Mary Lyons - Baby Included

‘How’s everything going?’ she asked, staring up at the heavily decorated plaster ceiling.

‘Amazingly, we appear to be on schedule at the moment. Our beloved director, Peter, is busy rehearsing a scene in the Orangery at the moment. But he’s looking forward to seeing you at dinner tonight,’ he said, taking hold of her arm and warning her to be careful of the thick, electrical cables littering the marble floor. ‘Far more to the point, darling...how are you feeling?’ He grinned. ‘No morning sickness, I hope?’

‘For heaven’s sake—keep your voice down!’ she warned him grimly. ‘I hope you realise that if word gets out, Sol will be only too happy to pull the plug on this film. So, let’s cut out the wisecracks—huh?’

‘Oops! I’m sorry. You’re absolutely right,’ Dave admitted, the smile quickly wiped from his face at the thought of invoking Sol Weiser’s wrath. ‘Ah, there’s our host, Lord Ratcliffe,’ he added, obviously glad to change the subject as he waved at a tall figure standing in a doorway on the other side of the vast hall.

‘What’s he like?’

‘Absolutely divine! All the girls have fallen madly in love with our noble lord—and I bet you will, too!’

‘Ha-ha!’ she retorted, feeling too tired after the journey to put up with any of Dave’s usual camp style. Especially since she happened to know that he was a happily married man, and crazy about his two young children.

‘No, really, I’m not joking. Well...not entirely,’ Dave said as he led her across the room. ‘For instance, I’m sorry to have to tell you that Lord Ratcliffe is far more impressive than your leading man in this film.’

‘Oh, come on—there’s nothing wrong with Neil Gray,’ she protested. ‘In fact, he’s a damn good actor.’

Dave shrugged. ‘I’m not knocking Neil. It’s just that this guy has definitely got a lot more going for him.’

‘Oh, yeah...?’ Lois snorted derisively. But she didn’t have an opportunity to say any more as she was suddenly swept up in a large bear-hug from a well-known character actor whom she hadn’t seen for some years.

Busy catching up on his news, she was slightly irritated to find her arm being tugged by Dave.

‘Come on, Lois,’ he called out over the general hubbub, dragging her over to the tall, dark-haired man standing beside a marble column. ‘I’d like to introduce you to—’

‘For heaven’s sake, Dave, you might have let me finish talking to Bart. It’s years since we’ve seen one another.’

‘Lord Ratcliffe,’ the producer continued, taking no notice of her protest as he turned to their host. ‘I don’t think you’ve yet had the pleasure of meeting our famous leading lady—Miss Lois Shelton.’

It was clearly a close call as to which of the two people concerned looked the most stunned.

For her part, Lois knew that she ought to have the advantage in this sort of situation. Surely all those years of acting so many parts should have enabled her to swiftly assume an expression of polite disinterest?

Unfortunately, she couldn’t seem to get a firm grip on herself. Perhaps she was hallucinating? Because, although it couldn’t possibly be true...it definitely looked as if... Oh my God! What in the hell do I do now? she asked herself desperately, suddenly feeling sick as she realised that it really was Ace who was now staring down at her; the blood draining swiftly from his face, as if he’d just seen a ghost.

With harsh, cold reality beginning to break through the chaos and turmoil in her mind, Lois made a determined effort to pull herself together.

However weird or totally bizarre such a coincidence might be, she was going to have to face the fact that this man—with whom she’d had a brief, passionate encounter in the Philippines—was not just some anonymous English lawyer. Unfortunately, it now seemed that he was, in reality, Lord Ratcliffe, the owner of this huge old house.

It felt as if she had been standing here, in a state of numb disbelief, for an enormous length of time. However, she realised that she could only have been mentally paralysed for just a few seconds. With Dave continuing to chatter away, nineteen to the dozen, Lois gradually began to get a grip on her muzzy brain. While the man she’d known as Ace, remained staring down at her; his hawk-like features frozen into an expression of utter shock and bewilderment.

And it was the sight of Lord Ratcliffe—as she was now clearly going to have to call him—which helped her to make the first move.

Instinctively taking pity on the poor man—who looked as if he might expire from a heart attack any minute—Lois took a step forward and put out her hand.

‘How do you do, Lord Ratcliffe?’ she murmured, carefully avoiding his eyes. ‘It’s...um...it’s very nice to meet you.’

Clearly making a supreme effort to gather his scattered wits, Ace at last managed to find his voice.

‘I don’t think “very nice” are exactly the words I would use, Miss...er...Miss Shelton,’ he drawled slowly, gallantly raising her hand to his lips.

‘In fact, as far as I’m concerned,’ he added, the heavylidded, clear grey eyes now glinting with wry, sardonic amusement, ‘that well-known phrase “enchanted to meet you” would seem to be far more appropriate!’

CHAPTER THREE

‘I DON’T know about you—but I’m completely lost!’

‘You’re not the only one,’ Lois muttered as she and Peggy, accompanied by two sturdy men carrying their luggage, followed the producer’s assistant up yet another long flight of stairs.

Downstairs, in the large hall, she’d been so anxious to escape from the shockingly unexpected, completely unnerving encounter with Ace that she couldn’t have cared less where she was being taken. But this long hike through dusty back passages, up stairs and along corridors—mostly lined with gloomy ancestral portraits—was definitely beginning to get her down.

‘Here we are,’ the assistant announced, consulting a list on the clipboard in her hands as they at last came to a halt by a grand, impressively large pair of double doors.

‘I’m sorry we had to make such a long detour, because of all the electrical cables and camera equipment,’ the girl continued, moving aside to allow one of the men to carry Lois’ suitcases through into the room, ‘however, Dave Green wanted you to have the very best accommodation. And this, so I’m told, is the Grand State Bedroom, originally designed in the eighteenth century for visiting royalty.’

‘crumbs...!’ Peggy gasped as she and Lois followed the girl into the large room. ‘Did any kings and queens really sleep in here?’

‘No, I believe it was more a case of having a special room available—just in case they might want to spend a night at Ratcliffe Hall,’ the assistant said, before once again consulting her clipboard. ‘And now, Miss Fraser, I’ll show you to your bedroom. We’re running a little behind time, so...’

‘Well, I...er...I’ll see you later,’ Peggy muttered, casting a nervous glance at Lois—who’d remained utterly silent since they’d entered the room—before hurrying after the assistant, who was now moving swiftly on down the corridor.

Left on her own, Lois quickly closed her eyes and counted up to ten. Unfortunately, when she opened them again, her fervent hope that she’d been hallucinating was quickly dispelled. It was not a psychedelic dream. She really was standing in the midst of what could only be described as a total nightmare.

Gazing in horrified astonishment around the enormous room, her eyes were immediately drawn to the truly massive four-poster bed, set up on a high dias. Heavily festooned with thick satin swags, tails and drapes, in a depressing shade of deep crimson edged with wide, dark gold fringing, the whole monstrous edifice was topped by tall sprays of red and gold ostrich feather plumes at each of the four corners.