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

time she spent with him, the worse it might get.

      Fate, she thought bleakly, was playing one of its cruellest tricks on her by forcing her together with him in this way.

      Yet, quite apart from the guarantee of no intimate involvement, he’d claimed they would hardly spend any time together anyway, she offered her frazzled nerves as palliative. Maybe they could even share the Chelsea house like neighbours in adjoining flats—friendly, but without encroaching on each other’s territory.

      He’d told her they could make it work, and somehow she had to believe that. Trust him…

      Also, it wasn’t a life sentence. It would end once its purpose had been served. That was what she had to keep in the forefront of her mind. Make her lodestar in this tangled maze of emotion and bitterness. Her hope for the future.

      Yet, at the same moment, she found her gaze drawn almost mesmerically to the brilliant glitter of the gemstone on her left hand.

      Exquisite it undoubtedly was. And a message of intent. But that was all. She would not allow it to develop any undue significance, she swore inwardly.

      Because, even if a diamond was forever, marriage to Joel Castille most certainly was not. And that had to be her sole comfort in this whole terrible mess.

      CHAPTER SIX

      AS THE arrangements for the wedding began to take shape, Darcy got the feeling that she was standing in the path of an avalanche that was slowly gathering speed and about to overwhelm her.

      She had reluctantly broken the news of her coming marriage to Aunt Freddie in the uneasy expectation of being subjected to some rigid cross-examination, but, to her surprise, her aunt had simply given her a long, considering look, then remarked, half to herself, ‘Well, that certainly explains a great deal.’

      Darcy, astonished, could only suppose that, with her new job looming, Aunt Freddie’s mind was on other things, although she’d offered what help she could in organising the wedding, which had to be a bonus.

      There were, she thought, few others in the situation.

      She was making a conscious effort to avoid Joel’s company, without actually seeming to do so, spending as much time as she could down at Kings Whitnall.

      Not, she had to admit, that he’d made any real attempt to see her alone since the night when he’d placed that amazing solitaire ring on her finger.

      No real trial of her resistance for her to endure.

      When dinner had ended, he’d simply escorted her home by taxi, and wished her a pleasant goodnight. No hand-kissing, or any other sort of kissing that time, or since. In fact, there’d been none of the threatened intimacies, for the sake of appearances, when she was in his company. Or, not yet.

      When they were together he was invariably civil, even verging towards being actually charming, she admitted reluctantly, but although Gavin, with somewhat ponderous tact, invariably made an excuse to leave them alone together at the end of the evening, her unwanted fiancé seemed to have as little desire to initiate any physical closeness as she herself could possibly wish.

      Yet she was aware, all the same, of a faint niggle of bewilderment. He’d once spoken of desiring her, she thought. There’d been times too when he’d looked at her, and it had been there, a tangible thing between them.

      But it was gone now. Totally erased, as if it had never existed. And he hadn’t uttered a word of dissent, then or since, about the sanctions she’d imposed on their future relationship.

      She found herself wondering if Joel ever gave her a second thought when she was not actually there, in his presence, and decided that he probably didn’t. To him, this was just one more business contract among the many.

      She, however, was unable to dismiss him from her own mind quite so easily. This enormous rock, for instance, was a constant reminder. It was so blatantly there that she couldn’t avoid it, she thought bitterly.

      There were times, of course, when she was obliged to return to London, usually at her father’s insistence. It was during one of these visits that Lois took her to the wedding boutique where she’d hired her own bridal gown and where she forthrightly condemned the severely cut white satin suit with its tight skirt, and almost mannish lapels, that Darcy chose pretty well at random.

      ‘It’s chic,’ Darcy defended.

      ‘With a skirt you can barely walk in? You’ll hobble up the aisle as if your legs have been stapled together. Which may well be the case,’ she added affably. ‘But do you want the world to know?’

      She had a brief chat to the assistant, whereupon Darcy found herself being zipped instead into an enchantingly pretty creation in billowing wild silk and chiffon.

      ‘If you’re really hell-bent on doing this crazy thing,’ Lois whispered grimly in the changing room, ‘then you’re going to do it properly. Look like the romantic, ethereal bride every man secretly wants.’

      ‘Not Joel,’ Darcy returned frostily. ‘I don’t think he does ethereal.’ She turned to the bemused assistant. ‘Have you anything that looks like a dam project in Sierra Leone?’

      ‘We’ll take it,’ Lois put in hastily as the assistant’s jaw dropped. Eyes glinting, she did a last twirl in the slim-fitting hyacinth-blue sheath she’d picked. ‘And I’ll have this.’

      Over lunch, she fixed Darcy with a militant stare. ‘So, when are you going to introduce your future husband to your friends, lady?’

      Darcy bit her lip. ‘I hadn’t really thought about it.’

      ‘Then start now,’ Lois advised cordially. ‘Mick was asking questions the other night, and I had no answers.’ She paused. ‘Have you met Joel’s best man yet? Do you even know who he’s going to be?’

      Darcy probed her Caesar salad with a fork as if the contents fascinated her. ‘Well—no,’ she admitted.

      Her friend sighed. ‘Honey, if you want everyone to know there’s something phoney about this wedding, then you’re going exactly the right way about it.’

      ‘Well, what do you suggest?’ Darcy asked defensively. ‘That we all meet up for a cosy dinner some night?’

      ‘I feel it might help,’ Lois said drily. ‘Cut out all those awkward introductions at the altar rail.’

      Darcy winced. ‘Actually, you could be right,’ she said reluctantly. ‘I’ll mention it to Joel. I think he’ll be at the house tonight.’

      ‘You only think?’ Lois shook her head wearily. ‘Darcy—that says it all.’

      Darcy ate her meal quietly that evening, lending only half an ear to the business talk being briskly conducted between Joel and her father.

      When dinner was over, and coffee had been taken in the drawing room, Gavin made his usual discreet withdrawal, leaving the engaged couple alone.

      By this time, Darcy knew the drill. A few awkward and generally silent moments would elapse, then Joel would look at his watch, thank her for an enjoyable evening, and go.

      But this time, as he got to his feet, she rose too.

      ‘Can you spare me a few moments, please?’ Her voice seemed strained, husky. ‘I think we should talk.’

      ‘That sounds ominous,’ he commented lightly. ‘Are you planning to tell me you’ve changed your mind?’

      ‘No.’ She looked down at the carpet. ‘I’m still prepared to go through with it, if you are.’

      ‘Oh, I’m all for it, naturally.’ His mouth twisted. ‘So how long do I allow for this unexpected encounter?’

      ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘Do I let my driver wait? Or tell him to come back in the morning, perhaps?’

      Her