Mistresses: Bound with Gold / Bought with Emeralds. Sandra Marton
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you know exactly what they are and what it is you really want.’
A surprisingly militant expression crossed Carolyn’s face, replacing the wistful indecision. ‘Oh, I know exactly what I want.’ She sat up. ‘You know, I think I feel a bit better.’
‘Then maybe you’d like to come downstairs. Joshua’s here with Ryan—that’s why Hazel sent me to see if you were awake.’
Carolyn threw the bedclothes down the bed and got up, stretching lethargically. ‘I suppose I could. Did Chris come with them?’
Regan told her about the canal and she laughed maliciously and seemed to perk up, throwing open her huge double closet to view the crowded contents.
‘Serve him right!’ she said, unconsciously echoing her great-uncle’s sentiments.
She hummed as she selected white cotton shorts and a loose, flowing candy-striped cotton top and threw them onto the bed.
‘I’ll just have a quick shower—tell Jay I’ll be down in about thirty minutes.’
Regan wondered how Joshua would feel about kicking his heels for that long. Perhaps he was used to her blowing hot and cold.
‘I think he said something about having to do some work today,’ she felt obliged to warn her. ‘I don’t think he’s going to be able to go sailing…’
‘Oh, well, I’ll just have to find something else to do to amuse myself, won’t I?’ Carolyn showed no sign of the predicted disappointment. ‘Maybe you could come over to the marina with me later, and we could stroll around the shops and look at the boats, maybe have a cappuccino at one of the cafés. Joshua’s got his corporate launch moored down there, ready to take clients on junkets to next week’s regatta out in the gulf, so maybe we could stop by for a drink on the deck…’
‘Maybe…’ said Regan, suddenly foreseeing the pitfalls that could result from becoming too friendly with Carolyn.
Joshua was on his cellphone when she went back down, and Regan was able to avoid any further barbed encounters by allowing Hazel to bear her off to ‘what I call my GHQ’ to show her the volume of work that awaited her on Monday—‘Because you’ve worked hard all week and we can’t expect you to labour on weekends as well’.
‘GHQ’ turned out to be a large sewing room on the sunny side of the house, containing an impressive array of electronic machinery on a sewing table that Hazel sheepishly admitted she hardly ever used, a large overstuffed floral sofa and comfy chair and a vast roll-topped desk, its numerous cubbyholes crammed higgledy-piggledy with piles of letters, bills, papers, jotted lists, magazine cuttings and cards.
‘It looks a lot worse than it actually is,’ said Hazel, sitting down gratefully in the padded swivel chair that Regan hurriedly trundled forward and pointing to a second chair with her crutch. Regan obediently sat down and dubiously eyed what she thought looked like a bomb site as Hazel went on, ‘Frank laughs at me, but I do have a system and it works very well when I have two hands to do my filing.’
She proceeded to prove it as she showed Regan how each cubbyhole pertained to one aspect of the wedding—the invitations, the gift list, the marriage celebrant and order of service, the marquee hire and catering, the wedding and bridesmaids’ dresses, the flowers, the wine and the musicians, the photographer and accommodation for out-oftown guests.
Since the mid-afternoon wedding ceremony and evening reception were being held on the grounds there would be a lot of hustle and bustle around the house on the days leading up to the wedding.
Hazel showed Regan a sketch which positioned an enormous marquee by the lake. The aisle the bride would walk down was the narrow path of crushed shells leading down to the dock, flanked by hundreds of pots of standard roses, with rows of seating for the guests extending on either side. Should the May weather prove inclement, the whole area could be covered by another huge, open-sided marquee. Hazel explained that a string quartet would play the weddingmusic from a covered barge moored a few metres out on the lake, followed later by a disco.
‘We’re only inviting a couple of hundred because Carolyn wants to keep it small and reasonably intimate and informal. We did think of having the actual ceremony in the gazebo itself, but we decided that would be too much of a hassle, having to ferry so many people back and forth, especially if it rains. Whereas like this, if the weather forecast isn’t good, we can make other arrangements.’
‘It sounds marvellous. Especially since you’ve done it all in only a couple of months.’ Regan picked up a piece of green parchment. ‘This is your invitation list? Have you got a folder of the acceptances?’
A tiny twitch crimped Hazel’s small mouth. ‘Well…we haven’t actually received any yet—formal ones, that is. There was a horrendous problem at the printers where we had the invitations done, I’m afraid.’
‘They were late going out?’
‘Actually, we haven’t sent them yet,’ said Hazel weakly. ‘Joshua has taken the whole wretched mess in hand and we hope to have them next week.’
Regan’s eyes rounded. That was a huge clunker! ‘I thought invitations had to go out a couple of months before the wedding to give everyone time to reply?’
‘Yes, but it can’t be helped, and since the guest list is limited to mostly family and very close friends I’ve been able to warn most of the people we’re inviting, particularly those from overseas—Chris’s sisters are coming out from England with their husbands and families, you know…’
‘Chris’s sisters?’
‘Did I say Chris?’ Hazel patted her ash-blonde hair, looking discomfited. ‘I meant to say Joshua’s…although they are Chris’s too, of course, all of them being from the same family. Did I mention that Ryan is going to be best man?’
‘No, you didn’t. I would have thought Joshua might have asked his brother to stand up with him,’ Regan couldn’t resist murmuring and she watched Hazel’s smooth, barely lined cheeks flush a betraying pink. ‘I take it he has got some kind of official duty—as an usher, perhaps?’ she prodded.
‘I’m not sure…the groom handles all that side of things.’ Hazel waved a vague hand, her eyes brightening with relief as her granddaughter flitted across the doorway and enquired if Regan was interested in going shopping now, because Joshua was offering them a lift, and to buy them lunch later in the afternoon.
‘Of course she is! Off you go, Regan, now, and enjoy yourself.’ Hazel’s enthusiasm made it little short of an order.
‘I don’t like to intrude,’ said Regan, frantically trying to think of a polite excuse. ‘Perhaps I could just look around the shops and walk back while you go on to lunch with Joshua—’
‘We wouldn’t dream of abandoning you to your own devices,’ purred Joshua, appearing like a dark shadow behind his golden fiancée. ‘If you’re going to be as intimately involved in our affairs as you obviously plan to be, the least we can do is to ensure you’re kept well entertained while you’re here.’
For ‘well entertained’ Regan mentally substituted ‘well under surveillance’. Joshua Wade was letting it be known that he had no intention of letting her enjoy the freedom of Palm Cove.
From now on she would have to step extremely carefully if she wanted to escape with her honour intact!
Chapter Eight
‘WHAT are you doing?’
Regan jumped, her sweaty fingers skittering over the computer keyboard.
‘God, Ryan, you shouldn’t sneak up on me like that. You nearly gave me a heart attack,’ she said as he rolled up beside her in one of the secretarial chairs. She quickly closed the file she was working on and opened another.
Ryan raked his long hair out of his eyes. ‘Sorry, did you think I was Dad?’
‘Why