Kitabı oku: «The Midwife's Christmas Baby», sayfa 7

CHAPTER SIX

DESPITE HER BRAVE intentions of the night before, Ella spent Thursday feeling really nervous. What would Oliver’s parents be like? Would they accept her? He’d said that his relationship with them was complicated. Would the baby make things worse? Or was he hoping that the baby would be a bonding point?

But then again, how many people thought that having a baby would paper over the cracks in their relationship, only to find instead that the pressure of having a newborn made the cracks burst wide open? And that would be true of any family relationship, not just that of the baby’s parents.

She tried not to think about it too much while she cleaned her flat, and it made her feel slightly better when Annabelle sent her a text during her break on the ward.

Good luck for tonight. Am sure O’s parents will love you.

Then she went into Cheltenham to do her Christmas shopping, and all her fears came back. Everywhere she looked, she seemed to see new mums proudly pushing a pram with their partners by their side.

Tears pricked her eyelids. She missed her parents. And she knew they’d both be doting grandparents, always ready with a cuddle and a story. Would Oliver’s parents feel the same way about the baby? Or would it make their strained relationship with Oliver more difficult?

Plus it was still very early days in her pregnancy—especially given the complications of her own medical history, which she hadn’t yet felt comfortable enough to share with Oliver. The sonographer hadn’t said anything, but what if there was a cyst on her other ovary? What if it grew during the pregnancy and she ended up needing an operation to remove it? She knew that kind of operation wasn’t usually done until halfway through the pregnancy, to protect the baby—but what if the cyst ruptured, like the other one had?

‘Stop it. You’re borrowing trouble, and you know that’s stupid,’ she told herself crossly.

It had to be hormones making her all tearful and miserable like this, because Ella had never been a whiner. Even on days when the pain of her endometriosis had made it hard for her to crawl out of bed, she’d tried her best to pretend that everything was just fine.

And she needed to be on top form tonight, all smiley and cheerful, so Oliver’s family would like her.

Oliver.

Should she get him a Christmas present? They weren’t in a relationship exactly, but he was her baby’s father. Though Ella didn’t have a clue what to buy him. He never shared anything personal at work. Although she knew from the night of the Hallowe’en ball that he liked piano music, she didn’t know what he already owned. And she didn’t want to buy him something bland and impersonal like a bottle of wine.

She shook herself. She’d worry about that later. For now, she needed to think about meeting his family and hoping she could make them like her.

The shopping and the cleaning took it out of her, and she ended up falling asleep over her books. She had only just enough time to get ready, grab a sandwich and do her hair and make-up before Oliver arrived at precisely half-past six.

‘You look lovely,’ he said.

‘Thank you.’ So did he, in a dinner jacket and bow tie—just as he’d worn to the ball. Evening dress suited him.

And she remembered exactly what it had felt like to slide that shirt off his shoulders and trace his pectoral muscles with her fingertips—and how it had felt when he’d unzipped the dress she was wearing right now...

Oh, help. She really had to keep her imagination and her memory under strict control. Tonight she needed to be on her best behaviour—and that didn’t mean doing what she really wanted to do most at that moment and kissing Oliver until they were both dizzy with need and ended up back in her bed. Especially as she wasn’t sure at all how he felt about her.

Hormones, she reminded herself. This is all just hormones rushing round and I need to be sensible. ‘Um—would you like a drink?’ she asked.

‘Tea would be good, thanks.’ He looked slightly wary. ‘I need to talk to you about something.’

This didn’t sound good. ‘Come in and sit down.’ She busied herself making tea; he didn’t say anything, which made her feel even more awkward. But she wasn’t a coward; she’d face this head on. ‘What did you want to talk about?’

‘My family,’ he said, surprising her. ‘I know I don’t have to ask you to keep this confidential.’

Because he trusted her? That was a good thing. If he was going to tell her why his relationship with his parents was tricky, it might stop her accidentally making things worse tonight. ‘Of course I’ll keep whatever you tell me to myself,’ she said, wanting to reassure him.

‘I don’t mention my family at work,’ he said, ‘because I want people to see me for who I am, not whose son I am.’

She frowned. ‘Your dad’s famous?’

He coughed. ‘My father’s the Earl of Darrington.’

It took her a while to process it. ‘You mean your family’s like a real-life version of the one in Downton Abbey?’

‘Yes.’

She stared at him, not quite able to believe this. She’d known Oliver was posh, but this posh? Oh, help. She didn’t quite know how to deal with this.

‘So should I have been calling you Lord Darrington all these months?’ she asked carefully.

‘No. I’m not the oldest son, so I’m just the Hon Oliver Darrington,’ he said. ‘Addressed as plain Mr Darrington, just as you’re addressed as Miss O’Brien.’

‘Ms,’ she corrected. And as for his ‘just the Hon’—she didn’t know anyone else who was an Hon. And then a really nasty thought struck her. ‘Oliver, you don’t think I’m a gold-digger, do you? Because I had absolutely no idea you were—well, from that kind of background.’

Shock spread across his face. ‘Of course you’re not a gold-digger, Ella. Apart from the fact that nobody at work knows about my background, you’re completely open and honest.’

That wasn’t quite true. She hadn’t been totally honest with him about her past, because she hadn’t wanted him to pity her. Guilt trickled through her—but the worry was uppermost. ‘So this party tonight’s going to be really, really posh?’

He grimaced. ‘A bit. And I understand if you’d rather not go. I probably should have told you when I asked you to come with me.’

‘I wish you had, because at least then I could’ve maybe found something more suitable to wear while I was out shopping today.’ She gestured to her dress. ‘Everyone’s going to take one look at me and know this was a sale bargain and probably cost less than their underwear. I’m not going to fit in. And your parents are going to think I’m just after your money. Which,’ she added, just in case he was under any kind of misapprehension on that score, ‘I’m not.’

Oliver came to stand before her and pulled her to her feet. ‘Ella O’Brien, you look beautiful. Nobody whose opinion matters will think anything about what you’re wearing other than the fact that you look lovely. You’re more than good enough to hold your own at any party, whether it’s the pub quiz between Teddy’s and the Emergency Department, or the ballroom at Darrington Hall full of...’ He spread his hands. ‘Well.’

‘Lords and ladies?’ she asked wryly.

‘Not all of them will have a title,’ he said. ‘But yes. You’re more than good enough, Ella.’

There was a slash of colour across his cheeks, telling her that he felt really strongly about this. He really did believe that she could fit in.

And then, the expression in his eyes changed. Turned from fierceness to heat. Achingly slowly, he dipped his head to brush his mouth against hers. There was a sweetness to his kiss, just like when he’d kissed her in the ultrasound room, and Ella found herself melting against him and returning his kiss.

‘You’re wearing the same dress you wore that night,’ Oliver whispered against her mouth. ‘That night we made love. The night we made our baby.’

His hand slid down to rest protectively over her abdomen, and Ella’s pulse speeded up a notch. On impulse, she rested her hand over his, and he moved slightly so that her fingers were entwined with his, united and protective.

‘And you’re wearing that suit,’ she whispered back. ‘I can remember taking your shirt off.’

His eyes darkened. ‘Ella. I can’t stop thinking about that night. How it felt to be with you.’ He stole another kiss. ‘The scent of your hair. The feel of your bare skin against mine.’ His teeth grazed her earlobe as he whispered, ‘I haven’t stopped wanting you. And now you’re carrying our baby, it makes me want to...’

‘Yes.’ Oh, yes. She wanted it, too. That shared closeness she’d only ever known with him. Except this time it would be different. Because they’d created a new life, and when he explored her he’d notice the tiny, subtle changes. And she knew he’d tell her about every single one in that amazingly sexy posh voice.

Right now her skin felt too tight. Especially when he kissed her again, pulling her close against him, and her hardened nipples rubbed against him.

‘Oliver,’ she breathed.

But, when Ella felt Oliver’s fingers brush the skin on her back as he began to slide the zip of her dress slowly downward, common sense kicked back in. Yes, she wanted to make love with him. Desperately. But she was supposed to be going to meet his family. She needed to make a good impression. Turning up late, looking as if she’d just had sex, with her mouth all swollen and her hair all mussed—that most definitely wouldn’t be the right impression.

‘Oliver. We can’t. We’re going to be late.’

He stroked her face. ‘Or we can skip the party.’

‘But your parents are expecting us. It’s rude not to turn up.’

‘I know. But I can say I was held up at work.’

‘Which isn’t true.’

‘It’s a white lie.’

It sounded as if he didn’t want to go to the party, and not just because he wanted to carry her to her bed. She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘What else aren’t you telling me, Oliver?’

He sighed. ‘Nothing, really.’

‘You said things were strained between you and your parents. Is not turning up going to make things worse? Or will it be worse when they meet me and realise I’m not from your world?’

He rested his palm against her cheek. ‘Trust you to hit the nail on the head. OK. Let’s just say that they had other plans for me, so they’re not brilliantly happy that I went into medicine.’

She couldn’t understand why. ‘But you’re Assistant Head of Department at a ridiculously young age. Doesn’t that tell them how good you are at what you do?’

‘I didn’t actually tell them about the promotion,’ he admitted.

‘Why? For pity’s sake, Oliver, aren’t they massively proud of you? Because they ought to be! You’re really good at your job. What you do is important.’

Ella was batting Oliver’s corner for him, and it made him feel odd. He’d never, ever dated anyone who’d backed him like that before. With Justine, he was always the one doing the protecting; but Ella was different. She was his equal.

Strictly speaking, he and Ella weren’t actually dating. But there was more to their relationship than just the shared unexpected parenthood. And the fact that she was backing him like this... Maybe she was the one that he could trust with his heart. The one who’d see him for who he really was. ‘You really think that?’ he asked.

She put her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes at him. ‘Oliver Darrington, you’re the one who makes the difference in a tricky birth between someone having a baby, and someone losing their baby. You’ve saved babies and you’ve saved their mums, too. And if that’s not more important than—than—’ She waved a hand in disgust. ‘Than having a title, then I don’t know what is.’

Even with her lipstick smudged and her hair slightly mussed from their shared kiss, Ella looked magnificent. A pocket Amazonian.

‘You,’ he said softly, ‘are amazing. Never let anyone else ever tell you otherwise.’

‘So are you,’ Ella said fiercely. ‘So we’re going to this party, and your family can see that for themselves.’

‘Right.’ He stole another kiss. ‘Though you might want to put some more lipstick on and fiddle with your hair.’

‘Give me two minutes,’ Ella said.

And she was ready in the time it took him to wash up their undrunk mugs of tea.

Ella didn’t manage to get much more out of Oliver about his family on the journey, other than that his older brother Ned was married to Prue and they had three girls. Her bravado dimmed a bit when Oliver explained that Ned was the heir to the earldom and he was the ‘spare’ until Ned and Prue had a son—particularly when she worked out that if Ned and Prue didn’t have a son and something happened to Ned, Oliver would be the future Earl of Darrington; and then if her baby was a boy he would be the heir, which would make her the mother of an earl. Her nerves threatened to outweigh the bravery completely when Oliver drove down the long, narrow driveway lined with trees and she saw just how big Darrington Hall was. Her worries grew as he parked his car among what she recognised as Rolls-Royces and Bentleys. No way could she fit into this kind of world. If his parents didn’t approve of his job, they’d approve even less of her.

He helped her from the car, and led her up the steps to the porticoed entrance. They were greeted at the door by a butler wearing white gloves, who took their coats. ‘Good to see you again, Master Oliver,’ he said, dipping his head in acknowledgement.

‘Thank you, Benson,’ Oliver said with a smile.

‘Everyone’s in the ballroom, Master Oliver,’ the butler said.

‘Thanks, Benson. This way, Ella,’ Oliver said.

The reception hall was massive, with a huge sweeping staircase, polished wooden floors, a carpet that looked as if it was an antique worth hundreds of thousands of pounds, and a whole gallery of portraits in heavy gold frames.

‘Are they...?’ Ella asked, gesturing to them.

‘The Earls of Darrington, yes. My father’s the one over there.’

The newest portrait. The current Earl had a stern face, Ella thought. And he was wearing very formal dress; she imagined it was what he’d wear in the House of Lords.

He really, really wasn’t going to approve of her.

There were serving staff dressed in black and white, carrying silver trays filled with glasses of champagne or exquisite canapés. The trays looked as if they were real silver, Ella thought, rather than the polished chrome used in a restaurant.

She felt even more out of place when they walked into the ballroom itself. Again, the room was massive, with wooden-panelled walls, a huge marble fireplace, more oil paintings in heavy frames and the most enormous crystal chandelier. There was a baby grand piano in the corner of the room, and the man sitting on the piano stool was playing soft jazz, not quite loudly enough to disturb the hum of conversation. And the only time she’d seen a Christmas tree that big was in one of the posh London stores. It looked professionally decorated, too—not like the Christmas trees in her family, strewn with decorations made over the years at school by each child. All the reds and golds of the different decorations matched, and the spacing between baubles was so precise that someone must’ve used a tape measure.

But then Oliver tucked her hand firmly in the crook of his arm and was walking her over towards a couple at the other side of the room.

‘Olls! I thought Mama had been at the sherry when she said you were turning up tonight,’ the man said, clapping him on the back.

Even without the words, Ella would’ve guessed that this was Oliver’s brother, because they looked so alike.

‘Very funny, Ned. I’d like you to meet Ms Ella O’Brien. Ella, this is my elder brother Ned, and how he managed to persuade lovely Prue here to marry a scoundrel like him is beyond me,’ Oliver said, laughing.

‘I—um—how do you do, Lord Darrington?’ Ella said awkwardly, holding out a hand, really hoping that she’d got the etiquette right. Or should she be curtsying to him? She only just resisted the urge to kick Oliver very hard on the ankle for not giving her anywhere near enough information about how to deal with this.

Viscount Darrington shook her hand. ‘Delighted to meet you, Ms O’Brien, or may I call you Ella?’

She could see where Oliver got his charm from, now. ‘Ella’s fine,’ she said, cross with herself for squeaking the words.

‘And you must call me Ned,’ he said with a warm smile.

‘And I’m Prue. We don’t stand on ceremony, whatever nonsense Olls might have told you,’ Viscountess Darrington said. Then she shook her head in exasperation. ‘Did he not even let you get a drink, first? That’s terrible. Olls, your manners are shocking. Come with me, Ella—let’s leave these heathens to sort themselves out. What would you like? Some champagne?’

‘Thank you,’ Ella said, ‘but I’m on an early shift tomorrow, so I’d rather not be drinking alcohol tonight.’

‘Let’s sort you out with something soft, then,’ Prue said with a smile. ‘And I’m sure we have you to thank for Olls actually coming to the party. He normally wriggles out of it.’

‘I...um...’ Ella didn’t know what to say.

‘And it’s really bad of him to drop you right in the middle of this without any warning,’ Prue said. ‘This place is a bit overwhelming, the first time you see it—and with all these people about it’s even more intimidating.’ She shook her head again and tutted. ‘I’m so sorry, Ella. If he’d actually told us he was bringing you, I’d have suggested meeting you in Cheltenham for lunch first—somewhere quiet, where we could have had a proper chat and got to know each other a bit before tonight.’

Ella really hadn’t expected Oliver’s family to be so welcoming, not after he’d said things were strained between them. But Prue Darrington was a real sweetheart, and Ella began to feel just the tiniest bit better about being here.

‘I think the invitation was all a bit last-minute,’ she said.

Prue rolled her eyes. ‘The Darrington men are all the same—they’re total rubbish at communicating. But I’m so glad you’ve come. It’s lovely to meet you. And I do like your necklace. It’s so pretty.’

Ella wasn’t sure whether Prue really meant the compliment or was just being kind, but she was grateful that at least someone here wasn’t looking down on her. ‘Thank you.’

‘I take it you work with Olls?’ Prue asked.

Ella nodded. ‘I’m a midwife.’

‘What a wonderful job to have—to see those first precious moments of life,’ Prue said.

‘I love it,’ Ella confided shyly. ‘Oliver says you have three girls?’

‘We do. Rose, Poppy and Lily—aged five, three and thirteen months respectively.’

‘They’re very pretty names,’ Ella said.

Prue grinned. ‘That’s the great thing about having a girl Darrington. You actually get to choose her name yourself.’

Ella blinked. ‘You mean, if you’d had a boy, you wouldn’t have been able to choose his name, even though you’re his mum?’

‘The firstborn boy is always Edward.’ Prue winked. ‘Though if we ever have a son, I plan to rebel and always refer to him by his middle name.’

As they walked by a towering floral display, Ella discovered that the heavy perfume of lilies brought on a rush of morning sickness.

‘Are you all right?’ Prue asked.

‘Fine,’ Ella fibbed.

‘No, you’re not. You’ve gone green. Come on, let’s get you a glass of water and somewhere quiet to sit down.’

Prue was as good as her word, and Ella felt better when she’d had a sip of water.

Prue lowered her voice. ‘So how far along are you?’

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Ella said, inwardly horrified that Prue had guessed her secret already.

‘Ella, you’re a midwife and I have three girls. When someone female goes green at the scent of lilies, either they have hay fever—in which case they’ll start sneezing the place down within two seconds—or...’ Prue squeezed Ella’s hand. ‘If it makes you feel any better, I’ll tell you a secret. If the party had been last week instead of tonight, I would’ve turned green as well at the scent of those lilies.’

‘You’re...?’

Prue nodded, and lifted a finger to her lips. ‘Ned and I promised each other not to tell anyone until I’m twelve weeks.’

And that gave Ella the confidence to admit the truth. ‘Me, too. Almost eight weeks. But please don’t tell anyone,’ she said. ‘Not even Ned.’

‘OK. I promise. But you have to make the same promise,’ Prue said. ‘You can’t even tell Olls for the next three weeks.’

‘I promise,’ Ella said.

‘But this is such fabulous news,’ Prue said. ‘Our babies will be practically the same age. Which means they’ll have a great time romping around this place together.’

‘I used to play with my cousins all the time, when I was young,’ Ella said. And she loved the idea of her baby having a built-in family like this, just the way that she had.

‘My cousins all lived too far away for us to see them that often. And I was the only one, so I was determined to have lots and lots of children,’ Prue said. ‘Ned’s desperate for a boy. Not because of the entailment and all that nonsense about a son and heir, but because he says he’s going to need some support when the girls are teens and we all have PMT at the same time and he’ll be terrified of us.’

Ella couldn’t help laughing. She really, really liked Oliver’s sister-in-law, and she had the feeling they were going to become good friends. ‘I bet the girls wrap him round their little fingers.’

‘They do,’ Prue confirmed. ‘And you should hear him read them a bedtime story. It’s so cute.’

Would Oliver be like that as a father, totally involved with their baby?

Then again, she and Oliver weren’t a proper couple—despite the way he’d kissed her tonight.

Ella pushed the thought away as Ned and Oliver came over to join them.

‘I wondered where you’d both disappeared to,’ Ned said.

‘Sorry. I just needed to sit down for a moment,’ Ella said. ‘It’s been a crazy shift at work today. I had a mum with a water birth, and then a scary one where the cord was wrapped round the baby’s neck. Luckily there was a happy ending in both cases.’ It wasn’t strictly true—although that particular shift had happened, it had been a fortnight ago rather than today—but she hoped that the story would keep Ned off the scent.

‘We really have to circulate, darling, or Mama will be on the warpath,’ Ned said to Prue with a grimace. ‘Ella, please excuse us—but do make sure you find us later, because I’d love to get to know you a bit better. And make sure Prue has your mobile number so we can arrange dinner.’

‘I will,’ Ella promised.

‘Are you really all right?’ Oliver asked when his brother and sister-in-law had gone.

‘Yes.’ She gave him a wan smile. ‘The lilies got to me.’

‘Right.’ Understanding filled his gaze.

‘Sorry for telling the fib about work.’

‘No. I understand. You needed to—otherwise you’d have had to tell them.’

And she’d already told Prue, she thought, feeling guilty. ‘I like your brother and sister-in-law,’ she said.

‘They’re good sorts,’ Oliver said. He looked her straight in the eye. ‘Are you feeling up to meeting my parents?’

Even the idea of it made butterflies stampede through her stomach. It was so important that she got this right and made a good impression, for Oliver’s sake. But Prue and Ned had been so nice and welcoming. Surely Oliver’s parents would be the same, even if things were strained between them and Oliver? ‘Sure,’ she said, masking her nerves.

He led her over to the other side of the room. ‘Mama, Papa, I’d like to introduce you to Ella O’Brien,’ he said.

His voice was much more formal and cool than it had been when he’d introduced her to his brother and sister-in-law, and Ella’s heart sank. This didn’t bode well.

‘Ella, this is my father Edward, the Earl of Darrington, and my mother Catherine, the Countess of Darrington,’ Oliver continued.

Instead of greeting her warmly, the way Ned and Prue had, the Earl and Countess of Darrington simply stood there, looking very remote. The Earl nodded at her and the Countess just looked her up and down.

Were they expecting her to curtsey? Did you curtsey to an earl and a countess? Unnerved and flustered, Ella did exactly that. ‘Pleased to meet you, Lord and Lady Darrington,’ she said awkwardly, hoping she’d got it right.

‘Indeed,’ the Earl of Darrington said, his voice cool.

Ella noticed that he didn’t invite her to use their given names, the way Prue and Ned had done; his approach was much more formal. And she felt as if she’d already made a fool of herself. Perhaps curtseying had been the wrong thing to do.

‘So how do you know Oliver?’ the Earl asked.

‘I’m a midwife. We work together at Teddy’s,’ she said, acutely aware of the difference between her soft Irish accent and the Earl’s cut-glass tones.

‘Of course. What do your parents do?’ the Countess asked.

‘Mama, that’s hardly—’ Oliver began.

‘It’s fine,’ Ella said. Of course they’d want to know that. ‘Mam’s a music teacher and Da’s a farmer.’

‘So you have land in Ireland?’ the Countess asked.

‘No. Da’s a tenant farmer,’ Ella said, lifting her chin that little bit higher. She wasn’t in the slightest bit ashamed of her background. As far as she was concerned, it didn’t matter what your parents did or how much land or money they had—it was who you were as a person and how you treated other people that counted.

And she could understand now why Oliver had a tricky relationship with his parents, and not just because they hadn’t wanted him to be a doctor; she knew he thought the same way that she did about people. From his expression, she could tell that he was horrified and angry about the way his parents had reacted to her.

‘Ella’s a very talented midwife,’ Oliver said, his voice very clipped. ‘Everyone thinks very highly of her at Teddy’s.’

‘Indeed,’ the Earl drawled. Making it very clear that whatever anyone else thought of her, the Earl and Countess of Darrington didn’t think that the daughter of a tenant farmer and a teacher was anywhere near good enough for their son.

‘I’m afraid we really ought to mingle. We have rather a lot of guests we haven’t welcomed yet,’ the Earl said. ‘Excuse us, my dear.’

And he and the Countess walked away without even a backward glance.

‘I’m so sorry about that,’ Oliver said, grimacing.

She swallowed hard. ‘It’s OK.’ Even though it wasn’t. Oliver’s parents had just snubbed her. Big time. ‘I kind of expected it.’

‘My parents,’ he said, ‘aren’t the easiest of people. It really isn’t you. That was just plain rude of them. Maybe it’s because they’re stressed about holding a big party.’

Ella didn’t think that something as simple as a party would stress the Earl and Countess of Darrington, especially one that had clearly been held every year for a very long time. They would simply snap their fingers and expect things to be done as they ordered. What could there be to worry about? Oliver was just making excuses for them.

Then again, what else could the poor man do?

She was just glad that her own family would be much, much nicer towards Oliver than his parents had been towards her.

Oliver raked a hand through his hair. ‘Come on. I’ll introduce you to a few others.’

Most of the people at the party seemed to be the movers and shakers of local businesses, plus local landed gentry: the kind of people Ella didn’t usually mix with and had nothing in common with. Everyone seemed polite—at least, they weren’t as openly hostile towards her as the Earl and Countess had been, but they were still quite reserved with her. It was very obvious that Ella wasn’t going to fit into Oliver’s world, even though his brother and sister-in-law were nice.

And why did all the men have to wear what smelled like half a bottle of super-strong aftershave? It made her feel queasy again, so she went to splash her face with water.

When she came out of the bathroom, the Countess was waiting outside.

‘Feeling a little under the weather?’ the Countess enquired, her expression unreadable.

Perhaps Oliver’s mother thought she’d been downing too much champagne. Which couldn’t have been further from the truth—but the truth was something Ella knew Oliver didn’t want the Countess to know yet. ‘It’s been a busy day,’ Ella prevaricated.

‘Perhaps I should offer you some coffee.’

Even the thought of it made Ella gag, and she wasn’t quite quick enough to hide the reflex.

‘I thought as much,’ the Countess said. ‘I knew there was a reason why Oliver would want to bring someone, especially as it’s been a few years since he’s turned up to our pre-Christmas drinks party. How far gone are you?’

Faced with a direct question, Ella couldn’t lie. ‘It’s still early days.’

‘Hmm. Obviously Oliver will insist on a paternity test, to make quite sure. Both he and Ned have known their fair share of women who, let’s say, would like to take advantage of their positions.’

What? Oliver’s mother actually thought that Ella was lying about Oliver being the baby’s father, and that she was some sort of gold-digger—because her parents were ordinary rather than titled? That was outrageous! But Ella couldn’t let rip and give the Countess a piece of her mind. She could hardly make a scene in front of everyone at the party, because it would embarrass Oliver hugely.

So she was just going to have to put up with this. And she really hoped that Oliver would think that she’d been gone a little too long and come in search of her, then rescue her from his mother.

‘Of course, if it is his,’ the Countess continued, ‘then as a Darrington the baby will have a position to maintain. If it’s a boy, he’ll go to the same prep school and public school as Edward and Oliver.’

Over my dead body, Ella thought. No way was she dumping her baby in a boarding school. She wanted her child to go to the local school, where he or she would fit in to a normal world. And her child would most definitely grow up feeling loved and wanted, rather than being palmed off on a nanny.