Rich (Benson Security #5) - Janet Elizabeth Henderson Page 0,9

absolutely no need.

“Please, don’t apologize.” Her mother shot Rachel a chastising look. “It isn’t as though Rachel lives in my pocket. If it weren’t for these monthly dinners, I’m not sure when I’d see my daughter.” She took Harvard’s arm. “Do you know, you’re the first man she’s ever brought home? And I do mean ever. Although, there was her friend Harry, but he doesn’t really count as it was never a romantic relationship. I very much hope you’ll be a good influence on her and make sure you both visit more often once you’re wed.”

Okay. That was it. Rachel had known from the start that taking part in an undercover op with her family was a bad idea, but if her mother was going to use the situation to make digs all evening, she was going home.

She turned back toward her car, but her father caught her arm. “We’re suffering through this together,” he muttered to her as he strode into the house, taking her with him.

“This is all your fault,” she told him. “You’re the one who came to Benson Security and demanded I take part in the investigation. And now look what’s happening. Mother is taking advantage of the situation to drive me crazy.”

Her mother smiled over her shoulder. “Come along, you two. Everybody’s waiting.”

Rachel tripped on the rug, and her father’s hold tightened on her arm. “Everybody?”

“Oh, yes.” Her mother sounded dangerously pleased with herself. “My only daughter is getting married. That calls for a celebration. I’ve invited the whole family.”

Any second now, Rachel’s head would explode. She felt the pressure build as she glared up at her father. “And you couldn’t send me a text to let me know what she was up to?”

He looked pained.

“No, he couldn’t,” her mother said. “I swore him to secrecy. If you’d got even a whiff of there being a party, you would have made an excuse not to come.”

“So, you decided to blindside me instead?”

“Yes.” Her mother was clearly delighted. “I’m thrilled it worked. Now, come along. It isn’t every day your daughter brings home a fiancé that her mother hasn’t even met.”

“She does know this isn’t real, right?” Rachel whispered to her father.

“Yes, she does, but she’s decided to use our unusual circumstances to make a point.”

The point being that Rachel was too distanced from her family and not settling down fast enough for her mother’s liking. “If she doesn’t calm down, I won’t visit for a year after this is over.”

Her father clutched his chest as though in pain. “Don’t even joke about it. The woman would hunt you to the ends of the earth if you did that, and she’d drag me along with her. And then we’d all suffer. Isn’t one heart attack enough for me? Do you really want to give me another?”

“Whatever,” Rachel grumbled, “but I’m definitely making Harvard pay.”

“That I can live with,” he said.

The interior of the house wasn’t what Harvard had expected. He’d obviously seen one too many English historical dramas because he’d thought the place would be wall-to-wall burgundy flocked paper and ornate moldings. He’d imagined darkly painted portraits of previous generations and antique furniture with the kind of spindly legs that a man his size would worry about breaking.

Instead, the walls were cream and the floors a polished wood, strewn with tasteful throw rugs. There were a few pieces of contemporary art, most of which he recognized as being the work of well-known British artists. The furniture was sleek, solid and modern. The kind that would entice a person to sit awhile and relax. In fact, it was exactly the type of house Harvard would have liked for himself.

“The stuffed animal heads, suits of armor and bad Renaissance paintings are all in the main house,” Francesca said with a twinkle in her eye.

“I was that obvious?” Usually he was good at hiding what he thought. His life had depended on the skill on more than one occasion.

“No, it’s the reaction most people have if they haven’t been inside Talbot House first. It was a good bet you were thinking the same. When Roger saw Talbot House, he told me it was magnificent, but he had no desire to live in it. As soon as we were married, he had plans to get us out of there. And he was right. It was a terrible place to live, but a wonderful place to share. If buildings had feelings, I’ve always thought the house must be happier now that