And unless he could figure a way out of it, he’d end up married to Bibi Matchington-Alcester, the Heiress from Hell, very soon.
‘No,’ he agreed after a moment, relishing Julia’s proximity. ‘It’s not fair at all.’
‘Your lunch, mesdames et monsieur.’
As the waiter set down their plates with a flourish, Lady Mary leaned forward. ‘Rupert, there’s something we need to discuss.’
He bit back a groan and grabbed his glass of Sancerre. After a long, fortifying sip, he said, ‘Are you sure it’s something we can talk about in front of Gemma?’
‘Natalie made a suggestion last night…a very good one, actually. The more thought I’ve given it, the more I think it’s a brilliant idea.’
Dominic popped a piece of roast beef in his mouth. ‘And what’s Nat’s brilliant idea? Do enlighten me.’
‘Don’t speak with your mouth open, Rupert,’ Lady Mary scolded him. ‘Manners still matter. Well, everything’s contingent on getting the proper licence from the council, of course, and persuading your father to agree to the idea—’
‘You can forget it, then,’ Dominic muttered.
‘–but once those requirements are met, Natalie would very much like to hold her wedding reception at Mansfield Hall.’
‘Wedding reception?’ Dominic all but choked on his beef and had to be slapped on the back, rather forcefully, by Gemma. ‘At Mansfield?’
Lady Mary nodded as she speared a piece of lobster. ‘Yes, she wants to marry Rhys Gordon, and Mansfield Hall is her venue of choice.’ She paused. ‘Well? What do you think, darling?’
‘What do I think? I think it’s a bloody mistake, that’s what I think!’ Dominic erupted. ‘If Nat wants to ruin her life by marrying that foul-mouthed twat, let her. But she’s bloody well not doing it at Mansfield bloody Hall!’
And with that, he thrust his chair violently back and stormed out of the dining room.
After lunch, Dominic and Gemma rode up the lift in frosty silence and returned to their hotel room. Gemma, more than a little put out by Dominic’s violent reaction to news of Natalie’s upcoming wedding, refused to speak to him.
As Dominic opened their door, a flood of water and a partially collapsed bedroom ceiling greeted them. ‘Shit!’ he exclaimed. ‘Good thing I didn’t bring the Strat along.’
‘Never mind your guitar,’ Gemma snapped, ‘what about my clothes? They’re ruined!’
And indeed, water had burst from the sprinkler system overhead and had soaked the clothing Gemma had left strewn all over the bed and floor earlier. Her shoes were filled with water, and her handbag was beyond redemption.
There was a discreet knock on the door behind them. ‘Excuse me,’ the bellboy said, ‘but the sprinkler system’s malfunctioned. We’re asking our guests to vacate until we can get the pipes repaired. It might take a couple of days.’
‘Vacate?’ Gemma shrilled, and rounded on him. ‘And where are we to go, exactly? The very least this poxy hotel can do is put us up somewhere else, all expenses paid! And while you’re at it, I want every piece of clothing that your fucking frozen pipes have ruined replaced!’ Then she burst into noisy tears.
Terrified, the bellboy muttered an apology, said he’d look into the matter at once, and fled.
Dominic put his arms around her. ‘It’s okay, babes,’ he soothed her. ‘I’ll buy you new stuff. And we can crash at Mansfield for a couple of days, no problem.’
She pushed him away. ‘Don’t touch me! You made it very clear at lunch today that you’re still in love with Nat, the way you went on about her wedding—’
‘What?’ He stared at her in consternation. ‘I’m not “still in love with Nat”,’ he protested, ‘because I never loved her in the first place! We’re good mates, Nat and I, and that’s all. I just don’t want her getting married at Mansfield, that’s all.’
‘Why not?’ Gemma asked, still unconvinced. ‘If you don’t love her, why do you care if she gets married there?’
‘I can’t stand Rhys Gordon, that’s why. And the feeling’s mutual. But Mum’s got this bee up her arse to start having weddings and things at Mansfield to drum up a bit of cash.’ He frowned. ‘I don’t like it, but she’s right. It makes sense…financially speaking, anyway. But I still hate it.’
She sniffled and allowed him to draw her back in his arms ‘Your mum hates me,’ she said, her voice muffled against his chest. ‘I told you she wouldn’t like me.’
‘She’ll come around, don’t worry. In the meantime–’ he lifted her tear-streaked face and tenderly kissed the tip of her nose ‘–let’s leave this soggy crap behind and go shopping.’
Dominic and Gemma descended on Mansfield Hall late that afternoon with dozens of bags and assorted piles of brand-new luggage in tow.
‘We’ve been shopping,’ Gemma explained as Lady Mary descended the staircase. She hugged Dominic’s arm and smiled at him adoringly. ‘Dominic practically bought out the high street for me.’
‘Yes.’ Lady Mary glanced at the proliferation of bags in their hands with disapproval. ‘I can see that.’
‘The pipes burst at the hotel,’ Dominic informed her. ‘Ruined our stuff, and we’ve been thrown out until the problem’s fixed. You won’t mind,’ he added with a gleam of challenge in his eye, ‘if we pitch up here for a day or two, will you?’
‘No,’ his mum said stiffly. ‘We’ll sort out your rooms later. Leave your things here for now and join us for drinks in the drawing room.’ She produced a tight smile and went off to inform Mrs Sutton – and Charles, who would not be pleased – that there would be two extra for dinner. And possibly for breakfast, as well…
Lady Mary had no sooner disappeared through the baize door leading to the kitchen when Liam arrived, along with an attractive young woman, and a young man and a teenage girl, both wearing overalls.
Liam eyed Dominic. ‘I thought you’d gone back to London.’
‘Sorry, but I’m not going anywhere.’ Dominic met his brother’s glare. ‘We’re crashing here for a day or two. We’ve been put out of the Locksley Arms.’
‘And why’s that?’ Liam asked. ‘Acting the rock star, were you? Throwing TVs out the window, smashing up your room?’
‘The pipes burst,’ Gemma told him coolly. ‘Throwing TVs out of windows and smashing up rooms seems more your style.’
Liam’s scowl deepened, but he made no reply.
Dominic extended his hand to the young brunette woman standing uncertainly next to Liam and introduced himself.
‘Hullo, I’m Rupert Locksley, eldest brother and resident black sheep of the family. Thought I’d do the honours, since Liam seems to have forgotten his manners,’ Dominic added.
‘Julia Allchurch,’ Julia replied, charmed. She turned to the young man and woman. ‘This is Joss and Rory Devlin. They just sheared 200 sheep. And an amazing job they did, too.’
‘I’m sure,’ Gemma murmured, aware as she clasped Rory’s hand of the smell of woolly damp emanating from him. His eyes, dark with amusement, met hers, and she was sure he read her thoughts.
Joss