Forget Me Knot Read Free Page A

for ringing, though. I really appreciate it. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
    “Make sure you do. Now stop worrying. I promise you, tonight is going to go brilliantly.”
    THE DOWAGER Lady Penelope Kenwood was Abby’s prospective mother-in-law. It had been a month since her son, the Honorable Toby Kenwood, had proposed to Abby and she had said yes. Tonight Toby was introducing Abby to Lady Penelope for the first time. The three of them were having dinner at the Ivy, the exclusive showbiz and media eatery in Covent Garden.
    Abby needed to take two escalators at Angel Tube. Difficult as it was in heels, she managed to run down them both. Breathless, she stepped onto the platform just as a train was pulling out of the station. She looked at her watch. By now it was ten past seven. According to the indicatorboard, there wouldn’t be another train for eight minutes. “Sod it,” she muttered, plonking herself down on an empty bench.
    As she waited for the train, she found her mind going back to the night a week or so after she had accepted Toby’s marriage proposal. The two of them had been in her kitchen drinking wine and waiting for the Bolognese sauce to cook.
    “You do realize,” Toby had said, “that on my mother’s death I shall become Lord Kenwood and that, for official purposes at least, you would assume the title of Lady.”
    Abby, who loved Toby for reasons that had nothing to do with his wealth and status, had laughed off the idea of becoming a lady —even if it was only for “official” purposes.
    “Can you imagine me, Lady Abby from Croydon? I don’t think so. Plus I hate the whole hereditary-peerages thing. People should earn titles, not inherit them. It just props up the class system.”
    Toby said he adored it when she got on her political high horse. It was one of the reasons he had fallen in love with her. “I agree with you,” he said, “but you might change your mind when the time comes. Like it or not, a title gives you influence and, even now, can open a great many doors.”
    Toby tended not to talk about his mother. In the nine months she had known him, Abby had gleaned little beyond a handful of bullet points. Lady Penelope had been the first woman in her family to go to university rather than to finishing school. She had studied law and later become a highly successful criminal barrister. Her career ended when she married Toby’s father. It was she, not he, who’d insisted that her loyalties were now to her husband and that it wasonly right and proper she give up work in order to breed and help run the Kenwood estate.
    Toby described her as: “Horsey, a terrible snob, judgmental, overbearing. Think Margaret Thatcher but a lot less reserved. You can imagine Mother collaring Hitler after a rally and bawling him out for slouching.”
    “Blimey. So, do I greet her with a kiss or a salute?”
    Toby gave a nervous half smile. “You know, I’m still not sure you meeting my mother is such a good idea. She’s so bloody scary. She intimidates everybody she comes into contact with. Maybe we should wait a bit longer.”
    “No way,” Abby laughed. “We’re engaged. I have to meet her. It’s time. Look, after everything you’ve told me, I’m not going to pretend I won’t be nervous, but I’m sure I’ll cope.”
    He smiled. “I know you will. I just want you to be prepared, that’s all.”
    “Oh, I’m nothing if not prepared.” She laughed again.
    “The way to get into my mother’s good book is to get her talking about foxhunting. She’s master of the local hunt and loves to show off.”
    Abby said she didn’t mean to be difficult, but she wasn’t sure how she felt about feigning an interest in blood sports, which she thought were despicable and should be banned.
    Toby groaned. “Come on, Abs, can’t you just get off your soapbox for five minutes? Hunting is my mother’s life, and wittering on about it keeps her amused. Couldn’t you humor her? Just for me? If you lock