Pretty Lady by Marian Babson Page B

had slipped, giving him something he had been waiting to hear since their wedding. Look at the way he was taking it – the room whirled as he swung her about in his arms –how could she recall that slip of the tongue now?’
    â€˜Lass, is it true? Is it true at last, then?’
    â€˜It won’t be if you don’t put me down and stop jarring me so.’ That had been her chance – her only chance –to correct the mistake, and she had let it slide past, almost without realizing it. Too late now to go back.
    â€˜Sorry, sorry.’ He set her down gently, she had suddenly become a piece of fragile porcelain. ‘I just got carried away, like, for a minute.’ His face was radiant.
    Well, why not? A condemned man was entitled to a hearty meal. Why not let him have his dream? It wouldn’t last long. Not long enough for him to do anything silly, like changing his will in favour of an unborn heir. Not even long enough for him to boast to any of his friends, so there’d be no need for the charade of a miscarriage ... afterwards. (Although that wouldn’t have been too much of a problem. No one would have been too surprised if an extravagantly grieving widow hadn’t been able to carry a first child full-term. Or, if things took longer to work out than she planned, and Keith did get to a new will, it might even be possible to provide an infant heir. Not his – never his – but, possibly ... Nick’s.)
    But that shouldn’t have to happen. Things were working out quite nicely. Keith was going to be perfectly, blissfully, happy in his last hours – and she would have no unpleasant repercussions later. It was all very satisfactory.
    â€˜A son,’ Keith was musing aloud. ‘A son to carry on the business, to carry on my name. A son!’
    â€˜Don’t be too sure.’ Secure in her own magnanimity, she smiled up at him. ‘It might be a daughter.’
    â€˜So much the better. Then I’ll have two pretty little lassies to spoil – and we’ll have a son next time.’
    She repressed a shudder, seeing now what would have happened if she’d given in to him. What he really planned for her. One brat after another to inherit his precious industrial empire and carry it on. And what chance would she ever have had of breaking free of the nursery and getting back to the theatre? So much for his pillow promises of backing a production for her some time when she found something she really liked.
    If there had ever been an indecision in her mind about the course she had embarked on, it was settled now. She was doing the right thing – it was self-defence, really. Not that a court might see it that way. But it would never come to a court. And, if it did, she would not be the prisoner in the dock.
    â€˜We’ll have to be thinking of a good name,’ Keith said abruptly.
    â€˜That’s no problem,’ she said. ‘If it’s a boy, he’ll be Keith, Junior.’ Really, it was amazing how smoothly she slid into the role; but it was an easy one to play.
    â€˜No –’ Although he had set her down, he had not let her go. Now his aims tightened round her. ‘No – do you really want to?’
    â€˜I wouldn’t hear of anything else,’ she said firmly.
    â€˜Young Keith.’ He expelled a happy sigh. ‘And if it’s a girl, she’ll be Little Merelda.’
    â€˜No!’ Merelda reacted with complete honesty. ‘No – I’ve always hated that name. I’d never inflict it on any child of mine!’
    â€˜All right, all right, lass, don’t get so upset.’ He patted her shoulder. ‘Anything you say.’
    â€˜Perhaps ... after your mother. I wouldn’t mind that.’
    â€˜Aaah!’ She had pleased him again. ‘You’re sure you wouldn’t mind?’
    â€˜I just said so, didn’t I?’ She shrugged, speaking lightly. “We’ll use