Prada and Prejudice (Dating Mr Darcy - Book 1) by Katie Oliver Read Free Book Online Page B

you. It was a terrible thing. He was my only son, you know.” He patted her back as she hiccupped out a sob. “But life – and business, unfortunately – continues. We must soldier on.”
    Natalie forced a watery smile and lifted her head. “You sound like the Queen.”
    “Dashwood and James are in serious trouble. We owe money – taxes, a great deal of them – and I need help to straighten out the mess. Rhys is right to implement his changes. I don’t like them any more than you do.” He sighed, and he suddenly looked like what he was, a tired old man. “But he’s our only hope.”
    Then we’re in serious trouble , she thought grimly, but didn’t say it. “He asked for my help today.”
    “Did he? Good. I’ll speak to him about hiring you on and putting you in that small office next to his.” He picked up the telephone. “Now, I’m ending this tabloid nonsense. I won’t have you or your mother bothered by reporters.”
    Natalie kissed his papery cheek. “Thanks, grandfather. I love you masses.”
    “I love you too, you cheeky girl. Run along, now.”
    She paused at the study door. “I’ll need new clothes if I’m to look like a proper businesswoman, won’t I?”
    He regarded her sternly. “Natalie, I’ve already allowed you to get your ‘Peony’ handbag—”
    “Poppy,” she corrected him. “It’s a ‘Poppy’ handbag.”
    “—but I must reiterate that we cannot afford these sorts of expenditures any longer. I’m sure you can find something suitable to wear from within your own overstuffed closet.”
    She sighed. “Oh, very well. I suppose I might unearth something, even if it’s last season… It’s just so dreary, practising all this economy. I’m not used to it.”
    “I know it’s difficult. But if we do our part, and live more frugally, and if Rhys Gordon makes good on his promise to turn things around, things will improve.”
    “I hope you’re right.” Scepticism coloured her voice. “But you have far more faith in Mr. Gordon than I do.” She smiled and waggled her fingers. “Goodnight, grandfather.”
    “Goodnight, my dear. Don’t forget your mother’s birthday luncheon in the tearoom on Monday. Eleven o’clock sharp. And don’t be late!” he called out after her.
    When she’d gone, Sir Richard took a pill out of his pillbox, his hand trembling slightly, and swallowed it with a grimace. Blood pressure pills…angina pills…pills to help him sleep and pills to keep him alert. It was a dreadful thing, to have to take so many damned pills.
    But as he pressed the box closed, a smile curved his lips. He would sleep well tonight, with or without his pills.
    Natalie would be sorted, at last. That was one worry he could cross off his list.

 
    Chapter 8
     
    “Keeley,” Dominic ventured as he tossed the last carrier bag from the day’s shopping on her sofa, “how about loaning me some cash? To tide me over until the tour starts.”
    “How much?”
    He flung himself on the sofa. “Oh, I dunno. A couple of hundred?”
    “Two hundred quid?” She shrugged and reached for her handbag. “OK.”
    Dominic let out a snort. “Two hundred quid? You must be joking.” He thrust a cigarette in his mouth. “No, I meant two hundred thousand. Although I suppose,” he mused thoughtfully as he reached in his pocket for a lighter, “I could just about manage on a hundred.”
    “You’re the one who must be joking!” Keeley snapped. “And put that bloody cigarette out! I told you, no smoking in here.”
    With a muttered apology, he took the cigarette out, unlit, and tossed it aside. He looked at her, one brow raised expectantly. “So, what do you say?”
    “Dominic, we’ve been engaged for three weeks and you want me to hand over two hundred thousand pounds, just like that?”
    “Well, Porsches and ’57 Strats are expensive,” he said defensively. “And it’s not like you can’t spare it.”
    “That’s not the point, is it? I’m your fiancée, not your