Stand-In Mistress

Feeling somewhat more cheerful, Joanne went back to preparing the meal.

Everything was in the stove, and she had just started to set the table when a most unwelcome thought presented itself. Brad Lancing had said Somersby’s at seven-thirty…If no one turned up, would he ring again to find out why?

Her blood ran cold. That could prove disastrous.

At seven-thirty they would still be sitting down to their meal, and, expecting him to ring, Milly would hardly hold back and let her sister fob him off.

Well, there was only one thing for it, Joanne decided; she would have to keep the appointment. At least it would give her a chance to tell him to his face just what she thought of men like him…

She heard the sound of the front door closing, and footsteps crossing the hall. A moment later Steve and his fiancée appeared in the doorway.

An inch or so under six feet, and slimly built, Steve was dark-haired and blue-eyed. With a thin, intelligent face and good features, he just missed out on being handsome.

But he was so genuinely nice that Joanne had often wondered why he hadn’t been snapped up. Except he worked so hard that, until a few months ago, there had been no time for a woman in his life.

Then Lisa, small and blonde and as sweet as she was pretty, had come to work for him.

It had been love at first sight, and now with a baby on the way—unplanned, they had admitted sheepishly, but very much wanted—they were busy making arrangements for a late-October wedding.

Sniffing appreciatively, Steve said, ‘Something smells good.’ Then with undisguised eagerness, ‘How did things go with Liam Peters?’

‘Monday morning, first thing, you can send in the troops.’

He gave a whoop of joy and, seizing hold of her, whirled her round until she was breathless.

‘Looks as if you’ve had some good news,’ Duncan remarked as he and Milly joined them.

‘You’re not wrong…And we’re going to have a real celebration! There should be a couple of bottles of bubbly somewhere.’

‘It’s already in the fridge,’ Joanne said.

‘Clever girl!’ Taking a bottle, Steve eased out the cork, poured the wine and, having handed a glass to each of the others, raised his own in salute.

‘Here’s to us, and particularly Jo, who’s managed to swing the deal with Liam Peters, as well as finding time to take care of us all and cook some marvellous meals.’

There was a little burst of cheering, and they all drank. The bubbles made Milly sneeze, and then laugh.

Drawing a deep breath, Joanne took the plunge. ‘I hope it’s a marvellous meal tonight. I’m sorry to say I won’t be here to share it.’

Seeing the surprise on all their faces, she added hurriedly, ‘Trevor forgot it was tonight Milly and Duncan were leaving for Scotland, and he booked expensive seats at a special concert he knew I particularly wanted to go to.’

Perhaps the explanation was a little fulsome, but it was the truth, as far as it went.

What she failed to add was that, on discovering what he’d done, she had paid for her ticket—Trevor wasn’t one to waste money—and suggested that he take his mother instead.

Milly, clearly disappointed, moved closer to her fair-haired husband, who put his arm around her.

Please God, things would work out, Joanne thought, watching them together. Milly was too young to mess up her life.

‘Well, if you won’t be here on our last night,’ Duncan said cheerfully, ‘we shall expect you to be our first visitor when we get settled in.’

‘Done!’

‘Lisa’s staying over,’ Steve said; as he opened the second bottle of wine, ‘so I won’t need to turn out to drive her home…’

Afraid of being late in case Brad Lancing was the impatient sort who might call to see where she’d got to, Joanne left the others talking, and, having rung for a taxi, slipped upstairs to shower and change.

Needing to keep up the pretence of her concert-going, she put on her best silk suit, made up with care, fastened pearl studs onto her neat lobes, and swept her dark hair into an elegant chignon.

When she came down again, Duncan whistled, and Milly nodded approvingly. ‘Not bad. Though I have to say it’s wasted on Trevor.’

Then a little tremulously, ‘Well, I guess we’ll be gone before you get back…’

So she had decided to go. Joanne said a silent prayer of thanks.

With her emotions running high, and feeling the prick of tears behind her eyes, she hugged her sister and brother-in-law and said as brightly as possible, ‘Have a good journey…And as soon as you’re ready for visitors, let me know.’

‘Will do,’ Duncan assured her.

The doorbell announced the arrival of the taxi, and after more quick hugs all round, Joanne said, ‘Well, enjoy your meal,’ and fled before she could disgrace herself by crying.

Somersby’s proved to be a select and stylish restaurant above an art gallery. The taxi dropped Joanne at the awninged entrance, and, her heart beating fast, she climbed a flight of red-carpeted stairs.

At the top, a uniformed attendant was waiting to open the heavy glass doors for her.

As she crossed the luxurious foyer she went over in her mind all the things she intended to say to Brad Lancing. When she had, hopefully, made him squirm, she would walk out.

No, that wasn’t the way to do it. It would be almost three hours before Milly and Duncan started for the station, and in that time, left to his own devices, Lancing might phone and throw a spanner in the works.

She just couldn’t chance it. Somehow she needed to keep him occupied until Milly was safely on the train.

But how?

That still undecided, Joanne found herself facing another dilemma. She had no idea what he looked like. She pictured him as floridly handsome, with bold eyes and a sensual mouth. Possibly even a moustache.

Apart from Duncan, who was good-looking in a boyish, wholesome way, she and Milly had never shared the same taste in men, Milly tending to go for the more blatantly sexual.

Oh, well, if she just walked in, hopefully there wouldn’t be too many men sitting alone waiting for their dates. But it was only seven-twenty-five; suppose he hadn’t yet arrived?

As she hesitated in the doorway, the maître d’ appeared at her elbow. ‘Good evening, madam.’

‘Good evening. I’m joining a Mr Lancing.’

Inclining his head, he murmured, ‘If you’ll come this way?’

Rehearsing in her mind what she was going to say, Joanne followed as he led the way to a small, secluded table in an alcove, where a man with thick dark hair was sitting.

He glanced up at their approach, and then rose politely to his feet.