Always Mr. Wrong by Joanne Rawson Read Free Book Online

cool, be calm, sound
interested, at the same time thrilled, but for pity’s sake not like
a bloody child on Christmas morning opening its presents. Or,
better still, I could look at the paper later and seal the deal by
taking Guy right here on the sofa. No! Look at the house first,
then sex.
    “Knightsbridge—that sounds nice,” desperate
to keep the excitement out of my voice.
    With shaking hands, I looked at the paper.
The house was beyond my wildest dreams. I read the details aloud,
my voice sounding more excited as I spoke. “Lounge, kitchen,
utility room and a breakfast room, as well as a dining room. FOUR
BEDROOMS, ALL WITH EN-SUITE AND DOMESTIC ACCOMMODATION.” I looked
at Guy in disbelief. “Do we need that many rooms?”
    “Well, one room for us, one for Olivia, a
guest room, the au pair would stay in domestic accommodation, and
the other I thought....
    “Sorry, Guy,” I interrupted. “An au pair? For
Olivia? Or,” I laughed. “Will the other bedroom be for Eleanor? I
know she needs looking after, but I think an au pair a little
OTT.”
    Guy took the paper out of my hands, took my
shoulders and turned me around to face him. “I’d hoped we’d make
the other into a nursery.”
    My heart seemed to stop beating, no oxygen
flowing through my veins. I felt light headed. I needed air. Things
started to fade away.
    “Clare, Clare! Are you alright? Breathe!” Guy
still on his knees in front of me was seconds away from
administering mouth to mouth as I let out a sudden gasp.
    “I’m sorry. I’m not sure what came over
me.”
    “It’s all a little overwhelming, I know,
asking you to marry me, the house and a baby. I assume most women
would react that way. I hope that nearly passing out on me like
that was because you were delighted?”
    “And I am. I’m the happiest woman in the
world.” I flung my arms around him, hoping that as we held each
other tight that my trembling perceived as elation of soon to be
Mrs Foreman from Kensington with their new baby.
    * * * *
    Two weeks had passed since Guy’s proposal. Of
course I was ecstatic. Who wouldn’t be, planning a new life with
the most handsome, cleverest and talented man, not to mention a
sensational lover? Looking at a house that I only ever dreamed of
living in. But you know when you get that feeling in the pit of
your stomach, when you know that something is not quite right?
Well, I had that every time nurseries, au pairs or babies came into
a conversation.
    The last couple of weeks, I had done my
utmost to keep our engagement as low key as possible. Low key? That
was a laugh. Dad had demanded he take an official engagement
picture of us both. Then when I opened the Times the
following Sunday, I squealed in horror. There was Guy, sitting at
my dad’s desk, I stood behind him, my diamond-clad hand resting on
his shoulder. Outside through the French windows the snow covered
garden made a romantic backdrop. We looked like a member of the
sodding Royal Family, announcing their forthcoming nuptials. And it
seemed that half of London thought the same, as hundreds of cards
and e-mails from well-wishers flooded through our letterboxes and
inboxes.
    Fabric swatches, paint colour charts and home
improvement magazines littered the kitchen table. I personally
thought this a little premature as we had only put in an offer on
the house, and by all accounts, there had been three other offers.
However, Guy thought we should think positive and start
planning.
    And in retrospect, he was right.
    * * * *
    Jess had brought every Bride Magazine she
could lay her hands on, complete with little post-it markers and
scribbled notes of things she thought would interest me. Funnily
enough, I had seen a wonderful simple calf length, off the shoulder
dress in pale blue floating chiffon that I fell instantly in love
with. I rang my Mum’s dressmaker without a second thought to Jess’s
girly, fun-filled day of wedding dress shopping.
    The front door slammed. I waited to