She gave him a generous allowance, very generous, but he had seen the look in Peter Villiers’ eyes when it had been discussed; the amusement and contempt that had made him seethe with resentment and rage.
When he had tried to express his feelings to Venice, she had simply shrugged her shoulders.
‘What does it matter what he thinks?’ she had asked him carelessly, ignoring Nick’s complaint that there had been no reason for the man to be in on a discussion which should have been limited to Venice, Nick and her accountant.
There had been some delay over the party’s accepting Nick as a prospective candidate. Nick wasn’t sure, but he suspected that it came from Jennifer Bowers herself. In the end, though, Venice had got her way.
What did a small delay matter? she had told Nick when he had fumed and protested. ‘Much better to get the birth of the baby out of the way first anyway.’
He was the one who was going to be elected, not her, Nick had wanted to say, but for some reason he had not been able to.
It wasn’t that he was afraid of her, of course. How could he be? She was only a woman… his wife, sitting decorously beside him now, dressed, like him, in the subtle elegance of one of Italy’s premier designers, her hair newly styled, casually elegant, the scarlet nail polish banished and replaced by demurely natural buffed nails.
‘You should take a leaf out of Venice’s book,’ Peter had told him, his voice warm with approval as he added, ‘She knows exactly what to do… exactly how to present herself. You’re a very lucky man,’ he had added.
Lucky? Was he? Nick wondered sourly. Sometimes he felt that Venice treated him like a toy she had bought in a shop, something akin to one of those expensive clockwork things she had bought for Guy.
Guy?
?? he hadn’t even been allowed to choose his own son’s name. Not that either he or Venice had very much to do with the baby, other than pose for carefully arranged ‘casual’ photographs.
‘The fact that you’ve got a baby, that Venice can be seen to be part of the new movement towards women combining motherhood and a career, can only be—is bound to be—an added advantage,’ Peter had enthused.
Nick had noticed the way Peter had flushed slightly beneath his tan as Venice looked at him and smiled slowly.
On the podium Jennifer Bowers was saying, ‘And I should now like you to welcome our new MP, Nicholas Wheelwright.’ The clapping was polite and controlled.
Nick stood up, paused for a second to take a last final glance in the glass before walking towards the podium.
‘It should have been you, you know,’ Jennifer Bowers told Adam regretfully as they watched Nick circulating, Venice at his side, smiling prettily as they accepted people’s congratulations.
Adam turned his head, his arm still round Fern’s waist, a greatly expanded waist at the moment, Fern reflected ruefully as she felt one of the twins kicking energetically inside her.
She had laughed when Dr Riley told her she was expecting twins. There was a lot of laughter in Fern’s life these days; a lot of laughter and a lot of love.
She leaned slightly into Adam’s warmth, watching him as he listened to Jennifer Bowers.
‘You would have made a far better MP than Nick, Adam, you must know that.’
‘It wasn’t what I wanted,’ Adam told her. ‘It would have meant making far too many sacrifices. I have all I want here,’ he added, turning to smile down at Fern.
‘Yes, I can see that,’ Jennifer agreed softly.
‘Venice wasn’t too pleased when the party refused to give her a free hand and let her organise this “do” herself.’
She made a rueful face. ‘Apparently she had hoped to persuade Lord Stanton to let her put a marquee up in the hall grounds. She wanted to bring in top London caterers and of course make sure the media knew what was going on.’
‘Is it true that Nick only got in by a very small majority?’ Fern asked quietly.
‘Yes, I’m afraid so. This is considered a very safe seat for the party, otherwise I’d never have risked stepping down mid-term. Of course there’s always a smaller turnout for a by-election, but in view of all the rallying Venice and Nick did… and to listen to the speech Nick gave tonight, you’d have thought he was celebrating a landslide victory.’
She made a slight face. ‘Sorry… I’m letting my prejudices show. I’m sorry, Adam, but I can’t help wishing that it had been you, even though I understand why you felt you couldn’t stand.’
A little later on, when they were on their own, Fern watched Adam’s face as he watched Nick. ‘Have you really no regrets?’ she asked him quietly.
He turned towards her and touched her cheek lightly. ‘Do you really need to ask me that? What I said to Jennifer is true. I have all I want here, Fern. All I want and more than I ever dreamed I might have. I’m not a politically ambitious man, I make no apology for that…’
‘Not wanting gain for yourself,’ agreed Fern, interrupting him, ‘but for others. The Broughton House project, for instance…’