Chapter 10

Henry and Samantha found a ring they both liked, a sapphire in a circle of diamonds. The only thing that Samantha had been adamant about was that it was not to be a ruby. That is what Marty had chosen for her.

"What? Didn't he give you a choice?" asked an incredulous Henry.

"Pressurised choice but I wasn't really fussed at the time."

"God! I'm so glad you're shot of him."

"Lucky you, my sweets."

"Very lucky me."

Henrietta had drafted an engagement announcement by the time they got home and after the ring had been admired they looked at it.

'The engagement is announced between Henrietta Jane Cavendish, daughter of Lady Cavendish and the late Graham Scrimgeour and Henry Rupert Cavendish, son of Sir Rupert Cavendish Bart. and Imogen Vasquez.'

"Shouldn't there be 'of Carlton Parva' in there somewhere?" asked Samantha.

"I thought about it," said Henrietta, "but then we'd have to put in 'of Lisbon, Portugal' for Imogen and then repeat the Carlton Parva for Rupert. It would all get rather clumsy."

"Pity Imogen's got to be mentioned at all," muttered Henry.

Samantha smiled sympathetically at him.

"We'll now have to wait until Monday to ring it through," said Henrietta.

The rest of the weekend went quietly and happily. Henry and Samantha drove back up to London on Sunday evening. Samantha's ring was noticed almost immediately the next morning by her secretary, Jean.

"Who's the lucky man?" she asked.

"My step-brother, Henry."

"Isn't that incest?"

"No," laughed Samantha. "We're not blood relations. He's my step-father's son from his first marriage and I'm my mother's daughter from her first marriage."

That was by no means the end of it though. One of the Sunday tabloids picked it up. "EX-LIFEGUARDS OFFICER TO WED SISTER', it screamed. Neither saw it as they were at Carlton Parva for the weekend but they became very aware of it on their return to the flat. There was a crowd of reporters and photographers outside.

"Is it true that you are going to marry each other?"

"Yes," said Henry smiling.

"But that's incest," cried another.

"No," said Henry smiling. "We are not related in any way."

"That's still incest," shouted another. "Step-brothers and sisters are not permitted to marry."

"I suggest you check your facts," replied Henry icily, the smile gone. He let Samantha into the flat and closed the door behind them.

"I just laughed it off when Jean said that last Monday," said Samantha.

"Storm in a teacup," replied Henry drawing her into his arms. "It'll soon blow over."

The telephone rang. Samantha automatically answered it. It was a reporter with the same questions. She gave the same answers as Henry had and put the handset down. It rang again immediately. Henry picked it up listened and barked "No comment!" He put it down and then immediately took it off the hook so that it could not ring again.

The hubbub in the street continued. Henry rang the police. He told them that there was a crowd of reporters outside, that he had answered their questions as to the facts of his engagement but they would not disperse. He was concerned that his neighbours would be upset. He was assured that an officer would arrive and deal with the situation shortly. He still left the telephone off the hook.

"You don't think that any of them will try to break in, do you, my sweets?"

"No, Sams, but you'd better let me draw the curtains or there'll be pictures of you doing so on the front page of the red tops tomorrow."

"Ugh! Why can't they mind their own business?"

"Sensationalism sells papers."

"Still ugh!"

"I agree."

Things quietened down outside shortly afterwards. Even so, Henry found that Samantha was trembling when they got into bed. He pulled her close.

"Relax, my precious one. No one's going to hurt you."

"May be not physically but they may say some pretty horrid things about us though."

"Sticks and stones may break my bones..."

"Maybe but still jolly unpleasant."

"I don't think it'll last long and if it does we may have to threaten to sue for slander."

"Hmm. Kiss me, my sweets."

Henry did so, gently, lovingly and at length. Samantha fell asleep in his arms.

The next morning Henry peeped round the curtain. There was a sizeable crowd of photographers waiting quietly and patiently outside.

He warned Samantha.

"I'm not going to take any notice of them."

"That's my girl."

When they went out to the car the crowd surged forward. Henry stopped and pulled Samantha back in doors.

"I'm not going to risk having you jostled," he said, "and if we push our way through one of them will claim he's been assaulted so that they can have another field day."

He rang the police again. "I'm sorry to be nuisance," he said. "I rang last night and one of your officers calmed the press outside my front door. There's a horde of photographers here again this morning and as soon as we stepped outside to go to work we were mobbed. We retreated because I thought that if I pushed one of them away from my fiancée I'd be accused of assault. Could someone possibly come round and keep the peace?"

"Yes, sir. Give us five minutes and thank you for your consideration."

"Five minutes, my little love, and the police will be here. Time for a kiss, I think."

Samantha flowed into his arms. "Oh, my sweets, you give me strength and confidence."

They did kiss but it was mostly a hug of love and mutual support.

"Oh, Sams! I'm so happy we've come clean with each other. I love you, my precious one. I feel whole now."

She nodded against his chest. "Me too," she murmured.

"I must go and keep watch," he said.

She nodded and he went to a window overlooking the street. A few minutes later a car arrived and two constables got out. One went to control the photographers and one came to the front door and rang the bell.

"Good morning, sir," he said. "Ready to go?"