In spite of her discomfiture, Darcy uttered a strained little laugh. 'You can hardly bring a girlfriend here—'
'I do not have a woman in my life,' he interrupted, with a strong suggestion of gritted teeth.
'Possibly not at present,' Darcy allowed, wondering what on earth was the matter with him. He was reacting as if she had grossly insulted him in some way. 'But I'm being re¬alistic. You're bound to get bored down here. City slickers do...'
Brilliant eyes black as jet stabbed into her. A line of dark colour now lay over his taut cheekbones. 'There will not be a woman nor any need for such behaviour on my part, I assure you’ he imparted icily.
They were descending the stairs when a tiny figure clad in bright red leggings and a yellow T-shirt appeared in the Great Hall below. 'Mummy!'
Zia carrolled with exuber¬ance.
As her daughter flashed over to eagerly show off a much creased painting, Luca fell still. Interpreting his silence as astonishment, Darcy flung him an apologetic glance as she lifted her daughter up into her arms. 'My daughter, Zia...I hadn't got around to mentioning her yet,' she conceded rather defensively.
Luca slid up a broad shoulder in an infinitesimal shrug of innate elegance. The advent of a stray cat might have inspired as much interest. Not a male who had any time for children, Darcy gathered, resolving to ensure that her playful and chatty toddler was kept well out of his path.
'Is there anything else you wish to discuss?' Luca prompted with faint impatience.
Darcy stiffened. Minutes later, she had written and passed him the cheque she had promised. He folded the item and tucked it into his inside pocket with complete cool. 'I'll drop you a note as soon as I get the date of the ceremony organised. I won't need to see you again before that,' she told him.
Luca printed a phone number on the front of the jotter she had left lying. 'If you need to contact me for any other reason, leave a message on that line.'
A fortnight later, Darcy unbolted the huge front door of the Folly and dragged it open, only to freeze in dismay.
'About time too,' Margo Fielding complained sharply as she swept past, reeking of expensive perfume and irritation, closely followed by her daughter, Nina.
Aghast at the unforewarned descent of her stepmother and her stepsister, Darcy watched with a sinking heart as the tall, beautiful blonde duo stalked ahead of her into the drawing room.
She hadn't laid eyes on either woman since they had moved out after her father's funeral, eager to leave the pri¬vations of country life behind them and return to city life. The discovery that Darcy could not be forced to sell the Folly and share the proceeds with them had led to a strained parting of the ways. Although Morton Fielding had generously provided for his widow, and Margo was a wealthy woman in her own right, her stepmother had been far from satisfied.
Margo cast her an outraged look. 'Don't you think you should've told me that you were getting married?' she de¬manded as she took up a painfully familiar bullying stance at the fireplace. 'Can you imagine how I felt when a friend called me to ask who you were marrying and I had to con¬fess my ignorance? How dare you embarrass me like that?'
Darcy was very tense, her tummy muscles knotting, up while she wondered how on earth the older woman had discovered her plans. The vicar's wife could be a bit of a gossip, she conceded, and Margo still had friends locally. No doubt that was how word had travelled farther afield at such speed. 'I'm sorry...I would've informed you after the wedding—'
Nina's scornful blue eyes raked over the younger woman. 'But of course, when it's safely over. You're ter¬rified that your bridegroom will bolt last minute, like Richard did!'
At that unpleasant and needless reminder, which was painfully apt, the embarrassed colour drained from Darcy's taut cheekbones. 'I—'
'Just when I thought you must finally be coming to your senses and accepting the need to sell this white elephant of a house, you suddenly decide to get married,' Margo con¬demned with stark resentment. 'Is he even presentable?'
'With all this heavy secrecy, it's my bet that the groom is totally unpresentable...one of the estate workers?' Nina suggested, with a disdainful little shudder of snobbish dis¬taste.
'You're not pregnant again, are you?' Margo treated Darcy to a withering and accusing appraisal. 'That's what people are going to think. And I refuse to have my ac¬quaintances view me as some sort of wicked stepmother! So you'll have to pay for a proper wedding reception and I'll act as your hostess.'
'I'm afraid I haven't got the money for that,' Darcy ad¬mitted tightly.
'What about him?' Nina pressed instantaneously.
Darcy flushed and looked away.
'Penniless, I suppose.' Reaching that conclusion, Margo exchanged a covert look of relief and satisfaction with her daughter. 'I do hope he's aware that when you go bust here, we're entitled to a slice of whatever is left.'