‘You can let me go now…’
It was even weaker to feel disappointment as he released her without hesitation, dropping her back down onto the path as if he was glad to be free of her.
But nothing could stop him following her all the way back to the stud. Because of course he had to go back there, didn’t he? If he needed to pack his clothes, collect his belongings and get out of here?
The thought of him leaving was just the worst possible straw of misery to add to the list of wretchedness that had to be endured to get through the rest of the day.
CHAPTER EIGHT
IMOGEN SAGGED BACK wearily against the door frame, watching as the last car disappeared down the drive, heading for the main road and home. She let the hand she had raised to wave drop down against her side and closed her eyes for a moment against the sense of exhaustion that had almost overwhelmed her.
She couldn’t give in yet; she still had more to do. Every guest had been spoken to personally, given an explanation—as close to the truth as possible—about the reasons why the wedding had been called off. Apologies—so many apologies—had been offered again and again, and now all the visitors to Blacklands had gone, the house empty except for the small army of catering staff who were packing away the food meant for the reception. The task was performed in a strange silence compared to the excited buzz of conversation that had first greeted her announcement.
After that there was only the floral arrangements, the decorations and—a bitter laugh nearly choked her—the dress to be taken from her wardrobe.
‘If you let me know what you want doing with all this food, then I’ll get on with it.’
The voice came from behind her, bringing her spinning round so fast she had to grab hold of the huge brass handle on the heavy oak door and keep herself upright with an effort.
‘What does one do with enough food for three hundred people?’ she sighed, despairing at the thought, and Raoul—because of course it was Raoul—shrugged his broad shoulders under the white shirt that was no longer quite so immaculate as it had been this morning.
He had been there with her all day. Every time she turned around, it had been to see his tall, lean figure moving silently and efficiently through the tasks that were needed to help sort out the confusion the cancelled wedding had created. She had never actually had to tell him anything; he had just seen what needed doing and got on with it, leaving her free to deal with the demands for explanations, the apologies, finding the parcels containing the wedding presents that would have to be returned.
‘I should have thought to get a message to the caterers to stop them bringing it in the first place,’ she sighed. But food had been the last thing on her mind. She’d been far more concerned with trying to get in touch with as many guests as possible to stop them arriving for the wedding that wasn’t to be. It was only when she’d got back from the church and seen everything had been unloaded that she’d realised what a mistake she’d made.
And, once delivered, they’d adamantly refused to take it back.
‘Freezer?’
‘Only if you happen to have industrial-size freezers that actually work,’ Imogen managed wryly. ‘The ones in the kitchen have been there for the past fifteen years and they weren’t the most modern or the best even then. We never got round to renewing them because…’
Because even then there hadn’t been enough money to buy new ones, and the family finances had been leaking desperately ever since.
‘Because no one cooked that much after my mother walked out and there was just Papa and me.’
‘She took Ciara with her?’
Imogen could only nod silently. No point in denying it. Her mother’s departure and her choice of daughter to take with her had been common knowledge at the time. She’d lived with the pitying looks, the swiftly hushed conversations whenever she appeared, her whole life. She was the daughter her mother hadn’t wanted, and the whole village knew it.
‘That knocked the stuffing out of my father and he hasn’t been the same since. He’d always liked a drink before, but now…’
She thought she’d kept her voice even enough to avoid any further questioning, but as soon as she saw Raoul’s black brows snap together in a dark frown she knew he was far too perceptive for that.