The Society Groom. Mary LyonsЧитать онлайн книгу.
wasn’t going to be his mother-in-law!
‘No, you’re quite right—she wouldn’t,’ Mark agreed with a slight grimace, thanking his lucky stars that, following their honeymoon in the Caribbean, he and Sarah would be living in Hong Kong for the next few years—and well out of reach of her mother.
‘And what about you? How come you haven’t got married yet?’ Mark asked, pausing halfway up the long, steep flight of steps. ‘Isn’t it about time you thought of settling down with one of your glamorous girlfriends?’
Dominic turned his dark head to gaze at him in astonishment. ‘Good heavens! Why on earth would I want to get hitched?’
‘I just thought...’ Mark shrugged. ‘I mean, there’s all that business of needing a son to pass on the title, and...’
‘You’re way behind the times.’ His friend gave a dry bark of laughter. ‘Not only are the Government busy abolishing the House of Lords, but, quite frankly, no one cares very much about that sort of thing nowadays.’
‘So there’s been no pressure from your mother?’ Mark queried, his voice heavy with disbelief as they continued on their way up the steps.
From what he recalled of their school days at Eton, the Dowager Countess of Tenterden was a frighteningly imperious lady: stiff with family pride and altogether a very tough act. So the chances of her not badgering Dominic to provide a son and heir to inherit his ancient title were very slim indeed!
‘Ah! Well, yes...I must admit that my dear mama has expressed some firm views on the subject!’ Dominic agreed ruefully, while nodding at some of his friends amongst the crowd of ushers waiting to greet the wedding guests and show them to their seats inside the church.
‘However, I’m certainly in no hurry to “settle down”, as you put it,’ he continued. ‘For one thing I’m far too busy nowadays. And for another...well, let’s just say that I haven’t yet found the right girl.’
Oh, yeah? Mark told himself with cynical amusement as Dominic, his dark brows drawn together in a slight frown, took a quick step forward, peering into the dim interior of the large church porch.
He might have been living and working abroad for some time, but nevertheless Mark was perfectly well aware of Dominic’s regular appearance in the newspaper gossip columns and glossy magazines. Not only was he a highly eligible bachelor, but his fast turnover of stunningly beautiful, glamorous girlfriends seemed guaranteed to keep him in the headlines for some time to come.
Which meant that if Dominic FitzCharles, fourteenth Earl of Tenterden, hadn’t yet found the right girl...it certainly wasn’t for lack of trying!
It was difficult for one man to judge another, of course. However, there was absolutely no doubt that, while Dominic might not be outstandingly handsome, women had always seemed to find his friend amazingly attractive.
With his thick, wavy dark hair, a slightly swarthy complexion, high cheekbones and Roman nose—together with a distinctly predatory glint in the heavy-lidded smokygrey eyes set beneath dark, quizzical eyebrows—Dominic had a disturbingly hawk-like, dangerous air about him. On top of which, since he was not only a peer of the realm but also extremely wealthy, and lived in a romantic old castle, it was no wonder that he appeared almost irresistible to the opposite sex!
Mark’s slightly envious thoughts were interrupted as his friend, who’d left his side for a moment, returned with a puzzled frown in his face.
‘That’s odd,’ Dominic murmured. ‘I could have sworn... I thought I’d caught a glimpse of someone who seemed strangely familiar—although I can’t recall where or when we might have met. But...’ he shrugged his broad shoulders ‘...she now seems to have disappeared into thin air.’
‘Oh, really? So after all your efforts to keep the groom as sober as a judge maybe it was the best man who drank too much last night?’ Mark teased.
‘You’re probably right,’ Dominic agreed with a slightly embarrassed, wry shrug of his shoulders as they entered the church and began walking slowly down the brightly lit nave towards their seats in the front pew, on the right-hand side of the aisle.
Unfortunately, Olivia Johnson was only too well aware of the identity of the tall, dark and attractive best man.
Earlier, while standing within the church porch, checking that the ushers had ample supplies of the Order of Service sheets, her eyes had slowly and inexorably been drawn towards the tall, broad-shouldered figure accompanying a shorter man as they’d mounted the church steps towards her.
I don’t believe it! What on earth is he doing here? she’d asked herself incredulously, the blood draining from her face at the sight of the arrogant, hawk-like features of Dominic FitzCharles.
Feeling suddenly faint, as though she’d been hit by a violent blow to the solar plexus, Olivia had instinctively staggered back into a dark, shadowy far corner of the porch, desperately trying to pull herself together.
And then, as she’d heard the ushers outside on the steps calling out greetings to the two men, she’d realised that she’d just witnessed the arrival of the groom and his best man. Which had to mean that by some utterly disastrous, malign twist of fate it must be Dominic who’d been chosen to replace Mark Ryland’s brother.
A moment later, suddenly overcome by panic as she’d seen him moving determinedly through the crowd of ushers towards her, Olivia had taken to her heels. Quickly slipping through the half-open heavy oak door, she’d swiftly disappeared from sight inside the main body of the church.
Breathless and trembling with shock, her legs feeling as though they were made of cotton wool, Olivia had hurriedly made her way to a small side chapel, hidden from sight on the far side of the nave. Sinking weakly down onto a pew, and staring blindly at the flickering candles on the altar, she’d frantically tried to calm down and work out what she was going to do about this potentially disastrous situation.
Fortunately, it hadn’t been very long before some small measure of common sense had come to her aid, and she’d gradually begun pulling herself together.
So...OK...it had been a shock, she told herself now firmly. But running away from a situation—however difficult-was obviously a very childish response, and certainly wasn’t going to solve anything.
Although they now moved in quite different circles, and no longer had any friends in common, she really ought to have guessed that she was bound to meet Dominic again sooner or later. In fact, it had been downright stupid of her not to have already worked out what she was going to say, or do, if and when they bumped into one another. And why she hadn’t prepared herself for just such an eventuality long before now, she had absolutely no idea.
Well, that wasn’t strictly true, of course. Because no one with any sense would want to spend too much time thinking about unhappy episodes in their past. Not when they could hardly bear to recall the really awful, crippling shame of having once made such an almighty fool of themselves.
Besides, it must be at least ten years since that dreadfully embarrassing, quite horrendous episode involving herself and Dominic. Ten years in which Olivia knew that she’d changed beyond all recognition. Thankfully, she no longer bore any resemblance to that highly emotional eighteen-year-old, her head filled to the brim with romantic fantasies and madly in love with the wild, Byronic hero of her dreams.
Although, to be fair, she hadn’t been the only silly, immature young girl overwhelmed by Dominic’s devastating charm and overwhelming sex appeal. Or attracted, like a moth to a flame, by the highly glamorous, almost uncanny resemblance he bore to his ancestor—that famous seducer of beautiful women-King Charles II.
What an idiot she’d been! Olivia told herself, shaking her head at her own youthful folly. Anyone with even half an ounce of sense would have known that it would all end in tears. As indeed it had, she thought grimly, slowly rising to her feet and brushing the dust from her black velvet suit.
Taking a deep breath, she