Authors: Catherine George
Rose coughed delicately. 'If it's so hard to believe, how did you come to get pregnant in the first place?'
Jo flushed. 'In the usual way.' Not even to her mother could she confess that she'd been hopelessly in love with Rufus all along.
Jo had dreaded Rory
Grierson's
wedding service, and relaxed only when it was over.
She released her grip on Rufus' hand as the wedding party moved down the aisle, and smiled at him in reassurance when he bent to peer under the brim of her boater.
'All right?' he said in an undertone, and she nodded.
'Yes. Though I'm glad we're having a civil ceremony, not all this.'
'I did wonder if you minded about that,' he said in her ear as they followed the others out of the church. 'We could just as easily be married in church.'
'No! I'd much rather not.' Jo shivered despite the sunshine as they merged into the crowd. It had been a poignant moment when Rory and his Susannah promised to love and cherish each other until death parted them. It had parted Claire from Rufus with such indecent haste.
The reception was in a large marquee in the garden of the bride's family, and Jo was congratulated by several people anxious to express their pleasure over the fact that Rufus was about to marry again. But the day was by no means the ordeal Jo had expected. Claire's wedding breakfast had been in the ballroom of a London hotel, very formal and correct, with a master of ceremonies and a string quartet, whereas Susannah's was an informal family party, with children running everywhere, and once the speeches
were
over the bride and groom
circulated among their guests, spending time at every table.
When they paused to talk to Rufus and Jo, both Rory and his radiant, euphoric Susannah made it gratifyingly plain that they were glad she was marrying Rufus.
'He's had a rough year, and yours must have been pretty much the same, Jo,' said Rory, who was a younger, stockier version of his brother. 'I couldn't have been more pleased when I heard you two had got together. Welcome to the family.'
It was impossible not to respond to the couple's warm sincerity, and Jo smiled and thanked them for their good wishes.
'Once Rory and Susannah leave we can do the same,' Rufus said as the couple moved on to the next group of guests. 'How are you coping?'
'Quite well. I rather dreaded meeting so many of your family.'
'Why?'
'Because the last time I met them was at
your
wedding,' she reminded him. 'No one mentioned that, of course, but I could tell it struck most people the moment they laid eyes on me.'
'You're not the type people forget, Jo. I like the hat, by the way.'
'Thank you.' She smiled up at him. 'Would you believe I had to buy
two
hats? Mother wouldn't let me wear the same one to both weddings.'
Rufus grinned. 'Such a passion for economy augurs well for your housekeeping.'
Jo chuckled. 'Wait to experience it before you get too excited.'
His eyes met hers with meaning. 'It would be an unnatural man who didn't get excited at the prospect of marrying
you,
Jocasta.'
'What on earth are you saying to make the poor girl blush like that?' demanded Mrs Grierson. 'Come on, you two. Rory and Susannah are just off. I've brought you some confetti, Jo.'
Once all the rice and confetti had been thrown at the protesting pair, and the car had moved off down the road, trailing old boots and silver balloons, Rufus took Jo to say her goodbyes to the bride's parents, then paused for a few minutes' conversation with his father while Mrs Grierson took Jo aside and asked if there was anything she could do to help with the next wedding arrangements.
Jo thanked her future mother-in-law warmly, told her everything was in hand, then passed on an invitation to lunch at
Willowdene
Lodge to meet Rose Fielding.
Mrs Grierson gave her a delighted little hug. 'How lovely. Thank your mother very much, my dear. I look forward to meeting her again.'
In the house in Beaufort Crescent later, with a striped butcher's apron over her green dress, Jo cooked the promised chicken
cacciatora
for Rufus, who came down to offer his help once he'd changed his wedding formality for a cotton sweater and jeans.
'Just talk to me while I cook,' she said, pounding garlic and rosemary together while chicken breasts browned in a skillet.
'I should have taken you out for a meal, not let you slave over a hot stove after all the nervous strain today,' said Rufus as he laid the table.
'I much prefer an evening in.' Jo added some wine vinegar to the pan, then dodged away as it hissed. 'I'm glad I went to the wedding. It was a very relaxed, happy occasion—once the church service was over, anyway.'
'I saw you flinch at the "death us do part" bit,' he said quietly. 'At least you won't be required to say that.'
'Good.' Jo sprinkled herbs and garlic over the chicken, seasoned it, and asked Rufus for a glass of the wine he was opening.
'Thirsty?'
'No. It's to go in the chicken. Then I put a lid on it and leave it for half an hour while I make a green salad.'
Rufus breathed in the aroma with pleasure. 'I thought you were a no-nonsense cook, Jo.'
'I am. My repertoire is very limited, I promise you.' She stood back as the wine sizzled in the pan, waited for a while to let the alcohol burn off, then turned the heat down low and put the lid on. 'Perhaps you'd better buy me a cookery book for a wedding present.'
'I've already bought you a wedding present,' he informed her.
Jo turned sharply, her eyes wide with consternation. 'I was joking! I don't need a present, Rufus.'
'I know that. You're a very undemanding bride. But I think you'll like this one. We can go upstairs and inspect it after dinner.'
Wondering what she could present Rufus with in return, Jo put a salad together, made a dressing for it, then cut bread and took butter from the fridge. Rufus put them on the table, then lit the candles he'd set out earlier.
'Nice touch,' said Jo, and smiled at him. 'Adds a festive note to my no-nonsense menu.'
Rufus ate the meal with such flattering relish that Jo relaxed and enjoyed it herself as they discussed the events of the day.
'Right,' said Rufus, when his brand-new dishwasher was switched on. 'Come upstairs and
tell
me if I made the right choice of present.'
'Couldn't you bring it down?' she asked as they went up the curving staircase together.
'Not without risk to my person,' he assured her with a grin, and showed her into the smaller of the two main bedrooms with a flourish.
The room was bare except for a small, beautiful desk under the window, complete with laptop computer. Jo gave an exclamation, and looked up at Rufus in delight. 'Both of them for me? Rufus, what a wonderful present!'
'Eighteenth-century elegance allied to twentieth-century technology,' he said, with a flourish. 'The rest of the furnishings I leave to you, of course. But I thought if inspiration struck when you weren't in the mood for transferring to
Bruton
Road you could jot notes down here.'
'Thank you
so
much, Rufus.' Jo decided against kissing him, and gave him a radiant smile instead. 'It's the best present I've ever had. I just love the desk.'
She pulled out drawers reverently, then opened the computer like a child with a new toy. After a moment or two she closed it again. 'No,' she said firmly. 'If I start playing with that I'll never stop. I'll wait until I move in.'
'Talking of which,' said Rufus as they went downstairs again, 'I'm afraid you'll have to take a day off again on Monday to choose your bedroom furniture. Meet me for lunch again?'
Jo nodded. 'I'll work longer tomorrow instead.'
Rufus frowned. 'I thought you never worked on weekends.'
'I don't normally, but if I do the last two thousand words or so tomorrow I've finished.'
'A good thing I refused, then, when Mother asked us to Sunday lunch. I thought you might have had enough of my family for a while, so I refused—very gracefully, of course—on your behalf.'
'Oh, did you?' she said belligerently.
'Which is just as well,' he said smoothly, 'since you're bent on
labouring
all day tomorrow instead.'
The wind taken out of her sails, Jo couldn't let fly with the angry protest she'd been about to make, and Rufus, lips twitching, suggested he come round late the next evening instead, to make sure she didn't write all day.
'I'd rather my bride had circles under her eyes after the honeymoon than on her wedding day,' he said, smiling at the wave of scarlet which rose behind Jo's rapidly fading tan.
She gave him a hostile glare and marched into the small, elegant drawing room to collect her hat. 'In that case, rather than let you down on the day I'd better go home and get some beauty sleep.' Not that any amount of beauty sleep would transform her into a bride as dazzling as Claire.
Rufus caught her by the shoulders and turned her round. 'I was joking,' he said roughly. 'I'm worried about your health, Jocasta Fielding, not your appearance. I'll come round about eight tomorrow night—and I'll expect to find that blasted computer of yours turned off when I do.'
She stared at him mutinously for a moment, then shrugged. 'Oh, very well. Though you did promise you wouldn't fuss.'
'This has nothing to do with the baby,' he said with emphasis, his eyes boring into hers. 'When I came back from London on Thursday you looked like a ghost. I was worried.'
Jo's eyes fell. 'You needn't worry about me,' she muttered. 'I can look after myself.'
'Perhaps you'd furnish me with proof of that statement,' he said sardonically, 'by doing a rather better job of it from now on.'
She smiled sheepishly. 'It's only because I'm so near the end, Rufus—like a racehorse in sight of the finishing post.'
'And what happens once you've finished the novel? Will you suffer from anticlimax?'
'Possibly.' She eyed him narrowly. 'You've never asked me what the book is about, Rufus. Does that mean you're not interested?'
'Hell, no—quite the reverse.' He gave her a crooked grin. 'But our relationship is beset with rather more pitfalls than the normal kind, Jo. With you I proceed with care, afraid of trespass.'
'How very cautious!'
He raised an eyebrow. 'Wary, rather than cautious.'
'It's a rites-of-passage theme, about two girls growing up, their lives taking different directions, and what happens to them as adults.' She nodded in answer to the involuntary question in his eyes. 'Yes, there's a lot of Claire and me in it. At least to begin with. But after a while the girls took on personalities and characters of their own, and the story develops very differently. They both fall in love with the same man.'
'Definitely fiction,' he said drily.
Jo laughed, and detached herself. 'And now I must go home and get to bed. Weddings are tiring.'
'I hope you won't find ours too exhausting.'
'With only a handful of us to celebrate, I doubt it.' Jo smiled at him as they went outside to the car. 'Thank you again for the present, Rufus. I'll do my best to think of something equally inspired for you.'