Susan Napier - From Mistresses To Wives? - Mistress to a Bachelor / His Mistress by Marriage / Accidental Mistress

ZAC stayed for a few private words with his grandfather while his grandmother showed Jessica to the room she would be occupying. Furnished to suit the ambience of the place, it boasted a small but beautifully appointed en suite.

‘You have a lovely home, Mrs Prescott,’ Jessica exclaimed impulsively. ‘So unspoiled!’

‘It would have been a crime to make changes other than what was strictly necessary,’ the older woman agreed. ‘I see you’re not wearing a ring yet,’ she added disconcertingly.

‘We didn’t get round to choosing one yet,’ Jessica improvised. ‘It’s all happened so quickly. I’m still having difficulty taking it in!’

‘It came as a surprise to Henry and me too. We were beginning to believe Zac would never settle down. Henry regards marriage as the mainstay in a man’s life. To the right woman, of course. As you might have gathered, he doesn’t approve of working wives. Not outside the home, at any rate. He wouldn’t have been at all happy if you’d turned out to be career-minded.’

Jessica bit back the instinctive rejoinder. ‘You never had any ambition in that direction yourself?’ she asked instead.

‘I never had the opportunity to develop that kind of ambition. Not that I believe I missed out in any way.’

The rider had been added a little too quickly for complete conviction, Jessica thought. Here was a woman who had known at least some degree of frustration with her lot over the years.

‘I’m not sure I could settle for domesticity wholesale,’ she said lightly. ‘I doubt if Zac would expect it of me anyway.’

‘He’ll need to give the impression he not only expects it but insists on it if he wants to stay in his grandfather’s good books,’ came the candid reply. ‘Henry is capable of settling the majority of his company shares on our other grandson if Zac proves himself less than the man he hopes he is. Not something I personally…’

Esther Prescott broke off, shaking her head as if in the realisation of already having said a great deal more than she had intended. ‘Do make yourself at home,’ she substituted. ‘We live a very informal life here.’

Alone in the room, Jessica tried to bring her thoughts into some kind of order. If Zac knew his grandfather’s views, and he must surely do, he’d taken a grave risk in coming up with this pseudo fiancée to start with. Playing for time, he’d said last night, but time had run out on him faster than he’d anticipated.

With so much to possibly lose, there was small wonder for the desperation stakes, she reflected cynically. She could have gone along with the ‘pacifying a dying man’ theme—she had gone along with it—but this was something else again. Zac deserved to be exposed for what he was!

But was she prepared to do it? she asked herself. Could she bring herself to tell a dying man that his grandson had lied to him simply to stay in favour?

The answer had to be no. Which left her with little recourse but to carry on with the deception for the time being, like it or not.

Zac gave her a questioning look when he brought in her suitcase a few minutes later, obviously picking up on the vibes.

‘Something wrong?’

‘I let myself be talked into this to spare your grandfather the distress of knowing you’d lied to him,’ she jerked out. ‘But that wasn’t all you were worried about, was it? You were afraid of him changing his will if he found you out!’

The hard-boned face showed little expression. ‘It was a consideration, yes. He can be quite ruthless.’

‘Something you should maybe have thought about before putting on the act in the first place!’

‘True,’ he agreed with maddening calm. ‘Call it a momentary aberration.’

‘You really don’t give a damn about anything or anyone but yourself, do you?’ she accused. ‘In fact, the sooner your grandfather dies, the better for you!’

It didn’t need the sudden flare in the grey eyes to tell her she had gone too far. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said thickly. ‘That was a lousy thing to say!’

‘If it’s what you think, why bottle it up?’ he rejoined.

‘It isn’t.’ Jessica paused in some confusion. ‘At least, not quite to that extent.’

‘It just came out under pressure?’ Zac suggested on an ironical note. ‘Rather different circumstances, maybe, but I know the feeling.’ He studied her, expression unreadable again. ‘So, what’s the decision? Are you going to insist I tell him the truth?’

‘How can I?’ she said. ‘There’s no knowing what it might do to him. We’ll just have to carry it through. Just don’t try taking advantage, that’s all.’

‘I’ll do my best to keep my distance.’

Jessica shot a glance at him, infuriated once more to see the faint smile hovering about his lips.

‘I see nothing even remotely funny about this!’ she snapped.

‘Me neither,’ he agreed. ‘But better a smile than a frown. However much I might regret it, what’s done is done. Wallowing in guilt isn’t going to help.’

Reluctant though she was to acknowledge it, he was right, she supposed. If there was to be no confession, they were left with no choice other than to continue the sham. With conviction too if his grandfather wasn’t to begin suspecting something.

‘You’ve told him we’re only here until tomorrow?’

‘Not in so many words.’

Jessica hardened both heart and voice. ‘Have you given any thought at all to what you’ll do if he asks to see the pair of us again?’

‘Another bridge to cross if and when necessary.’ His gaze roved her face, his lips twisting. ‘A pity it has to end like this.’

‘It never started,’ she retorted, steeling herself against the response he could still draw from her. ‘I’ll be ecstatically happy never to see you again!’

Humour sprang briefly in the grey eyes. ‘A little overstated for total conviction, but I get the message.’

Jessica turned away, unable to sustain the degree of anger that had kept her going these last minutes. An anger which, she had to admit, had been directed as much at herself for her inability to repress the emotions he aroused in her still. Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough!

Henry Prescott ate sparingly at dinner, though he enjoyed a glass of wine. Watching him surreptitiously, listening to him talk, Jessica found it difficult to believe he was even as old as he was, much less on the verge of dying.

‘We’re usually in bed by ten o’clock,’ said Esther over coffee, ‘but you mustn’t feel you have to retire then yourselves.’

‘Just try not to waken us when you do come up,’ said her husband. ‘At our age, we need our beauty sleep.’

‘You neither of you look your age,’ Jessica commented, and drew an appreciative smile.

‘I’d like to say I don’t feel it either, but it wouldn’t be entirely true. You must make sure you have your children while you’re still young and fit. This modern idea of waiting until middle age is abominable! I had my two sons by the time I was twenty-three.’

His two sons, Jessica noted. She stole a glance at his wife, expecting to see some sign, however faint, of resentment, but her face was devoid of expression.

‘We’re a bit late getting away from the starting post,’ said Zac easily, ‘but we’ll do our best.’

‘Good.’ His grandfather looked from one to the other. ‘So, when’s the wedding to be?’

Jessica drew in a long slow breath. It should have been a foregone conclusion that the question would be asked at some point, but it hadn’t even crossed her mind until this moment.

‘Soon,’ Zac answered.

‘How soon?’ Henry insisted. ‘I’d like to be around for it.’