Free Persuade Me by Juliet Archer

tightened in what may have been a smile or, more likely, a grimace of pain. ‘Ah, the shark wrestler. We’re all itching to hear about your incredible exploits.’
    This sort of remark irritated Rick. It always came from men and was usually accompanied by some limp-wristed posturing, as if he’d challenged their manhood.
    And so, when Roger went off to refill their glasses, he heard himself say, ‘I knew your wife, a long time ago. Rather well.’ He cursed himself under his breath. Why tell this man anything?
    Charles gave a sardonic laugh. ‘Lucky you. Maybe you’d like to get reacquainted?’ He glanced round. ‘Ah, there she is, I’ll just bring her over.’
    A sudden pounding in his ears, blotting everything else out. Rick closed his eyes and let his lungs fill with air. Hold – two, three, four, five. And out again, slowly, slowly.
    Charles’s voice, quite sharp. ‘Darling, you didn’t tell me you’d met Rick Wentworth. Says he knew you rather well, once upon a time.’
    Rick forced his eyes open and stared down at a face he’d never seen before. Broad, heavily made-up, pretty enough but with none of her delicate features, and framed by long, wavy, dark red – almost maroon – hair.
    ‘ Have we met?’ The woman hiccupped and tried to cover it up with a suggestive giggle. ‘I’m sure I’d have remembered.’
    He pulled himself together, switched on the charm. ‘I’m sure I would too, obviously got you mixed up with someone else.’ He turned to Charles and attempted a smile. ‘Sorry, my mistake, wrong Musgrove. Unless you’ve got another wife tucked away somewhere?’
    ‘I wish. Anyway, why don’t I leave you two to get acquainted, as opposed to reacquainted. I’m just popping home to check on Ollie – or have you been already, Mona?’
    She didn’t answer; so, after a moment, Charles shrugged and sloped off.
    As soon as he’d gone, she put her hand on Rick’s arm and simpered, ‘Let me introduce myself properly. I’m Mona Musgrove, formerly an Elliot of Kellynch, my father’s the 8th Baronet. And where do you think we’ve met?’
    Was she thick, deaf or merely drunk? ‘I’ve just said we haven’t. But I have met an Elliot of Kellynch before, Annette or something. Perhaps your younger sister?’ He couldn’t resist that last little jibe.
    ‘You must mean Anna.’ Her tone was distinctly cooler. ‘She’s my older sister, actually. And it’s funny that she’s never mentioned you.’
    He felt the blood rush to his face; had he been that insignificant in her life? ‘It was in France, years ago, and we only saw each other a few times,’ he said stiffly. ‘She was an au pair and I was teaching kids how to sail, a bit of responsibility after four years at university.’ It sounded more like an entry on his bloody CV, but that way there was no chance of anyone guessing the truth.
    And Mona seemed less curious than most. ‘Oh, that explains it,’ she said airily. ‘She was miserable in France, I remember my father having to fetch her home. I wasn’t around that summer – Lady Helen Carnegie, a good friend from boarding school, invited me up to Scotland. Her family seat is Sanders Castle, you must have heard of it, in the–’
    He was barely listening. ‘Is she married now?’
    ‘Lady Helen? Not yet, but she’s engaged to–’
    ‘I meant your sister.’
    ‘Anna? God, no.’ He waited for her to elaborate, but instead she went on, ‘She’s just next door actually, babysitting for us. At Uppercross Manor – that’s our house, rather small, we’re looking for something much bigger. I don’t know how she and Charles persuaded me to come out this evening, I can’t bear to be away from my boys for long. In fact, why don’t we take a little walk over there? Best to go now, before Barbara gets her oranges out, so degrading.’
    Rick declined as politely as he could. Why on earth would he find Barbara and her oranges degrading? If it was a quaint euphemism for Barbara going