Australia: In Bed with Her Groom: Mischief and Marriage / A Marriage Betrayed / Bride of His Choice. Emma Darcy
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away as equals, and William was very much enjoying the company.
Ashley suddenly felt inadequate as a single parent. It was impossible to be both mother and father to a child, to be the full complementary mixture that answered all needs. Not many people achieved that ideal, she assured herself, dismissing a twinge of guilt at her emotional rejection of her dead husband and her indifference about actively looking for another.
‘Hi, Mum!’ William greeted her cheerfully. ‘I’m going to have bacon and eggs, too.’
Ashley’s guilt returned and persisted when the three of them sat down to the cooked breakfast. Like a proper family, she thought, beginning the day together, sharing amiable conversation. Usually William had his cereal and was about his business before she got up in the morning. Her routine was to read the newspaper as she ate her muesli. They only really shared the evening meal, and more times than not the television was on so conversation was mainly limited to ad breaks.
She remembered Harry saying that although there were television sets at Springfield Manor, interesting conversation always took priority over watching programmes. Ashley decided to revise the habits she and William had fallen into. Good communication was important and time should be made for more of it. Families that talk together, stay together. Harry was right about that.
‘Do you have a busy day ahead of you, Ashley?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’ She explained what had led up to Gordon Payne’s visit yesterday and Cheryn Kimball’s present predicament. ‘Cheryn thought she had a good, secure job and was counting on the income. Given the circumstances, I doubt he’ll even pay her what he owes for the week’s work. I must try to place her again as quickly as I can. The poor girl was completely distraught yesterday.’
‘Can I help you with anything?’
‘No. It’s kind of you to offer but this is my job and I know how to handle it.’
‘You can help me paint my soldiers,’ William chimed in, eager to fill in any gap in Harry’s time.
‘This afternoon,’ he agreed. ‘Since your mother doesn’t need me here, there’s a few other things I’d like to do this morning. Reprovision the fridge and pantry, for one. I can’t be eating all your mother’s food without contributing something.’
‘There’s no need…’ she started.
He smiled, melting the protest on her tongue. ‘I want to. Let me surprise you. It will give me great pleasure to provide a few special meals for you.’
‘The kind of meals you have at Springfield Manor?’ she asked sharply.
He tilted an eyebrow. ‘Is that forbidden?’
It probably made her a closed-minded bigot if she said it was, yet she resented the subtle pressures Harry was applying to undermine her negative attitude to his mission. She forced a smile. ‘Please feel free to provide whatever you like. As I understand it, you take full responsibility for the money you spend on us.’
‘You do?’ William’s eyes lit up like Christmas trees. ‘Can I come shopping with you, Mr. Cliffton?’
‘You might find it boring, William,’ Harry warned.
‘Are you going in the Rolls Royce?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then I won’t find it boring.’
‘You need your mother’s permission.’
‘Mum?’
Ashley eyed her son sternly. ‘You may go, William, but you are not to ask Mr. Cliffton to buy you anything.’
‘I promise I won’t ask him,’ he agreed quickly. A fair bit of hinting could easily be achieved, William thought, his mind leaping to certain shops that could be artfully included in the itinerary.
Ashley retired to her office once breakfast was over, leaving Harry and William to make whatever arrangements they liked between them. She heard the Rolls Royce arrive and hoped William wouldn’t find it too pleasant and addictive. They popped their heads into the office to say goodbye, and the house felt strangely empty when they were gone.
Ashley did her best to settle to work. She carefully scanned the Positions Vacant lists in the local newspaper, mentally matching them against the files of her clients for possibilities to pursue. There was nothing that would really use Cheryn’s abilities.
She made several telephone calls, scouting employers who had used her agency to find good employees in the past. One of them had a friend who had mentioned a need for an attractive front-office girl with superior secretarial skills. Ashley wasted no time in making the contact and interesting him in the service she could provide. An appointment was made to discuss the matter further, and Ashley hoped it would result in a suitable position for Cheryn.
A few calls came in asking for temps. Ashley had no problem in filling these requirements. She wondered how Gordon Payne was getting on with finding someone to fit his needs and was glad the responsibility was no longer hers. She couldn’t, in all conscience, place anyone in such a demeaning situation.
Her gaze drifted to the Lladro clown that Harry had rescued for her, and the scene replayed itself in her mind, pausing over the sense of connection when their eyes had first met. Had it merely been some spark of chemistry ignited by the tension of the moment, or was it an instinctive recognition of fellow travellers on a plane that was subtly removed from other people?
Ashley realised that since her escape from marriage to Roger, she had been content to hibernate emotionally from all other men. She suspected Harry had done the same after Pen’s death, withdrawing himself from any close involvement with other women. Had their meeting snapped them both awake, seeding an awareness of needs they had buried? Were they meant to come together or was this encounter simply a turning point in their lives, a spur to reappraising where they had been and where they would go from here?
The realisation came to her that she had been building a safe self-containment. Harry tapped a yearning in her for all she was missing out on. Perhaps it was self-defeating to cling to the control she had achieved. Could what she most wanted be gained without risk? What if she was to go to Springfield Manor with Harry… .
She shook her head over such impulsive madness. She had only known the man one short day. It was far too soon to consider throwing up everything on the chance that Harry Cliffton was the man to fill the empty places inside her with the satisfaction she craved.
The buzz of the telephone was a pertinent reminder she should be concentrating on work. She picked up the receiver and crisply identified the agency and herself.
‘Ah, Mrs. Harcourt…Gordon Payne here.’
Ashley instantly tensed, expecting his demands and threats to be renewed. ‘What can I do for you, Mr. Payne?’ she said coolly, determined not to lose her temper this time no matter how provoked she was.
He cleared his throat. ‘I was out of line yesterday, Mrs. Harcourt. Said things I didn’t mean. I’m a man who’s set in my ways and I like things to run smoothly, you know?’
‘Perhaps mistakes of judgement were made on both sides,’ she offered, astonished at the conciliatory tone and happy to meet it halfway.
‘Very upsetting. A bad day all round. I regret my behaviour with you, Mrs. Harcourt, and I hope you’ll accept my apology.’
Incredulity billowed through Ashley’s mind. Roger had never apologised. Maybe she had overinflated Gordon Payne’s ego and it wasn’t quite so monstrous, after all. ‘Thank you, Mr. Payne,’ she said, struggling to gather her wits and say something gracious. ‘I’m sorry we couldn’t have reached a better understanding.’
‘I’ll put two cheques in the mail today. I presume you’ll pass Miss Kimball’s on to her.’
‘Yes, I will. Thank you. She’ll appreciate it.’
‘I don’t want any