Page 49 of Expecting the Earl's Baby

‘Seb, darling?’ Sherry had materialised by his side. How on earth was the woman so dammed soft-footed? It was most unnerving.

Seb gripped the edge of his desk and took a deep breath, trying not to show his irritation. There were still three days to go until the wedding and he hadn’t had ten uninterrupted minutes since breakfast. ‘I have no idea, ask Daisy.’ Whatever the question she was bound to know the answer.

‘I haven’t seen Daisy all morning.’ Sherry frowned. ‘Really, Seb. It would be helpful if one of you took an interest. These details may seem unimportant but they matter. A high bow at the top of the chair can be smart but rather showy. A lower one is classier maybe but can be lost. Especially with the pale yellow you’ve chosen.’

He’d chosen? Things might have changed at an alarming speed but there was one thing Seb knew for sure—he had had nothing whatsoever to do with choosing the colour of ribbons for the backs of chairs.

‘Let’s go for classy.’ He rubbed his eyes. If anyone had suggested a month ago that he would be sitting in his library discussing bows with a supermodel he would have poured them a stiff brandy and suggested a lie-down. Yet here he was—and this particular supermodel wasn’t going anywhere until he gave her the answer she wanted.

‘You’re probably right.’ She reached over and ruffled his hair in a maternal way, incongrous coming from the glamorous Sherry Huntingdon. ‘Classy is always best. Less is more, as I told the girls when they were growing up.’

‘Wise advice.’ But something she had said earlier was nagging at him. ‘Where’s Daisy gone?’

‘I have no idea. She said she was tired after last night and wandered off. She did look peaky. There’s a lovely picture of you two on the Chronicle Online. You do scrub up nicely, Seb. It’s good to see you make an effort. There’s no need to take the absent-minded-academic thing quite so seriously, you know.’ Sherry gave his old worn shirt a pointed look.

‘Hmm?’ But he had already reached for the phone she was holding out, stomach lurching as he scrolled through the Chronicle’s long list of celebrity sightings and pictures. There they were entering the concert venue last night: Daisy long-legged in black shorts and a red T-shirt, her lipstick as bright as her top and her favourite trilby pushed back on her head. Seb had been unsure what to wear and had plumped for black trousers and a charcoal-grey shirt. Daisy’s arm was linked through his and she was laughing. To a casual observer—and to the headline writer—they looked very much the happy couple.

He thrust the phone back at Sherry. ‘Why are they even interested? So we go to a concert, what’s the big deal?’

‘You have to admit it’s a fairy-tale romance, rock star’s daughter marrying an earl after just a few weeks.’ Her voice was calm but the sharp gleam in her eyes showed her own curiosity. ‘Of course they’re interested. It’ll die down.’

‘Will it?’ He could hear the bitter note in his voice and made an effort to speak more normally. ‘I hope so.’

With in-laws like the ones he would shortly be acquiring, any chance of anonymity seemed very far away.

Sherry drifted away, her long list wafting from one elegant hand, and Seb tried to turn his attention back to his laptop. But once again his attention wandered. Where was Daisy?

She had slept in her own room last night citing tiredness. His own bed had seemed so huge, empty. Cold. At one point he had rolled over, ready to pull her into his arms—only she hadn’t been there. It was odd how her absence had loomed through the long, almost sleepless night.

Odd how quickly he had grown accustomed to her presence; the low, even breathing, the warmth of her. The way she woke up spooned into him, the long hair spread over both pillows.

Odd how right it felt.

She hadn’t shown up for breakfast either. Seb drummed his fingers on the desktop, the leather soft under his persistent touch. She had looked so vibrant in the photo but at some point in the evening her usual exuberance had dimmed and she had hardly said a word on the way back to Hawksley.

He cast his mind back, trying to remember the conversation of the night before. What had they talked about?

Had it been the mention of the honeymoon? The honeymoon she didn’t want.

The honeymoon she didn’t want to take with him.

Maybe she was wrong. Maybe they needed this, time away from the pressures of work and family, time away from putting on their best manners and working hard to fit their lives together—maybe it was time to find out how they operated as a couple. He would discuss it again with her.

Only... His fingers drummed a little harder as he thought. She had surprised him last night and it had been one of the most thoughtful things anyone had ever done for him. Maybe it was time for Seb to return the favour.

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