since the first day they’d met.
Lucy seemed to be oblivious.
‘Have you lived in London for long?’
Dominic sat back in his chair. ‘Since I finished my PhD. Yes.’
‘And before then?’
‘Oxford—and before that I was at boarding school.’
Lucy smiled. ‘Oxford! Now I know where Chloe gets her brains from.’
The waitress returned with their drinks. Lucy shifted slightly to make it easier for her to put the glass down.
‘Is she bright?’
‘Very. Top of her class in practically everything. She’s just been selected for a gifted and able programme. She’s going to work with older children on a computer project.’
The feeling of satisfaction spread through him.
‘What’s Abby like?’
Dominic picked up his beer and took a small sip. ‘She’s bright. Top sets. But her passion is for art. She really loves that. 3D art, though, more than drawing.’
As he said it he realised he’d done very little to encourage that in Abby. Her evenings were so full of activities, and yet none of them really addressed what she loved to do. He’d allowed his in-laws to take far too much responsibility in Abby’s upbringing and they were reproducing what they’d done for Eloise. It would have suited her, but Abby was different. She’d love to be given a lump of clay, or just be encouraged to make a mess with papier-mâché.
‘Art? I don’t believe it!’
Lucy’s face shone with a radiance he was coming to expect. She was so easy to read. When she was pleased everything of it showed on her face. She couldn’t hide anything. ‘So much for nature versus nurture, then.’
With no regard for their conversation, the scampi was brought to the table. The plates were steaming hot and generously full.
‘I’m so hungry,’ Lucy remarked, spearing a chip with her fork.
This place suited her, with its casual informality. At home he would have chosen a select little bistro, where everything would have been arranged in delectable morsels. Lucy was like a breath of fresh air. She sat in tight, hip-hugging black trousers and a white broderie anglaise top and looked as if someone had just ruffled her in a haystack. Effortlessly sexy. It made him remember sensations and feelings he’d tried hard to bury for the past few years.
‘Do you paint still?’
‘Occasionally. I found it difficult to do when Michael was ill. I couldn’t seem to concentrate enough. My mum’s a potter, and I’ve spent more time recently working with her. It’s nice to have company and have the feel of the clay between my fingers.’ She took a sip of wine. ‘Chloe’s done some lovely things. I ought to show you some time.’
He felt a sudden spear of guilt. Abby had never had the opportunity to do anything like that. He should have been more assertive. Whatever the outcome of this evening, he was going to make some changes.
‘I’d like that.’
Lucy bit into a piece of scampi before looking up at him. Her face was suddenly serious. ‘I’m sorry about earlier. It felt really strange, seeing you watching Chloe like that. It was just I wasn’t expecting to see you then. You know—wrong place, wrong time.’
‘Nothing about this situation is easy.’ Dominic played for time by picking up his pint glass. ‘Have you thought about what might happen when our case goes to court?’
Her eyes widened slightly in alarm. ‘I thought everyone was fairly confident. We’ll each have legal guardianship—’
‘Yes. And be recognised as the natural birth parent of each other’s children. But nothing like this has ever gone to court before.’
‘It has. I was told—’
Dominic cut her off again. ‘This case is slightly different. We had a direct swap of embryos.’
‘What do you think will happen?’ Lucy asked, putting down her fork carefully.
‘I don’t know—and I don’t like it. I hate having no control over what other people are deciding about my life.’
Her face was a picture of worry, her dark eyes clouded with anxiety, and her hand went up to pull nervously at her hair. He didn’t like to do this to her but she needed to know. He had to make sure she understood exactly what they were facing.
‘What do you hope happens?’
Dominic shook his head. ‘It’s an impossible question to answer. At first I just wanted to go on with Abby as before. Then I wanted to keep Abby but maybe hear about my natural daughter. Not too often. Just once in a while. Enough to know she was all right.’
‘And now?’
‘Now I want it all.’
Lucy shifted in her chair, her face uncharacteristically pale. ‘You want both girls?’
‘In a way. I—’
‘You can’t do that—’
‘Hear me out, Lucy. I’m not suggesting I sue for custody.’
She shook her head, obviously bemused. ‘Then what?’
This was it then. An irrevocable decision. Once made there could be no going back. Dominic leant forward. ‘I want you to marry me.’
The silence echoed around the table. For a moment Lucy wondered whether she’d heard him correctly. It wasn’t possible, was it? His eyes were watching her steadily, waiting for an answer. Colour flooded into her ashen face.
‘But I don’t know you!’
His voice remained steady. ‘I don’t know you either. Except through Abby. I want Abby to have everything—and that means you.’
For the girls. He wanted to marry her for the girls. Lucy held her bottom lip between her teeth, her stomach twisting and turning. What he was suggesting was outrageous. How could you marry someone you didn’t know and knew nothing about?
His voice continued inexorably. ‘When I think about a future hearing just snippets about Chloe I can’t bear it. I want it all.’ He paused. ‘And the obvious way to achieve that is a marriage of convenience.’
Lucy looked at him in complete horror. She felt as if the floor had just disappeared beneath her and she was falling down into an alternative reality. This couldn’t be happening.
He’d been her rock. Since she’d first discovered the mix-up Dominic had been what had kept her standing. He’d understood how she was feeling, understood the unmitigated agony of living with the secret knowledge that your child wasn’t really yours. She felt slightly betrayed. Angry.
‘Real people don’t do things like that.’
‘Think about it. We could be there for the girls. For as long as they need us. While the courts argue about how much contact the birth parents should have we can solve it all in one clean sweep. They can have us both.’
He made it sound so reasonable—and yet it wasn’t. It wasn’t. She wanted everything to be right for the girls. Wanted to make life perfect for Chloe. To know Abby was happy. But marriage? How could he suggest spending the rest of his life with someone he’d only met for the second time today?
Her fingers played nervously with the edge of the starched white tablecloth. What did he mean by a ‘marriage of convenience’ anyway? Did he imagine he’d share her bed?
‘Marriage?’
‘In name only.’
He could see the questions whizzing across her face. If it hadn’t been so serious he would have found it funny. He watched the