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what you have to suggest. But—she was still feeling quite desperate, and desperate problems called for desperate solutions.

      But what if Noah Peverelle hadn’t been serious anyway? What kind of a fool would that make her look? What…? Elexa was just building up a fine head of steam against Noah Peverelle for daring to make her feel a fool when the phone rang.

      She grabbed at it. But it wasn’t Lois; it was her mother. It couldn’t have been an hour ago that they had last spoken! It must be important. It was—to her mother. ‘I forgot to ask. What are you going to wear on Sunday?’

      ‘Wear?’ Elexa repeated in surprise. ‘Does it matter?’

      ‘Of course it matters. You’ll want to look your best when Tommy Fielding sees you again. I don’t want you turning up in those old trousers you were wearing when Timothy Stowe popped round the other Sunday.’

      Popped round! As Elexa recalled it—and she had been wearing a pair of fairly new trousers at the time—Timothy Stowe had been especially invited to ‘pop’ in to see her father’s stamp collection, and to stay to tea. But Elexa knew from past experience that it would do no good to remind her mother of this. Timothy, Tommy—she’d probably got a Tarquin all lined up ready, should Tommy Fielding fail to thaw her annoying daughter’s stony heart.

      ‘I’ll make sure to wear something smart,’ Elexa replied finally, feeling too worn down by the constant attempts at coercion to want an argument with her parent.

      ‘Good,’ her mother replied, and rang off—no doubt, Elexa assumed, to do more scheming in the I’ll-get-my-daughter-to-the-church-if-it’s-the-last-thing-I-do stakes.

      A minute later, however, and the phone rang again, and this time it was Lois. ‘I’ve perjured my soul to get this for you,’ Lois began. ‘Have you got a pen handy?’

      Elexa took down the number her good friend read out to her, and repeated it back, and then said gratefully, ‘I truly appreciate it, Lois.’

      ‘What are friends for? Though you’ll have to tell me why you want it as soon as you can. My imagination is running riot, trying to guess what’s going on!’

      Elexa said goodbye to her, knowing that not even in her wildest imaginings would Lois ever guess at the truth of what was going on. That was, Elexa mused, beginning to feel hot all over at the thought of what she was contemplating, if she ever found enough nerve to call that number.

      She did call it though, a half-hour later when she was heartily fed up with her dithering. For goodness’ sake, the man hadn’t space for emotional entanglements—well, neither had she! With her throat dry, her hands shaking, she picked up the phone and pressed out Noah Peverelle’s number, and consequently didn’t know whether she felt frustrated or relieved when he wasn’t home.

      He really was as busy as he’d intimated, she had to conclude when over the next couple of days she tried his number again with the same result. He was never home.

      By Sunday morning it had become something of a fixture in her mind that she would keep ringing his number until he did answer. By then she knew his number off by heart and, just before she left her flat to drive to her parents’ home in Berkshire, she stabbed out the digits again.

      ‘Peverelle,’ said a voice she knew—and Elexa only just managed to hold down a squeak of alarm.

      It was him! He! ‘Hello!’ she managed, the whole idea of what she was about all at once seeming not only crazy but totally preposterous. Yet, as she recalled that her mother had again phoned her last night to ask her to be ‘warm’ to Tommy Fielding, Elexa saw that if she could manage to spit the rest of her rehearsed speech out, she might see in front of her time free of pressure—leaving her the space she craved to be left in peace to get on with her career. ‘You don’t know me—’ She pushed herself to go on, but just couldn’t get any further. It was preposterous! It was…

      ‘Do you have a name?’ Noah Peverelle asked shortly. Elexa made a face—charm school had obviously been wasted on him. But for the moment she preferred to stay anonymous.

      ‘The thing is,’ she asserted herself to begin briskly, ‘that you would like a s-son, and I need a h-husband tem…’ Temporarily, she would have said, had he given her the chance.

      ‘Who the hell are you?’ Peverelle demanded curtly.

      ‘No one you know. We—’

      ‘Where did you get hold of that sort of erroneous information?’ he challenged sharply. ‘Are you press?’

      ‘No, I’m not!’ she erupted, unsure if she was glad or sorry that her information was erroneous. Though, hang on—it wasn’t erroneous. She had heard it herself from him with her very own ears. Abruptly then she realised that if he believed her to be from the newspapers he would automatically deny he had said any such thing, wouldn’t he? ‘We have a mutual friend, sort of,’ she hurried on.

      ‘Who?’ he rapped.

      Don’t beat about the bush, come straight to the point, why don’t you? ‘That’s not important just now.’

      ‘So—what is important?’

      ‘You sounded much more pleasant the last time I heard you talking,’ Elexa said without thinking.

      ‘I’ve had a hard week!’ he rapped again, clearly taking in his stride that she, somewhere before, and at some time, had heard his voice. ‘What are you after?’

      ‘Nothing—other than…’

      ‘A husband, in return for a son—and a meal ticket for the rest of your life, no doubt,’ he snarled.

      He thought she was after his wealth! Shocked, Elexa was speechless for endless seconds. Then, furious with him, with herself, ‘When I’m that hard-up I’ll let you know!’ she hissed, and fairly threw the phone back on its rest. That anyone could accuse her of such a thing as marrying for money was something she had simply not considered.

      To think she had seriously, for even half a moment, thought of tying herself up with that suspicious swine! She had money of her own without wanting any of his, thank you very much. Her parents were quite well off, as too had been her grandparents. They had left her a substantial sum of money, sufficient anyway for her to be able to live comfortably without the need to touch her not inconsiderable salary. Had he been mixing with the wrong sort of woman? Suspicious devil!

      Elexa was still fuming a minute later when her phone rang for attention. She gave a hefty sigh of despair. She would be seeing her mother quite soon now; she did not really need another call from her with yet more instructions on how she should behave with Tommy Fielding.

      But, unable to give in to her mother and ‘marry and settle down’, Elexa tried in other ways to be dutiful and respectful, and went to answer the phone, hoping that her parent would make it brief.

      ‘Hello,’ she said, and was shaken rigid to hear the voice of the man upon whom she had just slammed the receiver down.

      ‘So what’s with the proposition?’ he said toughly.

      Proposition! He thought, Mr Clever, dial one-four-seven-one to get his last caller’s number—so much for wanting to remain anonymous—that she was propositioning him! ‘Forget it!’ she snapped furiously. ‘I’d sooner marry a man-eating shark!’ With that she slammed the phone down on him for a second time. If it rang again, mother or no mother, she just wasn’t answering it.

      The christening went off beautifully, with baby Betsy being little short of angelic. Aunts and uncles, nephews and nieces were all assembled, all female members queuing up to cuddle the tiny bundle.

      She really was a sweetheart, Elexa mused, feeling all sort of squashy inside when her turn came to hold and croon to the gorgeous cherub. Glancing up, though, she saw her mother watching her, and hated that she was made to feel guilty for denying her grandparental status.

      Joanna came up to her. ‘She’ll want changing,

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