by Bella Bryce
He walked back to his desk and sat behind it. Alice would never forgive him if he didn't follow through on inviting Anabelle to her birthday party. Brayden cleared his throat as he listened to the ringing on the other end of the phone.
"Anabelle Greyson," she answered, her heels clicking along the marble flooring of her office.
The sound of her voice was all Brayden needed to realise he would never have forgiven himself either if he hadn't phoned her.
Chapter Sixteen
Anabelle had no idea what to wear. What did one wear to the home of a client who wasn't her client for an event she hadn't organised that day, but still wanted to be professional and attractive? Little black dress, heels, and pearls were her default.
"This is not a cocktail party, for once," she told herself.
Her eyes wandered across the slew of dresses hanging in her wardrobe before letting them settle on a navy blue and white striped, sleeveless A-line. It had a lovely waistline with a red patent leather skinny belt, and three smart pleats in the front and back falling from the bodice. She had red patent Salvatore Ferragamo leather ballet flats that would go perfectly with it.
Anabelle rarely had the opportunity to wear some of the things in her wardrobe that she preferred; like the classic and feminine dresses with cropped cardigans or tailored blazers that accentuated her small hips and waist. She was always rushing out the door to another event, social appointment, or networking date in her heels and pearls, so it made her smile to see herself in the mirror that morning. Anabelle finally looked like the person she was inside, and she intended to enjoy it because those days were very few and far between.
Jude arrived to collect her spot on time, and held the doors of the Rolls Royce open as she stepped inside. Brayden had insisted he provide door-to-door service for Ana, 'for the inconvenience of short notice with regards to the invitation.' That was Brayden's fault entirely for not having her invitation posted. He might not have sent it, but he'd kept it. It was in his bedside table, where it would stay. Her name had been printed in black ink script just like all the invitations; the only difference was that her name didn't look like everyone else's. Not in the least.
Ana was grateful for the offer of Jude collecting and returning her home that evening, and it wasn't just because she felt closer to Brayden as she sat in the back of his chauffeur-driven car. It was also because she had Alice's birthday present in a beautifully packaged box, and she didn't want it to break. Taking the train wouldn't have been impossible, but it would have made her nervous, even on a Sunday when services were fewer and commuter traffic virtually non-existent. Nevertheless, London was always busy, and there were no guarantees she would arrive with everything in one piece. Ana would have never forgiven herself if it broke.
She could feel her chest tightening as the familiar density of the country lane broke and the formidable brick wall of Waldorf's estate ran along the right side of the car window. Anabelle couldn't help but watch as the car drove alongside the boundaries of the property. The wall went on for a few minutes until Jude turned right into the start of the gravel drive. He rolled down his window, typed in a code on the keypad, then waited as the iron gates opened. She tucked a small section of her wavy brown hair behind one ear; it felt nothing like when she had arrived at Waldorf in the past for events she'd been in charge of. It was very, very different.
Jude spoke briefly with the uniformed guards, and they glanced through the windows of the Rolls Royce. Ana offered a small, polite smile, then looked away as Jude carried on along the tree-lined gravel drive toward the house. It was another half a mile to Waldorf's front doors, which gave Anabelle enough time to push memories of Brayden's 29th birthday ball out of her mind just before Jude opened the doors for her.
"Here we are, Miss Greyson."
Ana forced a smile, and handed the gift to Jude as she stepped out of the car. She glanced up at the manor and then smiled at Jude as she reclaimed the box. When she looked back up at the front doors beyond the steps, Wellesley was standing there. His loyal and dutiful stance brought a smile to her face as she ascended the stairs.
"Good morning, Miss Greyson."
"Good morning, Wellesley," she replied, as she passed through the open door. She walked into the foyer and allowed him to take her coat. When Wellesley returned, he offered to carry Alice's gift.
"Thank you," she replied.
Ana was once again reminded of Brayden's birthday ball as the butler led her down the long, beautiful corridor with marbled flooring toward the ballroom. She had fond memories of that ballroom, although she was still waiting for something from that night to be addressed. Wellesley led her straight past the ballroom and through the French doors into the conservatory.
Alice saw Anabelle first, and pulled her hand straight out of Brayden's. "Miss Greyson!" she exclaimed, and ran across the conservatory.
Brayden turned around. There she was.
"Hello, Darling," Ana said, bending down to cuddle the girl as she excitedly reciprocated. "Happy birthday."
"Thank you!"
Brayden walked between the round tables and chairs placed throughout the conservatory until he reached them.
"Ana."
She pulled her eyes straight from Alice until they met the knot of his tie and then travelled upward.
"Thank you for coming," he said, then leant forward and kissed her twice.
"Thank you for inviting me," was all she could manage as she pulled away. Her chest had never been so tight as when she spoke to Brayden, or looked at him.
"I hope you don't mind that I asked Jude to collect you a bit early. He told me there were road works on the M25. I didn't want you to be caught up."
"Of course not, Mr. James. Thank you for sending him."
"Call me Brayden, please."
Ana couldn't help but let a smile cross her lips. "Just for today," was her only response. Brayden smiled back at her.
"I need to check my hair," Alice announced, leaving abruptly.
Brayden frowned and watched as Alice scurried out of the conservatory. "I do apologise," he said, as he looked back at Ana. "She's twelve now, so of course, her priorities have changed. Or so she tells me."
Ana laughed and nodded her head. "Yes, well, pretty soon it will be makeup and boys. Hair is the least offensive priority of them all, let me assure you."
Brayden chuckled as he put his hands in his trouser pockets. "Would you like a drink?"
"Please," she replied, as she followed him to the table where he'd been standing previously. When Ana first entered the conservatory, he'd had his back to her, but the meticulous cut of his suit and the way it formed across his strong, bold shoulders had been what pulled her further into the room.
"Did you organise all of this yourself?" she asked, as they paused at a long table with a white cloth over it. There were two male wait staff in black and white uniforms filling glasses of champagne behind it, who simultaneously poured and observed them.
"Not really." He smiled.
"Not really?" She looked around the conservatory; it could have passed for a wedding reception. There were several round tables and chairs, which had obviously been rented, along with starch white tablecloths, napkins and formal place settings with gold cutlery. The centrepieces were tall candelabras with pink roses around the base.
"It's absolutely lovely," she said, impressed with the sophisticated simplicity of the décor.
"Thank you." He offered a glass of champagne to Anabelle. "Celia and the girls did most of it, I only gave a few ideas, and my approval," Brayden admitted, when he faced her again, this time with his own glass of champagne.
"To Alice," Ana offered quietly, as she met his eyes.
"To Alice," he said, and gently touched his glass to hers.
When all the guests had arrived, there was another toast. Alice was given her favourite: grenadine with lemonade, ginger ale, as many cherries as she wanted, and a striped paper straw amongst the ice cubes. She held onto the ta
ll crystal glass with both hands and sipped the sugary drink through the straw without a care in the world. Realistically, she didn't have a care in the world, but especially on that day. Brayden wanted her to feel like the centre of attention on a day that had undertones of melancholy for them both. How many more years would they get to celebrate in that way? Would it be fair to continue throwing children's birthday parties for Alice and expecting everyone to be blatantly supportive, even when Alice turned twenty-nine or thirty, but perhaps was only viewed at sixteen?
Brayden had no intention of apologising for their situation, nor would he ever. But as he looked around the room at his friends from boarding school, the Fowlers, Harriet, her assistants, and many others he'd known for years, and the way they all loved and accepted Alice, he was grateful. Sometimes in his appreciation, though, he felt guilty. Unconditional love could be like that. Even the men who had been Prefects with Brayden at school demonstrated loyalty in the way they smiled as Alice passed them by, or the way they asked her questions with lightened voices. There had been no hesitation to accept the girl who'd become Brayden's daughter, and because of their respect for him, the experience proved as realistic as any second childhood could.
His attention turned from watching Alice retrieve her sixth drink (he'd been keeping track), to the sweet frock she wore that afternoon. Celia had put her in a replica 'Alice in Wonderland' dress and pinafore. She wore white tights, black patent shoes and a black headband with a bow on one side. She looked as though she'd stepped right out of Lewis Carol's classic storybook. Everyone else wore typical formal afternoon luncheon apparel. It was especially nice for Brayden to see Anabelle out of her usual work uniform of the little black dress, heels and pearls, not because he didn't like her dressed that way, but because he felt he was looking at the real Anabelle. She looked almost childlike herself, in the navy blue and white nautical-inspired pleated dress that stopped above her knees. Her red patent flats matched the skinny patent belt about her waist, and a short, navy blue cardigan with tiny gold buttons covered up what would have been her bare shoulders. The ballet shoes were like an instant transformation from busy, overworked, sophisticated event's coordinator to adorable, Sunday afternoon picnic in the park. Brayden couldn't take his eyes off her. He kept looking at the way the dress stopped half an inch above her knees, and how the stiff pleats looked juvenile against her small frame. Anabelle looked so innocent. The only thing missing from her wavy, brown locks was a little red satin bow, which Brayden would have very much liked to put there himself.
"Father, I went to get another drink, and the man behind the table said I was cut off. But it's my birthday. Seven isn't an even number, you know how I feel about even numbers. Please tell him I may have another two."
Brayden looked down at Alice, a distinct redness around her lips from the grenadine.
"You've had six already, Darling, that is an even number."
"But I wanted to have another, and that would be seven, and so to make it even I would need eight." Alice looked at him most seriously.
"Sweetheart, I think six sugary drinks is more than enough, even on your birthday."
She wasn't amused.
"Let's go and wash your face, Darling. I don't want any of that syrup getting on your pinafore."
"It isn't likely, I drank it all."
Brayden took her by the hand and led her out of the conservatory, and down the corridor to the guest bathrooms nearby. There were both male and female ones, which his parents had installed to accommodate the guests attending their numerous balls when Brayden was a child. He took Alice into the private female bathroom, wet one of the linen towels with the Waldorf Manor crest on it, and gently wiped around her mouth.
"Anabelle looks pretty today, doesn't she, Father?" Alice looked up as he concentrated on removing the red stain from her lips. He raised an eyebrow, then turned and re-wet the cloth again.
"Miss Greyson," he emphasised, and met his daughter's eyes in the mirror.
"Sorry. Miss Greyson."
"And yes, she does," he said, then took Alice by the hand back to the party. He would have preferred to call Anabelle 'adorable' because pretty didn't suit her. Not that day. When in her usual attire for events, she was stunning. That afternoon, she was definitely adorable.
Bennett had been avoiding his parents since they arrived. Only an hour into the party, it wasn't hard to accomplish. They'd been the last to arrive and seemed to be in their own world. Elisabeth was on Bennett's arm as they moved around the conservatory, greeting and chatting with other guests. Elisabeth was beginning to recognise and build relationships with many of Bennett's old school friends, as well as those she'd met at their engagement party. He'd been keeping an eye on his parents from across the room, strategically blocked by several other men in suits who looked a lot like him (minus the height), and in a crowd of nearly one hundred, that wasn't difficult. He wanted to see for himself without having to be intrusive or nosey, whether or not something was going on between his parents. After Brayden's report of his father's unannounced appearance at Waldorf and brisk removal of his mother from the foyer, he was intrigued.
Sure enough, Bennett saw his father's hand at the small of his mother's back as if he were securing her passage through a dark corridor. Jonathan Fowler's hand hadn't moved since Bennett first started watching them. Evelyn wasn't even speaking – she was listening. Jon appeared to be saying something and had his mother's undivided attention. Definitely very strange indeed for his parents. Elisabeth gently tugged at his blazer, causing him to transfer his attention. He bent down slightly, so she could speak in his ear.
"I don't suppose you would mind if I had a glass of champagne today?" she looked apprehensive.
Bennett immediately forgot about his parents and gave Elisabeth his full attention. He whispered into her ear. "You know the rules, no champagne until we are married." He pulled back and raised his eyebrows.
Elisabeth bit her lip and blushed slightly. She knew the rules perfectly well, she just wanted Bennett to remind her. When at social gatherings, Elisabeth found it was difficult at times to feel his authority because they were in public. She knew all she had to do was ask him a question she already knew the answer to, and she'd be satisfied for a little while. Bennett sipped his champagne and then left the empty glass on the nearby table. When he happened to glance back up, his mother was walking out of the conservatory. He looked at his watch and frowned; they hadn't even stayed an hour. What was more, they hadn't made the effort to look for him and Elisabeth to say hello! It was the rudest behaviour he'd ever seen from them.
"Excuse me for a moment," he told Elisabeth.
Bennett repeated those first few words countless times until he'd passed all of the small groups of people dotted throughout the conservatory and reached his father, just before he left.
"Father," Bennett said, slightly annoyed.
Jonathan Fowler turned around to face his eldest son. "Your mother has a headache; I'm taking her home. Come to Greystone tomorrow for luncheon."
Bennett glanced over his father's shoulder at Evelyn's back as she kissed Brayden goodbye in the corridor. His mother had a headache? And she was leaving without question?
"Son, I will see you tomorrow at eleven am," Jon said, seriously. Bennett looked at his father again. His tone wasn't questioning.
"Yes, Sir," Bennett replied.
"Give Elisabeth my apologies," Jon said, before he left the conservatory.
Bennett didn't even bother to keep staring, he just turned and made his way back to his fiancée.
"Why did you do that, Jonathan?" Evelyn frowned, as he continued supporting the small of her back with his hand as they got into their waiting limo in Waldorf's circular drive.
"Because, Darling, I can," he replied, as he followed her. The chauffeur closed the door behind them, and Evelyn looked out the window at the estate.
"We didn't even stay an hour," she remarked, as she pulled her chenille wrap around her shoulders.
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"I wanted to remind you that I am in charge, and we will leave any party, at any time, if I see fit."
"Oh darling, I'm not sure I could forget after all the long, drawn-out reminders," Evelyn replied.
"You certainly weren't complaining."
Evelyn turned to her husband, feeling as though in the last few days there had been absolutely no chance of rebuttal, so she'd best try in that moment when Jon's remark wasn't a warning.
"Bennett and Damian would have been caned to pieces when they were boys if you ever caught them forgetting to greet and depart properly. What he and Elisabeth must think of us. We didn't even say hello to them, Jon."
"I think it can be excused once in a lifetime." He leant over and pulled the seatbelt across his wife's chest, then buckled it. "Either way, I want you at home to myself."
"Perhaps we should have just stayed in then, rather than make the effort only to leave so quickly."
"It's arousing to see you so flustered at my decision-making," Jon said, as he took his wife's hand firmly into his own. "I'll deal with your back chat later."
Evelyn wasn't aroused – not then. She was tired. It had been several days of repeated love-making, making up, spankings, paddlings, foreplay, role-play and anything else Jon wanted to do. She couldn't get enough of her husband, until he'd done the one thing she never expected; announce that they were leaving a party, and she would walk like a good girl straight out the door without making a scene or questioning him. She'd at least waited until they got into the limo to do the latter, which Jon noticed was a marked improvement from the past behaviour he'd known of his wife.
Evelyn knew when they got home their passionate escapades would continue, although she was getting a taste for what Jon's newly appointed lifestyle really meant. It wasn't all fun and games, it was work. It meant she actually had to submit even when it wasn't a turn-on to submit. Evelyn wasn't pleased that she'd barely spoken to the birthday girl. She hadn't been her usual fussy self toward Alice, either. The moment she and Jon had walked in, she felt like everyone knew she'd been put across his knee and paddled like an irreverent child. Repeatedly. Over several days. She'd felt like her reserve that evening could be read if anyone had looked into her eyes, which was the only reason she was grateful to not have seen Bennett.
