Lee Wilkinson - Stand-In Mistress

Milly might have imagined herself in love with him, but if he hadn’t taken her out to dinner and dangled the bait of this Norwegian trip in front of her she wouldn’t be seriously contemplating leaving Duncan.

Standing wringing the tea towel between her hands as though it was Brad Lancing’s neck, Joanne was still mentally castigating him when the wall-phone, just by her head, rang.

She picked it up on the first ring and gave the number distractedly.

‘Miss Winslow?’ a clear, well-modulated voice asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Brad Lancing. The Norwegian trip is on. I’ll be pleased if you’ll have dinner with me tonight, so we can discuss the travel arrangements…?’

A red mist forming in front of her eyes and the blood pounding in her ears, Joanne was about to tell him who she was, and exactly what she thought of him, when a sudden sense of caution brought her up short.

Would that be wise?

Rather than giving up, a man like him, with no sense of shame, might only keep on trying to contact the girl he had obviously marked down as his next conquest, and somehow she must prevent that at all costs…

While her thoughts raced frantically, part of her mind registered the fact that the attractive voice was going on, ‘I’ll be at Somersby’s at seven-thirty, if you can make it?’

About to say coldly that she couldn’t, Joanne hesitated. Then, reasoning that if she agreed, as he doubtless expected, he would have no cause to argue or phone again, she adopted Milly’s slightly breathy way of speaking, and said, ‘Yes, I’ll be there.’

‘The address is Grant Street, Mayfair. Take a taxi.’

A second later she heard the receiver at the other end being replaced. It seemed he was a man of few words. Which was a blessing. If he’d tried to engage her in conversation it would have been difficult to keep up the pretence.

Even worse, Milly might have put in an appearance, and so long as she believed he hadn’t rung she could well decide to go to Scotland.

Once there, and settled into her new life, surely this temporary infatuation would die a natural death?

Feeling somewhat more cheerful, Joanne went back to preparing the meal.

Everything was in the stove, and she had just started to set the table when a most unwelcome thought presented itself. Brad Lancing had said Somersby’s at seven-thirty…If no one turned up, would he ring again to find out why?

Her blood ran cold. That could prove disastrous.

At seven-thirty they would still be sitting down to their meal, and, expecting him to ring, Milly would hardly hold back and let her sister fob him off.

Well, there was only one thing for it, Joanne decided; she would have to keep the appointment. At least it would give her a chance to tell him to his face just what she thought of men like him…

She heard the sound of the front door closing, and footsteps crossing the hall. A moment later Steve and his fiancée appeared in the doorway.

An inch or so under six feet, and slimly built, Steve was dark-haired and blue-eyed. With a thin, intelligent face and good features, he just missed out on being handsome.

But he was so genuinely nice that Joanne had often wondered why he hadn’t been snapped up. Except he worked so hard that, until a few months ago, there had been no time for a woman in his life.

Then Lisa, small and blonde and as sweet as she was pretty, had come to work for him.

It had been love at first sight, and now with a baby on the way—unplanned, they had admitted sheepishly, but very much wanted—they were busy making arrangements for a late-October wedding.

Sniffing appreciatively, Steve said, ‘Something smells good.’ Then with undisguised eagerness, ‘How did things go with Liam Peters?’

‘Monday morning, first thing, you can send in the troops.’

He gave a whoop of joy and, seizing hold of her, whirled her round until she was breathless.

‘Looks as if you’ve had some good news,’ Duncan remarked as he and Milly joined them.

‘You’re not wrong…And we’re going to have a real celebration! There should be a couple of bottles of bubbly somewhere.’

‘It’s already in the fridge,’ Joanne said.

‘Clever girl!’ Taking a bottle, Steve eased out the cork, poured the wine and, having handed a glass to each of the others, raised his own in salute.

‘Here’s to us, and particularly Jo, who’s managed to swing the deal with Liam Peters, as well as finding time to take care of us all and cook some marvellous meals.’

There was a little burst of cheering, and they all drank. The bubbles made Milly sneeze, and then laugh.

Drawing a deep breath, Joanne took the plunge. ‘I hope it’s a marvellous meal tonight. I’m sorry to say I won’t be here to share it.’

Seeing the surprise on all their faces, she added hurriedly, ‘Trevor forgot it was tonight Milly and Duncan were leaving for Scotland, and he booked expensive seats at a special concert he knew I particularly wanted to go to.’

Perhaps the explanation was a little fulsome, but it was the truth, as far as it went.

What she failed to add was that, on discovering what he’d done, she had paid for her ticket—Trevor wasn’t one to waste money—and suggested that he take his mother instead.

Milly, clearly disappointed, moved closer to her fair-haired husband, who put his arm around her.

Please God, things would work out, Joanne thought, watching them together. Milly was too young to mess up her life.

‘Well, if you won’t be here on our last night,’ Duncan said cheerfully, ‘we shall expect you to be our first visitor when we get settled in.’

‘Done!’

‘Lisa’s staying over,’ Steve said; as he opened the second bottle of wine, ‘so I won’t need to turn out to drive her home…’

Afraid of being late in case Brad Lancing was the impatient sort who might call to see where she’d got to, Joanne left the others talking, and, having rung for a taxi, slipped upstairs to shower and change.

Needing to keep up the pretence of her concert-going, she put on her best silk suit, made up with care, fastened pearl studs onto her neat lobes, and swept her dark hair into an elegant chignon.

When she came down again, Duncan whistled, and Milly nodded approvingly. ‘Not bad. Though I have to say it’s wasted on Trevor.’

Then a little tremulously, ‘Well, I guess we’ll be gone before you get back…’

So she had decided to go. Joanne said a silent prayer of thanks.

With her emotions running high, and feeling the prick of tears behind her eyes, she hugged her sister and brother-in-law and said as brightly as possible, ‘Have a good journey…And as soon as you’re ready for visitors, let me know.’

‘Will do,’ Duncan assured her.

The doorbell announced the arrival of the taxi, and after more quick hugs all round, Joanne said, ‘Well, enjoy your meal,’ and fled before she could disgrace herself by crying.

Somersby’s proved to be a select and stylish restaurant above an art gallery. The taxi dropped Joanne at the awninged entrance, and, her heart beating fast, she climbed a flight of red-carpeted stairs.

At the top, a uniformed attendant was waiting to open the heavy glass doors for her.

As she crossed the luxurious foyer she went over in her mind all the things she intended to say to Brad Lancing. When she had, hopefully, made him squirm, she would walk out.

No, that wasn’t the way to do it. It would be almost three hours before Milly and Duncan started for the station, and in that time, left to his own devices, Lancing might phone and throw a spanner in the works.

She just couldn’t chance it. Somehow she needed to keep him occupied until Milly was safely on the train.