The Real Smell of Environmentalism The Bride's Baby | Page 18

18 THE BRIDE�S BABY When Candy had borrowed Quentin for bag-carrying duties on one of her many shopping expeditions it had never crossed Sylvie�s mind that she�d risk her big day with the billionaire for a fling with a twenty-five-year-old events assistant. Even one who�deventuallymakeheracountess.Hecamefromalong-lived family and the chances of him succeeding to his grandfather�s earldom before he was fifty�more likely sixty�were remote. And, while she�d been absolutely furious with both of them, she did have a certain sympathy for Quentin; if a man like Tom McFarlane had succumbed to Candy�s �assets�, what hope was there for an innocent like him? But, despite what she�d told Tom McFarlane, when Candy had finished with Quentin and he did eventually return, she was going to have explain that, under the circumstances, he couldn�t possibly continue working for her. Bad enough that it would feel like kicking a puppy, but Quentin was a real asset and losing him was going to hurt. He had a real gift for calming neurotic women. He was also thoroughly decent. It would never occur to him to go to a tribunal for unfair dismissal. Maybe it was calming Candy�s pre-wedding nerves�she had gone into shopping overdrive in those last few weeks�that broad sympathetic shoulder of his, that had got him into so much trouble in the first place. Tom McFarlane, however, having fired off this last salvo, had returned to the folder in front of him and was flicking through the invoices, stopping to glance at one occasionally, his face utterly devoid of expression. Sylvie didn�t say a word. She just waited, holding her breath. Watching his long fingers as they turned the pages. She could no longer see his eyes. Just the edge of his jaw. The shadowy cleft of his chin. A corner of that hard mouth� The only sound in the office was the slow turning of paper