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Except it didn't really just happen to be Fergus...
He gave his cousin a sideways glance. 'Am I right in opposing that your
recent visit to Grandfather was because my mother is about to announce her
engagement to restaurateur and chef, Daniel Simon?'
His mother.
Margaret Fraser.
Although it was hard to believe—he chose not to believe it himself most of
the time!—the actress Margaret Fraser was his mother. She was also
Fergus's Aunt Meg.
With that cascade of dark hair, beautiful unlined face, youthfully slender
body, Logan knew his mother didn't look much older than himself. But she
was, undeniably, his mother. He knew—because he had lived with the
unpalatable fact long enough!
He had been dumbstruck earlier when Darcy had announced her father's
intention of marrying the beautiful actress. He and his mother had never
been particularly close, but in the past his mother had at least told him—
warned him?—when she'd intended either marrying or becoming engaged
to someone. This time Logan had been taken completely unawares.
Although he knew Darcy, innocent of the true facts, had misunderstood his
silence. He intended explaining everything tomorrow when they met for
lunch.
'It was,' Fergus confirmed with another sigh. 'Apparently she told him of her
plans when she visited him at the weekend.'
'And; because the two of us have always been close, you were chosen to
break the news to me,' Logan guessed.
His cousin shrugged. 'Ordinarily Aunt Meg would have told you herself.
But in this case there seems to be a— complication.'
'Darcy,' Logan confirmed knowingly.
'Darcy,' Fergus confirmed flatly. 'Apparently she isn't too keen on Aunt
Meg marrying into the family.'
'I wouldn't be too keen on having her marry into my family, either!' Logan
exclaimed.
Fergus turned to give him a considering look. 'You know I've never tried to
interfere in your relationship with Aunt Meg—'
'Then don't start now,' Logan warned him softly.
'I have no intention of doing so,' his cousin assured him calmly.
Logan gave him a sceptical glance. 'No?'
'No,' Fergus confirmed lightly, sipping the white wine Logan had opened to
accompany their snack meal. 'Firstly, because there's no point; your
feelings on that issue are your own business. Secondly,' he continued as
Logan would have spoken, 'because I believe there is something of much
more urgency for us to discuss.'
Logan raised dark brows. 'Such as?'
'Such as how you're going to break it to Darcy that you're Margaret Fraser's
son? Without her hating your guts when you've finished, I mean,' Fergus
added.
He had been wondering the same thing himself!
'I am right in surmising Darcy doesn't have a clue about that, aren't I?'
Fergus mused.
'Maybe if you hadn't arrived here so precipitously—'
'Don't try and blame this situation on me.' Fergus held up defensive hands.
Fergus was right; Logan knew that he was. He should have told Darcy the
truth the moment she'd mentioned Margaret Fraser. But, if he had, he also
knew that Darcy would have looked at him with the same dislike she had
looked at his mother. And that wasn't something he - anted from Darcy. He
wasn't sure what he wanted from her, but it certainly wasn't for her to lump
him in with the same antipathy she felt towards his mother.
He had less than twenty-four hours to think of a way of telling Darcy the
truth—without the end result being, as Fergus had pointed out only too
graphically, her hating his guts!
She was late.
She knew she was late. Almost fifteen minutes, to be exact. With any luck
Logan would have tired of waiting for her to arrive and already have left!
After the morning she had had, she didn't feel up to this meeting, too!
She had taken Logan's advice the evening before, going to bed shortly after
getting in, amazingly falling asleep too, not even waking when her father
had returned home at his usual one o'clock in the morning. She had been
exhausted, of course, from all the emotional trauma of the last few days.
Not that she'd felt any better when she'd woken at nine o'clock this morning,
knowing by the sound of the radio downstairs that her father had already
been up. Margaret Fraser was sure to have told him of her own parting shot
as she'd left the restaurant the evening before.
She had been right about that; her father was absolutely furious that Darcy
had caused a scene in the restaurant of all places. Her reply, that scenes were
what Margaret Fraser enjoyed the most, had not gone down too well, and the
argument that had followed had been far from pretty. With the end result
that Darcy had told her father exactly what he "could do with his holiday
job, and that she would be looking for a flat of her own later today.
Darcy still cringed when she thought of that argument; until the last couple
