Marriage On The Agenda

‘No idea,’ Mark said dismissively. ‘He’s sat in on most of the meetings, but I gather he’s there in some minor capacity. Secretary or PA to one of the executives, or something of the sort. Why do you want to know?’

Unwisely, she admitted, ‘I found him interesting.’

Looking at her as if she’d lost her senses, Mark echoed, ‘Interesting?’

‘He seemed unusually cool and self-possessed. Very much his own man.’

Mark snorted. ‘Though he had the infernal cheek to ask you to dance, I noticed he didn’t have the nerve to kiss you.’

‘I don’t think it was lack of nerve.’

‘Then he probably remembered his place.’

‘Remembered his place?’

‘Well, he’s definitely not in our league.’

‘I wasn’t aware we had a league.’ Her voice was as brittle as ice.

Sounding human for the first time, Mark said wryly, ‘I thought you came over to apologise, not pick a quarrel.’

‘I did. I’m sorry, Mark. Let’s not talk about Jonathan Drummond.’

‘Drummond, that’s his name. I’ll keep an eye on him from now on.’

‘What do you mean by “keep an eye on him”?’

‘Just that. It strikes me he could get too big for his boots.’

Well aware that Mark could be quite petty if he took a dislike to anyone, Loris wished she’d said nothing about Jonathan Drummond.

Wanting to change the subject, she asked lightly, ‘So, now I’ve apologised for being late, are we friends again?’

Ignoring the question, he went off at a tangent. ‘You do realise that when we’re married you’re going to have to give up this ridiculous job. I refuse to have my wife working all hours.’

‘I won’t be working all hours.’

‘You are at the moment.’

‘Only because I have to pay an exorbitant rent for my flat.’

‘You could have gone on living at home.’

‘I didn’t want to.’ Her desire to be independent had made her move as soon as she was able to support herself.

She made an effort to placate him. ‘Once we’re married the financial pressure will ease and I’ll be able to choose just a few special clients.’

‘When we’re married you won’t need any clients.’

‘But I want to work.’

‘I flatly refuse to let any wife of mine go about telling other people how to decorate their homes. It reflects badly on me. You must see that.’

‘But what will I do all day?’

‘Whatever it is that other rich men’s wives do.’

Loris, who was about to argue, thought better of it. ‘Well, I’m sure we don’t need to discuss it just at the moment.’

‘No, there are more important things to sort out.’ He put an arm around her waist.

‘Such as what?’

Bending his head, he said in her ear, ‘I’ve had more than enough of your stalling. I want you to sleep with me tonight.’

‘But we’re at Monkswood.’

‘All the rooms have a double bed. Either you come to me, or let me come to you.’

‘No. I couldn’t. Not in my parents’ house.’

‘Don’t be an idiot, Loris. They need never know if you don’t want them to. And even if we shared a room openly I know your father wouldn’t mind. After all, we are going to be married. Oh, come on! You’re living in the twenty-first century, not Victorian times.’

‘Yes, I know, but I still don’t feel comfortable about it.’

‘Then come back to my flat with me now, and we’ll go on to Monkswood afterwards.’

About to make the excuse that she wasn’t in the right mood, she hesitated. Perhaps it was time she cut herself free from the past.

With today’s sexual freedom there was little real justification for holding back, and Mark was clearly getting to the end of his patience.

She had opened her mouth to agree when he muttered angrily, ‘Look, Loris, I’m warning you. This time I don’t intend to take no for an answer.’

Hating to be pressured in this way, she felt her temper flare, and she snapped, ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to.’

Perhaps if he’d used his not inconsiderable charm, he might have succeeded in talking her round, but, in a mood for confrontation rather than conciliation, he threw down the gauntlet. ‘Damn it, if you won’t come back to my flat with me, I know someone who will.’

‘I suppose you mean Pamela?’

His smile was an unpleasant combination of smugness and threat. ‘She’ll come like a shot, and I might just ask her.’

‘Why don’t you?’ Loris said coldly, and, chin held high, stalked away.

Going to the Ladies’ Cloakroom, she sat on one of the pink velvet chairs, staring blindly into the gilt-edged mirror while a trickle of women began to collect their coats.

The St Valentine’s party was almost over, and as far as she was concerned the whole thing had been a total disaster. Had she known what trouble her being late would cause she would have cancelled her appointment, even if it had meant losing a client.

As it was, she’d displeased her father, made Jonathan Drummond think badly of her and, on this special night for lovers, thoroughly upset Mark.