Read And the Bride Wore Prada Online
Authors: Katie Oliver
‘Oh? What’s that?’
‘You make a decent pot of tea. And you put up with myself.’
Later, when the fire had died down to embers and it was fully dark outside, Helen’s eyes drifted open. She and Colm had fallen asleep on the floor, sprawled together in each other’s arms. His breathing was regular, his heart beating steadily against her ear. He smelt of wood smoke and, faintly, of damp wool.
‘I love you, Colm MacKenzie,’ she whispered against his chest. ‘You daft Scotsman.’
Christmas music played softly in the drawing room the next evening when the doorbell rang.
‘I wonder who that could be, and on Christmas Eve!’ Pen exclaimed as she set aside her glass of sherry and rose from her chair. ‘I’ll just go and see who it is.’
‘Perhaps it’s carollers,’ Gemma offered, and turned to Dominic. ‘Ooh, I’d love that! We should’ve got carollers to sing at our wedding tomorrow.’
‘If you had your way,’ Dominic grumbled, ‘the entire bloody heavenly
host
would sing at our wedding tomorrow.’
Gemma raised a brow. ‘Do you think they’re available on such short notice?’
‘For God’s sake, let one of the staff get the door, Mum,’ Caitlin said irritably, and took a sip of her drink. ‘That’s what they’re paid for, after all.’
‘Really, Caitlin,’ Wren admonished, ‘must you always be so difficult?’ She eyed the glass in the younger girl’s hand. ‘I do hope that’s not alcohol you’re drinking.’
‘It’s club soda,’ Caitlin snapped, ‘since you’re keeping track. And must
you
always be so judgmental?’
‘Ladies, please ‒ it’s Christmas eve,’ Tarquin chided. ‘Let’s put aside our differences for one evening. Surely we can all do that?’ He fixed a stern eye on his sister and wife in turn.
Grudgingly, as Natalie and Rhys joined them, the two women subsided into silence.
‘When are your mum and dad arriving, Dom?’ Natalie asked him as she accepted a glass of wine from Tarquin. ‘They
are
coming to the wedding, aren’t they?’
‘Wild dogs couldn’t keep Mum away tomorrow,’ he retorted. ‘She’s even more chuffed about this marriage than Gemma is. If such a thing is possible.’
‘What about Milo?’ Nat turned to Gemma. ‘Is your father coming?’
She nodded. ‘Yes. And he warned me he’s bringing a plus one. He was very mysterious about his new girlfriend.’ Gemma rolled her eyes. ‘I just hope Mum’s feathers don’t get ruffled when she sees dad with another woman.’
‘I’m sure your mum’s long since moved on,’ Natalie reassured her. ‘And you never know – she might bring along a plus one of her own!’
‘Oh, lord,’ Gemma groaned. ‘I hope not. Coping with
one
dating parent is hard enough, much less two.’
Conversation trailed away as voices approached the drawing room.
‘…so sorry to inconvenience you, Mrs Campbell, and on Christmas Eve, of all times…’
‘It’s no trouble, Lady Locksley,’ Pen assured Dominic’s mother. ‘We’ve plenty of rooms. Please, both of you, come in and sit down and join us for a drink.’
‘Thank you. The damned hotel was overbooked,’ Lord Locksley grumbled as he and his wife entered the drawing room. ‘I arranged the reservations over a month ago. After a miserable flight up here, and then dealing with that incompetent twit at the car hire counter in Aberdeen…’
‘I know just the one,’ Dominic muttered darkly.
‘It wasn’t the agent’s fault you forgot to hire a car, Charles,’ his wife reminded him. ‘We were lucky to get a car at all. The Fiat was all they had left,’ she informed Pen. ‘Poor Charles was twisted up behind the wheel like a Bavarian pretzel for the entire drive. It’s made him rather grouchy.’
‘Such a bother,’ Mrs Campbell clucked in sympathy. ‘Please, come in and sit down. I’m sorry my husband Archie isn’t back. He had some urgent business in London to attend to. I do hope he arrives in time for dinner.’
‘Gemma!’ Lady Mary exclaimed as she spotted her future daughter-in-law on the sofa. ‘Oh, my dear, you look lovely. You’ll make
such
a beautiful bride!’
A flurry of greetings and hugs followed as she enveloped first Gemma, then Dominic, Natalie, and Rhys in her Guerlain-scented arms. The introductions to Tarquin and Wren were barely made when the dogs set up a chorus of barking in the front hallway.
Pen glanced at Tarquin. ‘Do you suppose it’s Archie? Perhaps he’s forgotten his key.’
‘I’ll get it,’ Mrs Neeson called out as she emerged from the kitchens, wiping her hands on her apron. ‘It’s busier than Victoria Station in here this evening,’ she muttered, scowling.
The sound of voices drawing nearer and the skitter of dog’s toenails heralded new arrivals. ‘I still can’t believe the hotel was overbooked, after we called ahead, bloody inconvenient it is—’
Gemma paused in mid-sip and set her glass down abruptly. ‘Dad?’ she breathed, and half rose from the sofa.
Milo Astley looked up from the doorway. When he saw his daughter, his expression changed from a scowl into a huge grin. ‘Gems! Got a hug for your old dad?’
‘Of course I do! I’m so glad you made it,’ she exclaimed as he flung herself into his arms.
‘I wouldn’t have missed it,’ he declared. ‘It’s not every day my little girl gets married.’ He reached out and clapped Dominic on the shoulder. ‘You’d best take good care of her, mate. Or you’ll have me to answer to.’
‘No worries,’ Dominic assured him. ‘Spending the night in that dungeon made me realize how much I love Gemma.’
‘Dungeon?’ Milo echoed.
‘Dominic got himself locked in the dungeon and couldn’t get out,’ Gemma explained.
Milo scratched his head. ‘How in the hell did he manage
that
?’
‘It’s a long story,’ Dom replied, ‘and one I’d much rather revisit after a couple more whiskies.’
‘Tarquin found an old key ring hanging on one of the hooks,’ Gemma explained, ‘and he got Dominic out.’
‘Glad to hear you got sprung, Dom,’ Milo joked.
‘Not nearly as glad as I was, believe me.’
Gemma turned back to Milo. ‘So...where’s your mystery date, Dad?’
‘She’ll be along in a minute,’ he assured her. ‘Not to worry. Ah – as a matter of fact, here she is now.’
Gemma looked behind him to see Mrs Neeson standing at the door with another visitor hovering in her ample shadow. ‘Mrs Astley,’ the housekeeper announced, and took her leave.
‘Mum!’ Gemma cried. She launched herself at her mother and flung her arms tightly around the petite red-haired woman. ‘It’s so good to see you again! I’ve missed you.’
‘It’s not my fault you never come to visit,’ her mother retorted. She sniffled, and her eyes filled with tears. ‘Blimey ‒ I can’t believe my little girl is getting’ married! I still remember you putting that lace curtain on your head and prancing round the flat, pretendin’ you were a bride. And now,’ she scrabbled in her purse for a tissue and blew her nose ‘now, you really are.’
‘And I can’t believe you’re Dad’s date! Tell me ‒ are you two back together, then?’
‘That,’ her mother replied as she cast a sharp eye at Milo, ‘remains to be seen.’
As introductions were exchanged and everyone took seats near the cheery warmth of the fireplace, Wren frowned. ‘Where’s Helen?’
‘With Colm, no doubt,’ Caitlin observed. ‘The two of them are inseparable lately, or hadn’t you noticed?’ She glanced at her mother. ‘Did you invite Colm tonight?’
Pen nodded. ‘I don’t know as he’ll come, though. You know how anti-social he is.’
‘Dinner is served,’ one of the wait staff announced.
They all got to their feet and trooped after Pen and Tarquin to the dining room. As they crossed the entrance hall, the front door swung open.
There was a fresh outbreak of barking as Archie came in, stamping his booted feet and shrugging his arms out of his wool overcoat.
‘Archie!’ Pen exclaimed as the others went in to the dining room. ‘There you are. We were just going in to dinner.’
‘Hello, darling.’ He tossed his coat on a chair. ‘Be off with you, you damned old mutts!’ he scolded the dogs. Obediently they trotted away, tongues lolling, to return to their places by the drawing room fire.
‘Is it snowing again?’ she asked.
He leant forward to kiss her, his lips cold against hers, and nodded wearily. ‘Yes. It’s been spitting snow off and on ever since we left the airport.’ His eyes searched hers. ‘I hope you don’t mind, darling, but I’ve brought someone along. There was no time to warn you.’
‘Mind? Why on earth would I mind—?’ Pen broke off as the door swung wider, and a tall, well-dressed man appeared behind Archie. Her smile froze.
‘Good evening, Pen,’ he murmured. ‘It’s been a very long time.’
Her lips parted, but no sound emerged. Shock rooted her to the spot. ‘Graeme,’ she whispered as he took her lifeless hand in his. ‘Graeme Longworth?’
‘I’m terribly sorry for popping in on you like this,’ he apologized, ‘but I wouldn’t have come all this way if it wasn’t important.’
He was as handsome as she remembered, despite the grey in his hair and the gaunt, tired lines of his face. ‘Are you ill?’ she blurted, instantly regretting the words. ‘I’m sorry, that was rude of me. It’s just that you look—’
‘Like hell?’ he finished dryly, and nodded. ‘Yes, I’m afraid I am. Ill, that is. That’s partly why I’m here.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘We’ll discuss it after dinner,’ Archie said in a low voice as he took his wife’s arm. ‘For now, let’s be proper hosts and enjoy Christmas Eve with our company. Come along, Graeme, and meet my family.’
‘We’ve quite a gathering tonight,’ Archie observed after everyone at the table had been introduced and provided with a glass of wine. He picked up his own glass and raised it high. ‘To Christmas Eve; to warm fires; and to friends, new and old. Cheers.’
‘Cheers,’ they all chorused.
‘So there’s to be a wedding here at the castle tomorrow, I take it?’ Graeme Longworth enquired.
‘Yes! But how did you know?’ Gemma asked, curious.
‘Well, aside from seeing the bouquets of white roses and white bunting strung up everywhere,’ he observed with a smile, ‘Archie told me all about it in the car on the way up here.’
‘The wedding’s very hush-hush,’ Natalie explained as she picked up her glass and took a tiny sip. ‘I think it’s terribly romantic! Dominic’s famous, you know – he’s a rock star ‒ and he and Gemma don’t want their wedding overrun with paparazzi.’
‘I completely understand,’ Longworth agreed.
‘I don’t believe it!’ Gemma’s mother said, and eyed her daughter in disappointment. ‘Do you mean to say your wedding photos won’t be in the
London Probe
and all those other red tops, then?’
‘No, Mum. At least, not until after the wedding,’ Gemma amended. ‘That’s the way we wanted it.’
‘Are you nervous, Dominic?’ Lady Locksley asked.
‘Why should he be nervous?’ Rhys remarked, and raised his brow. ‘After all, he’s been married once – well, nearly twice – before,
and
to the same woman.’
‘Thanks so much for pointing that out, Gordon.’ Dominic glared at him. He reached out and took Gemma’s hand in his. ‘Keeley was a mistake.
Both
times.’
Natalie turned to her husband. ‘Really, Rhys,’ she admonished him, ‘I have to agree with Dom. That’s all in the past.’ She lifted her glass. ‘Let’s look to the future, and have a proper toast to the happy, soon-to-be-married couple, Dominic and Gemma!’
‘
Slàinte
,’ Tarquin called out. ‘To Dom and Gemma’s health and happiness.’
They’d barely toasted and tucked in to their starters when the doorbell rang.
‘Oh, bother,’ Pen murmured, and laid her napkin aside as she stood. ‘I’ll see who it is. Mrs Neeson has her hands full at the moment.’
She hurried into the entrance hall, her glass of wine in one hand, and opened the door. ‘Helen!’ she said warmly, and smiled. ‘We’d almost given up on you and Colm.’
‘I know, and I’m so sorry we’re late,’ Helen apologized. ‘We went into Northton Grange this morning, and it started to snow again, and we had the devil’s own time getting back.’
‘Not to worry, we’re just on the starters,’ Pen assured her. She peered over Helen’s shoulder with a frown. ‘Speaking of Colm – where is he?’
‘He’s just coming. He went back to the car to fetch something.’
‘I see. Well, come in, dear. You look lovely, by the way. That emerald green dress really suits you. Go along into the dining room if you like. I’ll wait for Colm. ‘
‘Thank you.’
As Helen strode across the hall in her Christmas finery to join the others, Pen heard someone come in, and turned to greet the groundskeeper.
But the man standing before her in the doorway, a large, cream-coloured box in his hands, wasn’t Colm. This man was clean-shaven, his dark-ginger hair neatly combed back from his forehead; and he was impeccably dressed in a suit and tie.
And his face – so angular, and so strikingly handsome ‒ was as familiar to her as her own.
The glass of wine slipped through Pen’s fingers and shattered onto the tile floor.
‘Oh, my God!’ she gasped, her face gone pale. ‘It can’t be! After all this time...I scarcely dared to hope. But it’s you, isn’t it? It’s my own, dearest Andrew!’
He stared at her, nonplussed. ‘Nae, Mrs Campbell, of course it’s not Andrew. It’s me. Colm MacKenzie.’
The sound of shattering glass and Pen’s cries soon brought the others hurrying in from the dining room to see what the commotion was.
‘Colm!’ Helen exclaimed as she saw Pen’s stricken expression. ‘What’s happened?’
Archie pushed his way through to his wife’s side. ‘Pen – my God, are you all right? Are you hurt? What the devil’s going on—?’
He broke off as he caught sight of Colm, and blanched. ‘No,’ he whispered, his expression as shocked as his wife’s. ‘No, by God...it cannot be.’
Colm glanced at Helen’s questioning face. ‘Mrs Campbell seems to think I’m her son, Andrew,’ he said, his words measured.
‘Andrew’s dead, mother,’ Tarquin said to Pen, his words gentle but firm. ‘You know that.’
‘Of course he is,’ Helen said quickly as she joined Colm. ‘The resemblance is just a – an odd coincidence,’ she added, and threaded her fingers through his. ‘Isn’t it, Colm?’ Her eyes sought his, looking for reassurance, for denial – for answers.