The Prince's Bride

by Sophie Weston

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “But very, very green. You ought to approve of that, Conservation Guy.”

  He groaned and she laughed aloud, doing a little dance of triumph round him on the courtyard.

  “I win. I win.”

  He was so pleased to see her laughing and dancing again that he didn’t even try to defend himself. “You do indeed.”

  They met the agent at the first apartment, a cool Scandinavian-influenced open plan in a newly built block. It had air conditioning.

  “It’s also silent as the grave. Does anybody actually live here?” asked Hope, clearly in fighting form.

  The agent muttered about investment property and river views.

  Hope rounded on Jonas. “Do you think it feels like a home?”

  He had to admit it didn’t. “But then I don’t have much concept of home. I’ve always lived above the shop, as it were.”

  Hope frowned. “Huh?”

  “It always had to be clean and tidy because it was a work space. You never knew who might arrive to – er – do business. Definitely no feet on the furniture.”

  She went rather quiet after that.

  They looked at two more, one a great deal more luxurious with a heated pool in the basement, but otherwise very similar to the unhomely first candidate.

  Hope started to look mulish. “Don’t you have any with trees? A hedge? Anything with its roots in the soil?”

  The agent looked uneasily at Jonas. “There’s one with a rooftop terrace. It has got trees now, as it happens. But they’re in tubs and the outgoing tenant was complaining about the cost of maintenance. It’s included in the rental price.”

  “We’ll look,” Jonas decided.

  Hope loved it. It was the penthouse and the roof terrace ran the whole width of the block. It had planters with scented-leaved shrubs, four substantial birch trees in wide containers and a picnic area furnished with enough garden furniture to seat a Boy Scout troop. There was also a fountain. The agent found the switch and turned it on. When it was dark there would be lights in the trees as well, but it was really the fountain that sold it to Hope, Jonas saw.

  “It’s wonderful,” she breathed. “And if you can’t sleep indoors, you can just come outside and sleep on that sofa.”

  “Mmm.” Jonas curbed his imagination. Hope wasn’t issuing an invitation and, anyway, they were not alone. Got to do something about that low flashpoint, he thought.

  “I’ll take it,” he said, giving the agent his business card. “Email me the papers tomorrow and I’ll sign and transfer whatever funds you need. I’d like to move in at the weekend.”

  They all left together. Once they’d said goodbye to the agent outside the building, Hope turned distant again. She refused his invitation to dinner.

  “Another time,” she said just a little too briskly to be wholly believable. “We’ve got a complicated wedding this week and I’ve got some essential handicrafts to do tonight. And an ultra early start tomorrow morning as well.”

  Jonas’s brain was working at warp speed. He was recalling that joyful confidence in herself that Hope had brought to San Michele and he, heaven help him, seemed to have undermined. He remembered how proud she had been of her independence, of the skills she had mastered on her travels. And now she was working all hours on other people’s weddings, while stubbornly determined to stay unromantic and talking about budgets instead of love. It was a wicked waste.

  What could he do, though? He had no right to criticize her.

  But those long hours, though. Maybe he could do something there. Help her out with her wedding tasks, the way she had helped him on his Ranger duties. That was how they had got close in the first place, after all. His blood began to quicken.

  He said in a casual voice, “Anything I can do? Very willing to lend a hand.”

  “You? But you’ve got a full-time job!”

  “My hours are flexible,” he assured her. “And I’ve already proved my worth with your search for a Gothic London venue, haven’t I?”

  She was not convinced. “Possibly.”

  “Oh come on. You had at least two good candidates there.”

  She laughed. “Fair enough. But I don’t see you sewing bridesmaids’ headdresses, which is what I’m doing tonight.”

  Jonas quailed. But he really needed to get her to commit to the next meeting. So whatever it took. “I can try,” he said heroically.

  She shook her head. “Much quicker if I do it myself. “But –” She surveyed him with speculation. “Do you have a car?”

  “Yes.” It wasn’t quite a lie, he told himself. So far he hadn’t bothered to rent a car in central London, but if Hope could use him with a car, then a car he would hire and hold at her disposal as soon as possible.

  “Well, I’ve got to go to the market to buy flowers for the wedding. The trouble is, I need to get there terribly early. Aunt Cindy said half past four.”

  So that meant hiring a car tonight. He’d go off to the rental office the moment she said goodbye.

  “I can do that. Where is it? And more important, where do I pick you up?”

  “New Covent Garden. You’ll find a map online.”

  “OK. Your address?”

  She told him.

  “I know that area. It’s not too far from where I lived when I first came to London. What about I pick you up at four? There’ll be minimal traffic at that time of day. We’ll get there in fifteen minutes from you, tops.”

  “Thank you.” She beamed.

  Jonas felt it through to his bones. God, he loved her when she was like this, brimming with enthusiasm and eagerness for the task in hand. He wanted to hug her so much it hurt.

  He kept his hands by his sides and a casual smile pinned to his face like concrete. “Great. You have my number. Call me if there are any problems.”

  “You too,” she said. “You may just have saved my life. See you tomorrow.”

  And she shot into the crowd and away.

  Jonas let out a long, wondering breath. Maybe, just maybe, there was light at the end of the tunnel.

  Hope had changed out of her pretty summer dress, which Jonas hadn’t noticed at all, she was certain, and was in shorts and a strappy top when the doorbell rang.

  She half thought it might be Jonas and picked up the entry phone with mingled trepidation and – dammit – longing, again. But it turned out to be Ally, bearing snacks and wine and in need of a chat. Hope, facing several hours of making bridesmaids garlands, welcomed her with open arms.

  Ally sank down on the carpet beside Hope and picked over twisty gold wire and felt rosebuds. “Good grief. We are doing this why?”

  “The mother-in-law ordered them. She forgot to say they were for grown-up bridesmaids.” Hope held up a kindergarten-sized coronet. “The mother of the bride is not amused. She intends to Have Words.”

  Ally gave a squawk of laughter. “The marriage totters?”

  “Well, it’s certainly going to need aftercare, if I can’t sort this out.”

  “Can’t you just lose the things? They’re pretty naff.”

  “Mother-in-law bought them,” Hope repeated patiently. She sighed. “Of course, in principle you’re right. That’s exactly what the bride said. Before she kicked the waste paper basket to pulp and burst into tears, that is.”

  “You can’t blame her.”

  “I don’t. Which is why I am trying to make replacements.”

  Ally looked at her with fascination. “Do you know how to make replacements?”

  “I do now,” said Hope grimly. “Three YouTube tutorials, half a dozen DIY wedding blogs and Natalya’s written instructions.”

  The first one was a bit ragged. They got better. Ally piled into a multi-layered salad and salami and Hope opened the wine. The garlands started to look a lot more relaxed after that.

  In the middle of all the stabbing and twisting, Ally said, “So that was Mr Too-boring-to-talk-about. I like him.”

  Hope stiffened. “It showed. Of c
ourse, he can be very charming.”

  “Ah. And the charm might work on me, innocent that I am. But you are now armoured against it?”

  Hope laughed, blushed, reached for her wine glass and looked sheepish. “You’ve got me. Not armoured at all.”

  Ally’s eyes sharpened. “So you won’t be seeing him any more?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Your armour’s evaporated and you’re back in each other’s arms?.”

  Hope was affronted. “Certainly not. I’m not that much of a fool. I’m just being civil.”

  “How civil?”

  Hope gave a choke of laughter. “Actually he’s the one being civil, when I come to think about it. I’ve lined him up to help me collect rosebuds and other assorted flowers from New Covent Garden tomorrow. He’s picking me up. At 4.00 a.m.”

  Ally gulped. “That’s seriously civil,” she agreed faintly.

  “So between you, it looks as if I might actually get a couple of hours sleep tonight, after all.”

  “Glad to oblige, ma’am.”

  They finished the garlands and applied themselves to the chocolate. And then it was so late that Ally stayed the night on Neil’s sofa. Hope left her there, when she tiptoed out to collect the waiting rosebuds.

  Jonas was waiting in the street beside a gleaming Mercedes. He got out as soon as he saw her come out of the front door and opened the passenger door for her. He didn’t offer to kiss her but she thought it was a near run thing and her heart warmed.

  “You’re early,” they both said, in unison.

  “I wasn’t going to ring the doorbell until the allotted time,” Jonas said. “I used to live in a place like that. Entry phone or no, everyone in the house always hears it.”

  Hope smiled at him with approval. “That’s what I thought. I was going to sit on the steps and wait for you.”

  “Couple of good citizens, we are.” He closed the door on her and got in.

  “This is a crazy car to drive in London but I’m really glad you do. I need a car with a nice big boot. My shopping list is longer than I’d realized. The flowers are going to take up a lot of space.”

  Jonas seemed to take a decision. “I’m not telling any more lies, not even white ones, not even about trivia. I hired this car last night. It was all they had.”

  Hope burst out laughing, although she had felt a bit uncomfortable at the reference to lies. “Then it’s my lucky day.”

  She was right. It took the best part of a couple of hours to buy everything on the list. By the time they’d loaded everything, they’d filled the boot and the back seat too with long brown cardboard boxes of cut flowers. The car smelled like a perfumery.

  “Very feminine,” said Jonas, inhaling. “Nice. Now where?”

  “Back to my flat. Natalya will be waiting with the van. We’re going down to the church together.”

  But Hope’s phone beeped and there was a text from Natalya.

  “Oh.”

  “What is it?”

  “She’s got to collect the bridegroom’s mother and take her down as well. She’s already on her way. She’s told me to take a cab.”

  “Where to?”

  They were sitting at traffic lights. Even this early, traffic was building up in the main entry roads to London.

  “The Surrey hills somewhere. Natalya’s got the directions.” Hope was busy trying to text as the car started to move again.

  “Have you got the postcode?”

  “Yes. It’s the church. It’s on all the invitations. Why?”

  “Because I have this car, this car has SatNav. We don’t need Natalya’s directions.”

  She was taken aback. “You can’t drive me all that way. There and back, unloading ... it would take the whole morning!”

  “It’s Friday. Our Most Difficult Client plays golf every Friday. Anyone else can wait.”

  “And I have to go back to the flat, first. I’ve got stuff to take and a weekend suitcase for me.”

  “No problem. I’ll tell the office to expect me when they see me.”

  “You’d really do that?”

  He gave her one of his special smiles, slow and deep and full of affection. If she let it, her whole body would smile right back. That didn’t feel as alarming as it would have done a week ago. She still didn’t let it happen. But she stretched a little in her seat, looking at the London street curling its way between shops and office blocks ahead of them, and explored this new calm. She liked it.

  “For you? Anything.” It sounded as if he really meant it.

  Hope was suddenly breathless. She kept her eyes on the windscreen. “Then it really is my lucky day.”

  It was meant to be a joke. But as soon as she said it, it felt like the truth.

  It was a long, sprawling village but Jonas found the church easily enough. He even managed to park in the curve of an ancient wall. The church itself was locked.

  So Hope went to find the key while he transferred all the flower boxes into the shadowed porch. It took a while. He enjoyed it. It felt good to be working in tandem with Hope again. He realized how much he’d missed it. In those short few weeks in the San Michele Forest he’d become so used to it, it felt as if they had always been a team.

  He finished unloading before she returned. So he leaned against the side of the car and consulted his messages. The rental agreement had come through. He scanned it quickly, supplied an automated signature, transferred the required deposit and a month’s rent in advance, and set up a direct debit for subsequent months while he waited.

  He wondered whether he’d manage to persuade her to visit him there. She’d backed away last night and he’d thought that meant no chance. But today she seemed more – accepting, somehow. Even relaxed, as she used to be.

  Of course, that could change again.

  Well, it was just up to him to make sure it didn’t. So that was what he would do, every opportunity that he got.

  He folded his arms and gave himself up to happy contemplation of a fine oak and an ancient yew in the churchyard. He was watching a couple of starlings squabbling, their feathers iridescent in the morning sun, when she came back with the key and two coffees.

  “Sorry I was so long. Got passed from hand to hand. Natalya isn’t here yet.” She handed over one of the paper cups. “Fortunately the post office is open and does the essentials. You were looking very peaceful.”

  He nodded. “It’s a peaceful place.”

  She laughed. “You should see it this afternoon when all the main players descend.”

  He sipped his coffee. “I can do that. If it would help.”

  She shook her head decisively. “Kind of you, but no thanks. This is my job. Besides, you’ve got a rental agreement to sign and a flat to move into.”

  “Signed and paid for. Did it while I was waiting. As for moving in – it’s only a couple of suitcases. I’ll need to think about how to make it less impersonal. Any suggestions?”

  But she wasn’t to be drawn on that, he saw. Not yet, at least. And, anyway, she was itching to get back to those flowers.

  So he abandoned his own project and said, “Right, let’s get your flowers into the church. And where do you want me to take your suitcase?”

  “Oh, don’t bother, I’ll take it up later.”

  But they hadn’t finished moving half the flowers before the advance guard of village flower arrangers arrived.

  “They’re early,” said Hope, half laughing, half dismayed.

  “They’re just keen.”

  “I wish Natalya were here. I’ve got the plan for the flower arrangements but she’s the one who’s been dealing with it.”

  She looked so worried that he wanted to hug her and tell her she would be fine. Not yet, he reminded himself. Not until I’m sure she wants me to.

  “Look, you’re going to have your hands full. I’ll just take your stuff up to wherever you’re staying and get out of your hair.”

  Hope looked harassed. But, in the end, she didn’t tak
e much convincing. She gave him the address of the B&B and sent him off with a hurried wave as she disappeared into the posse of flower arrangers.

  Jonas delivered the suitcase and a couple of bags and then drove quietly back to London. For the first time since that vile Vintage Ball he felt that he’d done something right.

  He realized that he’d been thinking so much about the big, dramatic moments in their relationship – when he was generally making a major mess of things, to be fair – that he had forgotten that gentle intimacy when they were just doing stuff together. He’d followed Hope to England, with no real strategy, just knowing that it wasn’t over.

  But now he thought: did I think I could get that life in a bubble back? What an idiot! Fantasy time was over. And he was glad.

  Now he knew what he wanted, no question about it. No doubts, no reservations. He wanted to be there for Hope and he wanted her to know it. Oh, he wanted more than that, of course he did. But first and foremost, he wanted to be her go-to guy for the big stuff and the little, in good times and bad.

  It was as simple as that. Jonas was astonished.

  He wanted to be her guy. For always.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Hope was in the church, dogsbodying for the flower ladies, when Natalya arrived.

  “Really sorry to let you down like that.” It sounded as if Natalya was hanging on to her temper by a thread. “How on earth did you get all those flowers down here?”

  “I had help.” Hope could feel herself blushing, though there was absolutely no reason for it. She ignored it and hoped Natalya didn’t notice. “I know a man with a car and an early morning exercise habit. He just cut the jog and drove me down here instead.”

  “Thank the Lord. I suppose he’s not available tomorrow, too?”

  Hope laughed. But later, in conference with Cindy, it was clear that Natalya had not been entirely joking.

  “We’re going to be really pressed when people start arriving this evening. In my view, the bridegroom’s mother is going to need a minder at all times.”

  “What?” Hope was horrified. She knew just how tight the timetable was and it was already beginning to drift.