And the Bride Wore Prada (20 page)

‘Aye, but no matter how kind they were,’ he said as he stared up at the rough beams of the ceiling, ‘I couldn’t help but wonder about my real family sometimes.’

‘Do you know anything about them?’ Helen asked as she propped herself up on one elbow. ‘Anything at all?’

‘Nae, nothing,’ he said, and reached for his shirt and pulled it back on, ‘and I don’t care. They didn’t want me, that was plain enough; so I’ve no use for them now.’

‘But don’t you ever wonder who your real mother was?’

‘No,’ Colm said again, firmly. ‘I don’t.’

He thrust his leg into his jeans, and as he did, she noticed a long, puckered scar running up the length of his thigh. She let out a soft gasp and lifted her eyes to his.

‘Colm,’ she whispered, ‘that scar! My God...what happened?’

He glanced down, his expression unreadable. ‘This? It happened on one of the freighters I crewed. Twenty-seven stitches.’ He shrugged. ‘It looks worse than it is.’ He zipped up and lifted his brow. ‘Now, lass,’ he said as he leant over to kiss her again, ‘get up and help me put those groceries away, afore the perishables perish.’

Not wanting to bring a scowl back to that angular, ginger-stubbled face, Helen kissed him back, and got dressed.

Chapter 35

Dr McTavish looked up from his desk on Monday morning as Natalie and Rhys entered his office and invited them to sit down. He held a folder in his hand.

‘You were absolutely right, Mrs Gordon,’ he told Natalie as he opened the folder and flicked through the pages. ‘You’re not pregnant. The urine test you took on Friday confirms it.’

‘I knew it,’ she said in a small voice. Rhys reached over and took her hand, and squeezed it reassuringly.

‘Why didn’t you schedule a proper test and come into my office a few weeks ago?’ he asked as he eyed her over the top of his half-moon glasses. ‘If you’d done that, we could’ve cleared this up straight away. You went and took one of those over-the-counter pregnancy tests instead, didn’t you?’

‘Yes,’ she said with a trace of defensiveness. ‘And why not ‒ they’re generally very reliable! And the test definitely showed I was pregnant. There was a blue line, and everything.’

‘Did you follow the directions? With some of these kits, you have to wait at least a week after your last missed menstrual period before you take the test, you know.’

Natalie stared at him in dismay. ‘Oh. Well, no, it hadn’t been a week. More like, erm, a couple of days. And I didn’t bother reading the directions. I thought all one did was wee on a stick.’

McTavish smiled at her. ‘Well, it’s no matter. You’re not pregnant this time. But there’s no reason to think you won’t be ‒ whenever you and your husband are ready to have a child, that is.’

‘I hope so,’ she said wistfully. ‘I want a baby so badly.’

‘At least now we’ll have a bit of time to prepare for it,’ Rhys observed as he stood up.

‘I want to do up the nursery when we get back to London. I was thinking yellow – but a pale, buttery yellow, not a bright, sunny yellow,’ Natalie decided. ‘And white trim for the chair rails...and what do you think about some lovely Jessie Wilcox Smith prints for the wall over the baby’s dressing table?’

‘I think,’ Rhys said as he placed his hand at the small of her back and ushered her towards the door, ‘that perhaps we should wait until we know we’re actually
having
a baby before we start making all these plans.’

‘But that’s ridiculous,’ she protested. ‘Why leave everything until the last moment? We can at least get the nursery sorted. Pale yellow is a nice, neutral colour, perfect for a boy
or
a girl, don’t you think?’ She didn’t wait for an answer, but glanced back at the doctor and waggled her fingers. ‘Goodbye, Dr McTavish. Thank you.’

‘Goodbye, Mrs Gordon,’ he said, and smiled. ‘Good luck to you, Mr Gordon.’

‘Thanks,’ Rhys replied as Natalie went ahead of him and out the door. ‘I think I’m going to need it.’

‘What do you think, Tark,’ Wren mused later that morning as she eyed the tower room, ‘about turning Andrew’s study into a nursery?’

Tarquin paused by the narrow window and turned to look at her. ‘A nursery?’ he echoed. ‘Well, we’d need to talk to my mother about the possibility first,’ he said, choosing his words carefully. ‘She’s very...possessive of this room. Andrew spent a great deal of time here, and his books and travel souvenirs are all she has left of him. That’s why everything’s remained untouched.’

‘I know that,’ Wren said, ‘but life
does
go on, Tark. Even Pen admitted at dinner not long ago that after eighteen years, it was time to move on. This room is perfect for a baby – it’s small, but not too small, and quiet...and it’s not that far from our own room, it’s just round the corner and up a quick flight of stairs.’

‘But wouldn’t you prefer a room on the same floor, one a bit closer to us? Think of all those midnight feedings, stumbling up and down the stairs. Besides, the tower room is too isolated for my liking.’

‘I don’t agree.’ Wren crossed her arms against her chest. ‘We’ll get a baby monitor, Tark. That way, we can hear every sound the baby makes, and be upstairs in an instant, if necessary.’

‘It isn’t only the room that’s got me concerned.’ He frowned. ‘It’s my sister.’

‘Caitlin? Why? What on earth do you mean?’

‘I mean,’ Tarquin said firmly, ‘that I don’t think we should hang our hopes too much on her. This adoption is only a possibility, after all, not a certainty. We haven’t signed any legal paperwork. And Caitlin – well, she’s changeable, she always has been. I love my sister, but I don’t trust her.’

‘You’re not being fair.’

He crossed the room and stopped before Wren. ‘I don’t want to see you hurt if this adoption doesn’t go through, darling, that’s all.’

‘Caitlin doesn’t want the baby. She told me so. She won’t change her mind about this, Tark, I’m sure of it. So you needn’t worry.’ Wren smiled and kissed him on the mouth. ‘But it’s so sweet that you
do
worry. And I absolutely love you for it.’

Dinner at Draemar that evening was fraught with tension. Gemma excused herself several times to go and pace the hallway outside and shout on her mobile phone as she dealt – rudely ‒ with florists and caterers and bridal assistants.

‘Honestly,’ she grumbled as she returned to her seat after a run-in with the wedding-cake maker, ‘what’s so difficult about making a black-and-white chequerboard pattern in the cake? A white cake, alternated with chocolate, with white frosting...what could be simpler? Topped off with a pair of Louboutin shoes made out of white icing sugar, with red-dyed bottoms, that’s all I want. Is that so much to ask?’

‘Have you got your wedding gown yet?’ Natalie asked. ‘I’m dying to see it.’

‘No. It’s gone to Northton Grange, to Dominic’s house.’

‘Oh, no,’ Nat said in dismay. ‘What’ll you do?’

Gemma shrugged. ‘I’ll have one of the staff send it here, I suppose.’

‘There
is
no staff at Northton G just now,’ Dominic informed her. ‘I sent everyone home for the hols when you decided to have the wedding here. Couldn’t see the point of having them all hanging round for no reason.’

‘What?’ she sputtered. ‘If there’s no one at your house, how am I to get my wedding gown sent here?’

It was Dominic’s turn to shrug. ‘Dunno.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘You’ll just have to go and fetch it, then.’

‘In case you forgot, Gems,’ he pointed out, ‘I haven’t got a car. And the forecast says we’re getting a shedload of snow soon.’ He scowled. ‘
There’s
a surprise.’

‘I don’t believe this,’ Gemma wailed as she rose to her feet. ‘I’m getting married in just a few days’ time, my wedding gown’s in Northton Grange, and there’s a bloody snowstorm on the way!’ She turned on Dominic. ‘And you don’t even care.’

Dominic stared morosely into his whisky and didn’t bother to answer. He and Gemma barely spoke to each other these days. He avoided her as much as possible, and spent his time in the castle hiding out in one of the dozens of unused rooms, or closeted himself in the television room at the top of the east tower. Thankfully, Draemar offered up plenty of excellent hiding places.

What the hell had he got himself into?

‘Babes,’ he began, ‘don’t worry, we’ll figure something out.’

‘Don’t worry? Don’t
worry
?’ she snapped. ‘I have no wedding gown, you knob! What am I supposed to do now – make a gown out of a pair of drapes, like Scarlett bloody O’Hara?’ She shoved her chair back and strode to the door. ‘Never mind. I’ve already figured out a solution.’

‘You – you have?’ he asked hopefully. ‘What’s that?’

‘Let’s just cancel the entire bloody wedding.’

‘Oh, shit,’ Dominic grumbled, and stood up. ‘Sorry, everyone. Brideasaurus is on the loose,’ and he hurried off after his furious fiancée.

‘Rhys and I have some news,’ Nat said in an effort to fill the sudden, awkward silence.

‘Oh? What’s that?’ Tarquin asked. ‘Good news, I hope?’

‘Well...no, it’s not good, not exactly. It’s a bit disappointing.’ Natalie took a deep breath and reached out to take Rhys’ hand in hers. ‘I’m sorry to say, I’m not actually pregnant after all.’

‘What?’ Wren exclaimed, dismayed. ‘Oh, dear! But – how can that be? Nothing’s wrong, I hope?’

‘No. It’s my own fault,’ she admitted. ‘I didn’t follow the instructions on the test kit. I’m sometimes a bit impatient…’

‘Only a bit?’ Rhys interjected. ‘And only sometimes?’

‘But the good news,’ she added, ignoring him, ‘is that we’ve decided to – erm – carry on trying until I really
am
pregnant.’

‘Ah. So the next time you come to visit us at Draemar,’ Tarquin observed, ‘you’ll no doubt be encumbered with a stroller and nappy bags and all manner of baby paraphernalia.’

‘It’s called a “travel system” now,’ Natalie informed him, ‘not a stroller. It turns into a baby carrier
and
a car seat, so you needn’t buy them all separately.’

‘What a marvellous idea,’ Pen remarked. ‘Things have certainly changed since my day. When I was a new mother, one brought the baby home from hospital in an infant carrier, and a pram was a great, cumbersome thing.’ She glanced over at Caitlin. ‘I remember pushing you around in that pram like it was yesterday.’

Caitlin stared at her plate and made no reply.

‘Excuse me.’ Archie stood up abruptly. ‘I’ve just remembered a call I need to make. I’ll see you all tomorrow. Enjoy your evening.’ And he turned to go.

Pen laid her napkin aside. ‘But...what about your dinner, darling? Shall I have cook send up a tray?’

‘No,’ he flung back over his shoulder as he made for the door. ‘I’m not hungry.’

‘What on earth is going on?’ Natalie asked later as she and Rhys excused themselves and went to have an after-dinner drink in the drawing room. ‘The tension at that table was unbearable. Everyone seems to be unhappy tonight, in one way or another.’

‘You’re right,’ Rhys agreed. ‘The only happy one in the lot is Helen.’

‘Do you suppose...?’ Natalie began, as she and Rhys took seats by the fire and sipped their wine.

‘Do I suppose what?’ he asked.

She glanced up at Helen, who’d just come in to the drawing room with Tarquin and was laughing at something he’d said. ‘Do you suppose Helen’s seeing someone?’ she murmured. ‘She seems a bit...different, lately. Lighter. Less gloomy.’

‘And who do you imagine she’s seeing?’ Rhys scoffed. ‘There aren’t any spare men round here, Natalie, in case you hadn’t noticed.’

‘Yes, there is. There’s one.’

‘Oh? And who’s that?’

‘Colm MacKenzie.’

Rhys set his glass of wine down abruptly. ‘Colm?’ he echoed. ‘I can’t think of anyone less likely to get involved with Helen than him. The two of them are nothing alike.’

‘Maybe not...but opposites attract. And I couldn’t help but notice that Helen wasn’t here for breakfast this morning.’

He shrugged. ‘She probably had a tray in her room. Or she wasn’t hungry.’

‘Or,’ Natalie said, her voice low but firm as she leant forward, ‘she wasn’t
here
, in the castle.’

‘Not here? And how would you know that?’ He regarded her with scepticism. ‘Where else would she be?’

‘I was going upstairs after breakfast this morning when Helen slipped in the front door. She had the same clothes on as yesterday,’ Natalie added, ‘I remember because I noticed her Christmas jumper. And,’ she added, if there was any doubt remaining, ‘she looked a bit guilty when she twigged that I saw her.’

‘She might’ve gone out to the store, or for a walk.’

‘She hasn’t a car,’ Natalie said triumphantly, ‘and none of the cars were gone from the drive.
And
she had her handbag with her. You don’t take your handbag with you on a walk...unless it’s the walk of shame. Rhys – she was at Colm’s! They spent the night together. Obviously.’

‘Well, Sherlock,’ Rhys warned her, ‘whether they did or they didn’t, it’s none of your concern.’

‘But it’s terribly romantic!’ Nat observed, and sipped her wine as she eyed Helen across the room. ‘She’s just what Colm needs – someone worldly and clever to draw him out a bit, someone to nurse his wounded soul.’

‘“Wounded soul?”’ Rhys echoed. ‘That’s ridiculous. He’s a groundskeeper, Nat, not...not Heathcliff!’

‘Someone,’ she went on dreamily, ‘to show him how to live, and put aside that awful Scottish dourness, and have a bit of fun.’

‘Hmm.’ He eyed Helen doubtfully. ‘Well if that’s what she means to do for Colm, then Helen’s certainly got her work cut out for her.’

Chapter 36

The summons from her father came that evening, as she’d known it would.

Caitlin gathered her resolve and left her room. She made her way down the hall to her father’s private study and knocked on the door.

‘Come in,’ he called out gruffly.

He glanced up as she came inside the room. A fire burned in the grate, casting a burnished glow over the leather chairs and tartan rug and the great mahogany desk he sat behind.

‘If this is about Niall,’ she began, ‘there’s nothing more to say.’

‘It isn’t about him. It’s about what he’s done to you, and what he intends to do about it.’