‘I own the bank.’
Josie’s mouth dropped open in shock. ‘What?’ she exclaimed.
‘My grandfather left me some shares which my father could not get his hands on. At twenty-one I inherited a sizable block of shares in a merchant bank. I went to London, worked hard and got the opportunity to buy a controlling interest, and I took it. I expanded the business to the USA with branches in New York, Chicago and Los Angeles, which is why for the past few years I’ve lived mostly in America.’
Glancing at him, Josie could easily believe him. He looked dangerous, his hard features curiously remote, but his eyes were watchful and incredibly dark. ‘You must be rich. I never knew,’ she said, astonished by his revelation.
As he caught her stunned expression, Conan’s lips curved in a grim smile. ‘I don’t suppose there was any reason why you should. The Major seems to think working in the city is slightly disreputable,’ he drawled mockingly. ‘But someone in our beleaguered family had to make money.’
Something clicked in Josie’s mind. That fateful night of the party. Charles had gone quiet when Conan had mentioned the end-of-quarter accounts. Surely he did not keep Charles and his father supplied with money? ‘You helped support Charles—?’ She was cut off before she could finish the question.
‘For heaven’s sake, Josie, can we get down to basics?’ Conan interrupted harshly, and, jumping to his feet, he prowled around the small room before returning to stand in front of her.
His hard, chiselled features were still, almost brooding. His dark eyes locked with hers, and his expression was impossible to read. ‘How many people have you told about your engagement to Charles?’
‘No one,’ she answered, too surprised by hi
s outburst and change of subject to prevaricate.
A dark brow climbed quizzically. ‘No one, not even you colleagues at work, your friends?’
‘No.’ Josie felt the colour rise in her cheeks, and tried to justify her reticence. ‘You were there that night you heard Charles tell your father; it was to be unofficial until...’ She swallowed remembering what had happened to Charles and what day it was. ‘Well, until he was supposed to return—today.’ She lowered her eyes from his knowing gaze.
‘You do surprise me! A woman who can keep a secret about her personal life. I thought you would have bragged to all and sundry you had caught the county’s most eligible bachelor.’
‘Sorry to disappoint you but I didn’t.’ Not for a million pounds was she going to admit it was because she had intended calling the whole thing off. Even discovering she was pregnant had not persuaded her to marry Charles.
‘So only your father, the Major and I know about your engagement to Charles. You’re absolutely sure?’ he demanded.
‘Yes,’ she repeated, glancing briefly back up at him and wondering why it was so important.
‘Great.’ A triumphant gleam shone in his golden eyes. ‘And it’s a safe bet Charles never mentioned it to anyone so that makes everything much easier.’ He slid one hand into his pocket.
Why was he so certain Charles had kept it a secret? Josie wondered, but she was distracted as her eyes involuntarily followed his hand and she gulped as the fabric of his jeans pulled taut across his thigh outlining exactly how masculine he was. Appalled at the direction her thoughts had taken, she scrambled to her feet, and stepped past him, her face burning. Then, turning and tilting her head to look up at him, she managed to ask, ‘Why easier?’
He withdrew a small box from his pocket. ‘Simple, Josie.’ Opening the box, he caught her hand and slipped an exquisite diamond and sapphire ring in an antique setting on the third finger of her left hand.
Josie looked at the ring, and up at Conan, and back at the ring. He had certainly come prepared, she thought, angry at his arrogant assumption that she would accept his proposal. ‘But...’
‘No buts, Josie. It’s perfect. You and I are engaged. If anyone asks, we met in August at the church fair. You took yesterday afternoon off to have lunch with me, and we got engaged. Then imagine our horror when we returned to the Manor to hear that Charles had died. It’s perfect. We will attend the funeral on Tuesday as a couple, and we have a perfect excuse for a small, quiet wedding—we are in mourning for Charles.’
She had thought he was ruthless but, listening to Conan, she realised he was diabolically devious. It all fitted, and yet she wanted to dent his superior male attitude. ‘What about the clinic I visited?’
‘So what? How long were you there—an hour, two? And did you tell the doctor the name of the father? Somehow I think not.’
He was right again. She had deliberately travelled to Oxford, where no one knew her, and had spent most of the afternoon sitting in a coffee bar deciding what to do.
‘No, I didn’t,’ Josie admitted, and closed her eyes, overcome by sadness for poor Charles. When she opened them again, Conan was slowly assessing every one of her features, from her flushed face to her small hand that wore his ring. He gently caught her hand and, raising it to his lips, kissed her fingertips.
‘Don’t worry, Josie; you won’t regret marrying me, and it’s the best for everyone. Believe me.’
Josie snatched her hand back; the touch of his lips on her skin disturbed her, more than she wanted to admit. ‘Oh, I do... You have everything worked out beautifully,’ she snapped sarcastically. ‘And hey! We can always get divorced once...’ She stopped; she could hardly say when the Major died or when Conan had Beeches Manor—it sounded too callous, even if it was true.
Conan slanted her a sardonic glance. ‘You’re quite right. But let’s get married first, hmm?’
‘Yes.’ For the sake of her unborn child, and her father’s peace of mind, she would do anything. Marrying Conan could not be that bad, she told herself. He said he spent a lot of time in America so she might hardly ever see him.
‘Good. I am glad we understand each other. I have to leave now but I’ll be back to take you to dinner on Monday night. As I said, the funeral is on Tuesday and we’ll go together.’