Marriage On The Agenda. Lee Wilkinson

nothing of it. We aim to please. So what’s it to be?’

      Briefly she considered asking him to take her to a hotel, then dismissed the idea. She could well do without the expense. In any case, by breakfast-time next day her parents would require some kind of explanation. Though she dreaded the prospect, her practical streak insisted that it would make sense to be there in person to make it.

      Coming to a decision, she said, ‘If you really don’t mind, I think I’d better go to Paddleham.’

      ‘Paddleham it is.’

      A moment or two later they had joined the traffic stream and were heading out of town through gleaming, rain-lashed streets.

      Worrying her bottom lip, she wondered how she was going to explain away Mark’s absence.

      Of course she could simply tell her parents the truth. But if she did she knew it would be her they would be blaming, saying she’d brought it on herself.

      Which in a way she had. If she hadn’t been late for the party in the first place. Though her lateness, she recognised, had only been the catalyst. None of this would have happened if she’d agreed to sleep with Mark when he’d first pressed her to.

      But, even after six years, the remembrance of the shame and humiliation she had suffered over Nigel was still a powerful deterrent.

      She had been in her first year at art school when she had met him. The son of Sir Denzyl Roberts, one of her father’s wealthy friends, Nigel had been five years older, and light years ahead of her in experience. Expecting her to be like most of the women he had known, he had been surprised and intrigued to find she was supremely innocent.

      On her part it had never been a conscious decision to remain a virgin. It had just happened. Since her early teens her unusual beauty had made her a target for every male aged between fifteen and fifty. But, naturally fastidious, she had kept them at bay, disliking their one-track minds and fly-paper hands. Waiting for someone special. Someone she could love.

      There had been one boy, different from the rest, a fleeting attraction that might have developed into something deeper if, before she could get to know him, he hadn’t vanished from the scene.

      At the same time she had met Nigel. Impressed by his looks and maturity, and perhaps falling in love with love, she had fondly imagined he was that someone special.

      Even so, almost out of force of habit, she had held him off until, rapidly losing patience, he had proposed to her.

      Though she had still been very young, the match, from her parents’ point of view, had been an advantageous one and, highly delighted, they had encouraged the engagement.

      Once the ring was on her finger, Nigel had redoubled his efforts to get her into bed. Certain she loved him, and happy in the knowledge that they were going to be married, she had given in.

      Loris had found their lovemaking disappointing, getting little or nothing from it. She had consoled herself with the thought that it was bound to get better when they were used to each other.

      It hadn’t.

      Blaming herself, her inexperience, she had said nothing, merely kept on trying to please him.

      They had been sleeping together for almost three months when, turning up unexpectedly at his flat one evening, intending to surprise him, she had found him with another woman.

      Though hurt and bewildered, she had been ready to forgive him, until the girl in his bed had taunted her with the fact that this was no one-off, but was, and had been for some time, a regular arrangement for the nights Loris wasn’t there.

      ‘He needs a woman who’s got some life in her, who knows how to please a man. Not some frigid statue who just lies there and—’

      ‘That’s enough!’ Nigel had silenced her at that point.

      But it had been too late. As far as Loris was concerned, the damage had been done. Nigel had told this brazen slut of a girl intimate details about something she had considered essentially private and sacrosanct.

      Badly humiliated, and furious at the way he had treated her, she had thrown his ring at him and walked out.

      When her father and mother had learnt of the broken engagement, deploring the fact that she was ‘losing her chance to marry well’, they had tried to get her to change her mind. But, while refusing to tell them the reason for the break-up, she had made it clear that it was final.

      Judy, her friend and room-mate at college, was the only one in whom she had confided her hurt, but down-to-earth as usual, Judy had pulled no punches. ‘Think about it. Would you really want to marry a two-timing rat like that?’

      ‘No, I suppose not.’

      ‘Then forget him. He’s not worth a second thought.’

      ‘I just wish I hadn’t been such a fool.’

      ‘Well, we all make mistakes. It isn’t the end of the world.’

      It had only felt like it.

      ‘I thought he loved me,’ Loris had said sadly. ‘But he was only using me.’

      ‘Surely you got something out of it?’

      Loris had shaken her head wordlessly.

      Judy had said a rude word. ‘Still, it’ll be different next time, you’ll see.’

      But, feeling degraded by the experience, Loris had vowed there would be no next time. Even so, it had taken her a long while to regain her self-respect…

      Flashing lights suddenly reflected in a myriad raindrops, and the urgent sound of a siren bearing down on them brought Loris back to the present with a start.

      The road they were on was narrow, and there was on-coming traffic. Pulling half-onto the wet, deserted pavement, Jonathan made room, and a second later the ambulance went racing past on its errand of mercy.

      Impressed by his presence of mind, she glanced at him. His face was calm, unperturbed.

      Intercepting her glance, he gave her a sidelong smile that quickened her pulse-rate and made her feel suddenly breathless.

      A moment later they had regained the road and were continuing their journey. By now they were on the outskirts of town, and the downpour was continuing unabated. Rain beat against the windscreen and even at their fastest speed the wipers had a job to keep it clear.

      As they reached a crossroads and turned right it occurred to Loris, belatedly, that she had given him no directions and he had asked for none.

      Wondering how, being from the States, he knew the way, she queried, ‘Are you familiar with this part of the world?’

      ‘I was born and brought up quite near Paddleham.’

      ‘Really? Then your parents were English?’

      ‘My father, a hard-working GP, was English while my mother, who was an airline stewardess until she married, came from Albany.’

      ‘The capital of New York State?’

      ‘That’s right. Her parents owned a small business there.’

      To Loris, the details of his modest background seemed at odds with his cultured voice.

      ‘Have you lived in the US long?’ she asked, wanting to know more about him.

      ‘For several years now.’

      She thought he was going to leave it at that, when he added, ‘After my father died my mother got homesick for her birthplace and went back to Albany.’

      ‘Do you have any brothers or sisters?’

      ‘One sister. When she left university she married the son of a local landowner. But there was nothing to keep me here, so I spent some time travelling, trying my hand at various jobs, before I made up my mind to settle in the States.’

      His