His Independent Bride: Wife Against Her Will / The Wedlocked Wife / Bertoluzzi's Heiress Bride. Catherine Spencer

      ‘Well, perhaps one shouldn’t judge by appearances.’ He allowed the waiters to clear the table, then ordered the coffee that was all Darcy said she wanted.

      He said quite gently, ‘Darcy, this is a pragmatic solution. History is full of them, and your father will know that. He’ll also know that I’ll treat you well.’

      He paused. ‘I presume you wish the ceremony to be held in the church at Kings Whitnall?’

      ‘In a crinoline and veil, with Daddy giving his innocent daughter away?’ she asked ironically, and shook her head. ‘As you once said, white would hardly be appropriate. And I can’t be that much of a hypocrite. Make it a registry office, with a couple of witnesses.’

      His mouth hardened. ‘You feel that will make it somehow less binding? That could be a dangerous assumption.’

      ‘At the moment, I don’t know how I feel about anything,’ she said in a low voice.

      ‘You seemed pretty certain of your opinions when this conversation began,’ he reminded her drily. ‘If we can’t be friends, can we establish an armed neutrality, perhaps?’

      She shrugged. ‘We still have to set out the terms for this arrangement. After that, maybe.’

      ‘I’ll regard that as progress,’ he murmured, and then, as cups were brought to the table, and coffee was poured, ‘Would you like some cognac?’

      ‘I think the Chablis was more than enough,’ she said. ‘I should have stuck to water. Then I might not have agreed to this ghastly charade.’

      He looked faintly amused. ‘Surely what we both have to gain is worth a few hours of mutual civility a week?’

      ‘You seem to have an answer for everything,’ she said curtly. ‘Try this for size. What happens if one or both of us meets someone else, after we’re married?’

      ‘Unfortunate,’ he said. ‘Any new relationship would have to wait for the divorce.’

      ‘And supposing you fall madly in love?’ Her tone was defiant.

      ‘Believe me, I shall do my best not to. I hope you do the same.’

      Darcy stared at him. ‘But there must surely have been someone, some time that you wanted sufficiently to marry?’

      ‘Once, yes.’ He spoke lightly, but she saw his mouth tighten. ‘But she had the bad taste to be involved with someone else, and wasn’t interested. End of story.’

      Emma, she thought with a sense of shock. It had to be Emma. The girl who’d married Harry Metcalfe and was now carrying his child. The cousin, her father said, who’d been like Joel Castille’s beloved sister. Except it had been more, much more than that, on his side at least.

      ‘But if you can’t have what you want,’ he continued, ‘you can either waste your life brooding on its injustice, or you can settle for the next best thing.’

      His eyes met hers, cool, unsmiling. ‘Believe me,’ he said, ‘we can make this work.’

      Can we? she thought, feeling a bubble of sheer hysteria rise inside her. Can we? How is that possible, feeling as we do about each other?

      He glanced at his watch, pulled a face. ‘I should return to the battleground. After this, it will seem like heaven.’ He paused. ‘Will you have dinner with me tomorrow night so we can discuss the ground rules?’

      ‘I suppose it’s necessary.’

      ‘I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty. Until then I shall count the hours,’ he said mockingly, signalling for the bill. ‘Do you want to stay and have some more coffee, or can I get you a cab?’

      ‘I’ll stay.’ She had no real intention of doing so, but she needed him to go. She wanted to be alone. To think over what she’d done, and begin counting the cost.

      ‘Then I’ll see you later.’ He paused. ‘Shall we shake hands on the deal?’

      Almost before Darcy knew what was happening, his fingers had closed firmly round hers. And in the next instant, he was raising her hand to his lips, turning it so that his light kiss brushed her palm.

      As if, she thought numbly, he was placing some kind of seal upon her. His own personal mark of ownership.

      Then she was free, and he was walking away across the room.

      It was only when he was completely out of sight that she realised she’d been holding her breath. She released it slowly, aware that her heart rate had quickened, and resenting it.

      I—I wasn’t expecting it, she defended herself swiftly. And, anyway, it didn’t mean a thing. He’s half-French, so maybe hand-kissing is in the genes. A reflex action on his part. Nothing to get wound up about.

      She drank the rest of her cooling coffee and began to count to a hundred under her breath, not hurrying. She wanted Joel Castille safely in a taxi, and on his way back to Werner Langton, before she made her own exit. She couldn’t risk another confrontation—not when she was still flurried from the last one.

      She’d reached the eighties, when Georges appeared beside her with a small tray.

      ‘Brandy, mademoiselle.’ He set a balloon glass on the table. ‘With the compliments of monsieur.’ His brow was faintly creased. ‘He says—for the shock?’ he added questioningly.

      ‘That,’ Darcy said, nailing on a smile, ‘is monsieur’s little joke. Salut.’

      She picked up the glass and, still smiling, swallowed some of its contents.

      But to herself: ‘Bastard,’ she whispered silently. ‘Complete and utter bastard.’

      Darcy was expecting fireworks when her father came home that evening—or, at least, displeasure that his scheming had been exposed, then turned on its head like this.

      But his smile was calm. ‘Joel has told me the good news, my dear. I’m delighted for you both.’ He hugged her, then stepped back, fixing her with a steady look. ‘But a word of warning, Darcy. Don’t make my mistake, and underestimate your future husband.’

      She lifted her chin. ‘Perhaps he’s underestimated me.’

      He smiled a touch grimly. ‘Well, your life together promises to be interesting, I’ll say that. But the pair of you aren’t having everything your own way,’ he added with sudden firmness. ‘Like it or not, Darcy, you’ll be properly married in church, so let’s have no more registry office nonsense.

      ‘And I intend to give you away.’

      She bit her lip. ‘As part of the package?’ There was anger in her voice. ‘Along with the pension rights, and stock options?’

      ‘Now, you’re being silly.’ He was silent for a moment, then said more gently, ‘I still remember my wedding day, Darcy, and how beautiful your mother looked as she came up the aisle towards me. You are so like her, you know. And whatever you and Joel may have hatched up between you, I want you both to have the same wonderful memories. As I know you will.’

      But my recollections are different, she wanted to cry out. Because every time I see Joel Castille, I’m going to think of that night when he threw me out of Harry’s party—the contempt in his face, and his hands on me. Because I still feel them, deep in my bones.

      And it will remind me of the pain and misery that followed—every terrible thing that I can never forget, and which he will always be part of. All the reasons I have to hate him…

      She said quietly, ‘If it’s really so important, Daddy, how can I possibly refuse?’ And despised herself for her own weakness.

      CHAPTER FIVE

      ‘YOU’RE GETTING married?’ Lois repeated incredulously. She put down her coffee mug. ‘But