Page 37 of His Secretary's Nine-Month Notice
‘When was the last time you saw your parents?’ she asked, her attention diverted by the tree-shaded drive that wound its way towards... Well, this was beyond a mansion. This was something along the lines of a National Trust estate. She gaped, not because she wasn’t used to big houses and over-the-top mansions, many of which she had experienced first-hand over the years with her dad, but because this was just so...unexpected. She tried hard to quench a sickening rush of acute nerves while he briefly informed her that he visited four times a year.
‘Exactly four times?’ Her mouth felt dry, which was the opposite of the palms of her hands, which were clammy. This felt like a really big deal, a turning point in a relationship that had been pleasantly meandering along, somehow waiting for something to happen.
‘Three birthdays and Christmas day.’
‘That’s very organised.’ She looked across at him. ‘I didn’t think you were that organised a person.’
‘When you meet my parents, you’ll discover why organisation is important. They’re not people who appreciate spontaneous drop-ins.’
The rolling mansion drew closer. It was an impressive but grim edifice of greystone, fronted with a circular courtyard dominated by an amazing fountain. On either side of the house, sprawling, well-manicured lawns rolled off towards the dark shadows of trees.
‘Don’t worry.’ He turned to her wryly when he’d killed the engine. ‘It won’t be a protracted visit.’
She was struck by a sudden thought. ‘Have you told them that I am going to be with you?’
‘Like I said, I preferred the face-to-face approach.’
‘They’re going to be shocked.’
‘Maybe they will.’
‘Don’t you care? You’ve put me in an awful position!’
‘I wouldn’t worry about it.’ He looked at her for a few seconds, then eased himself out of the car, moving round to open the passenger door for her.
‘Of course I’m worried! Most parents love all the excitement of their child announcing that a baby’s on the way! They’re going to be so disappointed.’
Matt laughed humourlessly. ‘Like I said, Violet, don’t worry about it. When it comes to disappointment, there are no surprises in store. I’ve been living with it all of my life.’
CHAPTER NINE
AFTERWARDS, VIOLETTHOUGHTthat she should have pieced together something of what she would find from that remark.
A man who can indifferently reflect that parental disappointment has been his lot in life would not be a man to enjoy a warm relationship with his parents, and they could not have been less like the fun-loving, outgoing people she had always assumed they would be.
Not that she had ever had any clues to go on because, although he was ridiculously open when it came to the women in his life and the chaotic revolving door of his relationships, he had always been tight-mouthed about his background.
She certainly had not expected them to be made of money, but they were. The front door was opened by a butler—butlers still existed!—and they were shown into a sitting room the size of an airfield.
To look at, Lord and Lady Falconer made an impressively good-looking couple. She was tall and elegant, with luxurious dark hair firmly pulled back. Traces of a Spanish heritage could be seen in her colouring, the slightly olive-toned skin and the dark eyes.
He, likewise, was tall and distinguished, the absolute epitome of an English gentleman, from the way he carried himself to the suit and tie he wore.
Violet had no idea how old they were. Certainly in their midsixties. But their mannerisms, their strained formality, made them seem much older.
Conversation was polite. Violet cringed when his mother’s eyes flicked over her stomach but Matt introduced the topic without the slightest hint of embarrassment or apology. Both parents nodded their congratulations and asked precious few questions.
Accustomed as she was to a life filled with exuberant, over-the-top adults, Violet was bewildered and, after an hour of stilted conversation, deeply saddened for Matt and a childhood that had obviously been quite different from her own. Perhaps, had he not been an only child, things might have been a little better. Violet could only shudder at the thought of a young child, packed off to boarding school at the age of seven, spending holidays and free time in a house that had the feel of a mausoleum.
More than ever, she feltspecialto have been introduced to his parents. She was quite sure that he had never allowed any overlap between his parents and his women. Yes, she was pregnant, and that made a big difference, but nothing could take away from the fact that it felt like a significant step.
Dinner was served in the dining room, where they all attempted conversation across a table so vast that megaphones wouldn’t have been a bad idea.
The food was delicious. Four courses, with all the appropriate wines, although neither of them had anything to drink. She was pregnant, and Matt was insistent on driving back—even though, as an afterthought, his mother did mention that a room could be prepared for them and the drive undertaken in the morning.
‘Work,’ Matt informed them with a polite smile, glancing at his watch, which seemed to be an accepted signal as both parents rose without fuss, leaving the dishes to be cleared away by the invisible young girl who had ferried them in.
‘Coffee in the snug?’ his father asked. ‘Or something stronger? I have some excellent port.’
