The Surgeon's Miracle / Dr Di Angelo's Baby Bombshell by Caroline Anderson / Janice Lynn Page B

Sally fits. I thought with the baby coming, maybe he’d settle down, become a bit more responsible, but he’s just crazy. That’s how he got into the charity thing—he was doing sky-dives and bungee-jumps and marathons, stuff like that, and it occurred to him he could raise money doing it, so it sort of legitimises his lunacy.’
    ‘So what does Sally think of it?’
    He shrugged. ‘She just grits her teeth, but I know she’s getting more worried. I mean, it’s not just her now, is it, and sometimes I think he hasn’t got a shred of responsibility.’
    ‘Is it just a reaction to his illness?’ she asked, thinking about what Chris had said the night before, and Andrew nodded.
    ‘Yes. Well, I think so, in a way. He didn’t die, he got away with it, so he thinks he can get away with anything. Only one day he’ll find out he can’t, and then Sally will be left picking up the pieces.’
    They strolled on for a while, but the wind off the water was chilly, even with a thick jacket on, so they turned away from the river, heading back across the park to the house by a different route. And as they walked, she got her first real appreciation of the scale of the house and its grounds—his heritage, his destiny and, extraordinarily, his home. It was just another world and, beautiful though it was, she didn’t envy him any of it for an instant. Except maybe the peace and quiet and the sense of space. That was really special.
    They went through a little wood, and startled a small herd of deer. They lifted their heads, stood motionless for a second and then bounded away, leaving her entranced. ‘Oh—how lovely,’ she murmured. ‘They’re beautiful!’
    ‘Yes, they are. They’re a bit destructive, though. Mum constantly wages war on them. They get into the garden and cause havoc. So do the rabbits, which we’re overrun with. One of the drawbacks of the sandy soil, I’m afraid, but the garden’s walled, so it’s not as bad as it could be.’
    They emerged from the wood and he stopped her with his hand on her arm. ‘Look—can you see the folly?’
    She looked where he was pointing, but she couldn’t see anything. Not until he came right up beside her. ‘There—look along my arm,’ he murmured, leaning closer so she could do that, the warmth of his body surrounding her. She breathed deeply, drawing in the scent of his skin, and then she opened her eyes and there it was, a little circular building sheltering on the edge of another small wood some distance away.
    ‘Oh, it’s pretty!’
    ‘It is—it’s delightful. Completely useless, but delightful. My great-grandfather’s idea, apparently. He built it for his wife, but she hated it. Called it lewd and uncivilised and refused to go there.’
    ‘Strange woman. I think it’s lovely.’
    ‘So do I, but she had a point. I’ll show you later, if we’ve got time.’
    They joined a track cutting across the park, and as they approached the house, she saw it from the front for the first time, with the huge green copper dome that must be above that beautiful ceiling in the entrance hall, and it took her breath away. It was glorious. Magnificent—and a terrifying responsibility. No wonder he was daunted by it—or at least, if not daunted, fighting against the inevitability of it.
    She could see people milling about, vans being unloaded, others arriving, and here and there a group of people strolling on the grass. She recognised some of them from the night before, and realised they were the guests. The others were much more businesslike, engaged, she imagined, on preparing the house for the ball.
    ‘So what happens for the rest of the day?’ she asked, wondering how she’d cope if they had to go shooting, for example, but his words reassured her.
    ‘Oh, I’m sure there’ll be a packed programme of activities for anyone who can be bothered. We can join in, if you want, or keep our heads down and chill. Up to you.’
    ‘Chill?’ she suggested tentatively,