Back in the Headlines

by Sharon Kendrick

  But there was no point in blowing it, not when this was all destined to come to a natural end very soon.

  ‘And my contract runs out once the party is over,’ she said slowly. ‘I’ll be going back to London.’

  Titus nodded as he picked up his sweater, unable to ignore that hopeful little note in her voice. Would it hurt to give her what she so obviously wanted? Some kind of acknowledgement that this hadn’t all been about sex. ‘Maybe we could go out for a drive or something,’ he said vaguely as he glanced at his watch. ‘Would you like that?’

  It was the closest he’d ever come to asking her out on a date and Roxy nodded, her heart twisting as she registered that he was probably asking her out of some sense of duty. She clenched her hands into two little fists, determined that he shouldn’t remember her as whining or jealous—as someone who was unable to accept the status quo. She wanted him to remember her as strong. When he thought about her in the future, she wanted him to regret that she was no longer in his life and not just be glad that she’d gone. ‘Sure!’ she said brightly. ‘That’d be great.’

  But after the front door had slammed behind him and she’d quickly blown out the candle so that Amy would think she was asleep, Roxy lay wide-eyed in the darkness. Realising that she’d talked about leaving and Titus had accepted it as equably as if she’d been talking about the sun rising in the sky every morning.

  And that his hard and handsome face hadn’t shown a single flicker of regret.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  FOUR days later, having first established the time of her afternoon off during a snatched and rather erotic moment in one of the darkened alcoves in the library, Titus took Roxy driving.

  ‘Norfolk is bitingly cold in winter,’ he told her sternly. ‘So make sure you dress warmly and practically.’

  Roxy had nodded, quietly jubilant about the fact that for once he was telling her to leave her clothes on, instead of being intent on removing them as quickly as possible. Perhaps it was because a statement like that implied a degree of care, rather than simply lust. Or perhaps her ridiculous sense of excitement had something to do with the fact that going out for the afternoon was the kind of thing which normal lovers did.

  The snow had almost melted and was turning to a thick grey slush. Roxy dressed in jeans and two layers of sweaters, before borrowing a pair of waterproof boots from the boot-room. She tried to keep a sense of perspective about the trip, but her heart was still beating with ridiculous excitement when Titus slowed beside her at their arranged rendezvous at the bottom of the drive.

  ‘I feel like some kind of spy,’ she said breathlessly as she climbed into the muddy four-wheel drive. ‘As if I’m taking part in some covert operation in case Vanessa finds out what I’m up to.’

  Titus drove through the stone arch and out onto the main road. ‘And do you mind if she does?’

  ‘Of course I’d mind! I don’t want her thinking that I’m the kind of woman who sleeps her way to the top—that I went out of my way to seduce you, when we both know it was the other way round.’

  ‘I don’t remember you fighting me very hard, Roxanne.’

  ‘You didn’t give me a chance to fight! And anyway, shouldn’t you be worried about your reputation?’ She shot him a glance as a bottled-up fear came spilling out. ‘Unless, of course, this kind of thing happens a lot.’

  ‘This … kind … of … thing?’ he repeated.

  ‘Going to bed with someone who works for you.’

  His lips hardened into a mocking smile. ‘Exercising my droit de seigneur, you mean?’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘It means the medieval right of the lord of the estate to take the virginity of whosoever he chose. Except that there’s no evidence that such a right ever existed.’ He paused. ‘And you were no virgin.’

  The words hung in the air like undetonated bombs—and yet didn’t it come as something of a relief to be able to explode them at last? ‘Neither were you, Titus,’ responded Roxy quietly. ‘Though, let me guess—you’re one of those hypocritical people who believe it’s advantageous for a man to have had loads of lovers, but that there’s something uniquely tacky about a woman who chooses to do the same.’

  ‘I would describe it less as hypocritical and more of a biological imperative,’ he drawled. ‘Nature programmed men to go out and spread their seed as much as possible in order to ensure survival of the species.’

  ‘Oh, please don’t give me that old line,’ she scoffed. ‘If we were still operating according to those outdated laws, then I’d be sitting in some cave wearing a piece of animal skin and you’d be out clubbing some poor animal to death before breakfast. Though come to think of it—you do hunt, don’t you, Titus? So maybe that much hasn’t changed.’

  He was smiling, even though her outrageous statement only reaffirmed her general unsuitability for rural living. But despite knowing that, part of him couldn’t help but admire her feisty defiance because most women tended to lie or to play down their sexual experience. And wasn’t that one of the things he had most liked about her—her honesty and her straight talking?

  ‘I think you’d look rather good wearing a piece of animal skin,’ he murmured as he brought the car to a halt. ‘And if you could just stop talking for a moment and look over there, you’ll see the sea.’

  Following the direction of his gaze, Roxy turned to see a coastline which was unfamiliar to her and that first glimpse of the wide, pale sands and the lacy froth of the water almost took her breath away. The flat landscape made the horizon look limitless and the huge sky gave off a spectacular light and suddenly she could understand why painters and writers had always gravitated to this part of the world.

  ‘Oh, Titus—it’s amazing!’ she breathed as she scrambled down onto the hard sand.

  He locked the car and they set off together, though he frowned when he discovered she had no gloves and warmed her frozen fingers between his palms before insisting she wear his own rather battered leather ones. He buried his bare hands deep in the pockets of his jacket as they strode along. But the wind was so strong—buffeting at her with the persistence of an over-enthusiastic puppy—that she looped her arm in his and felt him squeeze his elbow against her, as if he approved. And Roxy’s heart missed a beat. Wasn’t it strange, she thought wistfully, how walking arm in arm along a windy beach could somehow feel just as intimate as lying naked in bed together?

  They walked until the sun began to sink low into the pearly grey of the winter sky before setting off back towards the car.

  ‘Would you like to go for tea in Burnham Market?’ he asked. ‘Reputedly the prettiest village in the whole of England. It’s not exactly the season for afternoon tea, but I’ll have a word with someone and see what they can do.’

  ‘I’d … I’d love to,’ said Roxy, feeling stupidly shy—because hadn’t she thought that he’d brought her to the deserted beach because he didn’t want to be seen with her?

  The village was quiet and it wasn’t difficult for Titus to commandeer a table by a roaring log fire, in the heart of a cute old pub. Whatever ‘word’ he’d had with the owner had obviously been a very effective one since before long a pot of steaming tea, scones and jam and a plate of delicious-looking cake was presented to them.

  Titus poured tea and Roxy sat back in her chair and at that precise moment she felt more contented than she could ever remember feeling. And contentment had a seductive charm all of its own. The warm flicker of the fire spread over her flushed skin and she tingled from the effects of the fresh air and exercise. It felt so right, she thought—just being with him and feeling so at ease with herself. To watch the glint in his pewter eyes as their gazes locked in silent communication, and he smiled at her in a way which was making her feel positively mushy. Recklessly, she blocked out the warning bells which were beginning to ring inside her head and instead she feasted her eyes on the man opposite her.

  Afterwards, he took her into a small and very old-fashioned women’s clot
hing store and asked to see a selection of gloves.

  ‘Certainly, Your Grace,’ murmured the shop assistant. And if she wondered who the Duke’s blonde companion was, her face didn’t show it.

  Roxy left the shop with her hands snug in pale mauve cashmere—not the most practical of colours, but she had loved them on sight. She flexed her warm fingers and shot him a glance. ‘That was very sweet of you. Thank you.’

  ‘They’re just gloves, Roxanne,’ he said repressively.

  But to Roxy they felt like much more than that. They were a gift from the man whom she’d fallen in love with. They were a tangible reminder of this perfect afternoon—when an impossible dream had seemed almost within grasping distance. When they’d walked along a beach and she had allowed herself to start imagining a ‘for-ever’ moment which was never going to happen.

  ‘They’re actually very pretty gloves,’ she said lightly. ‘And I’m just minding my manners by thanking you.’

  He smiled. ‘Then you must forgive me for my rather boorish response.’

  It was dark by the time he dropped her off near her cottage and she turned to look at him, trying not to sound too eager.

  ‘Aren’t you coming in?’ she asked. ‘Amy’s out tonight.’

  His initial impulse was to hurry her inside and to ravish her, but Titus hesitated. This afternoon had left him feeling … unsettled. It had all been a little too comfortable. He liked to think of Roxy as his cherry-nippled, imaginative lover and not a woman whose cold hands he had warmed and then drunk a cup of companionable tea with.

  ‘I’m think I might drive up to London,’ he said.

  ‘London?’ Roxy’s expression didn’t alter. She wanted to demand why he was going to London and who he would be seeing there. But she had no right to ask him, she realised. No rights at all. She dredged up one of those smiles she always turned on when a member of the paparazzi used to spring out at her from behind the bushes. ‘That’s nice.’

  ‘Mmm. There are a few things I need to do—but I’ll be back in time for the party.’

  ‘That should come as a relief to the guests,’ she said drily.

  His lips gave a flicker of a smile and he almost regretted his decision as she got out of the car and brushed a strand of dark-blonde hair from her eyes. But he told himself that this was something he needed to do. Distance was necessary when you started seeing danger signs ahead. Start sitting by log fires with a woman and the next thing you knew, she’d be organising your diary for you.

  ‘I’ll see you Saturday,’ he said.

  ‘Yes, you will.’

  Roxy watched the tail lights of the car disappear and went into the cottage, where she sat down on the sofa and stared at her new gloves and a strange and terrible kind of certainty washed over her. She had tried to fight it but she could fight it no more. She loved him. She loved him. It was as simple and as complicated as that.

  And it was hopeless. A hopeless, misdirected emotion for someone who would never consider loving her back. Why, today was the first and probably the last time she would ever be seen with him in public. He had an image to maintain and a title to protect and she was nothing but a temporary fixture in his privileged life.

  She slept restlessly that night and in the morning she was unexpectedly summoned to see Vanessa. She felt a chilling whispering of fear as she walked into her office. Had someone reported seeing her out with the Duke? And was the rather terrifying housekeeper about to tell Roxy that she had behaved inappropriately and was no longer needed?

  Vanessa was sitting behind an intimidatingly tidy desk, with not a hair out of place. She looked up when Roxy walked in and gave one of those enigmatic smiles she was so good at.

  ‘Ah, Roxanne. Good. I wanted to talk to you about the Duke’s party on Saturday.’

  Roxy nodded. Say the kind of thing you’d be expected to say. ‘Everything’s going according to plan, I hope?’

  ‘It is, but we’re going to need some help with the pre-banquet drinks. You don’t have a problem with doing some waitressing, do you?’

  Roxy brushed an imaginary fleck of dust from her pink overall, certain that she’d caught a glint of amusement in the housekeeper’s eyes. She’s enjoying this, she thought to herself. Does Vanessa suspect what’s going on with me and Titus, and is doing this to remind me of my proper place here? ‘I’ve never done any waitressing work before,’ she said truthfully.

  Vanessa’s smile grew determined. ‘Oh, don’t worry about that. We’ve employed professionals to serve the food—all you’ll have to do is circulate with a tray of champagne before the banquet begins. I’m sure you won’t find serving drinks to His Grace’s guests too onerous a task, will you, Roxanne?’

  Roxy managed not to wince. In normal circumstances, maybe not. She’d got used to cleaning people’s houses, hadn’t she? And that had been a humbling enough experience, especially after her heady, youthful brush with fame. But this was different. She’d been the Duke’s lover for almost a month. She’d been hidden away for most of the time like a guilty secret and that she’d just about been able to tolerate. It was just that the thought of serving drinks to his guests and having them look through her as if she were some kind of nobody made her feel slightly sick.

  But you are a nobody, she reminded herself painfully. That’s exactly what you are. You’re the woman who polishes the floor of his drawing room or flicks her duster over the priceless books in the Long Library. Oh, you might make him moan in bed and thrill him with the occasional snatched kiss—but you’re nobody special in his life and you never will be.

  It was something she’d known all along, but this order from Vanessa felt like having it shoved in her face. Titus’s birthday party would demonstrate the reality of his life and it was a life which didn’t include her. His glittering friends would bring him glittering gifts. They would laugh and joke about a shared past and look forward to a shared future. Inevitably, he would dance with lots of gorgeous women—and she’d be forced to watch, circulating in her waitress uniform with a glassy smile fixed to her face as she offered them drinks.

  She wanted to ask Vanessa if Titus himself had okayed this request, but she didn’t dare. She wondered if the housekeeper had waited until he was out of the house for a couple of days to drop this particular bombshell, until she told herself to get real. Did she really imagine that the Duke might have intervened on her behalf? Told the housekeeper who’d worked for him for years that he didn’t want this particular cleaner serving his guests because she was special? Because if she thought that, then she needed her head examining.

  ‘No, that’ll be fine,’ Roxy said, suddenly becoming aware that she needed to booster her lukewarm response. ‘I’m more than happy to oblige.’

  ‘Good,’ said Vanessa, with a quick smile. ‘And Amy will be there to help you, of course—so you won’t be completely on your own.’

  The news that Amy would be joining her made Roxy brighten slightly, and later that morning she was removing some dust from the pouting profile of a Greek god in the Statue Gallery when her housemate walked in, beaming from ear to ear.

  ‘So I hear from the big, bad boss that we’re both going to be floating round as waitresses on the big night.’

  Roxy gave a last flick over the statue’s tight, marble curls. ‘It seems we are.’

  ‘So why the long face?’

  ‘I didn’t realise I had a long face.’

  ‘Well, you do. If it was any longer, I could throw a saddle over your back and lead you round the stable-yard.’ Amy’s expression grew thoughtful. ‘I wonder, could it have anything to do with the fact that you’re having some sort of thing with our honourable employer, the Duke?’

  To Roxanne’s dismay, her duster clattered to the ground and it sounded deafening in the vast and echoing space. She could feel the guilty racing of her heart as she looked at her housemate. ‘What did you say?’ she breathed.

  ‘Well, you are—aren’t you? Getting it on with the gorgeous Titus?’
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br />   Flushing, Roxy bent to pick up the duster, the brief distraction giving her a moment to try to compose herself. She liked Amy too much to tell an outright lie but how honest could she possibly be in the circumstances? She straightened up. ‘How did you guess?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, come on, Roxy!” Purposefully, Amy walked over to the double doors and shut them quietly before turning round again. ‘You mean, apart from the fact that sometimes when I’m coming back from the pub I can see him striding away from the cottage? Or the fact that he can’t seem to take his eyes off you whenever he’s around? He watches you like one of those deer they stalk on one of his weekend house-parties.’

  ‘He doesn’t,’ Roxy said, but the flare of hope in her heart was quickly extinguished by the crushing reality of her situation. Even if he did watch her, it was only because he was physically attracted to her. But that was as far as it was ever going to go.

  ‘Yes, he does,’ said Amy. ‘He gets a look on his face which is positively primitive. As if he’d like to haul you off to the nearest bedroom and throw you down on the bed. Ooh, it makes me go all weak at the knees just thinking about it!’

  ‘Oh, Amy.’

  ‘Oh, Amy—what? There’s no need to look so tragic about it. I don’t blame you for getting involved,’ said Amy, warming to her subject now. ‘I mean, what woman with a pulse would turn down the opportunity of a fling with him? He’s absolutely gorgeous. The only trouble is that he—’

  ‘Yes, I know. I know,’ Roxy put in quickly. ‘He’s a Duke and I’m a commoner.’

  ‘Well, yes.’ There was a pause and when Amy next spoke, her voice was wary. ‘But you’re far too sensible to have gone and fallen in love with him, aren’t you, Roxy?’

  ‘I don’t do love,’ said Roxy quickly, parroting the answer to a question she’d been asked by journalists a million times before. But for the first time in her life, her words didn’t ring true. She could see Amy watching her and she wondered if her momentary lapse in concentration had given away the fact that she was being economical with the truth. ‘But I do like him,’ she admitted cautiously.