Prince Charming of Harley Street / The Heart Doctor and the Baby

by Anne Fraser / Lynne Marshall

  Rose felt a pang for the child Jonathan had been. How terrible to lose your mother and then to be sent away into a strange environment from the only home you had known. What would that do to a grieving child? At least she had always been surrounded by the love of her parents and had always known that they would do anything for her happiness.

  There was no more time to talk as everyone was instructed to take their seats by a tall woman with short, platinum-blonde hair.

  ‘That’s Mrs Tenant, Rose.’ Lady Hilton whispered. ‘She used to be a model in the sixties. Her father was enormously wealthy. Perhaps even wealthier than Lord Cavendish. She married for love and she’s been blissfully happy. She helps Lady Somerville run the auction. I have to say, between them, they’ve helped raise hundreds of thousands of pounds over the years.’

  Mrs Tenant—Julia—welcomed everyone in a rich Yorkshire accent that was as far away from the plush London tones all around her as it was possible to be.

  ‘We are going to start with the eligible bachelors’ auction,’ she said after she had spoken briefly about the charity. ‘I know this is a favourite event for most of you. Now, we have five men, all single and all looking forward to their dates with the lucky women who win the auction. Don’t be mean, anyone. Dig deep into those pockets.’

  Everyone settled down, looking towards the runway that had been erected near the front of the room. A hush descended as Julia introduced the first ‘bachelor’—a British tennis player who had been taking the country by storm over the last year. He swaggered onto the stage in a pair of tennis shorts and nothing else, looking, Rose thought, extremely self-conscious with a nervous grin on his face. There were a number of wolf whistles as he walked to the edge of the stage and flexed his forearm in a way that had become familiar to millions of tennis fans around the world.

  ‘Who’ll start the bidding? Come on, now, ladies, don’t be shy. Who’ll give me a hundred pounds?’

  A sea of arms shot up. ‘A hundred and fifty,’ came a call from the back. Rose swivelled around in her seat to find a young woman waving her arms in the air, a bundle of notes in each hand.

  ‘Two hundred,’ came another voice. Soon the bidding was up to four hundred and after Julia had promised that the player was throwing in a couple of prime seats for Wimbledon in June, the bidding rose to five hundred pounds before the triumphant girl who had started the bidding won her date.

  Three others followed in quick succession. Rose felt sorry for the aristocrat with an unfortunate smile who only managed to raise two hundred pounds and she suspected his mother was behind that.

  Jonathan was last to take the stage. He had, or someone had made him, remove his shirt. He strolled up the runway in his dinner trousers, bow-tie and jacket, his exposed chest smooth and muscular. If he felt self-conscious no one would have known from his confident grin. Rose felt a shiver run down her spine. He really was the sexiest man she had ever known.

  The bidding started at three hundred pounds and quickly rose to five hundred.

  ‘Come on, ladies. You can do better than that. Jonathan is one of London’s most eligible bachelors. As far as I’m aware, there is no one in his life at the moment.’

  The bidding rose by another hundred pounds. And even further. Suddenly, Lady Hilton’s hand shot up. ‘One thousand pounds,’ she said firmly. Rose looked at the old lady in astonishment and was even more surprised when she received a saucy wink in response.

  ‘One thousand pounds. Sold to Lady Hilton,’ Julia said with a flourish. ‘A new record.’

  As she thanked everyone and the music faded away, Jenny and Vicki turned surprised faces towards Lady Hilton, who leaned closer to Rose and whispered in a conspiratorial voice, ‘I bought him for you, dear.’

  ‘Me?’ Rose squeaked, thinking that Lady Hilton had lost her marbles. ‘Whatever for?’

  She leaned over and took Rose’s hand in one of hers. ‘Because I think you’re right for each other, that’s why. Even if he can’t see it yet.’

  Lady Hilton hadn’t a clue how wrong she was. Rose was hardly the catch of the century. Even if she didn’t have an uncertain future, unable to have children, bookish, what would anyone ever see in her? Let alone a man like Jonathan, who had dated some of the most beautiful and confident women in the world? Her heart stumbled. She’d enjoyed Jonathan’s company over the last few weeks. More than enjoyed it, but soon it would be over. She’d be leaving, going back to her life in Edinburgh, whatever she decided to do about the operation. Her empty life, she thought miserably. She had been happy with it once, but that had been before Jonathan. Now she knew, however long she lived, her life would be lonely and grey without him.

  Jonathan, who had replaced his shirt, slipped into the chair beside her. ‘Thank God, that’s over,’ he said. ‘I think I might just make my excuses for next year. But thank you, Sophia, for making the winning bid. Where would you like me to take you? Horseracing? To a polo match? I know you love both.’

  Lady Hilton smiled wryly. ‘As much as I’d like to go somewhere with you, Jonathan, I rather suspect that this will be my last outing for a while.’ She turned her head to the side, but not before Rose saw a tear slip down her cheek. ‘That’s why I’ve passed my date on to Rose here. I know she’s been working hard. Not least as she keeps popping in to see how we are, bless her. And I don’t think polo or the racecourse is altogether what’s needed. I need you to come up with something much more…’ she hesitated. ‘Appropriate for Rose.’

  Rose was thoroughly embarrassed. Imagine Jonathan being tasked with taking her out as if she were a bag of shopping or a pet requiring to be walked. It was too much.

  ‘There’s no need at all to take me out,’ she muttered into his ear. ‘But perhaps we should pretend—as if it’s ever going to happen—for Lady Hilton’s sake?’

  Jonathan grinned and Rose’s heart pinged.

  ‘I’m not one to back out of anything,’ he said into her ear. She felt his warm breath on the nape of her neck and a delicious thrill ran down her spine. Goose-bumps prickled her arms, making her shiver. ‘And I didn’t have you down as a quitter either,’ he continued. ‘In the meantime…’ he held out a hand ‘…shall we dance?’

  Almost in a daze, Rose let him lead her to the dance floor. Thankfully she knew how to waltz. Memories of her father twirling her and her mother around their small sitting room to the music of Mozart and Strauss brought a lump to her throat. She had never dreamed she would be putting it into practice in such a setting.

  Jonathan held her tightly. She could smell his aftershave and feel the hard muscles of his chest against her head. An image of his bare chest, tanned, defined muscles made her want to groan out loud. Who would have ever suspected he had a body like that? All that polo playing must help. She pushed the thought of heavily muscled thighs away before she became any more flustered.

  She looked into his eyes. He looked back and her world tipped. Damn the man. Damn everything. Why did she have to go and fall for him? And why did she have to be facing an uncertain future? Why? Why? Why?

  ‘You are the most beautiful woman in the room tonight and the most remarkable,’ Jonathan whispered into her hair.

  All at once, Rose had had enough. If Jonathan thought he could play games with her he had another think coming. No matter how she felt about him. Particularly because of how she felt about him.

  She pulled away from him so she could see his face. ‘What do you want from me, Jonathan?’ she asked.

  ‘What do you mean?’ he asked as he whirled around the dance floor.

  ‘I’m not the woman for you, believe me.’

  He frowned. ‘Don’t you think I should be the judge of that? Believe me, Rose Taylor. You’re exactly the woman for me.’ He paused by a door leading outside and pulled her into the fresh evening air. The scent of climbing roses drifted up her nostrils, intoxicating her.

  Jonathan’s finger stroked her hair away from her face. ‘I don’t think you have any idea just how lovely you are
.’ He smiled. ‘But it’s not just the way you look, you’re a very special woman, Rose. Don’t you know that? I can’t believe that no one has won your heart yet.’ He frowned and a shadow passed across his face. ‘Or has someone? Of course. What an idiot I’ve been. There’s bound to be someone back in Edinburgh, waiting for you. God, do you love him? Would you dump him? Come out with me instead?’ His smile was warm and tender. ‘I promise you, you won’t regret it.’

  Rose’s head was swirling. There was nothing she wanted more right now than to tell him that there was no one else and, yes, she would go out with him. Every day for the rest of her life. However long that would be. But she couldn’t. It wasn’t fair to her or to him. All at once she knew he was falling in love with her and it made her heart soar, but she also knew she already cared too much to deny him the happy-ever-after ending he deserved.

  ‘There’s no future for us,’ she said bleakly.

  ‘So there is someone else.’

  Rose hesitated. It would be easier to let him believe that. But she wasn’t going to lie to him. Even if she couldn’t tell him the truth.

  ‘No, there isn’t anyone.’

  ‘In that case, I’m not going to take no for an answer. I owe you a date. And a date is what we’re going to go on. Like it or not.’ Although he smiled, Rose sensed the determination behind his words. And even though she knew she should avoid him, for his sake if not hers, she couldn’t resist the temptation. Another memory. A few more moments with Jonathan to store away like a squirrel.

  ‘Okay, then. If you insist, I’ll go out with you. I guess it’s not really a date anyway.’ She tried to sound casual.

  ‘Not really a date,’ Jonathan muttered under his breath. ‘If I insist? Well, I do insist. So that’s sorted. This weekend. I’ll let you know when and where later.’

  Back at his flat, Jonathan prowled around restlessly. What was it about Rose that had got under his skin? Okay, so she was beautiful, but God knew he had dated beautiful women before. Even a supermodel. No, it wasn’t that. It was her. That dogged air of determination mixed with an underlying vulnerability and genuineness that he had never come across before. She wasn’t the least bit interested in his title or his wealth. She wasn’t bowled over by him the way most women were. In fact, she gave the distinct impression she was unimpressed by him, almost disapproving.

  That probably hit the nail on the head. She probably thought he didn’t have a serious, committed bone in his body. And what was wrong with that? Wasn’t it important to have fun in life? There would be plenty time for settling down in the future. A shiver of revulsion ran through him. The words ‘settling down’ and ‘Jonathan Cavendish’ didn’t really go in the same sentence. Hell, he just had to look at his father and his serial marriages to know what a waste of time getting married was. He had a damn cheek to accuse him of a lack of commitment and responsibility. Look at the way he had treated his mother. She had hardly been cold before he had taken up with some one new. What kind of recommendation for married life was that?

  But Rose was different. He suspected when she gave her heart, it would be for keeps. And the man she gave it to would have to be deserving. She was a challenge. That was it. That was the true reason he was attracted to her. Never before had he been turned down by a woman and it wasn’t going to happen now. He would take her on the kind of date that she would like. Something that would convince her that he saw her for who she was and not just another woman. It was obvious that parties on yachts weren’t for her. What did she say she liked? Being outdoors. Long walks, sitting in with a book when it was raining outside. Playing her guitar. What else? Picnicking.

  He had gone about trying to impress her the wrong way. When they went for their date, he would show her he was sensitive and thoughtful and that he didn’t need wild parties or crowds of people. He sat down on a chair by the window and looked out at the lights of London below. An idea was beginning to form in his head. He thought he knew exactly where to take her. Somewhere she would get to know the real Jonathan Cavendish.

  Chapter Eight

  JONATHAN collected Rose, as promised, on Saturday morning. He came in and spent a few minutes making small talk with her parents, accepting a cup of coffee from Rose’s mother and engaging her father in a dissection of the latest football results.

  ‘Just let me know when you fancy going to another match. I can always get tickets.’ He paused. ‘I don’t suppose you’re a cricket fan, are you? I’ve a couple of tickets for Lords next weekend.’

  Rose suppressed a groan. If anything, her father preferred cricket to football. If the two of them started talking cricket, goodness knew when it would stop. She was delighted in her father’s improvement. Managing at the football match had given him a lift. Every day he was more like the man he had been before the stroke and for that alone she could have kissed Jonathan.

  ‘Now, you two. That’s enough talk about cricket. Shouldn’t you and Rose be getting on your way?’ Rose’s mother stepped in.

  Jonathan rose to his feet. ‘You know my flat actually overlooks Lords. Why don’t you come to lunch the next time there’s a match on? We get a great view from the drawing-room window.’

  Rose’s father slid a glance at his daughter. She knew he would love to go, but didn’t want to agree without knowing how his daughter felt about it.

  ‘It’s up to you, Dad,’ she said. But she gave him a small shake of her head. She really didn’t want to be any more beholden to Jonathan than they already were. Despite her best intentions, they were being drawn increasingly into Jonathan’s life, and she had to remember that no good could come of it.

  ‘One day perhaps, son,’ Rose’s father answered.

  ‘Any time, at all. Just let Rose know.’ Jonathan jumped to his feet. ‘I’ll have your daughter back before it gets too late.’

  She was back in a time warp. Get her home before it gets too late indeed. Who did he think she was? Cinderella?

  ‘Don’t wait up, Mum, Dad. It’s just possible I’ll go the pub and catch up with the gang when we get back.’ Put that in your pipe and smoke it, she thought, pleased that she had made the point. She would decide when she came home. Not him.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Rose asked as they sped up the motorway, heading north. She hadn’t known what to wear. He could be taking her anywhere, another party, lunch with some of his friends, anywhere. Not knowing, she had decided on a simple summer dress, hoping that it would see her through most eventualities. Her glasses were back in place as, try as she would, she still didn’t quite have the hang of the contact lenses. But at least with her glasses she could see, and with her hair tied back in its usual plait, she felt collected and in control.

  ‘You’ll have to wait and see,’ Jonathan said obliquely. ‘I had the damnedest time trying to decide where to take you, but I hope I’ve got it right.’

  ‘As long as I’m appropriately dressed, I don’t care.’

  ‘You would be appropriately dressed even if you wore a sack,’ Jonathan replied.

  Huh. More of his empty compliments. If she wore a sack, she would look like a bag lady. Who was he trying to kid? On the other hand, Jonathan would look perfectly at home where ever they went. Even in the faded jeans and open-necked, short-sleeved shirt he was wearing. A lock of hair flopped across his forehead and he kept brushing it away as he drove.

  After an hour he turned off the motorway and onto a road bordered by fields which, in turn, gave way to a smattering of houses. A sign welcomed them to Cambridge.

  ‘I don’t know if this was the right place to take you,’ he said. ‘But I thought we could hire a punt and stop along the bank for a picnic. I used to do that regularly when I was a student here and I know just the place where we can tie up the boat.’

  He looks nervous, Rose thought, her heart melting. She liked this more vulnerable side to him.

  ‘Just as well it’s not bucketing with rain, then.’ She smiled to let him know she was teasing. ‘Isn’t this pretty close
to where you live?’

  ‘Yes. Cavendish House is just over half an hour to the west. And don’t worry, if it had rained, I would have come up with another plan.’

  ‘And the picnic? Did you make it yourself?’

  He shook his head, looking sheepish. ‘I had it delivered from Harrods.’ Then they both laughed. ‘Sorry, I guess old habits die hard. But, honestly, Rose, I don’t think you would have found anything I made edible.’

  He parked the car close to the river, near the town centre. Rose was curious. She knew little about Cambridge other than that it was a famous university town and people punted on the river. ‘Show me the college you went to,’ she said. She really wanted to know more about him.

  He looked perplexed. ‘Are you sure you’re interested? They all look pretty much the same really.’

  ‘Not to me they don’t. I’d love to see where Newton, Darwin and Wordsworth lived and worked. And all the others. Go on. Indulge me.’

  He bowed from the waist. ‘Your wish is my command. Come on, then. I went to Trinity. In fact, we can hire a punt from there. It’s in the main street. Let’s see if the porters remember me. They might even let me have a look at the room I was in.’ He looked pleased, Rose thought. As if he wasn’t used to anyone taking an interest.

  He took her by the hand and led her down streets, past several modern buildings and ancient colleges. Rose kept swivelling her head to look at buildings, a round church, a medieval house, but Jonathan propelled her on.

  ‘I want to show you the Bridge of Sighs first,’ he said. He was like an excited schoolboy and Rose warmed to this new side of him. He was constantly challenging her preconceptions of him.

  ‘It connects the older part of St John’s College to the newer part.’ He pulled her through heavy wooden gates, past the porter’s lodge and into a courtyard. Rose stopped in her tracks. Elegant buildings with intricate stained-glass windows looked down from every side. Students scurried about chatting, books under their arms, oblivious to their surroundings.