Claimed By The Wealthy Magnate. Nina Milne

      He raised an eyebrow. ‘Bit late to worry about that now, isn’t it?’

      ‘Shh! For goodness’ sake, could you please keep your voice down? We need to be discreet.’

      Her head spun, though she took pride in the knowledge that not a single observer would notice her inner turmoil. All that was on show was the poised, collected Lady Kaitlin Derwent, chatting politely to a wedding guest. Unless, of course, anyone actually overheard the content of the conversation...

      He shook his head. ‘Wrong. You need to be discreet. I couldn’t care less. So, if you want discretion I suggest we take this outside. There’s less chance we’ll be overheard or interrupted out there.’

      Daniel had a point, and surely there would be some guests outside. The afternoon sun shone down, and what could be more natural than she should show a guest the famed Derwent Manor gardens?

      ‘OK. Fine.’

      They walked towards the entrance of the marquee and somehow, from somewhere, Kaitlin summoned up conversation. ‘So you’re linked with the Caversham Foundation? That’s interesting.’

      Daniel’s stride slowed as he stared at her, genuine incredulity etched on the craggy contours of his face. ‘Are you for real? You want to make chit-chat?’

      ‘For the benefit of the people watching us—yes, I do.’

      ‘So your image matters that much to you?’

      ‘Yes.’ Her voice was flat. ‘Haven’t you heard? Image is everything.’

      To her it truly was. The creation of Lady Kaitlin Derwent’s image had been her own personal version of therapy—the way she’d coped after the kidnap fourteen years before. It had been her way to block out the memories, the fear that lived with her day and night, the coil of panic that lashed round her without warning. Being Lady Kaitlin allowed her to live her life.

      ‘So, yes, seeing as we are supposed to be engaging in polite conversation, let’s do that.’

      He gave one last head-shake of disbelief. ‘Sure. My association with the Caversham Foundation is actually the price your brother requested in return for a wedding invitation. On top of my donation to Derwent Manor—which was your father’s stipulation.’

      Keep walking.

      ‘And you agreed to this just so you could talk to me?’

      ‘Yes. It’s a good cause, and an association with the Duke and Duchess of Fairfax and their son will be good publicity for my firm. Clients like things like that.’

      ‘Which firm do you work for?’

      ‘I’m CEO of Harrington Legal Services.’

      Now her footsteps did falter. HLS was huge—a global law firm with offices in every major city in the world.

      ‘In Barcelona you told me you were a lawyer.’

      ‘I am a lawyer. And you aren’t in any position to accuse me of messing with the truth.’

      Touché.

      Kaitlin quickened her pace slightly as they exited the marquee and stepped into the late-afternoon sunshine that bathed the lush green landscaped lawns with dappled light. Other guests stood in small groups as Kaitlin led the way along the gravelled path, lined with lush green manicured hedges, towards a bench she judged to be secluded, but not so isolated as to give anyone reason to gossip.

      Once seated, she turned towards him, keeping her smile in place for the benefit of onlookers. ‘So, why are you here, Daniel?’