Baby Included

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‘As daylight,’ she’d assured him fervently. ‘After all, Sol, I’m hardly likely to want to....’ Her voice had faltered as she heard him slam down the phone.

So, now only the director, the producer and Peggy Fraser had been told the truth.

Peggy’s involvement had been crucial, of course. Originally employed as the English costume designer, she’d also agreed to act as Lois’ personal assistant, so as to keep the pregnancy as secret at possible.

As Peggy had pointed out, the fact that the film was set in the nineteenth century Regency period was going to be an enormous help. ‘The high-waisted dresses of the time are just about perfect for your condition,’ she’d told Lois during the costume fittings in London. ‘We shouldn’t have a problem disguising any thickening of your figure.’

Let’s hope she’s right, Lois told herself now, turning her head to gaze out of the window once more. Because she really wanted this film to be a great success.

Adapted from a short story by Jane Austen, written when the author was a young girl, Lady Susan should—if everything went according to plan—provide her with a golden opportunity to prove that she could extend her repertoire and succeed in playing a classic role. Lois had been excited by the screenplay—and the opportunity to play the lead part of Lady Susan: a heroine who was both diabolically attractive and, at the same time, a thoroughly wicked woman.

Quite apart from anything else, it certainly made a change from her more usual roles, playing feisty, gogetting modern heroines, along the lines of her last Oscar-winning movie.

Unfortunately, the Harley Street doctor’s confirmation of what she’d suspected for the past few weeks had certainly thrown a spanner in the works.

Glancing down, Lois placed a hand on her stomach. While her breasts had definitely increased in size, there didn’t yet seem to be any other sign that she was now three months pregnant. And with a tight filming schedule she might still be able to get to the end of the shoot without anyone suspecting the truth. Besides, Sol’s fellow backers had been right. If Madonna had managed to make the film of Evita while expecting a baby—then surely she, too, should be able to cope.

It was all the fault of that bout of illness which she’d suffered in India, Lois told herself grimly as the limousine left the motorway and began moving smoothly through the Sussex countryside.

Despite the fact that she’d never been in any way promiscuous, Lois had always believed in taking sensible, safe precautions against an unwanted or unplanned pregnancy. Unfortunately, as the doctor in London had so accurately pointed out, while the mini-pill would normally have provided adequate protection against any unforeseen accidents, her tummy upset in India had left her unwittingly vulnerable.

Which was why it had never occurred to her—not in a million years!—that the quite extraordinary and totally mind-blowing brief episode with the highly attractive Englishman could have resulted in her conceiving a child.

However, while the idea of having a baby had, quite frankly, come as a terrible shock, there was no way she could ever contemplate having an abortion. Nor did it seem right to even try and trace the father. Although there couldn’t be too many Algernon Cedric Emersons hanging around England, she told herself wryly.

Besides, she could hardly blame Ace for the fact that they’d both been swept off their normally sane, sensible feet by an overwhelming tide of lust and desire. Since she had assured him that she was, as far as she knew at the time, taking adequate birth control precautions, it seemed totally wrong to expect Ace to carry any responsibility for the mess in which she now found herself.

What had happened was nothing more or less than a pure accident. And Lois had no doubts that she must be solely responsible for both the birth and upbringing of her child.

Leaning back in her seat, and resting her head against the soft leather upholstery, she gazed blindly past the dark figure of the chauffeur in the front of the vehicle. Oblivious of the green fields and small villages, her mind filled with memories of that extraordinary night of passion.

Goodness knows what it had been about Ace which had prompted her to so swiftly discard the cautious habits of a lifetime. Indeed, what had prompted her to behave and act so completely out of character was still a complete and utter mystery.

Maybe it was a legacy from her strict, God-fearing ancestors, who’d come to America from Europe at the beginning of the last century? Or perhaps it was her firm, no-nonsense upbringing by stern but loving parents? But, whatever the cause, she’d never felt at ease amongst those otherwise good friends who saw nothing wrong in hopping in and out of bed with complete strangers. She had always believed that a loving, long-term relationship was one thing—while a one-night stand was quite another.

And yet...how are the mighty fallen! Lois told herself with disgust. It certainly looked as though little Snow White had now ‘drifted’ more than somewhat!

Goodness knows why she’d behaved so totally out of character. Maybe it was something to do with the dangerous gleam in his sleepy-looking hooded grey eyes? But it had merely taken one glance at the tall, dynamically attractive Englishman—and she’d immediately taken leave of her senses!

Even when he’d been carrying her back to her small cottage on the beach, Lois had felt a desperate urge to remain clasped in his arms, and had felt almost totally bereft when he’d left her alone in the bedroom to call for the doctor.

Of course, the brandy she’d tossed so happily down her throat hadn’t helped the situation. She was normally only used to drinking a glass or two of wine, and the strong alcohol had seemed to release all her inhibitions. When he’d gathered her into his embrace, possessing her lips in such a tender, heart-stopping kiss, she’d... well, there was simply no other way of putting it...she’d totally lost all control.

Quickly shutting her eyes, it was all Lois could do not to moan out loud, as she recalled the exquisite warmth of his mouth on hers, the ever-increasing passion and desire, flashing like forked lightning through her entire being as she responded helplessly to the seductive, feather-light touch of his fingers tracing patterns of fire on her quivering flesh.

Firmly in the grip of a shuddering excitement at the feel of his naked, hard-muscled figure pressed closely to her own trembling body, she’d feverishly responded to his softly whispered murmurs of delight as his mouth and hands had moved so erotically over her quivering flesh. Nor, however much she had tried, could she forget the moment of his possession, the vortex of spiralling excitement produced by the hard, pulsating rhythm, until her world had seemed to explode in an amazing fireburst of convulsive, shuddering pleasure so intense that it had been almost more than she could bear.

Later, as she had lain sleepily enfolded in his arms, his fingers gently brushing the damp curls from her brow, she couldn’t recall ever feeling such happiness and contentment. But, waking with the dawn to find him gone, she had known—even as she’d wept painful, bitter tears—that he had done them both a favour.

Since they clearly came from two very different worlds, it would never be possible to recapture the joy they had experienced together. And even when Lois had discovered she was expecting his baby she had instinctively known that she must never hark back, regretting what might have been, but look forward to cherishing the new life which lay within her.

‘It seems as though we’re arrived at last.’ Peggy’s voice broke into her thoughts, and Lois looked up to see that their vehicle was now slowing down. Turning off the main road, the limousine drove past two small houses, standing guard on either side of a pair of large wrought-iron gates. It moved slowly down a long gravelled drive, and she noticed that they were surrounded by a large park dotted with clumps of tall oak trees.

‘It certainly looks like my idea of a grand English country estate,’ Lois said, smiling at the sight of a flock of sheep busy nibbling the long, lush green grass.

‘But all the same,’ she continued, her gaze narrowing as she peered through the open window, ‘I can’t help feeling it all looks just a bit...well, a bit run-down, if you know what I mean?’

‘You’re right,’ the other girl agreed, staring out at the sight of long, uncut grass swaying in the slight afternoon breeze. ‘However, the producer, Dave Green, was telling me that they’d chosen this location just because it looked so authentic. And, when you think about it, I suppose it’s obvious, really.’

When Lois turned to look at her in surprise, Peggy explained, ‘It didn’t occur to me, either. But of course there were no mowing machines in the eighteenth century. In fact, if anyone had wanted to cut the grass, it would have needed a large gang of men with scythes to do the job. Incidentally, I hear that the director is intending to add that sort of background, rural type of scene to the film schedule. Maybe shooting it some time next week.’

‘It’s amazing that just one family should live in such a large house,’ Lois murmured as the limousine swept up to the front of the house, dominated by the large stone pillars.

‘Well, they obviously aren’t living too well at the moment,’ the other girl pointed out as she gathered her papers and files together. ‘So, maybe the owner has fallen on hard times? Because Dave told me that Lord Ratcliffe is quite happy for us to do anything we like with the house and grounds,’ she added as the chauffeur came around to open the door and help them with their bags. ‘Which is fair enough, considering it’s costing the film company a staggering amount of money to hire this place.’

‘It certainly looks as if he’s going to need every dime he can lay his hands on,’ Lois agreed dryly as she gazed at the crumbling stonework and badly cracked flight of steps leading up to the front door.

Preceded by the chauffeur, carrying their suitcases into the house, Lois found herself amongst a crowd of actors, half of whom were in costume, all milling around the vast hall.

‘Lovely to see you, darling,’ the producer called out, hurrying through the noisy throng to greet her. ‘You’re looking great!’ he added, clearly relieved to note that the beautiful girl, casually dressed in slim-cut jeans and a white T-shirt under a navy blue blazer, didn’t seem to have put on an ounce of weight.

‘How’s everything going?’ she asked, staring up at the heavily decorated plaster ceiling.

‘Amazingly, we appear to be on schedule at the moment. Our beloved director, Peter, is busy rehearsing a scene in the Orangery at the moment. But he’s looking forward to seeing you at dinner tonight,’ he said, taking hold of her arm and warning her to be careful of the thick, electrical cables littering the marble floor. ‘Far more to the point, darling...how are you feeling?’ He grinned. ‘No morning sickness, I hope?’

‘For heaven’s sake—keep your voice down!’ she warned him grimly. ‘I hope you realise that if word gets out, Sol will be only too happy to pull the plug on this film. So, let’s cut out the wisecracks—huh?’

‘Oops! I’m sorry. You’re absolutely right,’ Dave admitted, the smile quickly wiped from his face at the thought of invoking Sol Weiser’s wrath. ‘Ah, there’s our host, Lord Ratcliffe,’ he added, obviously glad to change the subject as he waved at a tall figure standing in a doorway on the other side of the vast hall.

‘What’s he like?’

‘Absolutely divine! All the girls have fallen madly in love with our noble lord—and I bet you will, too!’

‘Ha-ha!’ she retorted, feeling too tired after the journey to put up with any of Dave’s usual camp style. Especially since she happened to know that he was a happily married man, and crazy about his two young children.

‘No, really, I’m not joking. Well...not entirely,’ Dave said as he led her across the room. ‘For instance, I’m sorry to have to tell you that Lord Ratcliffe is far more impressive than your leading man in this film.’

‘Oh, come on—there’s nothing wrong with Neil Gray,’ she protested. ‘In fact, he’s a damn good actor.’

Dave shrugged. ‘I’m not knocking Neil. It’s just that this guy has definitely got a lot more going for him.’

‘Oh, yeah...?’ Lois snorted derisively. But she didn’t have an opportunity to say any more as she was suddenly swept up in a large bear-hug from a well-known character actor whom she hadn’t seen for some years.

Busy catching up on his news, she was slightly irritated to find her arm being tugged by Dave.

‘Come on, Lois,’ he called out over the general hubbub, dragging her over to the tall, dark-haired man standing beside a marble column. ‘I’d like to introduce you to—’

‘For heaven’s sake, Dave, you might have let me finish talking to Bart. It’s years since we’ve seen one another.’

‘Lord Ratcliffe,’ the producer continued, taking no notice of her protest as he turned to their host. ‘I don’t think you’ve yet had the pleasure of meeting our famous leading lady—Miss Lois Shelton.’

It was clearly a close call as to which of the two people concerned looked the most stunned.

For her part, Lois knew that she ought to have the advantage in this sort of situation. Surely all those years of acting so many parts should have enabled her to swiftly assume an expression of polite disinterest?

Unfortunately, she couldn’t seem to get a firm grip on herself. Perhaps she was hallucinating? Because, although it couldn’t possibly be true...it definitely looked as if... Oh my God! What in the hell do I do now? she asked herself desperately, suddenly feeling sick as she realised that it really was Ace who was now staring down at her; the blood draining swiftly from his face, as if he’d just seen a ghost.

With harsh, cold reality beginning to break through the chaos and turmoil in her mind, Lois made a determined effort to pull herself together.

However weird or totally bizarre such a coincidence might be, she was going to have to face the fact that this man—with whom she’d had a brief, passionate encounter in the Philippines—was not just some anonymous English lawyer. Unfortunately, it now seemed that he was, in reality, Lord Ratcliffe, the owner of this huge old house.

It felt as if she had been standing here, in a state of numb disbelief, for an enormous length of time. However, she realised that she could only have been mentally paralysed for just a few seconds. With Dave continuing to chatter away, nineteen to the dozen, Lois gradually began to get a grip on her muzzy brain. While the man she’d known as Ace, remained staring down at her; his hawk-like features frozen into an expression of utter shock and bewilderment.

And it was the sight of Lord Ratcliffe—as she was now clearly going to have to call him—which helped her to make the first move.

Instinctively taking pity on the poor man—who looked as if he might expire from a heart attack any minute—Lois took a step forward and put out her hand.

‘How do you do, Lord Ratcliffe?’ she murmured, carefully avoiding his eyes. ‘It’s...um...it’s very nice to meet you.’

Clearly making a supreme effort to gather his scattered wits, Ace at last managed to find his voice.

‘I don’t think “very nice” are exactly the words I would use, Miss...er...Miss Shelton,’ he drawled slowly, gallantly raising her hand to his lips.

‘In fact, as far as I’m concerned,’ he added, the heavylidded, clear grey eyes now glinting with wry, sardonic amusement, ‘that well-known phrase “enchanted to meet you” would seem to be far more appropriate!’

CHAPTER THREE

‘I DON’T know about you—but I’m completely lost!’

‘You’re not the only one,’ Lois muttered as she and Peggy, accompanied by two sturdy men carrying their luggage, followed the producer’s assistant up yet another long flight of stairs.

Downstairs, in the large hall, she’d been so anxious to escape from the shockingly unexpected, completely unnerving encounter with Ace that she couldn’t have cared less where she was being taken. But this long hike through dusty back passages, up stairs and along corridors—mostly lined with gloomy ancestral portraits—was definitely beginning to get her down.

‘Here we are,’ the assistant announced, consulting a list on the clipboard in her hands as they at last came to a halt by a grand, impressively large pair of double doors.

‘I’m sorry we had to make such a long detour, because of all the electrical cables and camera equipment,’ the girl continued, moving aside to allow one of the men to carry Lois’ suitcases through into the room, ‘however, Dave Green wanted you to have the very best accommodation. And this, so I’m told, is the Grand State Bedroom, originally designed in the eighteenth century for visiting royalty.’

‘crumbs...!’ Peggy gasped as she and Lois followed the girl into the large room. ‘Did any kings and queens really sleep in here?’

‘No, I believe it was more a case of having a special room available—just in case they might want to spend a night at Ratcliffe Hall,’ the assistant said, before once again consulting her clipboard. ‘And now, Miss Fraser, I’ll show you to your bedroom. We’re running a little behind time, so...’

‘Well, I...er...I’ll see you later,’ Peggy muttered, casting a nervous glance at Lois—who’d remained utterly silent since they’d entered the room—before hurrying after the assistant, who was now moving swiftly on down the corridor.

Left on her own, Lois quickly closed her eyes and counted up to ten. Unfortunately, when she opened them again, her fervent hope that she’d been hallucinating was quickly dispelled. It was not a psychedelic dream. She really was standing in the midst of what could only be described as a total nightmare.

Gazing in horrified astonishment around the enormous room, her eyes were immediately drawn to the truly massive four-poster bed, set up on a high dias. Heavily festooned with thick satin swags, tails and drapes, in a depressing shade of deep crimson edged with wide, dark gold fringing, the whole monstrous edifice was topped by tall sprays of red and gold ostrich feather plumes at each of the four corners.

‘Oh, Lord!’ she muttered helplessly, turning her head to stare with dismay at the walls, covered with the same dark red satin, on which were hung many large, sombre portraits of grim-faced men and women, all dressed in costumes of a bygone age. And the bare, dark oak boards covering the floor did little to make the huge, formal room look more comfortably, either. Even the heavy, crimson satin curtains—draped in such a way over the windows as to exclude most of the warm afternoon sun—contributed to the general atmosphere of doom and gloom.

Her heart sinking down into her boots, Lois told herself that she’d never seen such a deeply depressing room. In fact, all this place needed were several large cobwebs hanging from that awful bed and it would be a perfect setting for a horror movie!

The adjacent bathroom was no better. All her bad vibes and dark suspicions about the lack of modern plumbing were amply confirmed as she peered gingerly around the door, her eyes widening at the sight of the ancient bathtub—into which, she was convinced, three or four grown men could have fitted with ease.

Moving closer, she stared in bewilderment at a complicated-looking semi-circular steel structure, enclosing one end of the bath. At least six or seven feet high, it appeared to have many old-fashioned white china handles and knobs, labelled with words such as ‘spray’, ‘jet’ and ‘douche’. But it wasn’t until Lois noticed a large object at the top of the massive edifice—a twelve-inch-diameter circle of metal, covered in holes—that light slowly began to dawn.

‘Good heavens... it must be some kind of shower!’ she breathed, taking a step back to view the complicated, dangerous-looking contraption with a mixture of incredulity and horror.

Trailing slowly back into the gloomy bedroom, Lois gave a heavy sigh. The thought of having to spend even one night in this ghastly room—not to mention that bathroom, clearly dating from the dawn of time—was bad enough. But to have to put up with it for six weeks...? No way!

On the other hand, she really didn’t need the likely hassle involved in trying to change her room.

In the movie business there were many actresses who’d managed to get themselves a bad reputation by acting like thoroughly spoilt children. And, since most people seemed only too willing to believe the worst, she’d always done her best to avoid being known as a prima donna. Unfortunately, and however unfair it might be, she knew that if she did complain about this bedroom the word would soon get around that Lois Shelton was nothing but a pain in the butt.

Either way—you just can’t win! she told herself with another heavy sigh.

But, hey! This awful bedroom was the very least of her problems, right? She had far more important things to worry about, Lois reminded herself grimly, pacing restlessly up and down the room. Such as, what in the heck she was going to do about her utterly unexpected reunion with Ace...?

Try as she might, Lois couldn’t seem to get a firm grip on the situation. Talk about the fickle finger of fate! How was it possible that a man whom she’d only met once—on the other side of the world, for heaven’s sake!—should now turn out to be some kind of aristocrat, and the owner of this huge old house?