Lizzie Marshall's Wedding Read Online Free PDF

best. Sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn’t.’
    ‘Well, that’s as may be but you’re not getting any younger Max. Don’t you think thirty-seven is a little old to be playing the field? I’d like to have a house full of grandchildren in the not too distance future.’
    Max shot her a look of horror but his smile belied his expression. ‘Good God mother. I sincerely hope you’re not referring to your, soon-to-be, country pile. That place must have at least twenty bedrooms by the looks of it. It’d take me years to fill that with my off-spring – if I didn’t die from exhaustion first.’
    Margaret beamed at him. ‘Twenty-five, to be precise. You’d better get busy, son.’
    ‘You’d better find me a wife with good child bearing hips then, mother.’
    ‘You’re more than capable of finding your own wife Max, and from the amount of women who seem to fall for your, I’ll admit, abundant charms, you’re not lacking in choice.’
    Max leant back against the cushions. ‘Finding them’s the easy part. Wanting to keep them seems to be the bit I have trouble with.’
    ‘That’s because you haven’t met the right one yet. I confess, I did think Lizzie was the one, but even she couldn’t keep your eye from wandering. I don’t know where you get that from. Neither your father or I so much as looked at another person – well, not in that way at least.’
    ‘That’s because you were perfect for one another – and you were lucky.’ Max sat up and helped himself to another chocolate éclair. ‘And why would dad want anyone else, when you make such delicious cakes?’ He winked.
    ‘I’ll admit, it was very lucky your father and I met when we did, and believe me, you don’t know quite, how lucky. But that’s what I’m saying. It was fate. The perfect man came along at the perfect time. The perfect young woman is just waiting for you Max – in Beckleston, perhaps.’
    ‘Yeah right. Can you really see me being interested in a country bumpkin from an East Sussex back-wood? I don’t think I’ll find any Cinderella’s living there mum.’
    ‘You might be surprised.’
     
    Margaret Bedford was sitting at her desk in the window of the Morning Room in Beckleston Hall, writing yet another list, when she spotted Max walking up the long drive. Something about his demeanour had changed since they had arrived in Beckleston just two days ago and as she watched him saunter towards the house, she wondered what had caused it.
    Max had made no bones about the fact that, in his opinion, the purchase of Beckleston Hall was a mistake and had repeatedly found obstacles which should, he had said, make her change her mind, but she had stood firm and, ultimately, seeing that he couldn’t dissuade her, Max had done everything in his power to make the purchase go smoothly. And Max had considerable power and, it seemed, a great many contacts.
    Royston, Max’s father had been the same, she remembered, watching her son, but in a slightly different way. He’d had an outward, physical strength and rugged determination and did things himself to overcome obstacles and achieve his goals.
    Max was physically strong too, and determined, but there was something in the way he held himself; in the way he spoke to people and interacted with them. He didn’t need to do things for himself; others were only too willing to do them for him. And, over the last few weeks, a great many people had done a great many things, for him.
    Obstacles over planning questions had been overcome. Issues with the Title deeds had been quickly sorted out. Workmen had been found at short notice. A wildlife shelter had even been found to look after the ducks whilst the pond was being drained and repaired and all, it seemed, without Max lifting a finger or experiencing a moment’s concern.
    Several times though, he had asked whether she wanted to go ahead, hoping she had changed her mind. But she and Beckleston Hall had history and, although she wondered