Christmas At Pemberley: And the Bride Wore Prada

‘It scares the hell out of me,’ he admitted. ‘Imagining myself as a father? It’s inconceivable. But after thinking it over, I realized that we’ll figure it out together, you and me.’

‘Of course we will,’ Natalie agreed. ‘Just imagine a little Natalie or Rhys running around in a few years’ time. It’ll be fun!’

‘Dear God,’ he muttered. ‘Baby clothes. Prams and cribs. Nappies.’

‘Rhys!’

‘Never mind all that, I’m sure we’ll manage very well with little Natalie or Rhys. More importantly ‒ how are you feeling, darling?’ he asked as he came up the stairs and drew her into his arms, his face etched with concern.

‘Much better,’ she answered truthfully, and smiled as she relaxed into his embrace, ‘now.’

Chapter 22 (#ulink_589baab6-a01f-5d76-a22c-8a61346765ba)

‘Would you look at this!’

Gemma flung herself into a seat next to Dominic at breakfast the next morning and held up her mobile phone in disgust.

With a scowl – he hadn’t yet had his coffee and was in a foul mood – Dominic let out an audible sigh. ‘What is it now, Gems? If it’s anything to do with all this wedding crap, I can tell you right now ‒ I’m not bloody interested.’

‘Yes, it’s to do with “all this wedding crap”, as you so rudely put it,’ Gemma snapped. ‘The London Probe’s just posted about our wedding – to 165,000 followers.’

‘Isn’t that what you want?’

‘No! Not when it spoils our secret. Go on, look!’

Grumbling, he snatched the mobile she waved at him and squinted at the screen. ‘Will Christmas wedding bells be ringing soon for randy rocker Dominic Heath & his fiancée, Gemma?’’

He shrugged and handed the phone back. ‘So? I’ve been called worse things than a “randy rocker” before.’

‘Not that, you idiot ‒ the wedding! Now everyone in London will know we’re getting married at Christmas! They already know we’re here in Scotland. It’s only a matter of time before the paps show up at Northton Grange and ruin everything!’

‘Nah, they’ll never make it up there. There’s too much snow on the ground,’ he scoffed. ‘And more snow’s coming in this afternoon.’

‘Did I hear you say there’s more snow on the way?’ Helen enquired as she entered the dining room.

‘Another foot,’ Dominic confirmed. ‘No wonder I never come up here in winter. Not only is it bloody cold – it never stops snowing. Fucking Scotland.’

‘How did the Probe find out about our wedding?’ Gemma fumed. ‘That’s what I want to know.’

Helen, who’d gone to get herself a cup of coffee from the urn on the sideboard, froze. ‘The Probe, did you say? Not that awful tabloid?’

‘Yes, the bastards. They’ve just posted our plans for a Christmas wedding!’

‘Oh, dear,’ Helen murmured, her thoughts racing. ‘How could they possibly have known?’

Tom. It had to be Tom. He must’ve leaked word to one of the IT chaps. But why would he do that? He knew this was my shot at an exclusive story.

‘Exactly what I want to know,’ Gemma agreed. ‘I certainly didn’t tell them.’

‘They didn’t mention where the wedding’s to take place, did they?’ Helen asked.

If they did, she thought, my scoop will be a scoop no longer. Every entertainment reporter and pap in the UK will make their way to Northton Grange.

‘No. But it won’t take them long to work it out,’ Gemma grumbled. ‘The press already know we’re in Scotland, and they know Dom has a place in Northton Grange. They’ll put two and two together, and our secret wedding will be ruined!’

‘Perhaps not,’ Helen said, and a thoughtful expression settled on her face as she returned to her seat and set her cup down.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Don’t have the wedding at Northton Grange,’ she suggested. ‘Have it here at Draemar instead.’

‘Here?’ Gemma said doubtfully. ‘At the castle? But my gown’s already been shipped to Northton G. And I don’t think the Campbells will want the bother of a wedding. After all, I’m not family.’

‘I’m sure they won’t mind. Draemar will make a truly romantic setting, don’t you think?’ she added, warming to the subject. ‘And if the weather forecast holds, and we get another foot of snow before Christmas, you might have no choice but to have your wedding here.’

Besides which, Helen mused, having the wedding at Draemar would ensure she was here for the nuptials and the exclusive photographs – and would scupper anyone else’s plans to snatch the story away from her.

‘Good morning, everyone!’

Natalie, her face wreathed in smiles, entered the dining room with Rhys.

‘Why are you so bloody cheery?’ Dom asked as he glanced up and scowled. ‘It’s annoying.’

‘Should we tell everyone why I’m so happy, Rhys?’ Natalie enquired as she took the seat he held out for her.

‘Tell everyone what?’ Wren asked with interest as she and Tarquin came in behind them.

‘Yes, what is it?’ Gemma asked as she set her mobile phone aside.

‘What’s up, Natalie?’ Dominic demanded. ‘You’re practically glowing, you’re so happy, and—’ He broke off and his jaw slackened. ‘Shit. Don’t tell me—’

‘Right, then,’ Natalie laughed, ‘I won’t tell you. I won’t tell you,’ she took a deep breath and smiled over at her husband ‘that I’m pregnant. Rhys and I are expecting a baby.’

‘Oh, Nat – that’s wonderful!’ Gemma exclaimed, playing along as if she didn’t already know. She thrust her chair back and threw her arms around her friend. ‘I’m so incredibly happy for you!’ She turned to Rhys. ‘And for you too, Rhys.’

He lifted a brow. ‘Thanks. I’m still adjusting to the idea.’

Amid the squeals of the women and the general furore of excitement that Natalie’s news had unleashed, Wren stood up suddenly. ‘I’m so very pleased for you, Natalie,’ she murmured. ‘So very pleased…’

With a small cry of anguish, she burst into tears and ran, sobbing, out of the dining room, leaving a circle of shocked faces behind.

Chapter 23 (#ulink_db088fc2-669c-5174-bf3d-173f03261da6)

‘Oh, poor Wren,’ Natalie said in dismay, and pushed herself to her feet. ‘How thoughtless of me. I’ll just go upstairs and see if she’s all right—’

‘No.’ Tarquin was already halfway to the door. Although his face was a study in turmoil, he spoke firmly. ‘I know you mean well, Natalie, but I think it best if you just...leave things, for the moment.’

‘Yes. Yes, of course,’ she murmured, and sank back down in her seat, abashed. ‘I’m so sorry...’