Save The Date!: The Rebel and the Heiress / Not Just a Convenient Marriage / Crown Prince, Pregnant Bride

‘We were just kids, Nell. None of it was your fault.’

That wasn’t true. ‘I still feel badly about it.’

He reached out and for a moment she thought he meant to take her hand; at the last moment he pulled his hand back. ‘I wish you wouldn’t.’

He hadn’t touched her but warmth threaded through his eyes. His mouth had lost its hard edge, replaced with a gentle sensuality that threatened to weave her under its spell. She knew in her bones that Rick would know how to kiss a woman and mean it.

It took all her strength to suppress the thrill that rippled through her. She fumbled to find the thread of their conversation again. ‘The police labelled you a thief and a liar,’ she forced herself to say. ‘They thought you bullied me into handing the locket over. Those labels stuck.’

‘Not my fault, Nell. And not yours.’

Because he seemed to want her to, she nodded.

‘Anything else?’

‘John,’ she sighed. ‘I can’t help feeling he’d want me to help you and...I don’t owe him, but he was kind to me.’

He shot back in his chair, his eyes cold.

Her heart thumped. ‘I’m not trying to justify his behaviour to you. That’s shocking and unforgivable.’ But Rick would never have found the marigold tin without her help and what if there was further nonsense to be endured during the solicitor’s appointment?

All of the hard angles had shot back into Rick’s face. A lazy devil’s smile hovered about his mouth, but it didn’t reach his eyes. She pulled herself up, lifted her chin and gave the most speaking shrug in her armoury. ‘Of course, if you’d prefer I didn’t attend the appointment on Wednesday, obviously I won’t.’ She reached for her glass and took a sip, pretending it was something French and priceless.

Just like that, Rick laughed and the devil leached out of him. ‘What a pair we are.’

‘What are you talking about?’

He dismissed that with a flick of his fingers. ‘If you think it’ll make the meeting more profitable then I’d appreciate your presence.’

She took another sip, glad this time that it was just plain old Chardonnay. ‘Okay.’

‘What’s more, I’ll thank you in advance and mean it. Thank you, Nell.’

‘You’re welcome.’

‘This, however—’ he lifted his glass and drained the last mouthful ‘—is awful.’

She feigned outrage, but he only grinned. ‘I know where Garside’s office is. It’s on the high street, right?’ She nodded. ‘Would you like to grab a coffee beforehand?’

‘Oh.’ Her face fell. ‘That’s a really nice idea, Rick, but—’

‘You have other plans. No sweat.’ He rose as if it were of no consequence. She wished it felt that way to her. Coffee invitations had been few and far between these last few months. ‘I’ll see you out the front at three-twenty-five.’

She rose too. ‘Right.’

* * *

‘Correct me if I’m wrong, Nell... You don’t mind if I call you Nell, do you?’

Nell suppressed a shudder at the wet smile Clint Garside turned on her. ‘Not at all.’

‘I was under the impression that the business you wished to discuss concerned yourself.’

She forced her eyes wide. ‘Oh, but it does, Mr Garside. It’s just before we get to that I was hoping we’d be able to clear up this little matter for Mr Bradford and my family’s former employee, the late Mr John Cox. It’s been such a weight on my mind.’

‘Well...of course, of course.’

He smoothed his hair back and sent her another greasy smile. He barely glanced at Rick. She’d forgive him the smarminess, but she wouldn’t forgive him for ignoring Rick. He had no right to his snobbery. He had no right thinking he was better than Rick.

‘You have to understand, however, that it may take my staff and I some time to locate the file. It’s an older case and I’m sure you appreciate—’

‘Oh, I do hope not.’ Nell crossed her leg and smoothed a hand down the bodice of her dress. ‘Once that document is found I was hoping to discuss the possibility of selling Whittaker House with you. I wanted to know if you’d be interested in handling the conveyancing of the property for me?’

She traced fingers along the V-neck of her dress, drawing the solicitor’s eyes there, and she could’ve sworn that beside her Rick was trying not to laugh. She didn’t dare glance at him for fear that a fit of giggles might overtake her.

She tossed her hair back and assumed the most superior posture she could. ‘Of course, I couldn’t possibly consider that while I have loose ends like this one hanging over my head.’ She sighed and made to rise. ‘Perhaps you’ll be so kind as to call me once you’ve found the relevant documentation and then we can take it from there.’

‘Oh, please sit, Nell. Let’s not be too hasty.’ Clint Garside rushed around the desk and urged Nell back into her seat. ‘Let me just have a quick look to see if they’re near at hand after all.’

‘Why, of course.’ She beamed at him. ‘I can’t tell you how much I appreciate all the trouble you’re taking.’

Rick snorted. Clint glanced at him sharply and Nell reached out to touch the solicitor’s arm and recapture his attention before elbowing Rick in the ribs. ‘The file?’ she reminded him gently.

‘Oh, yes.’ He was all smarmy smiles again. He patted her hand before trotting over to a filing cabinet on the other side of the room. Ugh! Behind his back, she wiped her hand down her skirt. The man had a touch like a dead fish.

‘Bingo!’ Clint turned with another wide, wet smile and held a file aloft. And for no reason at all her heart started to hammer. Was this the moment Rick would discover the identity of his sibling?

‘So...’ Clint sat across from her at his desk again, the file closed in front of him ‘...about Whittaker House...’

Beside her, she could feel Rick bunch up with tension. ‘Yes, it’s such a responsibility owning a house like that, but...’ She gave a delicate little cough and glanced sideways to indicate Rick. ‘Perhaps we can take care of this matter first and then...talk in private?’

His eyes gleamed. ‘Why yes, of course.’

He opened the file and glanced at what she supposed must be John’s instructions. ‘There’s nothing too difficult here. The late Mr Cox left a letter for Mr Rick Bradford should Mr Bradford ever come to collect it. The letter will need to be signed for, of course.’

‘Of course,’ she echoed.

‘But, before that can happen, Mr Bradford has to provide a password.’

The air left her in a rush. Her entire body slumped like a deflated balloon before she had the foresight to shake herself upright again. She turned to Rick, trying to swallow her panic. A password?

‘You will only get one chance, Mr Bradford.’

Acid burned her throat. ‘Oh, Rick...’

He merely grinned at her, those dark eyes dancing. ‘Don’t sweat it, Princess.’ He turned to the solicitor. ‘The password will be Marigold.’

‘That’s correct.’