LITMIR.BIZ

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if, she thought with a grimace, the standing ovation might be a little muted.

      She had planned on taking the train and then a taxi to the church, but on the spur of the moment she threw parsimony to the winds and decided on a taxi for the entire trip.

      It meant dipping into the trust fund which she had always refused to touch, because it was there for when she decided to find somewhere to buy, but she honestly couldn’t face the hassle of the train station in her wedding outfit.

      Not when her thoughts were all over the place. Not when she felt sick with tension at the unexpected future in front of her. Definitely not when she thought of Sergio and the way he had casually dismissed her.

      Outside, it was the perfect day for an early spring wedding. The skies were blue and cloudless, and the air was crisp rather than cold. Coats were needed, but thin ones, and there was no mud anywhere for delicate high heels to subside into.

      Clarissa would be thrilled to bits. She had always had an uncanny ability to make people and things in general fall in line with what she wanted, and lo and behold the weather was being obedient.

      Susie grinned, relaxing as she was driven to the church and only tensing once more when she was deposited outside, to join the two-hundred-strong throng of people piled in front.

      Immediately her parents descended, followed by her sister, and for the next two hours there was blessed reprieve from her thoughts.

      With all the romance in her soul she was tearful during the ceremony, and proud as punch at the stunning picture her cousin made in her meringue of a wedding dress, befitting a girl who had spent the first eight years of her life believing that she was a fairy princess.

      There were hundreds of photos outside the church, and then the bride and groom left for Clarissa’s parents’ house in a white Bentley. Everyone else made their way the five miles or so in assorted cars.

      Susie, sandwiched between her mother and her sister, half listened to Alex telling them about her new promotion, which would see her in line to become the youngest ever neurosurgeon at one of the leading hospitals in London. When there was eventually a lull in the conversation she half-heartedly told them that she was finally beginning to see some light in trying to track down clients for her illustrations.

      At least her mother had steered clear of talking about guys so far.

      ‘Susannah, darling, what’s happening on the man front with you? I thought you might have surprised us by bringing a nice young man with you to the wedding…’

      ‘Er…they’re thin on the ground, Mother…all getting snapped up by beauty queens like Clarissa…’

      ‘Darling, you look perfectly charming today…’

      ‘What about all the other days?’ Susie asked wryly.

      Louise Sadler gave her a fond pat on the arm. ‘You could add to your wardrobe of jeans with some more feminine clothes…you look an absolute dream in dresses…’

      ‘A bad dream.’

      Up ahead, the mansion that was Kate and Richard Princeton’s house rose splendidly into view.

      ‘The house looks nice. I like the lanterns lining the sides of the drive…’

      ‘It’s all a bit much, if you ask me, but you know my sister…she’s never been able to resist the lure of trying to impress everyone… Still, I suppose Clarissa is the first in the Thornton line to get married. Hopefully you’ll be next…’

      ‘Or Alex.’ She poked her sister in the ribs and Alex instantly chipped in that there was no time even to think about marriage—not when she was building a demanding career that ate up most of her leisure time.

      Alex was just the sort of woman Sergio was drawn to. She, Susie, was the exception that proved the rule. Wasn’t that why she had never mentioned her high-achieving family? Because she didn’t want any comparisons? Because she wanted to keep living in a little bubble where she was appreciated in her own right? If he never met her family then he would never take a step back and wonder what the heck he was doing with her.

      It was a mortifying thought, tapping into her own silly insecurities, and she fought against it, knowing that it wasn’t fair.

      In the bigger scheme of things, silly insecurities were the least of her problems.

      ‘I myself am not a believer in marriage,’ she declared, to the astonishment of both her mother and her sister, and also her father, who craned back and looked at her with raised bushy eyebrows.

      ‘Since when?’ he demanded.

      ‘Since…er…living in London…’ she said airily. ‘I guess I finally see that it’s perfect for an independent woman to live her life without a guy in the background, nagging about when the dinner’s going to be put on the table while he watches the footie…’

      ‘You really do need to get rid of those young men you seem to like hanging around with…’ Louise Sadler gave a little moue of distaste.

      ‘And just for the record…’ this as her father’s driver was pulling into the courtyard, making a graceful turn before pulling to a stop and rushing round to open doors ‘…I think in this day and age it’s absolutely acceptable for a woman to bring a child up on her own! You could say I’m a changed person—forging ahead…pretty much a feminist… It took me a while to get there, but better late than never!’

      She leapt out of the car and immediately immersed herself in the nearest group of guests hovering by the front door. But she was nervously perspiring, relieved that neither of her parents had had the chance to follow up on that remark.

      No drinking. Just one measly glass of champagne. She wondered how on earth she would make it stretch until one in the morning.

      She knew a huge amount of the invited guests. There were relatives from all corners of the globe. But she’d barely had a chance to chat to the bride and groom—just a few snatched words of congratulation.

      The marquee, which dominated much of the enormous back garden, was a thing of splendour, with lots of white swirling drapes and chandeliers. The flower arrangements on the tables were so huge that they would struggle to get through her front door, and they would take up more space in her sitting room than…

      Than a hundred assorted roses.

      She and Sergio had transported most of them back to his place the morning after he had brought them for her, had laughed and then fallen into bed—and had kept falling into bed because they couldn’t not.

      She felt a lump in her throat, and was on the verge of pinning a bright smile on her face to cover the moment of sadness when a voice behind her drawled, ‘Don’t burst into tears. It’ll look like sour grapes…’

      Susie swung round, shocked to her very core, scarcely believing her eyes.

      She’d been standing at the very edge of the garden, half concealed by dense shrubbery, nursing her single glass of champagne. He had crept up on her, unobserved, and for a few breathless seconds she was lost for words.

      ‘Surprised?’ Sergio asked softly.

      If she was, then she couldn’t be more surprised than he was. He had had no reason to question his assumption that she came from humble origins. So she had a couple of expensive things in her flat…? Certainly not enough to make him think that she was anything but a girl venturing out in a fairly hazardous profession. He had assumed that whilst she might have moral support from her family, that was pretty much it on the support front.

      In fact he had dared to question Stanley’s map-reading skills, only realising that he was, indeed, at the right place when the car drove up the lantern-lined drive.

      And now here he was.

      And

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