behalf. “This is Patrick Grace,” I said with a hand on his arm. “Patrick, my mother, Priscilla Carmichael.”
Mother inclined her head and held her hand out to him. “I’ve seen you with Mrs Fortescue.”
Patrick nodded as he shook her hand, no less enthusiastic for the contempt she was showing. “You have. I work for her husband.”
My mother let slip the smallest amount of hope that meant he was a somewhat decent man. “You’re a lawyer.” It wasn’t a question.
“Uh, no. I’m in security,” Patrick answered, sounding partly apologetic but also implying he really shouldn’t have to be.
And there went all hope from my mother’s person. “I see. Come in, then. Leah, your father’s already in the dining room.”
I shared a ‘well, we’re on our way’ look with Patrick, took hold of his elbow tighter, and we both followed my mother inside.
“Take him through, I need to check on the kitchen.”
I nodded to her and took Patrick through to the dining room.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Leah,” Dad said fondly, his welcoming smile only growing when he saw Patrick. “And guest. Nice to have you. I’m Aubrey Carmichael.”
Patrick shook Dad’s proffered hand. “Patrick Grace. Thanks for having me.”
“Not at all. It’s not every day your youngest says she wants to bring someone home.” As Dad was wont to do, he headed for the drinks trolley. “I’ve seen you around, haven’t I, Patrick?”
“I don’t doubt it, sir. I work for Mr Fortescue.”
“Richard! Yes. You’re the strapping young man Felicia brings to all the boring soirees.” Dad chuckled as though Patrick would be in on the joke.
I just stood around and waited for Mother to come in and tell me where to sit. Dad had found someone he expected would share his commiseration in the necessity of attending these things and would now be mollified in expressing such. Of course, completely glossing over the fact that I had always hated attending those sorts of things, but I was a girl and therefore supposed to enjoy them. Dad had a good heart, he was just also slightly set in his ways.
“Yes,” Patrick answered. “Mrs Fortescue and I have what I suppose you’d call a standing arrangement.”
“Good man. Good man.” Dad nodded approvingly then held up the whiskey decanter. “Drink, Patrick?”
“No, thank you, sir. Best not. I’m driving.”
“Good man. Sensible,” Dad repeated. “Leah?”
I shook my head. “Not just now, thanks.” I had the feeling this would all go a lot smoother if I was totally sober.
“Well, more for me,” he said happily. “Now, Patrick. What sort of work do you do for Richard?”
“He’s in…security,” my mother said as she walked in, making the word sound utterly filthy.
Dad nodded as he finished his sip. “Really? And it’s Grace you say?”
Patrick nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Wouldn’t happen to be Grace as in Grace Grayson, would it?”
Patrick nodded again. “It would, sir.”
“Impressive resume.”
“So, you own the company then?” Mother asked, taking her drink from Dad and standing with us.
“On paper. Kit Grayson runs things day-to-day. I’m more into grunt work.”
Had I been in the midst of a drink, I might have choked on it. As it was, I had to stop myself laughing at the thought that elicited.
“Are you quite all right, Leah?” Mother asked.
I nodded. “Yes. Sorry. Uh, did Patrick mention he was in the military?”
Dad looked at him in surprised admiration. “Were you now?”
“I was, sir.”
“Fascinating.” My mother’s voice didn’t have to imply anything, it was quite obvious she thought very little of the accomplishment. “Tell me, Leah, why it is we have the pleasure of your company this afternoon?”
“A girl can’t have lunch with her parents?”
“A girl can do a great many things. You, however, have rarely been known to request more than the absolute minimum.”
I was starting to regret turning down that drink now. “Well…” I started with a self-conscious laugh. “Patrick and I… That is to say…” It was seriously not that difficult a sentence. So why didn’t it want to come out?
“We’re engaged,” Patrick said for me, and I found all my stress and panic disappeared as soon as the words were said.
“We’re engaged,” I repeated with a nod.
Dad looked between us for a moment as though weighing up the situation and trying to determine what his answer should be. My mother, on the other hand, looked about ready to drop her glass.
She was the first one with no qualms of speaking her mind. “I beg your pardon?”
“We’re engaged, Mother. To be married.” I held my hand up so she could see there was a ring, like that