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His Blackmailed Bride

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2018
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‘Mr and Mrs Fowler have asked us to their house for coffee, dear,’ her mother said. ‘I’ll just get your father and we’ll meet you out front.’

Alan smiled as Paige’s mother bustled away. ‘You’re going to get coffee and cake and the whole Fowler clan,’ he said teasingly. ‘Aunt Dorothy wants to meet you. And Uncle Sam. And what looks like an endless line of cousins.’ He bent and kissed her. ‘I’m glad your mother found you, sweetheart. We don’t want to disappoint them, do we?’

‘No, of course not.’

She gave him a quick smile as he clasped her hand in his and led her through the clubhouse to the front portico. How long would the man on the beach wait for her? she wondered. Five minutes? Ten? Would he be disappointed or angry or…

‘Here we are, children. Alan, why don’t you ask the attendant to get the car?’ Her mother took her aside as Alan and her father stepped towards the kerb. ‘Stop worrying,’ she whispered. ‘It’s just last-minute nerves, that’s all. Three days from now, when you’re Mrs Alan Fowler, you’ll remember how you felt tonight and you’ll laugh.’

Paige nodded and murmured something appropriate. But as she stepped into her fiancе’s car and let the commitments and obligations of her new life swallow her, she knew that her mother was wrong.

She would remember this night, but she would never laugh. The memories of it would be too bittersweet.

But then, fantasy often was.

CHAPTER THREE (#u23138a60-e686-5fcf-af82-74e1ee7bb3e5)

‘PAIGE? Paige, have you seen that spray of silk baby’s breath I was going to sew on to your headdress?’

Paige, who had been rummaging in her wardrobe for the mate to the silver pump she held in her hand, sat back on her heels and sighed.

‘No, Mother,’ she called. ‘But I wouldn’t worry about it. The headdress looks lovely just as it is.’

Janet Gardiner stepped into her daughter’s room and poked through the lacy garments strewn across the dresser.

‘Did I mix it into this lingerie by mistake?’ she muttered, and then she sighed and answered her own question. ‘No, there’s nothing here but lingerie for your trousseau.’ The older woman looked at her daughter. ‘Haven’t you finished packing, dear? The wedding’s tomorrow, and you and Alan will have to leave for the airport by five, the latest.’

Paige rose to her feet. ‘There’s plenty of time, Mother. I’ll do the rest tonight, after we get back from the rehearsal dinner.’ A frown creased her forehead. ‘If we get to it in the first place,’ she said, tossing the silver shoe on the bed. ‘I can’t find the mate to this anywhere.’

‘Isn’t that… yes, there it is,’ her mother said, plucking the missing pump from the floor. She looked around the room, smiling at the open suitcases and wardrobes. ‘I’m going to miss all this,’ she said softly.

Paige laughed as she slipped the shoes on her feet. ‘Miss this mess? Come on, Mother. I know you—you can hardly wait to get at this room and clean it.’

Janet Gardiner smiled. ‘You know what I mean, dear. I’m going to miss opening the door and finding you here.’ She watched as her daughter smoothed down the skirt of her long blue dress and peered critically at her reflection in the mirror. ‘It’s hard to believe you’ll be Mrs Alan Fowler by this time tomorrow.’

For a fragile moment, Paige’s features clouded, and then she returned her mother’s smile.

‘Look on the bright side, Mother. You’ll be able to turn my bedroom back into a guest room again.’

The older woman laughed. ‘It was never anything but your bedroom, Paige, even when you lived in New York City.’ She started from the room, then turned and popped her head into the doorway. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked softly.

Paige nodded. There was a sudden lump in her throat, and she didn’t trust herself to try and say anything in return. Instead, she smiled and blew a kiss to her mother, and then she turned away, snatched up the stack of lingerie from the dresser, and put it into one of the open suitcases. When she glanced up again, her mother was gone.

The tremulous smile faded and she sank to the edge of the bed that had been hers since childhood. Tears hung on her lashes and she blinked them back angrily. No more tears, she told herself. She had done enough weeping the past two days to last a lifetime. All brides were edgy—everyone said so—and some were tearful, but God only knew what Alan’s family thought of her after the other night. She’d shaken a lot of hands at the Fowler home after they’d left the Hunt Club, and kissed a lot of cheeks, and she’d kept wondering if her smile felt as forced as it looked, until finally Alan had put his arm around her, announced that his bride-to-be was exhausted, and taken her home.

‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ he’d asked when they reached her house.

And Paige had nodded and smiled and assured him that she was fine. ‘I’m just tired,’ she’d said briskly. ‘That’s all.’

What else could she have said? she thought now as she sat in her bedroom and stared blindly at the pink and white papered wall ahead. Could she have told him she’d almost given herself to a nameless stranger on a windswept beach? All the time she’d been smiling at Alan’s relatives, she’d been thinking about the man, wondering if his heart was as filled with anguish as hers. Was he cursing the cruelty of a Fate that had brought them together and then torn them apart? Or had he just gone back to the clubhouse and found another woman who’d gone willingly into the night with him, a woman he’d whispered to and caressed, a woman he’d made love to as he’d almost made love to her.

That was the most likely script of all. He’d been looking for an adventure, and he’d found her. She’d made a fool of herself with a stranger, and she should have been grateful it had gone no further than a few moonlight kisses.

Then why was her heart so filled with longing, her dreams so filled with a man whose eyes were the colour of the sea?

‘Paige!’ Startled, she looked up. ‘Alan will be here soon,’ her mother said from the doorway. ‘And you’re not half ready.’

She smiled brightly. ‘I will be, Mother. You’ll see.’

Her mother laughed. ‘That’s what you used to say when you were just a little girl.’ She hurried across the room and gave her daughter a quick hug, and then she dabbed briskly at her eyes. ‘I’m going to ruin my make-up if I keep this up. And then I’ll have to redo it, and your father will be furious.’ She paused in the doorway and smiled. ‘We’re going to miss you, dear. It’s been lovely, having you live with us this past year.’

Paige met her mother’s eyes in the mirror. ‘I’ve been happy here, too.’

Her smile faded as her mother left the room and closed the door behind her. Her mother always made it sound as if she’d simply decided, on impulse, to move back to Connecticut from New York a year ago, but it hadn’t been that simple. She’d come home unannounced, the taste of freedom bitter in her mouth. A taxi had taken her from the railway station in Greenwich to the grey-shingled house she’d grown up in. She could still remember taking out her key to open the door, then hesitating, remembering suddenly that she’d not lived here for the past four years, not since she’d turned twenty and finished business school. Slowly, she’d dropped the key back into her shoulder bag, and then she’d rung the doorbell.

Janet Gardiner had answered the door, her face showing first delighted surprise and then worried concern as she became aware of her daughter’s drawn features. But she’d acted as if Paige’s presence were nothing but an unexpected pleasure, bustling her out of her coat and into the kitchen, setting another place at the old oak table before the fireplace, keeping up a line of chatter designed to put her daughter at ease. Her father had arrived home late from the office. To Paige’s surprise, he’d hardly seemed to notice her.

‘Paige has come for a visit,’ her mother said, her eyebrows raised in warning that he ask no questions of their only child.

But her father seemed too absorbed in his own thoughts to do anything more than mumble a few words.

‘That’s nice,’ he said, and then he went off to his study and left the two women to themselves.

‘Is something wrong with Father?’ Paige asked.

‘Nothing more than the usual,’ her mother said patiently. ‘You know how he is—there’s always some pie-in-the-sky scheme hatching in his head that’s going to make him an instant millionaire.’

Paige shook her head. ‘Poor Daddy. What was it last time? Gold mines or something?’

Mrs Gardiner smiled wearily. ‘Or something. I’ll never understand how a man who handles money for a firm like Fowlers’ can have such bad judgement with his own.’ She sighed. ‘After the last disaster, I made him promise he wouldn’t touch our savings again.’

Paige smiled. ‘Does he still say, “no risk, no gain”?’

‘Yes. And I told him that was all right as long as you could afford to lose the money you risked.’ Her mother laughed. ‘Let him squander his cigar money, if it makes him happy. He’s a good man, darling, he just thinks we need more—that he’s less a man, somehow, because he hasn’t been able to give us the moon. I mean, it’s not as if he drank or didn’t love me…’ Her eyebrows rose as Paige’s face suddenly crumpled. ‘Sweetheart, what is it?’

And Paige told her. Not everything; it had all been too recent and too painful. But she told her mother enough. How she’d met someone, thought she was in love, succumbed to her own burgeoning sexuality and found disappointment instead of fulfilment. In one brief encounter, she’d lost both her innocence and her desire.

‘And the man?’ Her mother touched her hand.

‘He said I wasn’t a woman. He said…’

Her mother put her arms around her. ‘Forget about him,’ she said fiercely. ‘A man like that…’ Janet Gardiner had looked at her for a long moment, and then she’d smiled. ‘I have a wonderful idea,’ she’d said, and then she’d made the suggestion that had been destined to change Paige’s life. ‘Why don’t you move back here for a while? You could commute into the city, if you really want to keep that job of yours.’

‘Or I could look for one right here in Greenwich,’ Paige had said, too quickly, and both women had laughed, Paige with tears glistening in her eyes. ‘I was hoping you’d ask me to stay.’

Her mother had patted her hand. ‘This is your home, Paige. Of course we want you to stay. And you’ll put all this behind you, believe me.’

And she had, Paige thought, staring blindly at the mirror that hung on the wall opposite her bed. First had come the job at Maywalk’s department store. And then her father had begun playing Cupid, inviting his boss’s son home to dinner, urging her to accept Alan’s invitations, mixing together business and social occasions so that she was in Alan’s company even when she wasn’t dating him.
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