Teapots & Tiaras: A sweet and clean Christian romance in London and Cambridge (Love In Store Book 5)

by Autumn Macarthur

  Her face flamed and she looked away.

  “This sun is lovely, but I’ll burn if I’m not careful,” she mumbled, pressing her hands to hot cheeks. “I forgot to wear my hat. I should get it from the car.”

  She struggled to rise. Her feet still hurt, despite five days’ worth of blister dressings and sensible shoes.

  Matthew stood. “Give me the keys and tell me where your car is. I’ll get the hat. With your fair skin, you shouldn’t risk sunburn. Besides, you ought to rest your feet. They won’t have healed yet.”

  A certain softening of his features belied his cool professional tone.

  She sat again and her laugh was half a groan. “Tell that to my boss, Mrs Pettett. She had me running all over the store on Monday. Even in the flats you told me to wear, it was no fun.”

  “I half-imagined you might insist on your usual shoes.” He quirked one eyebrow, and his lips curved in just enough of a smile to melt her.

  The pesky blush moved all the way down to her chest. Gulping her lemonade didn’t help nearly enough to cover her reaction.

  “I considered it for all of half a second.” She grinned and risked a glance at him. “I admit to withdrawal symptoms. The world looks quite different when one is suddenly four inches shorter.”

  “Both of you sit down.” Beth hopped up. “I know where the hat is. I’ll fetch it.”

  Anita hoped what she heard in her friend’s voice wasn’t determination to throw her and Matthew together. She cast Beth a warning glance along with her keys.

  The smile she received in return was far too bland to reassure her.

  All she could do was reach for another sandwich. Food might quell the panic tightening her stomach and bubbling up into her throat. She shouldn’t let herself fall in love with a man like Matthew, yet it was happening.

  Thankfully, James and Portia filled the silence stretching between them with chat about the wedding preparations, eliminating any need for her to speak. She concentrated on the scrumptious carrot cake, cutting a small piece for Daisy.

  The kid seemed fascinated by Matthew. She gave every appearance of adoring him.

  Beth returned with the hat, dropping it on Anita’s head as she walked past. “There, you’re covered up completely. That should stop you burning.”

  “Thank you.” She wouldn’t admit it wasn’t sunburn she worried most about. The wide floppy brim hid her blushes and made accidental peeks at Matthew far less likely. Still, she held it back with her hand to give her friend a raised-eyebrow look, asking what she was playing at.

  Beth just flashed her a smile and turned to Daisy. “How are you, Miss Daisy? Enjoying your cake?”

  Daisy grinned toothily. Then she pointed at Matthew again. “Maffoo.”

  “You think he’d like some cake too?” Beth asked.

  Enthusiastic nods accompanied Daisy’s, “Yes. Cake.”

  Beth cut a large piece and handed it to him. “From Daisy.”

  Anita couldn’t resist peeping at him to see how he responded. He smiled his rare sweet smile, and Daisy chortled in reply.

  “Thank you, Daisy.” His voice stayed grave, but a twinkle lurked in his eyes and sent quivers through her. “You’re learning young that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

  “Take notes, Beth,” James teased.

  Beth shook her head at him, eyes alight. “You know I burn water. Best to keep me out of the kitchen. Thankfully, Mrs Jefferies has promised to fill our freezer with meals once we’re married.” She threw Anita a mischievous glance. “But, Matthew, Anita is a wonderful cook. She doesn’t just sell kitchenware. She knows how to use it.”

  Face on fire over Beth’s far-too-obvious ploy, Anita resisted the temptation to duck her head and refute the compliment. Avoiding looking at Matthew, she lifted her chin and shrugged. “I like eating food, and cooking is the best way to get it just how I like it.”

  Everyone laughed, even Matthew.

  Anita shot Beth a glance threatening payback later. She’d think of some suitable torture. “The Joy of Cooking” for her wedding present, maybe?

  “Beth, James, why don’t we go inside to discuss the guest list,” Portia said. “Anita, no need to you to come in. Let Daisy enjoy the sunshine. Matthew, you may as well stay out here too. All the wedding talk must be so dull for you. I’ll make sure we have our little chat before you leave.”

  She swept the others across the terrace and into the house.

  Anita groaned. Even Portia was in on the matchmaking business. Shame they were all wasting their time.

  Stifling a nervous giggle, she glanced at Matthew, pushing the brim of her hat back so she could see his reaction. A raised eyebrow suggested he wasn’t blind to their game, either.

  Her chuckle broke free. “Could they be any more obvious? I promise you, this wasn’t my idea.”

  He shook his head, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. “I’m beginning to wonder if it’s easier to play along than fight it. I’m battling on too many other fronts to want to battle this one, too. What harm can it do? Once they’re married, we needn’t see each other again.”

  Pain pierced her at his casual dismissal, but she pasted on a cheerful expression.

  “No, of course we won’t need to.” Without waiting for him to respond, she picked Daisy up. “Come on, Miss Daisy. Let’s find some more flowers for you to take home to Nana.”

  “No,” Daisy declared, unusually mulish. “Maffoo come too.”

  “Clever girl! I think that’s your first three-word sentence!”

  Matthew laughed, lightening his whole face. Standing, he reached out a hand to touch Daisy’s. “I’m privileged to be the subject of such a momentous event. You must be very proud of her.”

  Anita closed her eyes for a moment. He still thought Daisy was her child, but his attitude had changed. Even if it hadn’t, his knowing the truth wouldn’t make any difference. Neither of them ticked the right boxes on each other’s lists.

  “I am proud.” Her lips trembled, resisting her attempt at a smile. “But I wish my sister, Jen, was here. She’s missing out on so much. Sometimes it feels like Daisy’s more my daughter than hers.”

  The surprise on Matthew’s face was almost comical. “You’re not her mother?”

  Anita shook her head. “She’s my niece. Actually, no blood relation at all, as both my sister and I are adopted. I’m looking after her because Jen’s been in hospital since the day I met you at the airport.”

  “I assumed…”

  He trailed off. Seeing the doctor at a loss for words was a whole new experience.

  She let him off easy. “When a woman you’ve never met before accosts you at the airport, child in tow, of course you’d think the child was hers.”

  The shutters came down on his face, as if he was sitting in judgment again. She stiffened. What now?

  “I shouldn’t have assumed.” He scowled. “Making snap diagnoses isn’t a good quality in a doctor.”

  Ah, he was judging himself, not her.

  She wanted to make it better. “You had no way to know. Maybe I should have said something sooner.”

  His tense posture relaxed. “And perhaps I shouldn’t jump to conclusions.” He lifted Daisy from her arms and lowered her into the meadow garden. She happily toddled off into the grass, grabbing at wildflowers and chasing butterflies.

  “Are your feet healed enough to walk?” he asked.

  “A little way.” Anita stepped down from the terrace. Without her heels, she felt tiny beside him, so aware of his height and strength, his maleness. God created men and women so differently.

  Her pulse accelerated.

  She hesitated, wondering how much more to tell him, then took a deep decisive breath. Time to be completely honest, about everything.

  “Jen has severe bipolar, and it’s been a lot worse since Daisy was born. Mum and I have always had to help with childcare.”

  “I’m sorry about your sister.” Genuine feeling echoed in his dee
p voice.

  Anita nodded. Sadness swelled in her, and she rubbed at stinging eyes. “We all love her so much, but nothing we do seems to help.” She dragged in another deep breath. “The worst thing is, she doesn’t want to see Daisy.” She bit her lip. “She’s talked to the social workers about letting Daisy go for adoption, the way her own mum did with her. If she does, I’ll apply to adopt her myself. I already love her like she was my own daughter.”

  “That’s a big and difficult choice.” No trace of criticism lurked in his voice or his face.

  “It is. I want Daisy to grow up knowing she’s loved, so I’ll adopt her if I get the chance. But then I worry that maybe wanting to adopt her stopped me supporting Jen as much as I should.”

  She’d said too much. Now he’d really have reason to judge her.

  Instead, he gazed at her, concern in his eyes. His forehead creased in thought. “Psychiatry isn’t my field, so I have no easy answers. I’m sure you’ve done what you could to help your sister.”

  She hoped she had, but the guilt still gnawed at her. “Jen’s been in and out of hospital so many times. All I can do is look after Daisy for her and pray for her recovery.”

  Matthew looked away, his face angled toward Daisy, playing in the long grass. She hoped he’d offer to pray too, though maybe he didn’t have that sort of relationship with God.

  With her own prayers so confused and contradictory, she sometimes wondered if she did.

  “We don’t know when she’ll be well enough to look after Daisy on her own. It’s why I’ve stayed at Pettett and Mayfields, even though I’d like to do something different. Mum, Dad, and I all juggle our work days so one of us is always home with her.”

  He turned to her, one eyebrow raised. “If you could leave your job, what would you do?”

  She laughed and shrugged. “There’s nothing wrong with selling teapots, and I volunteer once a month at the homeless shelter the store supports. But I’d like to be doing something more.” Hesitant to ask, bracing herself for ridicule, she forced her question out. “How do people get into doing the sort of fundraising talks your mission has you doing at the moment? I think I could be good at it.”

  “I know you’d be good at it. Better than I am.” Bitterness tightened his voice. “I doubt the Trust employs professional fundraisers. While he was alive, my grandfather did all that. Now it’s expected I’ll step into his shoes.”

  Taking her watchful gaze off Daisy, she glanced at him. Back rigid, lips compressed, tension showed in every inch of his tall frame.

  “But surely that isn’t good use of your medical skills?”

  He barked a short humourless laugh. “It’s not. But my duty to the Coalbrooke Mission Trust is to stay here and hire less-skilled doctors to take my place in the field. If I do what I want to do and return to my clinic in Africa, the Trust will cease to exist.” He shook his head. “Two hundred years of family history thrown away. I can’t see how either choice is God’s will for my life.”

  Anita sensed that just as she had, Matthew told her things he hadn’t shared with anyone else. Something in her heart yearned to reach out to him. But he’d probably reject her if she tried.

  Chapter 12

  Matthew wasn’t sure if he regretted sharing more than he should have with Anita.

  Her listening skills were good, and she seemed to understand. Perhaps because she faced conflict of her own? He admired her willingness to help her sister. Even her willingness to take on the responsibility of becoming Daisy’s parent if needed.

  She reached out a hand to him, palm up, offering comfort and support. A hint of anxiety in her eyes and the way she bit her lip suggested she feared he’d rebuff her tentative attempt.

  Common sense told him to hold back, stay safe and sensible, avoid further involvement. But almost without his volition, his hand lifted toward hers. The silent moment stretched, weighty and solid in the air between them, as their fingers nearly touched.

  A high-pitched shriek interrupted them.

  “Daisy!” Anita’s hand dropped, and she spun around.

  His longer legs reached the child in the waving grass first. Daisy clutched one hand, sobbing.

  “Bit me,” she wailed as he squatted beside her.

  “Let me see.”

  With total trust, she gave him her hand. A bee sting. He pulled a credit card from his pocket and scraped the sting from her palm, careful to avoid squeezing more venom into her skin. “All gone.”

  Daisy’s sobs slowed to hiccups. Lips quivering, she tried to smile up at him.

  “Brave girl.” He scooped her into his arms, surprised by the way she nestled into him. Almost as if he were her daddy.

  Anita caught up with them. “Is she okay? What’s wrong?” Panic rang in her voice.

  “She’s fine. A bee sting. I’ll carry her for you. Any problems with stings in the past?”

  She fell into step beside him as they walked toward the house. He kept his stride short so she could keep up. Probably as much to comfort herself as Daisy, she held the child’s ankle with one hand.

  “I don’t think she’s had any sort of sting before. Should I be worried?” She stared up at him, wide-eyed.

  He’d never before felt such an urge to reassure a patient. He’d do anything to take the fear from her face. “She should be fine.” He infused calm encouragement into his smile and his voice.

  Anita’s return smile tried to be brave but wobbled at the edges. “I’m sorry I’m making a fuss about such a little thing. After the sort of problems you dealt with in Africa…”

  His lips twisted. Who knew when, or if, he’d get back to the clinic? Caring for her feet and Daisy’s sting had been his only medical work since returning to Britain. He felt diminished, less than, without the role that defined him.

  Daisy held out her hand, showing Anita the white spot where the bee stung her. “Ouchie.” Her tears had dried on her cheeks.

  “Naughty bee. I’ll kiss it better, sweetheart.” Anita cupped the pudgy hand and dropped a gentle kiss on it.

  “The bee came off worse. It died.” His dry tone covered up the jolt of emotion the tender gesture shot through him. Anita would make a wonderful mother.

  He straightened and shifted. Safer to keep the focus clinical. Treat them as patients.

  “Fewer than five percent of people are allergic to bees. The worst that is likely is some localised swelling. Ice or a cold compress will help. I’ll observe her for about twenty minutes. Then you should be safe to drive her home. If you have any child-friendly antihistamine, giving her a dose is a good idea.”

  Anita didn’t seem to notice his shift into professional mode. A smile lit her face as she glanced up at him. “Thank you. That sounds good.”

  Despite his intention to keep his distance, his gaze lingered on the soft curve of her lips and the way her hair caressed her cheek with each step she took. She released her clasp on Daisy’s small paw, and as she lowered her hand, her fingers brushed his arm in a butterfly touch.

  Her eyes widened, and she quickly looked away. Perhaps he’d been wrong to suggest they play along with Beth and James’s transparent attempts to push them together, until the wedding was over.

  He increased his pace after stepping onto the terrace. Once they were in the house with the others, avoiding accidental contact would be easier. Needing to discuss her health issues with Portia gave him the perfect excuse.

  A realisation struck him—he’d never had to make an excuse to avoid a woman because he felt too much for her before. He’d never felt the need to. Before Anita.

  ~*~

  Matthew blew out a long frustrated breath. Another week gone, yet nothing had changed. No more meetings with Anita, no further treatment options for Portia, and no progress toward sorting out the absurd situation with the Mission Trust, either.

  Only more time wasted.

  Tight-lipped, he shook his head at David, sitting across the boardroom table. “I won’t accept it. There must be some wa
y to change how things are managed here. My work is in Africa, not rubber-stamping paperwork and talking to ladies’ luncheon groups.”

  Something very close to pity gleamed in David’s eyes.

  Matthew’s back stiffened. He would not be pitied, any more than he’d be forced to stay and obey his grandfather’s whims. Duty be blowed. Only following God’s will mattered. Except he couldn’t discern what that was.

  He eyed David, measuring him. Grandfather discouraged him from forming a relationship with his godfather, but the man had been his father’s closest friend. That had to count for something.

  Time for him to treat David as someone who might be on his team, instead of assuming he was another of Grandfather’s yes-men.

  His shoulders squared, and he stood, pacing the room before speaking. He hadn’t expected to find himself questioning the certainties he’d lived his life by. Rebelling against his duty as a Coalbrooke wasn’t something to do lightly.

  “I’m considering going back to Africa, regardless of how it affects the Trust. I can fund the clinic from my own money if needed. I don’t believe God gave me my medical skills intending I waste them as an administrator.”

  David displayed far less shock than he’d expected. Instead, he nodded. “That’s one option, but a big decision. It may well end the Trust.”

  Matthew stopped his long restless strides and clenched one hand on the windowsill, sickened by the thought of betraying his family heritage.

  “I know. I don’t want that. But things aren’t right here.” He waved a hand around the large room. “These offices are bigger than the entire hospital in Mapateresi. It’s a temple to Coalbrooke self-aggrandisement, not service to God.”

  He’d never critically assessed the Trust before. But suddenly, it rang true.

  David surprised him with a laugh. “Those words would be heresy to your grandfather. But your father told me something similar, once.”

  “He did?” Regret flooded Matthew. “I wish I’d known him. Of course, if he hadn’t died, he’d be in charge here, and I’d be planning on many more years in the mission field.”