‘Let’s just have one of the happy couple on their own now, shall we?’ Perdita said with a cajoling lilt to her voice. Emma thought she and Jack had been doing a convincing job of looking comfortable with each other, but there was a strange gleam in the journalist’s eye that she didn’t like the look of. Did she suspect all wasn’t quite as it seemed? Probably. It was her job to see past people’s façades and get to the heart of a story, after all.
Emma swallowed hard, but managed to keep her smile in place.
The rest of Jack’s family moved away from the stiff tableau they’d formed for the photo and went to perch on the nearby sofas to watch the rest of the show.
‘When will the next issue of the magazine come out, Perdie?’ Jack’s mother asked, her eyes glued to the way Jack’s arms were still wrapped around Emma’s middle as if she was looking for something to criticise.
‘In a couple of days. We’ll just be able to squeak them into the next issue along with some upbeat captions about them renewing their vows.’
Jack’s arms tightened around her and her heart jumped in her chest in response.
‘What makes you think we’re going to renew our vows?’ he snapped.
‘I told Perdita that’s what was going to happen, dear,’ Jack’s mother broke in. ‘It’s such a prudent course of action, what with being so suddenly reconciled after all this time. And it means all your friends and family will be able to celebrate your union with you this time.’ Despite the cajoling note in her voice Emma clearly heard the undertone of steel in her mother-in-law’s words.
Jack didn’t say anything more, but she could practically feel the waves of frustration rolling off him.
‘The full interview will be in the next issue because there just isn’t room for it in this one and we’ll want to do a nice big spread,’ Perdita went on gaily, apparently enjoying the drama that was unfolding in front of her. Emma guessed she could see a whole career’s worth of titillating stories in the offing.
‘I had a fight on my hands finding some room for these pictures, to be honest,’ Perdita went on. ‘We had to bump a spread on Fenella Fenwicke’s third wedding.’
Tripping over to where she and Jack stood shifting uncomfortably on their feet, she put a cool hand onto Emma’s wrist.
Emma had to work hard not to whip her arm away from the clingy covetousness of the woman’s grip.
‘Now then. Shall we have one of the two of you looking adoringly into each other’s eyes? That should play well with our readers.’
Emma’s heart sank. She was going to have to look into Jack’s eyes with the same insipid expression she’d been struggling to maintain for the past twenty minutes and still hold it together.
What if he saw past her nonchalant façade and noticed how she was desperately trying to hide how much she still cared for him? And what if he didn’t actually care about her any more and she saw it there clearly in his face? How would she cope when all these people were watching them?
Taking a breath, she steeled herself against her trepidation and turned around to look at him.
Jack looked back at her, his green-flecked hazel eyes filled with an unnerving intensity behind his long dark lashes.
Emma’s heart thumped hard against her chest as she forced herself not to break eye contact with him.
He was so outrageously handsome it dragged the breath from her lungs.
But handsome didn’t keep her warm at night, she reminded herself. It didn’t make her feel secure and loved, wanted and treasured.
Safe.
Falling in love was a precarious business, full of hidden dangers and potential heartbreak, and she didn’t know if she could bear the idea of being that vulnerable again. Not when she’d already experienced how quickly and catastrophically things could go wrong.
After a few more seconds of torture, Jack and Emma holding the same pseudo loving pose for the camera, Perdita finally clapped her hands together and gave a tinkling little laugh.
‘That’s it! Perfect. I think we have all we need for now.’ She turned to Jack’s mother. ‘I’ll let you know when the issue with the pictures is out, Miranda.’
‘Thank you, Perdie. You’re a good friend.’
And a shrewd businesswoman, Emma thought with a twinge of distaste. Those pictures would probably be worth a fortune if she leaked them to the papers, not to mention the career-enhancing glory of getting the scoop for her magazine.
‘I’ll call you about setting up that at home interview in a couple of days,’ she shouted across to Jack and Emma as she bustled about, gathering up her bag and laptop.
After another minute of fussing and gushing pleasantries with the marquess and marchioness, Perdita finally left in a flurry of kisses and a blast of expensive perfume and the atmosphere in the room settled into an unnerving hum of prickly discontent.
* * *
Jack had had enough of his parents’ intrusion into his affairs.
‘Right, well, now this circus is over we’ll be leaving,’ he said to them.
‘Wait, Jack, why don’t you stay a little longer so we can get to know our new daughter-in-law a bit better?’ his mother said in an appeasing tone, bustling over to where he and Emma stood.
He didn’t like the glint of mischief in her eyes. No doubt she would spend the time grilling Emma in the hope of getting her to admit to something they could use against her later.
There was no way he was letting that happen.
‘You got what you wanted. We put on a good show for the sake of your image as invested parents-in-law, so now you can leave us alone,’ he snapped.
‘Jack, we just want what’s best for the family—’ his father began.
‘No, you don’t,’ Jack broke in angrily, ‘you want what’s best for you. Well, I’m doing what’s best for us and that means getting the hell away from this toxic atmosphere. Come on, Emma.’ He held out his hand to her.
She took it, wrapping her fingers tightly around his, and he was alarmed to feel how much she was trembling.
She’d projected such an outwardly cool exterior throughout the whole debacle he was surprised to discover she seemed to be suffering just as much as he was.
‘I’m sorry to leave so suddenly, Clare,’ he said, turning to his sister.
He was grateful that she’d stuck around to be here today. It had been good to have another ally for Emma in a strained situation like this.
And he was glad for the opportunity to see his sister again; he’d missed her open smile and level-headed, easy company while he’d been living away in the States.
Clare gave them both an understanding smile. ‘You must both come up to Edinburgh soon,’ she said, her expression telling him there was no way she was letting them get away without seeing her for that long again.
He just nodded at her, uncomfortably aware that he and Emma might not be together for very much longer so there was no point in trying to arrange anything with his sister for the future.
He’d work out how to handle all that later though.
Right now he wanted to get Emma out of there and as far away from his parents as possible.
They left without another word, Jack aware of his parents’ disgruntled gazes on his back but not giving a fig how they felt about him laying down the law to them. No way was he going to let them try to run his life.
Back outside he opened the passenger door for Emma and watched her slide into the car, as graceful as ever—struck by how even in the most difficult situations she still managed to maintain her poise—then went round to the other side of the car and got in next to her.
They drove away in silence, Emma watching out of the window as the car made its way down the long driveway, glancing back to look at the house as if concerned that his parents might come out and hotfoot it after them.
She caught his eye and he gave her a tight smile, which she returned.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked her, half expecting her to shout at him now for putting her through that. ‘I’m sorry about them landing a journalist on us like that. I know how you must hate them after what they did to your family when your father died.’
‘It wasn’t your fault, Jack. It’s fine,’ she said, but he was sure he saw a glimmer of reproach in her eyes.
For some reason her controlled restraint bothered him. He realised he actually wanted her to rage at him, so he could rage back at her. To get all the pain and anger out in the open, instead of all this polite pussyfooting around they were doing.
Instead, he took a deep breath and told himself to calm down. His parents’ meddling was no fault of hers. Or his.
But as he stared out of the window the memory of having to stand in full view of his family and look lovingly into Emma’s eyes came back to haunt him, crushing the air from his lungs. He could have sworn he’d seen something in her gaze, something that made his heart beat faster and his blood soar through his veins.
It had made him nervous.
He still felt twitchy and wound up from it now and a sudden urge to get out of the confines of the car and walk around for a minute to get rid of his restless energy overwhelmed him.
‘We should stop and get a drink somewhere before we head back to London,’ he muttered, and before Emma could protest he leant forwards and asked John to stop at the country pub that was coming up on their left.
Once they’d pulled into the car park he said, ‘Let’s take a quick break here,’ getting out before she had chance to answer him.
The temperature was cool, but the sun was out and Jack felt it warm the skin of his face as they walked towards the pub. It was a relief to be outside again. Despite the impressive dimensions of the rooms in his parents’ house he’d felt claustrophobic there and had been hugely relieved to leave its austere atmosphere.
The exterior of the pub had already been decorated for Christmas and strings of fairy lights winked merrily at them as they walked up to the front of the building.
‘Let’s sit out in the beer garden,’ he suggested as they came to a halt at the front door. He could already imagine how the dark cosy interior would press in on him. He needed air right now.
‘Sure, okay,’ Emma said, slanting him a quizzical glance.
‘I just need to be outside for a while.’
She nodded. ‘Okay, I understand. I’ll go and get the drinks. What would you like?’
He frowned. ‘No, I’ll get them.’
Putting up a hand, she fixed him with a determined stare. ‘Jack, I can stretch to buying us a couple of drinks. Let me get them.’
Knowing how stubborn she could be when she put her mind to it, he conceded defeat. ‘Okay, thanks. I’ll have an orange and soda,’ he said, aware he needed to keep his wits about him, despite an almost overwhelming craving for a large shot of whisky to calm his frazzled nerves.
‘Okay, you go and find us a good table in the sun. I’ll see you out there,’ she said, already heading into the pub.
He found a bench right by a small brook in the garden and sat down to wait for her to return, watching the fairy lights twinkling in the distance. Barely a minute later he spotted her striding over the grass to join him, a drink in each hand. It looked as though she’d gone for the soft option as well.
He was surprised. He’d expected her to come back with something much stronger after having to deal with the nonsense his parents had subjected her to.
A sudden and savage anger rose from somewhere deep inside him—at his parents, at her, at the world for the twisted carnage it had thrown at them both.
She put the drinks carefully down on the table like the good little server she’d become.
It burned him that she hadn’t done anything worthwhile with her life when there had been so much potential for her to do great things with it.
Instead she’d given up her life with him in the States for what? To become a waitress. At this last thought his temper finally snapped.
‘Why the hell are you wasting your time working in the service industry? I thought your plan was to go to university to study art and design,’ he said roughly, no longer able to hold back from asking the question that had been burning a hole in his brain since he’d first seen her again.
Her initial shock at his abrasive tone quickly flipped to indignation.
‘Because I’ve had to work to pay off my father’s debts, Jack,’ she blurted, sitting down heavily opposite him, clearly regretting her loss of control as soon as the words were out.
He stared at her in shock. ‘What?’
She swallowed visibly but didn’t break eye contact. ‘They were rather more substantial than I told you they were, but I was finally on track to pay off the last of them—until I lost my job yesterday.’
Guilt-fuelled horror hit him hard in the chest. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? You said the money from the sale of your family house had taken care of the debts your father left.’
Frustration burned through him. If she’d told him she needed money he would have offered to help. Not that she would have taken it from him at that point, he was sure. After her father’s death she’d sunk into herself, pushing everyone she’d loved away from her. Including him.
‘It wasn’t just the banks he owed money to,’ she said with a sigh. ‘He’d taken loans from friends and relatives too, who all came out of the woodwork to call the debts in as soon as they’d heard he’d passed away.’
Jack frowned and shook his head in frustration. ‘Emma, your father’s debts weren’t yours to reconcile all by yourself.’
She shrugged and took a sip of her drink before responding. ‘I didn’t want to be known for ever as the poor little rich girl whose daddy had to borrow money from his friends in order to keep her in the lifestyle to which she’d become accustomed, who then ran to her rich husband to sort out her problems.’
The pain in her eyes made his stomach burn. He went to put a reassuring hand on her arm but stopped himself. He couldn’t touch her again. It might undo something in him that he was hanging onto by a mere thread.
‘I didn’t want you to have to deal with being hounded by the press too,’ she added in a small voice. ‘You had enough on your plate what with starting at your new job.’
He thought again about how he’d avoided seeking out any news from the UK after moving to the States. The cruel irony of it was, if he hadn’t done that he’d have been more aware of how her father’s name had been dragged through the press and what she’d been put through after he’d left. And ultimately that would have helped him understand why she’d shut him out of her life once he’d moved away.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the whole truth, Jack, but I was overwhelmed by it all at the time. I guess I was too young and naïve to deal with it properly. It felt easier just to shut you out of it,’ she said suddenly, shocking him out of his torment.
He felt a sting of conscience as he remembered his angry rant at her the other night.
‘I know I promised I’d put us first once things had settled down but sorting out the carnage that my father had left us to deal with took up my every waking second, my every ounce of energy. I felt adrift and panicky most of the time, lost and alone, and I couldn’t see past it. There didn’t ever seem to be an end in sight.’
She took another sip of her drink but her hand was shaking so much some of the liquid sloshed over the edge of the glass and onto the table.
‘Every day after you’d gone I told myself that I’d call you tomorrow, that once things had settled down I’d get on a plane and go and find you, but they never did.’
She mopped absently at the spillage with a tissue that she’d pulled out of her bag.
/> ‘Months bled into each other until suddenly a whole year had passed and by that time it felt too late. I’m sorry I let things drag on the way I did, but I didn’t want to have to face the reality that there couldn’t be any us any more. That my life with you was over. You were everything I’d ever wanted but I had to let you go. I didn’t feel I had any choice.’
She rubbed a hand across her forehead and blew out a calming sigh. ‘The other problem was that my mother wasn’t well after my father died. She became very depressed and couldn’t get out of bed for a long time. I needed to be there for her twenty-four hours a day. To check she wasn’t going to do anything—’ She paused, clearly reliving the terror that she might come back home to find herself an orphan if she left her mother alone for too long.
Jack nodded and closed his eyes, trying to make it clear he understood what she was telling him without her needing to spell it out.
Dragging in a breath, she gave him a sad smile. ‘So it was left to me to organise the funeral, arrange the quick sale of the home I’d lived in since I was a little girl and face the angry creditors on my own while my mother lay in bed staring at the wall.’
‘I could have helped you, Emma, if you’d let me,’ he broke in, feeling angry frustration flare in his chest.
‘I didn’t want you involved, Jack. I was hollowed out, a ghost of my former self, and I didn’t want you to see me like that. You would have hated it. I wanted to be sparkling and bright for you but my father’s death drained it all away.’ She sighed. ‘Anyway, it was my family’s mess, not yours.’
He leaned in towards her. ‘I was your family too, Emma. Not by blood, but in every other way. But you pushed me away.’
She took a shaky-sounding breath. ‘I know my decision to stay in England hurt you terribly at the time, but my mother needed me more than you did. She would have had no one left if I’d slunk off to America and there was no way I could just leave her. There was no one else to look after her. All her friends—and I use the word in the loosest of terms—abandoned her so they didn’t find themselves tainted by our scandal.’
A Countess for Christmas Page 9
