Just One Night, Part 1

  She smiles, all dimples and sunshine. “I don’t think so.”

  “You know what I meant. You’re regretting ever publishing that online advert, aren’t you?”

  It takes her a few seconds to figure out what I’m talking about. “Hell no,” she says, squeezing my hand. “I’d never regret doing that, don’t be silly.”

  “But I’m practically a lady!” I shout, remembering the moment I lost consciousness and faded away, right there at the brunch, in front of everyone including my father. He’ll never let me live this down. Neither will Edward. I’m glad they’re not here right now. I could only imagine what they’d be saying. They’d call me a big girl’s blouse and that would just be the starter course.

  She laughs. Laughs! “I’m sorry, babe, but I’m not following your reasoning at all. Is this a British thing?”

  “I fainted dead away at a family brunch! What kind of man does that? Not one you want to be tied to, that’s for certain.” I look away. “I’ve the DNA of a pleb. I apologize for sharing it with you.”

  She pulls on my hand a few times and doesn’t stop until I’m looking at her again. “Babe … shut up and listen to me …”

  “Must I?”

  “Yes, you must.”

  I sigh. “Fine, if you insist.”

  “It’s not your DNA, okay? Your DNA is perfectly fine. More than fine. You were sick. I saw your pupils. They took up your whole iris. Did you eat something bad last night? Maybe it’s food poisoning.”

  I frown as I consider what she’s said. Food poisoning? What are the chances? “I don’t believe so.”

  She shrugs, effectively moving her breasts up and then down, capturing my full attention. “Maybe you’re getting sympathy morning sickness,” she says.

  “Don’t be absurd.” I frown, considering the idea. Is that even possible? I do feel incredibly close to Jennifer. It’s hard to believe we’ve only known each other for a short while, really. Perhaps I am playing the father-to-be a little too dramatically.

  She opens her mouth to respond but is cut off by the sound of a woman’s voice.

  “Hello!” A stranger comes into the room wearing a white coat over a skirt and blouse. “I’m doctor Haverhill.” Stopping at the foot of my bed, she looks to the door. A police officer comes in behind her.

  I can’t stop staring. An officer of the law came into Jennifer’s room when she was in this place yesterday and took a report about the attack. Is he here for her? Does everyone in this place remember her? I don’t find that hard to believe, knowing as I do how lovely and charismatic she is. But for him to come into my room … it smacks of a breach of privacy.

  “Have I done something wrong?” I ask. My fingers close around Jennifer’s without conscious thought. I find solace there in the form of her responding pressure.

  “No, he’s here to take a report about what happened,” explains the doctor.

  Jennifer and I exchange a look of confusion.

  “Sorry, but I believe we’re a little bit out of the loop,” I say. “Could you be so kind as to fill us in?”

  The doctor nods. “You have signs of atropine in your system.”

  “Atropine?” I frown. I take no medications, so this makes no sense to me. “What is atropine and why is it in my system?”

  “Atropine is a naturally occurring tropane alkaloid, a plant derivative. It has a strong effect on the parasympathetic nervous system, including the ability to affect respirations, heart rate, adrenal glands, and other things. It’s often used by medical professionals in emergency situations, but the paramedics assure us that this was not the case with you. You were already exhibiting symptoms of an overdose when they arrived.”

  “An overdose? But why would he have it in his system at all?” Jennifer looks at me, the glimmer of suspicion in her eyes. “Do you take medications?”

  “Certainly not,” I say, angry, but not at her. For these people to suggest I’m some sort of drug addict is beyond absurd. “I’m as healthy as a cow and naturally so.”

  The doctor interrupts our conversation. “We did some tests. The variation we found in his bloodstream is not pharmaceutical grade. We suspect a tincture or tisane of some type.”

  “A tincture? Tisane? Do people even use those anymore?” Jennifer asks. “I’m not even sure I know what you mean. I’m thinking Little House on the Prairie here. Maybe even Clan of the Cave Bear medicine woman stuff.”

  Suddenly, in my mind’s eye, I can picture the pot of tea at brunch, and how cup after cup, I could not quench the sudden thirst that appeared with the first sips.

  “It was the tea,” I say, sounding mystified, I know. But really … how could someone do this to me? Why would they do this to me? “The tea. I knew it tasted off.” I pound the bed with my fist. To be poisoned with England’s proudest beverage … it’s unspeakable. Someone is begging to be hanged.

  “Do you know anyone who has access to Belladonna or Jimson Weed?” the doctor asks.

  “Are those plants?” Jennifer asks. She shifts her gaze to me. “I have visions of all the flowers bursting from Frank’s garden in my head right now.”

  “Yes. Most definitely. My father is a mad gardener.” I sit up and lean forward in the bed. “Please, I need my mobile. I must speak with my father right away.” I hold out my hand towards Jennifer and snap my fingers in my hurry.

  She lifts an eyebrow and I stop immediately.

  “My apologies,” I say, embarrassed for my lack of manners. “It’s just that I fear for his health and we cannot waste a single moment.”

  “What are you thinking?” the police officer asks. “Did your father do this?”

  “No.” I grab the phone from Jennifer’s outstretched hand. “I’m thinking that I was poisoned by a woman who’s currently spending the week-end with my father.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Jennifer

  WILLIAM HAS A STRONGLY WORDED conversation with his father and then there’s a long space of silence as he listens to Frank respond. I know Frank is just down the hallway from us in a waiting room, or at least he was when we came in here, but for some reason, William has decided to use the phone to discuss the situation. Maybe he’s protecting his father from being arrested. I’m not sure I could be so understanding if it were me lying there in the hospital bed.

  “Right. Fine, then. Thank you for sharing the information, not that I’ll ever get that image out of my brain, mind you. Cheers.” William hangs up and hands me the phone.

  “What’d he say?” I ask. The doctor and the police officer are completely focused on William as we wait for his answer.

  “Nothing to worry about. A minor miscommunication. I’ll be fine. Just treat me for the things you’ve found in my system and we’ll be done here.”

  The cop snorts. “Not gonna happen.” He shifts his weight while pushing down on his gun. His leather belt makes a creaking sound.

  Doctor Haverhill gives William a tight smile. “I’m sorry, but when someone is poisoned, we tend to take that very seriously around here. Where is your father right now?”

  “I’m not sure,” William says. It’s a complete lie, I can tell by his expression, but if William is okay with what happened and he doesn’t want his father involved, then neither do I. I quietly type out a text message to his father and press Send.

  “Can you at least tell us what happened?” asks the doctor. “It could be important for your treatment.”

  The police officer takes out a small notebook and a pen from his front breast pocket, waiting for William to start speaking.

  William clears his throat. “Well, it appears as though my father, in the midst of a passionate affair with a much younger woman, has run into a bit of a problem with … erectile dysfunction.” He gives me an apologetic look, and I cringe as visions of his father’s limp dick flit across my mind. I shudder involuntarily.

  “Erectile dysfunction?” the cop asks, his eyebrow going up. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  Wi
lliam laughs a little under his breath and a small smile appears, but he looks uncomfortable. “Apparently, there are some naturally occurring chemical compounds found in certain plants that can cause increased … shall we say … circulation in certain parts of the body.”

  “Are you saying your father made his own Viagra?” I ask, not sure I’m understanding.

  “I’m saying that my father was using herbal remedies to manage a medical condition, and I happened to accidentally drink the tea that was to function as the delivery agent.”

  Every single one of us looks down at his crotch, including him.

  “Apparently it doesn’t have the same effect on some people as it does on others,” he says.

  The police officer snickers under his breath as he puts his notebook back into his pocket.

  “Using plant derivatives in this manner can be very dangerous,” the doctor says, glaring at William.

  William holds up his hands in surrender. “Madam, I can assure you, you are preaching to the choir. I agree with you one hundred percent. I much prefer PG Tips over Jimson Weed, believe me.”

  “I need to get going, Anna,” the police officer says to the doctor as he turns towards the door. “I’ll see you around.”

  She watches him go, obviously mad but not in a position to do anything about it.

  “Soo …,” I say trying to get rid of the uncomfortable silence, “can William go now?”

  The doctor walks over to the computer that has William’s records on it. She clicks through several screens before answering. “I need a clean blood test before I can release him.”

  “How long will that take?” he asks.

  She looks over her shoulder. “I can’t say.” She leaves the computer after signing off and heads towards the door. “Depends on your metabolism.”

  I blink a few times as the door shuts behind her retreating form. That was one of the more abrupt exits I’ve ever seen from a medical professional.

  “She acts as though we’ve played her for a fool on purpose,” William says, sounding offended.

  I take his hand and kiss it, thrilled to know he’s not really sick. “I think we got played for fools, not her.”

  “What do you mean?” He strokes my hand with his thumb.

  “Ingrid knew exactly what you were doing when you drank that tea. I saw her staring at you and smiling.”

  “My father says he mixed the tisane and had it ready for a separate pot of tea in the kitchen.”

  A slow smile spreads across my face. “Are you saying the butler did it?”

  William grins back. “Yes. I have gathered all the clues. The butler did it, in the kitchen, with a pot of tea.”

  We laugh together. “That was bad,” I say, so relieved we’re being corny now. Corny is way better than freaking out.

  “Are you all right?” he asks, his expression going serious.

  “Yes,” I say, my smile permanent. “I’m more than okay.” I’m actually a little dizzy with relief.

  “I’m lying in a hospital bed with an elephant’s dose of natural Viagra in my system and a limp winkle and you’re telling me you’re more than okay? I’m concerned.”

  I lean over and hug him, pressing my chest into his face in the process. “Don’t be. I have proof that there’s nothing wrong with your winkle, okay?”

  That sobers us both up.

  Oh my god. I have a baby growing inside me.

  “Whatever are we going to do with us?” William asks.

  I try to smile but tears threaten, so I stop. “I don’t know. I’m too scared to think about it.”

  William weaves his fingers through mine. “Do not fear, my darling. I shall take care of everything.”

  “You will? How?”

  He suddenly looks very earnest. “I’ve been thinking. I believe the best course of action would be for me to purchase a home for us and our child. We can have an office in one of the bedrooms from which to work. We’ll keep the executive suites for our clients, but most of our work will be done from the house. We already have enough money in the bank from my savings to manage for quite some time, and the deals we’ve negotiated so far, assuming all goes well, put us into the black for …” he frowns as he thinks, “… ten years? More if we live frugally?”

  “You have it all figured out,” I say, still worried but also cautiously happy. Is this really happening to me?

  “Not all of it, but some.” His thumb rubs my hand again. “I suppose it’s mostly up to you.”

  “How is it up to me?”

  “You have to decide if I’m the man you want to live with … to share a home with and raise a child with.”

  “It’s kind of too late to decide that now, don’t you think?” I’m sweating just thinking about it. Me? A mother? William the father? Oh my god. Oh my god. Breathe, Jennifer. In and out, just breathe.

  “It’s not at all too late. If I’m not the man for you, then you tell me and I will do my duty by our child and nothing more. I won’t force myself upon you. That wouldn’t be fair to either of us.”

  Just that idea of William leaving me and doing just his duty makes me feel sick inside. Physically ill.

  “What do you say?” he asks, jiggling our hands a little. “Are you in, or are you out?”

  I imagine going back to my apartment without William. All I can see is darkness and sorrow. What will my Tweetie Bird slippers do without his shoes there to keep them company? What will I do? Go back to my lonely single-girl life, without the crazy sex, without the British accent, without William’s strong arms around me? With a baby to raise on my own? With William acting like a stranger, a man doing his duty by my child but treating me like I mean nothing to him?

  The pain that fills my chest is unbelievably strong. Holy shit … am I crazy? William is asking me to be in a committed relationship with him and I’m taking all this time to decide? I definitely need therapy.

  “I’m in,” I say in a rush before he changes his mind. “I’m in, even though it scares the you-know-what out of me.”

  He smiles. “We shall manage the fear together.”

  “And the dirty diapers,” I say, scared out of my mind. I have no idea how to take care of a baby. I’ve never spent more than five minutes around one. I always figured I’d either not have any of my own or wait until I was older.

  “Right. Definitely. The dirty nappies and midnight feedings … all of it.”

  We’re squeezing our hands together so tight right now it hurts, but I’m not going to be the one to pull away. I’m afraid I’ll float right out of the room without his anchoring presence to keep me there.

  CHAPTER SIX

  William

  THOUGHTS ARE CHURNING AND SPINNING through my mind, making it difficult to concentrate well on any one thing. I’m to be a father, in less than nine months. A father! Bound to a woman I’ve only just met but for whom I have great affection. I’m no longer at the helm of the family business, an enterprise I was quite certain until just a fortnight ago that I’d be retiring from in sixty years. Edward’s off to Scotland to conduct an audit he’s woefully under-qualified to manage, and I’ve a new business I’m responsible for growing from the ground up. My lady is my partner and, as it happens, the mother of my first child.

  To say I have some challenges ahead of me would be an understatement. It’s a bloody good thing I have Jennifer by my side. It’s all I can think as I inhale the scent of her while she stands next to my chair and leans down. I used to find distractions at work exceedingly annoying. Now I eagerly await the next and the next. Miss Meechum would not recognize me, that is certain.

  “What do you think of this place?” Jennifer asks, handing me a printout of another property listing. “It has three bedrooms and a small yard.”

  I glance at it and shake my head. I’ve already seen enough. “Too small. I need a garden and the only things I’d fit in that tiny area are dwarf plants.”

  “Are you mocking little people or being serious?” she asks.
r />   “I would never do such a thing. Find me something with some land. Real land, not a roadside median.”

  She sighs and rubs her still-fit belly. She does this often now, but I rather like it so I’ve decided not to bring it up lest she become subconscious and stop.

  “Babe,” she says … I love it when she calls me that … “land costs money.”

  “And I have money. I have lots of money. Let’s spend it.” I circle a figure on the printouts in my hand to signal to myself later that it needs a deeper look. Later, when Jennifer isn’t mesmerizing me by being so close.

  “But we need to save it for the business,” she says, getting that stressed tone in her voice again.

  I turn my chair round to face her and take her hand in both of mine, using my thumbs to rub small circles into her palm. This always works to remove the lines of stress from between her brows.

  “Darling,” I say, using my most soothing tone, “two weeks ago we started our enterprise. As of today we have seven new clients in addition to the ones I’d already received from my father. We are full steam ahead on the Goodman project, and the City has already said they are going to give us an approval once the drawings are complete.”

  She smiles, her dimples sinking in and making her utterly charming to look at. “I guess it’s kind of a good thing that one of the council members’ daughters attacked me in my apartment and sent me to the hospital.”

  I wink at her. “Not that anyone in this room would stoop so low as to suggest that words were exchanged to that effect with people who want to remain out of prison.”

  She shakes her head, the smile back full force. “Of course not. We’d never do anything like that. We don’t need to. The plan we have is solid.”

  “Exactly. Don’t worry about the money, darling. I will make the money, you will spend it. That is our new plan going forward.”

  “I kind of like that plan.”

  “Brilliant. Now if you could just find me a garden, all will be right with the world.” I kiss her palm loudly and let her hand go.