Cinderella’s Wedding Wish

Once she’d heard about the ball, of course, Octavia had been wild to come, and had badgered Miranda relentlessly to get her a ticket.

‘Just one dance with Rafe,’ she had pleaded. ‘That’s all I need.’

Miranda could have told her sister that Rafe was looking to share his fortune with a very different kind of woman, but in the end she had agreed on the condition that she helped out with organising the ball. Whatever else Octavia was, she had a real sense of style, and some of her suggestions had been very useful. Miranda had been hoping that her sister would get used to the idea of a job, as she had explained to her ex-boss Simon when asking if she could draft in Octavia in some capacity.

Simon had agreed to give Octavia a temporary position, but Miranda’s plan to introduce her little sister to a working life could not be said to have been an unqualified success. Octavia had certainly declared her willingness to advise on stylistic issues, but this hadn’t translated into turning up at the office at agreed times, or staying any longer than it suited her.

‘I had to have highlights done,’ she explained artlessly when Miranda tackled her. She tossed back the blonde hair in question. ‘Anyway, I was bored. Simon just sits there and looks disapproving. Doesn’t he ever smile?’

‘He’s busy.’

‘Well, it wouldn’t hurt him to lighten up a bit, would it?’

It was a pity Simon had to be the one man in the world resistant to Octavia’s beauty, Miranda reflected. He was just what she needed. He was kind and steady and reliable, but strong enough not to put up with any of her sister’s nonsense. He would make a wonderful husband.

Unlike Rafe, for instance, whose life out of the office still seemed to be given over to amusement as far as Miranda could make out. Every week he was in the celebrity magazines, photographed at one social event or another. If he was trying to make people believe that he was a serious person now, he was going about it in a very strange way.

The trouble was, he just wasn’t serious. He had one of those faces that always looked as if they were about to break into a smile, and his eyes danced with humour even when he was at his most straight-faced.

No man ought to have that much charm at his disposal, Miranda often thought. It was positively wicked. But there was something about his presence that put a fizz in the air and a tingle in the blood, that made her senses sharpen and laughter bubble in her throat, although she tried never to show it.

Miranda would rather stick pins in her eyes than admit it, but she had missed Rafe this week. The truth was that she had got used to seeing him every day, lounging with feet up on her desk, or forcing her to spend her lunch hour in the park. She missed his glinting smile. She missed his teasing. She missed arguing with him and eating ice cream with him and laughing with him. She even missed the finickity way he brushed dog hairs from his trousers.

She wasn’t a fool. Miranda knew how little it would take for her to fall in love with him, and whenever she found herself slipping that way she would make herself take a long, hard look in the mirror.

You’re plain, you’re dull, you’re efficient, she told herself bitterly. How likely is it that Britain’s most eligible bachelor would fall for you?

Not likely at all.

In fact, it was hard to think of anything less likely to happen.

That way Rafe had of making you feel you were the only person in the world he really wanted to be with was just part of his charm. Miranda had seen him at social events when she was a waitress, having exactly the same effect on any number of gorgeously stylish and beautiful women, all of whom would fit perfectly into his life.

Unlike her.

No, Miranda had no intention of making a fool of herself. Rafe might have mocked her as a romantic, but in his case she couldn’t afford not to be realistic. She was keeping a very careful guard on her heart.

This was just a job, she reminded herself endlessly. She was here to organise the ball, and when it was over she would find another job and that would be that. Rafe would marry someone serious and suitable and she…she would keep thinking about Whitestones.

Somewhere in the distance Miranda could hear Elvira’s dogs break into a frenzy of barking. Was that Rafe arriving already? In spite of her sternest resolutions, Miranda’s heart began to pound at the thought and, furious with herself, she drew a deep, steadying breath.

It didn’t matter if Rafe was here or not. She had a job to do.

And that was what she would do.

Taking a firm grip of herself, Miranda marched briskly out onto the terrace and then down the steps to see how they were getting on in the marquee. She could put the seating plans up.

The entrance to the marquee was pulled right back to let in the air, but it still smelt of hot tent and flowers inside. The tables looked wonderful and Miranda walked round them, checking each last detail, pleased with the result of all her planning. There was a subdued murmur of voices in the catering area, but it didn’t sound as if there was any crisis, so she decided to leave Rosie to it.

A discreet board had been set up near the entrance, and she was pinning up the seating plan when Rafe found her.

‘So this is where you are! I’ve been looking all over for you.’

Immediately, what little air there was in the marquee evaporated. Miranda felt as if a fist had closed around her heart. Furious to find that her hands were shaking slightly, she pinned up the last plan and turned to face him.

‘Hello.’

Her voice was quite steady, which was surprising when she felt heady with the intensified scents around her, the smell of the canvas mingling with the cut grass outside. Or maybe it was just Rafe’s presence, the smile in his eyes and the crease in his cheeks and those impossibly white teeth, that was making her dizzy. Or the fierce joy that had speared through her at the sound of his voice.

‘Hello,’ he returned, and then seemed to run out of anything to say.

There was a pause, which stretched into an uncomfortable silence. Miranda knew she should make a cool comment, but the tension in the air was making her heart thump, and her mind was blank of anything other than the terrifying awareness of Rafe, so that all she could do was stand there dumbly and stare back into the dark blue eyes where the usual glinting smile had been replaced by a disconcerted expression that must have matched her own.

It felt as if they stood staring at each other for ages, but when Miranda thought about it sensibly afterwards, she realised it could only have been a few seconds before Rafe looked away and broke the silence.

‘What are you doing?’

‘The seating plan.’

To Miranda’s dismay, Rafe moved over to stand right next to her and study the board.

‘We agreed all this last week,’ she reminded him, edging away as unobtrusively as possible.

‘I’ve forgotten,’ said Rafe. ‘Where am I sitting, again?’

So then she had to move back to point his place out to him. ‘I’ve put you between a human rights lawyer and a consultant for the World Bank,’ she told him.

‘Hmm.’ Rafe looked at the names of the two women Miranda had decided made the most likely partners for him. She had done exactly what he had asked her to. So why did he feel so disgruntled about it? ‘And where are you?’

‘I’m not eating.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I’m not a guest,’ she said, wondering why she needed to state the obvious. ‘I’m working.’

‘There’s no rule that says you can’t eat while you’re working, is there?’

‘I need to be on hand to keep an eye on things,’ Miranda told him, recovering her balance somewhat. ‘Something’s bound to go wrong at the last minute.’

‘You’re going to come and dance, though, aren’t you?’

‘I won’t know anyone.’

‘You’ll know me.’

‘You’ll be busy getting to know all these women I’ve invited for you to meet,’ she pointed out as crisply as she