no money of his at all other than to buy food and pay Dolly.

'Right. I'll do that. Thank you,' she said, smiling at him. 'Fine feathers might boost my confidence.'

'Yours needs boosting?'

'About my looks, yes.' Jo pulled a face. 'I've always yearned to be tall and fair like—'

'Claire?' said Rufus quickly. 'It's time you put comparisons behind you.'

She looked at him levelly. 'Actually, I meant my sisters. Dad used to call me his little monkey-face and tease my mother about the milkman.' She yawned, and stood up. 'I'm for bed.'

'I am too,' said Rufus, and followed her out of the kitchen, turning off the lights behind them. 'So you'll go shopping for a coat tomorrow?' he said as they reached the door of her room.

Jo nodded. 'Not that I expect success. Coats tend to be cut with taller women in mind.'

Rufus chuckled. 'I'll take an hour off and come with you, if you like.'

'Goodness, no,' said Jo immediately. 'You'd be bored to tears. I'll enlist Susannah. She's the expert.'

'Yes, of course,' said Rufus without expression, and bent to kiss Jo's cheek, as he'd done every night since the cessation of hostilities between them. 'Goodnight.'

Jo had been in bed for some time before she hit upon something indefinable in Rufus' reaction to her refusal of his company on the shopping expedition.

He'd felt rebuffed, she thought, biting her lip. Had he
wanted
to come?

'Rufus,' she said without preamble, when he came in to say goodbye the following morning—another habit which marked the new phase in their relationship. 'I honestly thought you'd be bored by shopping for a coat. I didn't mean to offend you.'

'No, I know you didn't.' He stood looking down at her in amusement. 'Part of my reason for offering myself so nobly was as a curb on your well-known leaning towards economy.'

'What was the other part?' she asked curiously.

'I'll leave you to work that out for yourself,' he said, with his faint, maddening smile. He touched a long finger to her cheek. 'Now it's time I got to grips with Monday. See you tonight.'

Jo travelled down to London in confident mood, buoyed up by the knowledge that she looked her best in the black wool dress, worn under a thigh-length jacket in a wonderfully impractical shade of apricot which flattered her skin and looked warm in the cold light of a February day.

Susannah had been a great help, not only in suggesting clothes suited to Jo's
colouring
and lack of inches, but in following Rufus' instruction to see that his wife didn't
economise
on her choice. Fat chance, thought Jo with amusement. Susannah had steered her straight to the department which
specialised
in top designer labels, then bullied her into going the whole hog on new shoes and a bag for encore.

Jo took a taxi to the publishers, and met with a slight set-back to her newly boosted confidence. Miles Hay had gone down with flu, she was told, but one of the other editors would take care of Mrs Grierson if she wouldn't mind waiting a moment or two. Jo was taken up in a lift and shown into an office with a view over London rooftops, and after a short interval the door opened and a man strode into the room, hand outstretched.

'Sorry to keep you waiting, Mrs
Grierson
. . .' He stopped short as Jo got to her feet, his eyebrows shooting up in astonishment.
'Jo?
I can't believe it!
Are you
Jocasta Grierson?'

'Good heavens—Linus Cole!' Jo held out her hand, but Linus swept her into his arms and kissed her soundly on both cheeks.

'I never knew your name was Jocasta,' he declared, smiling all over his clever, confident face.

'It's my dark secret,' she said, beaming. 'Gosh, Linus, so you're with Diadem! I was supposed to see a man called Miles Hay.'

'My boss. Miles is on his bed of pain as we speak— though with the gorgeous Mrs Hay to comfort him flu could have its compensations.' Linus looked sleek, well dressed and very well fed, in vivid contrast to the lean, hungry student she'd known in the past. He installed her in the comfortable chair in front of his desk, then seated himself behind it, exuding pleasure in the encounter. 'Well, well. So little Jo's our budding author—and a married lady, to boot.' He eyed her appreciatively. 'You look
wonderful.''