‘I won’t, I swear,’ he said earnestly. ‘I wouldn’t dream of going anywhere near you.’
‘Thank you very much!’ I snapped.
He stared at me blankly for a moment. ‘I can’t say anything right, can I?’ he asked gloomily. ‘You know I didn’t mean it like that. Oh, hell! Look, Laura, I swear I didn’t set this up.’ He frowned and shook his head. ‘I didn’t say anything to Cressy that suggested we were sleeping together. Well, I mean I know I said we were an item, but why she presumed that meant...’
‘What you actually mean is that, knowing you, Cressida assumed that no girl going out with you could possibly resist the allure of your finely honed body for more than five minutes so we had to be sleeping together.’
My attempt at withering sarcasm rebounded immediately. ‘Something like that.’
If I’d had something within reach I would have thrown it at him.
James laughed. ‘You asked for that. Look, I don’t know why she’s shoved us in together, perhaps she hasn’t got enough rooms, but I promise it wasn’t anything to do with me.’ He gave me the wide-eyed and innocent look that proclaimed he was all that was fine and upstanding in British manhood and naturally would never dream of deliberately putting a girl in a situation like this. It was almost convincing. Except to those who have played cards with James. It was always he who ended up with the pile of matchsticks in front of him during marathon sessions of Cheat played on winter afternoons. He used to win at Liar Dice too.
I perched on the side of the bed and looked at him steadily. ‘Really?’ I asked sarcastically.
He nodded vigorously. ‘I promise. Look, if I’d had seduction on my mind when I asked you to come away, do you really think I’d be so crass as to ask Cressy to put us in the same bed and assume it would automatically lead to a leg-over situation?’
Actually that was the most convincing thing he’d said so far. James was adept at wriggling out of difficult situations but I couldn’t imagine him deliberately engineering one where he could have predicted I’d kick up a stink. Besides I had the feeling that getting in a leg-over situation with me, as he so elegantly put it, was the last thing on his mind just now. He had too much unfinished business with Cressida. I hoped that wouldn’t land us in really hot water. Maybe it’d be safer if I was there to keep an eye on him at all times... He must have sensed I was weakening for he cocked his head on one side. ‘We could put bolsters all down the middle of the bed if that will make you feel safer?’
‘I don’t need to be made to feel safer,’ I informed him loftily. ‘I’m a dab hand - and foot - at karate.’ Completely untrue but never mind. I got up to open my case and as every inch of James’s body language began to express relief that he wasn’t going to have to cope with any further major displays of female displeasure, another thought occurred to me. ‘You’d better have brought a pair of respectable pyjamas with you,’ I said in a grim voice.
He looked at me guiltily. ‘Well, actually...’
CHAPTER 6
A white-haired old man was standing sentry at the bottom of the staircase as James and I came down before dinner. I wondered if he was some kind of butler. He certainly had the requisite air of gravitas and his tail coat had been made in the days when he had less of a paunch, but surely butlers don’t normally wear embroidered slippers? He looked up at both of us with slightly red-rimmed eyes. Butlers don’t usually examine the quantity of flesh spilling out over a lady’s bodice either. He proclaimed grandly, ‘The party is assembling in the Blue Drawing Room. You may not be familiar with it. Would you care for me to show you the way?’
I quelled a giggle with difficulty. ‘Thank you, yes.’
The old man inclined his head in a sort of regal bow. ‘I have not had the pleasure of making your acquaintance before, I’m sure, for I’d never forget a pretty young thing like yourself.’ The grand manner of his speech was only slightly spoiled by his second close inspection of my cleavage. ‘May I introduce myself? Ambrose Twistleton-Bright, a very old friend of Cressida’s family. I was asked by dear Cressy to wait for you.’
Thank goodness I hadn’t tried to tip him. His guidance wasn’t really necessary as we could hear the buzz of conversation coming from an open door down the hallway, but seeing the deft way his hand shot out to claim a glass of champagne from a hovering waiter by the door, empty it and pick up another before James and I had even had time to touch ours I decided Cressida must have sent him out in an attempt to make sure he stayed on his feet until dinner.
About ten people were standing around taking up a very small part of a very large gilt and cream room. Cressida excused herself from the couple to whom she was talking so quickly and glided towards us across several acres of beautifully faded Indian rug that an observer would have been forgiven for thinking she had been on the look out. She looked exquisitely pretty in layers of ruffled lace and broderie anglaise, her hair tumbling around her face and shoulders in a carefully styled profusion of wayward curls held back by strings of pearls woven into it somehow. ‘You look gorgeous,’ I exclaimed. ‘Just like a portrait by Winterhalter.’
Cressida’s face went blank. ‘She does, does she not?’ agreed Stefano, from behind her. I was sure that seconds ago he had been at the other end of the room talking to a middle-aged couple. ‘You are a student of art, Laura?’
‘Not really,’ I said, shrugging. James squeezed my elbow slightly. Too late, I remembered Stefano was quite a connoisseur himself. ‘What I mean is, I’ve never actually studied art or the history of art, but I was brought up to believe that going to a gallery was as much of a treat as going to the zoo.’
Stefano’s face assumed a mask of polite boredom. ‘And so you were an expert on both at six years of age?’
I grimaced and shook my head. ‘I’m afraid I preferred the zoo.’
He laughed, a rich deep sound that made me feel ridiculously pleased with myself for amusing him. ‘Quite right too; you are honest, I like that.’ I got the impression he didn’t make that sort of statement lightly. ‘I do not like those who pretend to be what they are not.’ Was that a warning? I wondered uneasily.
‘I love your dress, Laura,’ Cressida broke in. ‘I wish I could wear sophisticated styles like that.’ She looked down at herself with a wry grimace. ‘But I’m just not big enough. I look like a child dressing up in its mother’s clothes.’ From anyone else there would have been six- inch barbs attached to that remark, but she looked so transparently sincere it was difficult to believe she would say anything deliberately spiteful.
‘And I’ve spent most of my life longing to wear ruffles like yours,’ I said. ‘The last time I wore frills was at my christening, and even then the photos show me looking like a bad-tempered loo roll cover.’
‘In that case the two of you had better form a mutual admiration society,’ said James. ‘And I’ll be its founder member. You both look fantastic. Don’t you agree, Stefano?’
Stefano’s dark eyes had already examined me with considerable attention. ‘May I say how charming you are looking tonight?’ From his expression I gathered that tight, boned black silk was a lot more to his taste than the rust-coloured tunic and tweedy trousers I’d been wearing earlier that day.
‘Thank you.’ I smiled and leaned closer to James murmuring, ‘I don’t remember you describing me as looking “fantastic” earlier this evening.’ Given our sleeping arrangements and that the dress demanded I wear virtually no underwear, I thought I’d better dress on my own. James might have sworn he wouldn’t lay a finger on me but I didn’t come down with the last shower of rain. Give a man a good party, a lot of champagne, lust for an ex-girlfriend... and any reasonably soft female body in the bed next to him is going to seem pretty attractive, especially if he’s had a visual appetiser earlier on. I thought I looked pretty good, the dress had a decidedly slimming and curve-enhancing effect, though the curves on top seemed liable to burst free from their mooring at any moment. When I tripped out of the bathroom after final
ly managing to do up my zip James had taken one look and snorted with laughter in a most ungallant manner before spluttering, ‘Are you really intending to appear in public wearing that?’ His hasty excuse that I hadn’t seen him goggling with admiration just before his outburst didn’t cut much ice. His next effort was better; that he’d had a vision of middle-aged and elderly men being laid low in rows from palpitations caused by the excitement of seeing my cleavage. At that I began to think about forgiving him. Only began, mind you.
‘No, I said something along the lines of, I wasn’t going to allow you out wearing that because I wanted to keep you all to myself,’ he said, straight-faced and loud enough for Cressida and Stefano to hear. Then he dropped a quick kiss on my bare shoulder. I jumped, spilling most of my glass of champagne. With poetic justice most of it went over his white dress shirt.
‘What an original way you have of delivering a cold shower,’ he said with a slightly forced smile and muttered out of the side of his mouth, ‘Laura, are you incapable of remembering we’re supposed to be lovers? Try acting the part a little.’
‘Not if you’re going to ham it up by mauling me in public,’ I hissed back while making a great show of trying to mop him down with a handkerchief.
His eyes narrowed. ‘If you think that was mauling, I can always give you a demonstration of the real thing. You won’t make that mistake twice.’ He took the handkerchief out of my hand. ‘If you go on doing that you’ll undo all your good work, sweetheart,’ he said in his normal voice. I stepped back as if I’d been scalded, and heard Cressida give a little snort of amusement.
I could actually feel my cheeks growing hot. ‘Oh, dear, so clumsy of me. I do hope it hasn’t gone on your lovely carpet,’ I said to Stefano, hardly knowing where to look.
He made as if to pat my hand in an avuncular manner, or maybe not so avuncular, and then, perhaps recollecting my tendency to chuck drink over men who touched me, withdrew it. ‘No matter, champagne doesn’t stain. If a carpet is too delicate to have something spilt on it, it should be hanging on a wall. I like to keep all my possessions around me.’ Was I imagining the look he gave Cressida as he spoke? ‘I don’t believe in keeping things in a safe.’
‘Unfortunately Stefano believes that about jewellery too. He won’t let me have anything the insurers insist must be kept in the bank,’ she said with a slight pout. ‘It’s so mean of him.’ Considering she was wearing peardrop diamond earrings and a lovely filigree gold and diamond pendant at the base of her neck, I wondered if she was serious.
‘But, cara, you do not need big heavy jewels,’ Stefano protested, quite reasonably in my opinion.
‘Maybe not, but whenever has not needing something stopped a woman from wanting it?’ asked James.
Stefano smiled briefly in acknowledgement. ‘Come, James, your glass is empty. We will go and fetch you another glass of champagne.’ And firmly bore him off to the other end of the room. A minute later I saw James locked in conversation with the couple Stefano had abandoned earlier.
Cressida gave a little sigh, her eyes following them, then recollected her duties as hostess and began to introduce me to some of the other guests. Fortunately for my nerves more people were arriving all the time, the women in full ball regalia, the men in pink hunting coats, sometimes stretched rather tightly over the midriff, and she was kept too busy to cast any more languishing glances. Stefano, walking around checking that everyone had champagne, was relaxed and jovial now he had ensured there were a good forty feet and fifteen people between his wife and her ex-lover. I shared his feelings entirely.
Old Ambrose buttonholed me, saying he liked talking to ‘pretty young fillies’. That would have been fine if he’d kept it to talking. I didn’t mind the way his eyes kept straying to my cantilevered front, but I wasn’t so keen on the hand that kept wandering to check out my silk-clad behind. I stepped backwards to avoid it. A minute later there it was again, and I had to retreat once more. I find it difficult to be rude to old men who are enjoying some of their last gropes so we sort of sidled backwards until I ended up plastered against the wall. It was a relief when dinner was finally announced by a magisterial butler and we trooped into the dining room to see that Cressida’s idea of a ‘decent-sized’ dining-room table was one that seated twenty-four. With considerable confusion everyone found their places. If you got on the wrong side of the table you had to walk about half a mile before you got back to your place again. One man, severely hampered by poor eyesight and the misspelling of his name on his place card, went around twice. Various members of the local youth, dressed in short black skirts and Doc Marten’s, got in each other’s way, giggling, as they served the food, but luckily for Cressida’s peace of mind at her first big party all went fairly smoothly even if a crown roast of lamb only narrowly avoided being planted in a substantial taffeta lap opposite me.
The first guests for the ball started arriving as our coffee was being served in tiny gold and red Crown Derby cups. The hunt big wigs, Stefano and Cressida went to the marquee to say hello to anyone who wanted to speak to them and there was the normal rush from the rest of us for loos and mirrors to repair make up. Since, along with the general plumbing, the bathrooms had been installed in 1900, facilities were in short supply. I headed for my own room and bathroom, and seeing James make a face indicating that he wanted to talk to me, meanly didn’t offer to let any of the other women use it.
He appeared as I was refixing my precarious chignon. ‘Here, let me,’ he said, watching me trying to catch up a hank of hair and push it back into place with the aid of a diamante butterfly comb. I told myself that the shiver that ran all the way down my spine as his fingers brushed the back of my neck was a purely physiological reaction. It was normal, natural, it’d be like that if anyone touched me there.
‘Thank you,’ I said into the mirror, outlining my lips with more care than was necessary. I hoped that the slight fogging of the elderly glass hid the touch of colour in my cheeks that hadn’t been there before. James moved away, to my relief, and sat down on the chaise longue set at the foot of the bed. He cleared his throat ominously. ‘I’d better warn you - my partner at dinner was prattling away about her friend who’s staying nearby and is joining them later on. It’s Aunt Jane.’
Any vaguely naughty thoughts were doused abruptly in a cold rush of horror. ‘Oh, lord!’ I’m very fond of Aunt Jane, but to call her garrulous is like saying Harrison Ford is quite a successful actor. And it’s Aunt Jane who is Imogen’s bosom buddy and confidante. Within twenty-four hours of seeing us here, probably less for I wouldn’t put it past Jane to ring Imogen in the early hours of the morning with important news, it would be all around the family - my seven step, full and half-brothers and sisters, two ex-stepfathers and God knows how many real and step-aunts, uncles and cousins - that James and I were an ‘item’, and if we were really unlucky, and the truth about our sharing a bedroom leaked out, that we were a very close item indeed. My father’s always been suspicious of James and I quailed to think what his reaction would be when he discovered that his worst forebodings had been justified. Perhaps I should have a migraine so I’d have to go straight to bed and miss the party but then if Aunt Jane saw James she was bound to ask who his partner was... so that wouldn’t be any good. If we both had migraines... Brilliant idea, Laura. Just think of all the nudge, nudge, wink, wink. Besides James might easily see it as an invitation. ‘What are we going to do?’ I wailed.
He shrugged with maddening insouciance. ‘Nothing. We’ll have to brazen it out.’
‘It’s all right for you,’ I muttered. ‘Have you any idea what my life is going to be like once this gets out?’
He smiled. ‘Much like mine I should imagine.’
I paced agitatedly across the floor, thinking. On my third tour I said, ‘We’ll have to make it quite clear to Aunt Jane that I’m only here to help you out in the role of a partner because you don’t have a special girl on the go right now.’
‘Too many
people here already know, or think they do, that we’re lovers. If we change the story now it’ll send the grapevine really haywire,’ he pointed out with maddening calmness, ‘and they’ll probably think we’ve just had a lovers’ tiff.’ He was horribly right. ‘And if we tell Aunt Jane the truth, what’s Stefano going to think when we virtually admit in public that we’ve been pulling the wool over his eyes?’
That clinched it. I had my doubts about how convincing we were being, but that didn’t make me any keener to discover what it’d be like to be the recipients of Stefano’s anger if we openly admitted we’d been trying to hoodwink him. I took a deep breath and said aloud, ‘OK, we’re on for tonight, but I’m not draping myself all over you in front of Aunt Jane. Understood?’
‘Yes,’ said James so readily that I looked at him with deep suspicion.
I fixed him with a severe glance. ‘And don’t you even think about kissing me in front of her either.’
‘Shame, I was looking forward to that.’
He was so blatantly not telling the truth that I ignored him. ‘And we break up on Monday. Sadly. But definitely. With no hope of a reconciliation. Agreed?’ If he was planning anything else it wouldn’t do any good. I was turning out to be completely useless at this lark, my nerves wouldn’t take it. My mind was made up even if we didn’t run into Aunt Jane tonight, and that was a possibility, I concluded hopefully. Surely amongst four hundred people spread around three different rooms and a marquee we could manage to avoid one middle-aged lady? Given her size and taste for flowing garments in bright colours it should be easy enough to spot and avoid her.
Something Stupid Page 10
