Page 29 of Expecting the Earl's Baby

But it was still a substantially larger affair than Seb wanted. Daisy allowed the piece of paper to float down onto the desk as if the thought of striking out the majority of the names didn’t make her throat tighten.

Seb had moved, so silently she hadn’t noticed, reaching over her shoulder to deftly catch the paper mid-fall. ‘The problem is I don’t actually have any immediate family.’

Daisy automatically opened her mouth to say something inane, something to smooth over the chasm his words opened up. Then she closed it again. What good were platitudes? But understanding shivered over her. No wonder this marriage was important to him. The baby was more than a potential heir; it would be all that he had. Responsibility crushed down on her. She had been so naïve, so happy at the thought of having a person in her life who needed her, depended on her. But the baby wasn’t just hers. It was theirs.

‘There are school friends.’ He was scribbling away on the back of the list, his handwriting sure and firm. ‘Other academics, publishing colleagues, staff and volunteers here and villagers I have known all my life. I think I will need eighty places including the plus ones but, if you agree, I propose a hog roast in a marquee in the courtyard in the evening and invite the whole village. Noblesse oblige I know but it’s a tied village and expected.’

‘Do you have a marquee?’ Thank goodness her mother was on the ball because Daisy couldn’t have spoken if her life had depended on it. He didn’t want this, she knew that. People, publicity, fuss, photos and the inevitable press. The only answer, the only possible reason was that he was doing this for her.

She slipped her hand into his without thought or plan and his fingers curled around hers.

Maybe, just maybe this could work after all.

‘Weddings here are all run and catered for by The Blue Boar, that’s the village pub, and yes, they have several marquees of all sizes. Paul—’ he smiled slightly, that devastating half-lift of his mouth ‘—the helpful man on the gate, he can give you all the details you need.’

‘That is wonderful.’ Her mother was rapidly taking notes. ‘That gives me a lot to be getting on with. Rose will be doing the rings of course and Violet the flowers. You know what, Daisy, I think somehow we are going to be able to pull this wedding off.’

* * *

‘We’re going all the way into London?’

When she had left the day before Daisy had felt, fully aware of her own inner melodrama, as if she were being taken away from her beloved city for ever even though she knew full well that she would be returning for a studio shoot later that week. But it still felt slightly anticlimactic to be returning just over twenty-four hours later.

Her mother looked mildly surprised. ‘Of course, we have a wedding dress to buy.’ Her voice grew wistful. ‘It was such a shame that Seb vetoed a Tudor theme. I think he would have carried off a doublet really well. And such an eminent historian, you would have thought he would have jumped at the chance to really live in the past.’

‘So short-sighted.’ Daisy couldn’t suppress the gurgle of laughter that bubbled up as she remembered the utter horror on Seb’s face when her mother had greeted them with her brilliant idea. ‘I would have preferred regency though.’

‘The building is all wrong but you were made to wear one of those high-waisted gowns. And breeches are possibly even better than doublet and hose.’

‘Infinitely better.’ Daisy settled herself into a more comfortable position, allowing her hand to move softly across her abdomen. All had been confirmed. She was definitely pregnant, close to seven weeks. Just as she had expected but it had been a relief to hear another human say it out loud.

A relief to give Seb the definitive tidings; backing out of the wedding now would have been awkward for both of them. It wasn’t that she was actually beginning to enjoy the planning process, enjoy having her mother’s undivided attention or even enjoy seeing Seb pulled so far out of his comfort zone he could barely formulate a sentence.

Except when the Tudor theme was mooted. He had been more than able to turn that idea down flat.

Once she had established where they were going Daisy took little notice of the route. It wasn’t often she spent time alone with her mother.

Maybe if she had allowed her mother in a little more then there would have been more occasions like this but the price had always seemed too high. Her mother did have a tendency to try and take over, the wedding a perfect case in point.

But it came from a place of love; maybe she should have respected that more.

Daisy leant across and kissed her mother’s still smooth and unlined cheek.

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