‘She’s capable of manipulating anybody.’ Lottie stared into her cup of tea glumly. There was only one reason she could think of for Pandora to come back to Tippermere – she was after Rory. It explained so much, like her little trip down to the stable yard to whisper in his ear. Her perfectly timed faint from the horse. In fact, Lottie wouldn’t have put it past her to set the whole thing up, knowing that Rory rode out at that time. Although the horse bolting probably hadn’t been part of the plan, her screams could have been heard in Kitterly Heath.
Their lives were, by and large, predictable. The yard was run like clockwork, with horses fed at a set time and skipped out. Their meal times were governed by what needed doing and when; everything was done to a set routine. Even when they went to events, the preparation and day out followed a pattern. It was the only way they could fit everything in, and it was what the animals thrived on. Pandora would have known exactly what time to get on her horse.
When they were at school, Pandora had been stand-offish in a nervous kind of way. Taking in everything and pouring scorn on everybody. She watched from the sidelines – a nervous filly that would take off if she was challenged. But she hadn’t exploded or run away the day that Rory had been responsible for her soaking.
True, it had been a mistake. The water had been intended for a member of staff, but Pandora had done her best to laugh it off. Not stalk off as she normally did if life was not going her way. They’d all been laughing and Pandora had taken a bow and then taken her place in the queue by the classroom door as though nothing had happened.
Pandora fancied Rory. She’d always fancied Rory. And now she was back for him.
She was building up to a crescendo, and after seeing her acting performance earlier Lottie had no doubts that she could convince anybody of anything.
‘Not anybody, Charlotte.’
‘Sorry?’ She looked up from her cup of tea, which she’d been stirring with the kind of vigour likely to remove the pattern from the cup.
‘That female is not capable of manipulating everybody. Some men are wiser than you think.’ She studied her granddaughter with a frown and then continued. ‘As are the majority of women, I may add.’ She passed Bertie another biscuit. ‘You should also be aware that she has been in contact with that awful man who started the fire.’
‘Allegedly started the fire.’ Lottie said the words automatically, then stopped and put her cup down. ‘What do you mean, she’s been in contact with him? Why would she do that?’
‘Why indeed? Rather peculiar, one would have thought.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘He has been bragging on social media about meeting her.’ Elizabeth sniffed. ‘In much the same way as he professed to starting the fire. One rather wonders if these people take leave of their senses when they go on the computer. In my day it was alleged that some males kept their brains in their trousers, which one could comprehend, but now their closest relationships seem to be with a keyboard or a joystick.’
‘But—’
‘Oh honestly, Charlotte. Do stop looking at me as though I have lost my marbles. Ask young Tabatha or James if you need to check the facts. I asked them to do a little bit of checking for me. I really don’t trust that woman.’
Lottie stared at the tea leaves in her cup and wondered if the splodges they made really did reflect her future. If so it looked like there was a three-legged horse and a black cloud ahead.
‘I don’t get why she’d be talking to him, unless she was trying to work out just how desperate we were for the money, or—’ she stopped herself short, reluctant to voice the idea that had formed in her head. Maybe she was trying to work out just how solvent Rory was before she made her move to lure him into bed.
‘Or?’ Elizabeth was peering at her, no doubt trying to read her mind.
‘Or, well, maybe she thought they should shoot some scenes inside? It could have been Seb’s idea.’ Though she rather doubted it. ‘When I asked her not to snoop in the house she said she just wanted to see the damage that the fire had caused, not because she wanted to use the bathroom.’ Yes, that could actually be the reason.
Pandora was hatching a plan to steal her husband and half of her non-existent fortune. Oh shit, Lottie put her teacup down, determined to ignore the splodges that actually now looked more like a money bag and Rory on a black horse galloping away. She probably was.
Chapter 19
By the time Pandora had recovered her good mood and proclaimed that she was ready to soldier on, despite the fact that she really thought she had dislocated her shoulder, the best of the day had gone, along with most of the cast.
‘Do we really pay you to just stand and watch?’
The wardrobe girl leapt forward, blushing crimson, reaching out and then stopping, not quite sure what she was supposed to be helping with. She loved her job, most of the time, but ‘stars’ like Pandora could be quite obnoxious as they desperately tried to prove their importance.
Pandora had wriggled one arm out of her polo shirt and was now glaring at the girl. ‘Well, don’t just stand there like a dollop. Help me get this over my head. I can hardly move my shoulder.’
The girl tugged and Pandora screamed, stamping on her foot. ‘Careful, you idiot. Oh, for Christ’s sake, go and tidy your clothes rail or whatever it is you need to do. Then tell that girl in make-up I need her.’
With her shirt still over her head, Pandora’s words were muffled. It sounded like she wanted make-up, which didn’t make any sense at all, but the girl didn’t care. She fled. Let somebody else sort the problem out – Pandora was hard enough work on a good day, but in this mood she was frankly terrifying.
Touched up, with her red hair falling in soft waves onto her shoulders, and the most seductive silk dress she could find draped over her body, Pandora opened the trailer door a crack. ‘Seb? Darling?’
Seb was sitting in the furthest corner, stabbing at the screen of his tablet as he altered his precious spreadsheet. Pandora hated his meticulously prepared spreadsheets, they were the source of most of his bad moods, and if she ever had the opportunity she would be tempted to delete the lot of them. They detailed when, where, and how each scene was to be shot, and woe betide any person or incident that led to changes being necessary.
He was extremely annoyed at his timetable being disrupted, but when he looked up, thin lips pursed, he was obviously fighting his natural urge to be cold and distant. When Seb was cross, the barriers came down, and he treated her, at best, like a naughty child, and at worst like a nobody.
She winced theatrically as she made her way over, and hoped that the make-up artist hadn’t overdone the bruise on her exposed upper arm.
Seb stared at it, shocked at the splash of colour that marred her pale skin.
‘Oh it’s nothing, really, and make-up have assured me they can cover it up, it’s really hardly throbbing at all now. Well nothing that a few painkillers won’t handle. Shall we go back to the hotel and I can give you a nice massage? You look stressed, darling.’
‘I am.’ He bit back a harsher response and hit save on his amended document. ‘We’ve not lost much time. I just hope the weather doesn’t change.’ A massage sounded nice, and Pandora knew exactly what to do to hit the spot. She always had done. He supposed they knew how to smooth the kinks out of each other. ‘You looked the part, darling, wonderful. I know you were just striving for perfection.’
‘And don’t you dare add, before I fell off.’ She looked up from under her long, and decidedly false, eyelashes and although he knew that every move had been practised it didn’t matter. Overblown gestures of romance were messy and unpredictable, this was an apology.
‘I wouldn’t dream of it.’
‘I do try, darling. I want this film to be perfect for you; you deserve recognition.’ She slid along the seat until their thighs touched. ‘I know you hate working with all these dogs and horses, so I’ve ordered some nice treats for when we get back to the hotel.’ She crossed her legs so
that her dress inched up just enough to show the top of her stockings. ‘Call it stress relief, darling.’
Despite his asexual outward appearance, Seb did possess a relatively high sex drive. It was, though, a purely biological thing, and not to be confused with desire. He had never, as far back as he could remember, lusted after a woman, being able to look at the succession of glamorous actresses that passed before him without the slightest urge.
When Seb had met Pandora he had admired her appearance, but it was actually her ambition, and more importantly her detachment, that he had fallen in love with. She was a perfect partner.
Seb engaged in sexual activity in much the same way as he ate, drank, and slept, but was not foolish enough to suppose that his wife would do the same. He was also aware that the longevity of their relationship relied on his ability to provide Pandora with something she wanted. Something that nobody else could provide. And that definitely wasn’t sex. Sex would please Pandora in much the same way as presenting her with a new designer fashion accessory would, and today’s fashion was tomorrow’s tat.
Today, although it wasn’t ordinarily a sex day, he recognised that he wasn’t averse to playing along with Pandora’s game. Whatever she was after she’d probably get anyway, so he might as well gain some benefit along the way.
He smiled and slipped the tablet into its case. ‘If you’re sure your shoulder is up to it?’
‘Of course, darling, I know you won’t be rough.’
* * *
The hotel suite that they had booked in nearby Kitterly Heath was the best available, which Pandora regarded as barely adequate. The service though, was just how she liked it: efficient, and close enough to ingratiating to make her feel respected and admired, without it slipping into the kind of fawning behaviour that was obviously intended to solicit massive tips.
The room service menu was sadly lacking though. So, seconds after her escapade with the runaway horse, she had summoned Jamie. Arming him with her credit card, she’d given him strict instructions to search every deli in the area until he found somewhere that could supply a suitable hamper of goodies.
‘Are we celebrating something?’
Pandora smiled and handed him the bottle of champagne to uncork. Although things hadn’t gone exactly to plan, she couldn’t have wished for a better outcome. Rory had positioned himself perfectly, and the genuine concern in his eyes as he’d held her against his strong body more than compensated for the slight bruising.
‘Do we need to have an occasion?’
The only passion Seb displayed was for his work, and he regarded physical displays of affection with something bordering on distaste. Even after several glasses of champagne and a massage that left his cock standing at full alert, there were going to be no messy bodily fluids, inappropriate noises (of the squelchy kind or any other), spontaneity, or sexual gymnastics.
Sex was an almost mechanical process that allowed him to be in control at all times. He was not selfish but rather detached in the way he viewed the whole process and he had perfected a routine that would result in an orgasm apiece, followed by a swift exit to the bathroom, which he was pleased to see had a bidet.
It worked for Pandora. She knew what to expect and knew exactly what to say and how to wriggle when she wanted him to come. Even if he was under the illusion that he was the one setting the pace.
‘That was nice, darling.’ She kissed him on the cheek and headed for the bathroom, a wad of tissue trailing between her legs.
‘Very.’ He followed her in and switched the shower on full blast, waiting until the steam was rising before he stepped inside. She sat on the bidet and watched him as he washed himself meticulously, towelled himself down, and then had a long pee. A routine that never varied.
He smiled at his reflection in the mirror, peering close to check for laughter lines, then frowned and studied his brow. ‘Do you think I need a Botox top-up?’
‘Probably, darling. That Samantha woman recommended somebody.’ It was Pandora’s turn to frown. ‘She gave me a bloody list, cheeky cow.’
‘Handy to have some local knowledge, I suppose, and I’m sure she only gets the best. She does look like she’s had a professional job done.’
‘But do I look like I need anything?’
Seb, knowing it was pointless to comment, changed the subject. ‘How about we leave the riding to the experts from now on, darling? You did look good today, excellent, but it’s dangerous. You’re far too precious to risk getting injured.’
‘You mean it would mess up the filming.’
He laughed. ‘Well that as well, but believe it or not I was thinking of you. You were lucky Rory was there.’
‘Oh I’m sure the animal would have stopped eventually,’ she said airily, ‘I had managed to turn it around by the time he arrived. I should go and thank him though, at some point, I suppose, seeing as he probably thinks he saved my life.’
‘I sent somebody to thank him for you, and told Jamie to stand a round at the local pub.’ Seb started to brush his teeth, staring at his reflection while he did it. ‘He didn’t seem exactly grateful.’
‘Maybe the personal touch will mean more. You did tell me to be nice to them, darling. What were your exact words? Or they’d take my country house away?’
‘It isn’t his country house, though, is it?’ Seb dried the handle of his toothbrush off carefully and placed it in the holder, wishing he’d never asked her to behave in the first place. She always managed to twist his words and use them for her own purposes.
‘It is. It’s her house and she’s his wife, which means it’s his. Besides, I rather like him, he’s sweet.’ Pandora waited for Seb to move back and then started to line up the pots of lotion and tubes of cream that constituted her nightly routine.
‘Let’s move on to the next scene in the morning, eh? Forget Rory, forget the riding.’
Pandora smiled. She’d achieved her aim and was actually quite relieved that he was in effect banning her from getting back in the saddle. ‘Well, if you really don’t want me to, I suppose you know best.’
‘I do. Don’t be long. I’ll go and warm the sheets up.’
* * *
The day hadn’t started well for Pandora. She’d forgotten all about her dramatic bruise and managed to wash most of it off in the shower, not even realising until Seb had congratulated her on her miraculous recovery. She decided to brazen it out.
‘I’ve got very sensitive skin. I bruise easily but they never last long.’
‘Handy.’
‘It is, isn’t it, darling.’ She smiled as sweetly as her stiff face would allow. ‘They still haven’t got any granola. What the hell am I supposed to eat?’
‘Toast, like the rest of us, or a full English?’ Seb, after his sexual exertions the night before, found he had a hearty appetite. He patted his stomach. If he wasn’t careful he’d end up looking like Billy bloody Brinkley and be a laughing stock when they returned to London.
‘Full English?’ Pandora shuddered, her stomach churning at the mere thought. ‘Eurgh just look at the grease – and you know bread bloats me, darling.’ She settled for a cup of black coffee and reluctantly took a slice of toast, which she pulled mouse-sized bites off one by one.
By the time Seb had polished off two rashers of bacon, two sausages, scrambled egg, tomato, mushroom, and two rounds of toast with marmalade, Pandora had eaten half a slice and decided she couldn’t face any more.
She was actually quite relieved he was ready to go. At least she’d get some decent food when they reached Tipping House. The one thing she always insisted on when they were on location was decent catering.
‘Fucking hell.’ A doorman opened the hotel door as they neared it, and they were met with a gust of wind. Seb’s carefully combed hair stood on end, then flopped over his forehead. ‘That’s all we frigging need. The schedule’s already slipped.’ That’s two gusts of cold air, thought Pandora as his wave of disapproval hit her. ‘And now this. I hate shooting
on location.’
The morning didn’t improve when Pandora arrived at wardrobe to find Sam rifling through the clothes and having a good gossip with the girl in charge.
‘Hi, babe. Katie was just showing me your stuff.’
Pandora, who hadn’t even known the girl’s name, scowled at the camaraderie and resisted the urge to grab all the clothes and bundle them away out of her reach.
‘I suppose you’re going to tell me they’re all wrong?’
‘Oh no, babe, they’re gorge. And it’s not for me to say, is it?’
‘No, it isn’t.’ Hissed Pandora under her breath, whilst keeping the smile pinned to her face.
‘But I wouldn’t ditch the fab stuff and go all boring when you meet the vicar and stuff like that, I mean I wouldn’t. Look.’ She jangled her bracelets and flashed a ring that had a diamond in it at least three times the size of any Pandora had ever borrowed for a function.
She wasn’t sure whether she should demand something bigger from Seb, or brand it vulgar.
‘That’s really old fashioned you know. Even Lady Elizabeth doesn’t wear twinsets any more, and she,’ she leant forward and smiled, ‘is a real lady, isn’t she? And you’d never see Lottie in something like this.’ She waved a prim and proper blouse under Pandora’s nose, who snatched it away.
‘You never see Lottie in anything but tat, how she attracted a man like Rory is anybody’s guess.’
‘Well she’s got a heart, hasn’t she, babe? Men love that. If you ask my advice—’
‘I haven’t.’
‘You need to carry on being a rock chick, you know, be yourself, babe. Don’t think you can be anything you’re not.’
Pandora hadn’t a clue what ‘being yourself’ meant, but she did know who her character was.
‘Oh, nearly forgot, I’ve got a brain like a sieve I have.’ Sam dug into her very large, bright pink designer tote and pulled out a business card. ‘They’re doing an offer on colonic irrigation and a thing to get rid of cellulite.’
‘I haven’t got cellulite!’
Country Rivals Page 24
