The Mistress of His Manor (12 page)

Charlie shook his head. ‘I’m not stupid, Jo. I know he wouldn’t. I would take care of that side of things for him. The poor love lives in some other world half the time.’

‘And whose fault is that?’ snapped Jo. ‘A serious head injury can’t have helped him much, can it?’

His mouth twisted. ‘Don’t you think I know that? But Red has forgiven me. Can’t you do the same?’

‘It’s not easy. I was in a terrible state over Rufus’s accident because I didn’t stop you driving that night. But of course you didn’t care a toss about that—even less that you ruined Oxford for me.’

‘You’re so wrong about that,’ he said sombrely. ‘I was shattered when you gave the course up. To be honest, I couldn’t believe it. You were such a determined girl—always working all the time.’

‘A girl—I quote—who didn’t even know how to please a man in bed.’

Charlie’s mouth twisted. ‘If I said that I apologise. It was my fault, not yours.’

‘Because I was a girl, not a boy?’

He swallowed. ‘What do you mean?’

Jo raised an eyebrow. ‘What do you think I mean?’

‘You know, then.’ He sat in silence for a while, defeat in every line of his body. ‘I’ve tried to convince myself that no one does.’ His head came up. ‘It may be an enlightened world for some these days, but not for my parents. Have you always known?’

‘Of course not,’ she said scathingly. ‘I thought you were my boyfriend, Charlie. In the beginning I could hardly believe my luck about that. So when the bed part was disappointing I took it for granted that I wasn’t sexy enough. It’s taken a long time for someone to convince me otherwise.’ She sat down. ‘Take the sofa, Charlie, and tell me why you’re here.’

He sighed. ‘I had enough money—more than enough—to set up a top quality website myself. But it…went.’

Jo frowned. ‘Went where?’

He removed the scarf and sunglasses to reveal two black eyes, and his painful smile revealed gaps where a couple of teeth were missing.

She gasped in horror.
‘Charlie!
What on earth happened to you?’

‘I had the bright idea of adding to the money by playing poker. I got into debt.’ Charlie shuddered. ‘After I got home today a couple of heavies came to my flat, demanding payment in full. They escorted me to my bank, where they waited while I drew out every cent I had. Then they took me back to the flat and did me over pretty thoroughly. Just so I knew they meant what they said.’

‘Good God, Charlie!’ Jo examined him more closely. ‘Are you badly hurt? Is anything broken other than the teeth?’

‘One of my ribs is cracked, but I’ll live. I’ll have to tell Dad I was mugged. The worst part was ringing Red to let him know I couldn’t put up the money after all.’ Charlie eyed her in appeal. ‘From what I saw yesterday, March is pretty keen on you, Jo. Couldn’t you persuade him I’ve turned over a new leaf? I really want to help his brother sell his paintings. I honestly believe it would do Red a whole lot of good health-wise.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘He’s pretty surprised about you and March, by the way. He had a crush on you in the old days.’

‘Whereas you desperately wanted him to have a crush on
you,
Charlie?’

He nodded miserably. ‘Don’t worry. I know there’s not a hope in hell of that. But I’ll settle for his friendship, Jo. I want to make it up to Red for the accident. And helping him to be a commercially successful artist is about the only way I know how.’ He opened the laptop and booted it up. ‘Take a look, Jo. I photographed some of his work.’

Jo watched, fascinated, as he scrolled through a series of sun-drenched Italian landscapes depicted with an artistry that took her breath away. ‘Wow, Charlie, these are incredible! Has March seen them?’

‘I tried to show him yesterday evening, after I’d spent some time with Red, but Lord Arnborough brushed me off and showed me out through his fourteenth-century door,’ said Charlie bitterly, and closed the laptop.

‘How much do you need?’

‘A couple of thousand at the very least,’ he muttered, his eyes falling. ‘I had twice that, but like a fool I gambled to make it more, and lost.’

Jo whistled. ‘Can’t your father oblige?’

He started cracking his knuckles again. ‘I’d rather raise it some other way. The family business isn’t doing so well right now. Besides, I’ve given him more than enough grief in the past.’

Jo picked up her handbag and took out her chequebook. ‘Look, I’ll take a leap of faith and lend you the money myself—if only to help Rufus. I’ll give you my e-mail address and you can send me the pictures so I can show March.’

Charlie looked at the cheque, blinking tears from his puffy eyes. ‘I’ll pay you back, I promise. I’ll never forget this.’

‘Neither will I,’ she said tartly. ‘I’ll probably regret it the minute you’re gone.’

Charlie thrust the cheque in his pocket, mopped his face, then collected his glasses and scarf and made for the door. He paused. ‘Just to set the record straight, I did love you, Jo, in my own way. Still do.’ He met her eyes for a moment. ‘At least now
you know why I drank so much. I’ve been in denial all my life. I’d say to hell with it and come out, but Red’s straight. I can’t take the risk of losing him.’ He sighed miserably. ‘I’ve loved him from our first day at school.’

‘Oh, Charlie!’ she said sadly, and gave him a hug.

He drew in a shaky breath, then buried his face on her shoulder, his body racked with sobs. She drew him down on the sofa and held him close until he was calmer, but it was a long time before he raised his head to show swollen eyes full of remorse.

‘Sorry to blub like a kid,’ he apologised thickly. ‘It’s been a bloody awful day.’

Jo kissed his bruised cheek, then pulled him to his feet. ‘Time to go, Charlie. And for God’s sake drive carefully.’

‘Don’t worry,’ he said ruefully. ‘My boy-racer days ended with the accident. Goodbye, Jo, and thanks again.’

She followed him into the hall and closed her front door behind him, hoping she hadn’t made a huge mistake. Where Charlie was concerned, it wouldn’t be the first time. But there was something about him turning over a new leaf which rang true.

As she drew the curtains in the parlour she saw a familiar tall shape pass the window and ran to open the front door, smiling radiantly.

‘Hello, Joanna,’ said March, in a tone which switched her smile off. ‘I saw Charles Peel driving away as I arrived.’

‘Yes, you did,’ she said, deflated, and went ahead of him into the parlour.

‘What did he want?’

‘Money.’

‘From you?’

‘Not exactly. He wanted me to persuade you to give him money for a website for Rufus.’

‘A creative way of asking for cash,’ said March coldly. ‘Go on, then. Start persuading me.’

‘I told him he had no hope after what had happened to Rufus. Do sit down,’ she added politely.

March stayed on his feet. ‘Did he honestly think I’d put up money for some website?’

‘If it was to sell Rufus’s paintings, he hoped you might.’

‘What fool would give him money for something like that?’

‘A fool like me. He showed me the paintings on his laptop, and they’re so wonderful I lent Charlie the money.’

March’s smile turned her blood cold. ‘No wonder he was so appreciative. Close your curtains in future. I was across the road parking the car, with a bird’s eye view of a very touching little scene.’

‘It wasn’t a
love
scene, March—as you know perfectly well,’ she said scornfully, and explained about the gambling debt and Charlie’s injuries. ‘He’s a mess. When I gave him the cheque he broke down, so I comforted him a bit.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘I thought you hated him.’

She sighed. ‘I did. But now I truly believe Charlie is desperate to make reparation. And helping Rufus to get recognition for his talent is his way of going about it. He was always a whiz with computers, and he’s experienced in marketing through his work with the family firm, so maybe he’ll be successful.’ Jo shot a look at the dark, shuttered face. ‘You’re obviously angry with me.’

He arched a sardonic eyebrow. ‘After seeing your former lover in your arms, can you blame me?’

‘No,’ she snapped. ‘I don’t blame you. I blame myself for not drawing the curtains.’ Her chin lifted. ‘How
is
Rufus?’

‘Better than yesterday—which is not saying much. But right now he’s probably tucked up in bed in one of Hetty’s guestrooms. She took him off—protesting—to Sonning this afternoon.’ March’s eyes softened. ‘You look tired, Joanna.’

‘Mondays tend to be tiring. For obvious reasons this one was more tiring than usual.’

‘Did you call in to see your parents last night?’

She nodded. ‘Jack was not hugely pleased with me for staying at Arnborough yesterday instead of going to Mill House.’

‘How about your mother?’

‘Kate understood that I had to help.’

‘So is your father still angry with you?’

‘No. For once I burst into tears—which cut him to pieces.’ Jo smiled sardonically. ‘Perhaps I should try the same tactics with you.’

March’s mouth twisted. ‘I’m sorry, Joanna.’

‘No need to be. Jack and I are fine now.’

‘I meant I’m sorry for my jealousy of young Peel.’

She shook her head impatiently. ‘You know he’s not interested in me that way.’

‘Maybe not now, but he was your lover once.’

‘Even then I was only a substitute for the lover he really wanted.’

March got up and pulled her to her feet. ‘You’re the one
I
want.’ He eyed her warily. ‘So are
we
fine again, too?’

Jo looked up at him thoughtfully. ‘I don’t know. Do you suffer much from an Othello complex?’

He released her abruptly. ‘No,’ he said shortly.

‘You mean Lavinia never gave you cause?’

‘Leave Lavinia out of it,’ he said irritably. ‘I’m concerned with you and Peel.’

‘For heaven’s sake, March, you were the one who told me Charlie was gay!’

‘In which case why the hell doesn’t the fool come out in the open? That way he’d have some hope of a real relationship!’

‘Charlie won’t come out because he’s afraid to lose Rufus.’

‘I doubt that he’d care.’ March smiled sardonically. ‘Rufus would probably say
So what?
and carry on painting.’

‘Charlie will never risk that.’ Joanna yawned suddenly. ‘Sorry. As I said, it’s been a tiring day.’

‘Does that mean you want me to go?’

‘No. But go, by all means, if you prefer.’

For answer, March yanked her into his arms and kissed her until her head reeled. ‘Of course I don’t want to go,’ he growled. ‘Right now I want to carry you to your bed and make love to you until we forget my brother and Charlie and everything else in the world other than you and me, Joanna Logan.’

To her horror her stomach gave such an unromantic rumble March laughed. ‘But first I’d better feed you. What would you like?’

Jo’s eyes danced. ‘I really fancy some fish and chips.’

As they ate their meal at the kitchen table later Jo teased him unmercifully. ‘I wish I’d gone with you—just to see Lord Arnborough standing in line for fish and chips!’

March was unmoved. ‘It wasn’t the first time. Though luxuries like fish and chips were pretty rare in my life when I was a student. I tried to manage without asking my father for hand-outs, so bowls of cereal and baked beans straight from the can were more my thing.’

‘You’re kidding!’

‘Certainly not. Cheap, filling and nourishing—and sometimes I even had the beans on toast. How about you?’

‘In my Oxford days I ate in the refectory. Toasters were banned in the rooms, and there was no kitchen in my hall.’

‘Life must have been a lot different when you transferred to college here. Peel’s fault,’ he added.

Jo shook her head. ‘Something Charlie said tonight has rather changed my mind about that. He was utterly sure I was the determined type who would finish no matter what. Much as it grieves me to agree with him, he’s right.’ Jo sighed as she collected plates. ‘I should have stuck it out and graduated.’

‘Do you regret that now?’

‘Only because I didn’t finish what I started. My business
qualifications are far more practical career-wise. And what I’m doing now with Jack suits me down to the ground.’

March got to his feet, his eyes sombre as they followed her. ‘Which is going to work against me, of course.’

Jo stacked the plates in the dishwasher then turned to face him. ‘In what way?’

‘I want you with me at Arnborough. You can hardly commute from there to keep working for your father, Joanna.’

‘I know. Which is precisely why I’ve asked you for time.’ She yawned again. ‘Sorry. I’ve had a busy day—and evening.’

‘Me too,’ said March, and kissed her. ‘Let’s go to bed.’

‘I thought you just wanted to talk!’

‘I want to hold you in my arms while we do.’

When Jo showed him into her room March grinned. ‘What a bed!’

‘Kate’s maiden aunt left it to her. Though I think
single
is the word rather than maiden.’ Jo smoothed a loving hand over the curved footboard. ‘I can’t believe she always slept alone in it, like me.’

‘Not like you tonight, my darling,’ he said huskily, and picked her up to lay her on the bed.

With senses heightened by their quarrel, their loving was feverishly short—but so utterly fulfilling they lay entwined together afterwards, savouring the pure pleasure of being together as March whispered some very satisfying things in Jo’s ear.

‘Time for the talk,’ he said at last, and raised her hand to his lips. ‘You know that I can’t offer you a very luxurious lifestyle. My assets are all I have.’

‘That part of it wouldn’t worry me at all—if we do marry.’

‘Of course we’re going to marry. You’re mine, Joanna Logan,’ said March, and began to make love to her in a way designed to remove any last lingering doubts she might have on the subject.

Jo rang Isobel next day, and arranged to spend the evening at her flat over a bottle of wine and whatever fast food she desired.

‘I need your opinion,’ said Jo that night, when only pizza crusts were left.

Isobel’s blonde curls and cornflower-blue eyes often misled the uninformed about the brain behind them. At that moment the blue gaze was trained like a laser on her friend. ‘About your love-life?’