Page 47 of The Wrong Billionaire
Edward smiles. “Big night,” he says to me. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay,” I say, a little shyly, as we start walking toward the gate that leads to a central courtyard, Marcus holding my hand. “Wow, it’s busy. Is there an event going on?”
Edward laughs, and Marcus grins. “They’re here to see you,” he says, gesturing for me to precede him.
My stomach drops. That was a stupid question. I go through the gate, and Marcus follows. There are so many people here, all dressed in clothes that I instantly know haven’t come from high-street stores. There’s a lot of money here tonight. It shows in the coiffed hairdos, expensive watches, and designer dresses.
“This is Oliver Huxley,” Marcus says, introducing me to another tall, dark, good-looking guy in a navy jacket and cream trousers. “He’s one of the owners of the Midnight Club, and he organized the evening for me. Huxley, this is my fiancée, Wren Carter.”
“Pleased to meet you, Wren.” He shakes my hand and gives me a warm smile. “This is my wife, Elizabeth.”
I shake hands with a small, attractive woman with short dark hair in a bob. “So nice to meet you at last!” she says. “Marcus has told us so much about you, and I thought you couldn’t possibly be as gorgeous as he insisted you were, but it turns out he was right. Hey, I hear you’re a primary school teacher, is that true?”
I nod, trying to calm my racing heart.
“Our eldest is going to be starting school soon. I was wondering what you consider to be the most important things we should look for when we start vetting schools.”
She leads me into the main building as we talk, and gets me a glass of wine from one of the guys wandering around with silver trays. It’s a large room with a flagstone floor and circular tables with white cloths where you can sit if you want, but most people are wandering around chatting, helping themselves to the food from the platters on the side tables, and frequently topping up their glasses from the many bottles of wine that magically appear.
I’m conscious that Marcus has obviously asked his friends and family to put me and everyone who came with me at ease.Cece has also introduced Mum to a couple of her friends, and I can see them all sampling the vintages while they discuss whether black cohosh actually works for hot flashes. Caesar and a few of his mates are currently entertaining my sister and friends while they sample the wines amidst much giggling and flirting. And Marcus and Huxley soon join us and encourage us to wander through the vineyard, introducing me to various business associates of theirs and other friends who’ve obviously come to see just who has managed to snare the youngest Ashford brother.
I thought I’d be more nervous, but it’s a very relaxed atmosphere, with plenty of food to nibble and wine to sip. Marcus doesn’t leave my side, and after a while I actually find myself enjoying the evening.
After a while, Huxley goes to the front of the room and calls for quiet, and then to my surprise, Edward gives a short speech, thanking everyone for coming, and saying he’d like them all to join him in a toast congratulating his son on his engagement to me. Everyone toasts and cheers, and Marcus slides his arm around me and takes me outside so a couple of photographers can take a few snaps against the backdrop of the courtyard with the fairy lights. It’s very understated, and soon everyone returns to eating and drinking and chatting.
“Is that it?” I ask Marcus as we walk back into the building. “I was so nervous.”
“I asked Dad to keep it brief,” he says. “I know you don’t like a lot of fuss.”
I’m touched, and go to tell him so when we’re interrupted by an older woman who Marcus introduces as Olivia Rutherford. Ohhh… is she a member of the Rutherford family who wants to buy the Ashford’s company? She’s clearly old money, elegant and a little aloof, but she seems nice enough.
They talk for a little while, and Olivia reveals that her husband is in finance, and she does “a little interior designing.”
“So, Wren, what do you do?” she asks politely.
“I’m a primary school teacher,” I reply.
Her eyebrows rise. “Oh, how…” she struggles to find a word. “Grounded,” she chooses. “Do you think you’ll keep working after you’re married?”
I stiffen. I don’t think she means to be rude. She just can’t understand why someone with money would want to go out to work.
“Wren teaches six-year-olds how to read,” Marcus says. “Personally, I think that’s a lot more impressive than anything the rest of us do.” He smiles to take the bite out of it, but then says to me, “There’s someone I want you to meet,” and excuses us before guiding me across the room.
“Thanks for defending me,” I murmur. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes I did,” he replies somewhat curtly. “You’re my fiancée.” He smiles at a couple in front of us and introduces me. I smile and chat, but I find it hard to concentrate. I’ve had several glasses of wine, and I feel hot and distant, as if I’m having an out-of-body experience. Eventually, I excuse myself and visit the ladies’, needing some time alone.
I splash some cold water on my face and try to gather myself, but I keep picturing Olivia Rutherford’s surprise as I told her what I did. I’m not ashamed of it—far from it! I love my job. But it only served to reinforce the gulf between me and a lot of the women here tonight.
Conscious that I can’t stay in the bathroom, I eventually head out, but I go over to the bar and ask for a glass of water, and have a few mouthfuls, hoping to clear my head.
“Everything okay?” Oh God, it’s Edward Ashford, the family patriarch, looking like a million dollars, even though he’sonly wearing an open-necked shirt and casual trousers. Maybe it’s the cologne these guys wear—an eau de wealth they splash on their smooth jaws.
I nod, although I’m trembling a little. Edward notices and guides me away from the bar to a quieter corner. “Feeling overwhelmed?” he asks kindly. “We tried to keep it low-key, but I understand how it must feel if you’re not used to it.”
“No… everyone’s so nice… you’ve all been so kind…” Tears spring into my eyes, and I bite my lip hard to try to stop them falling.
Edward turns me so my back is to the crowd, collects a serviette from a nearby table, and surreptitiously hands it to me. “Would you like me to get Marcus?” he asks. “Or Cece?”
