Back in the Headlines

by Sharon Kendrick

  ‘Liking can be dangerous, Roxy.’

  ‘I know it can. But it’s not going to be dangerous for much longer. I’m only working here up until his party,’ Roxy said. ‘Which means I’ll be leaving soon. And I’m not …’ She hesitated—wanting to say the words out loud. No, it was more than that. Needing to say the words out loud. As if saying them would make them feel real. Would make her start believing them. ‘I’m not holding out any unrealistic thoughts about the future. I’m not that naive. I know better than anyone that life never turns out the way you want it to. I just wish I could give him something for his birthday, that’s all. Something he’d really like. Something to remember me by.’ Rather self-consciously, she shrugged. ‘I know. It’s a stupid idea.’

  ‘No, it’s not.’ Amy’s eyes narrowed. ‘I think it’s a brilliant idea.’

  ‘In theory, maybe. But there’s nothing I could possibly give him which wouldn’t fade into insignificance next to all the expensive gifts he’ll get from other people. I can’t possibly compete with that crowd.’

  ‘Oh, I think you can.’ Amy gave a slow smile. ‘You could give him something which nobody else could—and I’m not talking about your amazing body.’

  Roxy frowned. ‘Then what are you talking about?’

  ‘He’s gone away for a couple of days, hasn’t he? Which gives you just the opportunity you need to prepare a very special birthday present.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘What all the best presents should be.’ Amy grinned at her. ‘A surprise.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  VALEO Hall had never looked more magnificent.

  Adjusting his cufflinks so that the leonine Torchester crest gleamed against the whiteness of his dress shirt, Titus looked around the great hall. Initially, he had given his consent to this birthday party more out of duty than desire. He had agreed with the trustees that it should be a semi-formal declaration of his elevation to the Dukedom—but inside he had been quietly dreading it. The buzz of expectation and the sense of being assessed had filled him with a mixture of boredom and dread. Yet now that the evening was finally here, he couldn’t deny feeling a glow of pride and satisfaction as he gazed around his ancestral home.

  The vast dimensions of the rooms, which sometimes dwarfed smaller gatherings, always lent themselves superbly to parties such as these. The opulence of the décor meant that there was no need for any embellishment. No balloons or banners or party-poppers. He shuddered. Perish the thought! Just lots of fresh, cut flowers and tall, fat candles illuminating the many beautiful artefacts. The kitchens were producing a giant version of his favourite Sachertorte as a birthday cake and the finest vintages had been brought up from the Torchester cellars. A band had been hired and a pyrotechnician was currently setting up the fireworks, which would be lit soon after midnight.

  There was only thing which was missing …

  Titus frowned. He had spent a day longer in London than he had intended. He’d done it because it had seemed to make good sense. He had found plenty to do and he had wanted to shake off the pervasive hold which Roxanne Carmichael somehow seemed to have exerted over him. Because she seemed to have crept into his thoughts rather more than he had intended and that needed to stop.

  He had approached this dilemma with ice-cool logic—comparing it to one of those practice exercises he used to do during army manoeuvres, at school. He’d reasoned that once he was back in London he would easily be able to put her from his mind. After all, he’d never had any trouble compartmentalising lovers in the past—particularly ones who’d had such a shadowy presence in his everyday life. But the unpalatable truth was that he’d missed her. He’d missed her supple body in bed and the tickle of her long hair brushing against his belly. He’d missed the irreverent little asides she sometimes came out with when they were in the middle of some vehement debate and which he suspected he wouldn’t tolerate from anyone else but her.

  He flexed his fingers, objectively observing the whitening of his knuckles as he cursed his inexplicable obsession with her. Maybe he just hadn’t had enough of her yet. Maybe he just needed to …

  ‘Roxanne?’ His voice rose on a note of surprise as he saw a familiar figure approaching, yet one whose appearance was slightly out of kilter.

  ‘Good evening, Your Grace.’

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’

  Roxy glanced around, just in case Vanessa was on the prowl. She had been jittery all afternoon—terrified that the housekeeper would discover what she was intending to do. Time after time she thought of the audacious plan she’d concocted with Amy’s aid and wondered if it was too late to get out of it. And now it all seemed like the craziest idea in the world, especially as Titus looked so toweringly formal in his dress suit, with his tawny hair gleaming beneath the cascading chandelier. He looked like a man who had the world at his fingertips—who wanted and needed for nothing. Was her birthday surprise going to look like some tacky gesture he would secretly be appalled by?

  ‘What does it look like I’m doing?’ she questioned brightly.

  He frowned. ‘Why are you dressed as a waitress?’

  ‘Because tonight I am a waitress. And tonight, Your Grace—I will be serving you and your guests limitless glasses of the finest champagne the Torchester cellars can offer. Vanessa has asked me and Amy to help with the catering,’ she explained, when she saw his frown deepen. ‘And we’re actually being paid double time to do it.’

  Her flippant comment about payment made him wince but it served to remind him that at least she was being pragmatic, even if he wasn’t. But how the hell could he be anything but lustful when she looked like one of those women who graced the pages of men’s magazines? Like a fantasy come to life. Her slim figure was shown off to perfection by the little black dress and those black stockings were making her long legs look positively sinful. Titus fought against the seductive taste of desire as he contemplated dragging her behind the nearest ornate pillar to kiss her.

  ‘And why wasn’t I consulted about this?’ he questioned testily.

  ‘Are you usually consulted about staffing levels at parties?’

  He glared at her, knowing that she had a point. Such a thought wouldn’t even cross his mind under normal circumstances—and it would be highly inappropriate if he brought up the matter with Vanessa now. But it meant that he’d have to spend the evening watching Roxanne dressed up in that sexy outfit, serving his guests—and the thought of that disturbed him far more than it should have done.

  The dull ache at his groin intensified as he stared at the soft curves of her unpainted lips and he knew he had to get away from her before he gave into temptation.

  ‘I’ll see you later,’ he said.

  Roxy licked her lips as his grey eyes seared into her. ‘You’ll be too busy with your guests.’

  ‘No, I won’t. I intend being very busy with you—so make sure you keep the bed warm.’

  And with that, he walked away, leaving Roxy regretting her passive agreement to such a tryst. Wasn’t it a little cheap to agree to a late-night visit when the party was over? For him to spend the evening dancing with all the posh girls, but then retire with his cleaner for a little more basic entertainment? And wasn’t it a little risky, with Amy around?

  But any misgivings about her lack of assertiveness were soon dissolved by the enormity of the action she was about to take. Roxy’s nerves grew, along with a bubbling sense of excitement as the guests began to arrive. She was so preoccupied that she failed to be intimidated by the more stunning women who must have raided their family vaults, judging by the amount of precious finery they were wearing. Several times she met Amy’s complicit smile as they handed out glass after glass of bubbly.

  The only time she felt a twinge of something approaching apprehension was when she caught Titus’s eye across the crowded ballroom. When he glittered her a look which seemed to exclude everyone else in the room. She felt a corresponding wave of emotion sweep over her, a fierce longing which made he
r feel momentarily weak. Was he going to hate what she had in store for him? Would it taint his memory of her? She could feel her heart pounding heavily beneath her uniform dress—but she knew it was too late to back out now.

  The three hundred plus guests were soon being seated for the formal banquet and Roxanne was officially supposed to be helping clear plates in the kitchen. She worked unobtrusively in the background and managed to slip away just before the dancing began, to check with the band-leader that he knew what to do. Her heart was beating like crazy as she scurried through the labyrinth passages of the servants’ quarters to where Amy was waiting in the boot-room, to help her get ready.

  She had never been quite so nervous when she’d finished changing into her outfit. Not even when The Lollipops had performed at Windsor Castle, one unforgettable New Year’s Eve. Walking in the dress she’d chosen was a nightmare. It was so tight that she had to shuffle along, terrified she’d split it, and already the wig was making her head feel hot and itchy. With the white fur stole draped around her shoulders and Amy darting ahead to check that the coast was clear, Roxy slithered into the curtained area behind the specially erected stage and let the band know she was there.

  After a couple of minutes, the music stopped and the sound of chatter filled the ballroom. Roxy’s heart was pumping and she was filled with a familiar hit of adrenalin as she waited to go on. It seemed ages since she’d experienced the dimming of the lights and the amplified voice of the band-leader and she could hear the room quieten as he began to speak.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he began. ‘Some time near the middle of the last century, a President of the United States of America had a very beautiful young actress sing to him on his birthday. And tonight, I have someone who wants to do the same. So here, for one night only—I give you … Miss Marilyn Monroe! ’

  Titus’s head jerked up as he saw the figure who had appeared in the spotlight, her dress so tight that she looked as if she’d been sewn into it. And it was such an iconic image that he recognised her immediately, even though the actress had died years before he’d been born. He heard the collective gasp of the guests as her eyes searched the ballroom until she had located him, but he was so mesmerised by her appearance that it took a moment for her identity to sink in. And then his eyes narrowed in disbelief as he met her smoky gaze and realised just who it was.

  Roxanne!

  She let the white fur stole slide away from her shoulders to reveal a breathtaking vision beneath. The tight, flesh-coloured dress gave her curves where he’d never noticed curves before. And it was covered in hundreds of sparkling rhinestones so that it seemed as if she were wearing nothing but body glitter. The blonde, candyfloss wig and the red, shimmering lips made her look uncannily like the actress and as she picked up the microphone and breathlessly began to sing her eyes didn’t leave his face.

  ‘Happy birthday to you.

  Happy birthday to you.

  Happy birthday …’ her voice dipped even lower and she fluttered the outrageous black arcs of lashes which were feathering her eyes ‘… Duke of Torchester.

  Happy Birthday to you.’

  Titus stood perfectly still as the audience erupted with rapturous applause and he thought that was the end of it. But no. She had held up her hand for silence and suddenly he caught a glimpse of the woman she had once been. The one who could command the attention of thousands of people by the sheer power of her stage presence. How she must miss all that, he thought. She’d gone from mass adulation as a pop star to cleaning other people’s houses—without any apparent sullenness or resentment at the hand which fate had dealt her. Yet was it really appropriate for her to have turned his birthday party into some sort of showcase for her own talent?

  The crowd grew quiet as she began to speak, her husky American accent mimicking the late film star perfectly.

  ‘A lot of people don’t realise that a second song was sung for the President that night and, because it seems somehow appropriate, I’m going to perform it tonight for the Duke. So, Your Grace—this one’s especially for you.’ She glimmered him a smile. ‘I hope you like it.’

  Titus stayed unmoving as she began to sing ‘Thanks for the Memory’ and as the first strains of the old, familiar song filtered out it made the little hairs stand up on the back of his neck. He watched the shimmering sway of her body and the scarlet gleam of her lips. And he knew what she was doing. She was saying goodbye to him in her own very distinctive way. He felt the strange kick of his heart as her voice—strong with passion and husky with regret—curved smokily around the lyrics. He felt the lust he was no doubt intended to feel—the hard jerk of an erection at his groin. Yet an undeniable part of him was slightly appalled that a private message from her to him was being made so very publicly.

  And then it was all over. The spotlight was cut and when the lights went up again, the stage was empty and there was a roar as the guests started clapping and whooping their appreciation.

  People were surging towards him, their faces full of curiosity, and Titus knew that he had to find her. To say what? Ignoring anyone who tried to halt his progress, he walked with grim determination through the ballroom and people fell back to let him pass. Where would she be? he wondered. She must have got changed somewhere in the house because no way could she have tottered all the way from her cottage in that dress and those heels.

  Outside the ballroom he saw a waitress he vaguely recognised who was looking at him with big eyes and an expression which looked a little like guilt. ‘Amy?’ he questioned uncertainly, because wasn’t this Roxanne’s housemate?

  ‘Yes, Your Grace,’ she said.

  ‘Do you know where Roxanne is?’

  There was a pause as Amy bit her lip.

  ‘Because if you do, I’d like you to take me to her right now,’ he said, his tone leaving her under no illusion that she would be in big trouble if she didn’t.

  ‘Of … of course, Your Grace. She’s … in the boot-room down by the kitchen.’

  Titus nodded and pulled open the green baize door which led to the servants’ quarters just as he heard the sound of running footsteps behind him. Turning round, he saw a breathless ex-schoolfriend, his face bright red with excitement as he skidded to a halt.

  ‘For God’s sake, Titus—that was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen! Who the hell is she?’

  Titus opened his mouth to reply, his mind racing as much as his thundering heart. He was aware of Amy looking at him. Of the sensation of being cornered. Of the look of pure lust in the man’s eyes.

  ‘She’s nobody,’ he said harshly.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ROXY heard him. He must have opened the heavy green door which had been designed so that no intrusive sounds from the servants’ quarters would ever penetrate the hallowed portals of the big house. Which meant that his words rang out and reached her—like a verbal assault to her ears.

  ‘She’s nobody.’

  The harshness of his assessment made her momentarily stumble and all she could think of was how unfair life could be. Couldn’t he at least have pretended? All that time and trouble to give him a birthday surprise—thinking she was giving him something which might make him smile—and he could ruin it all with two cruel words. Roxy scratched at her itchy forehead as she tottered towards the boot-room. But he was only giving voice to something she’d suspected all along, wasn’t he? And could she really blame him? If you let a man treat you like a nobody, then you could hardly act outraged when he admitted it to the rest of the world. She had leapt into this ill-judged affair without a second thought. The first touch of his lips had been enough to make her forget about her ambition and her hopes for the future. From being a jobbing cleaner who had worked to fuel her dreams to sing, she had become the furtive consort of her aristocratic employer. Like some kind of joke figure from the Victorian era, she had turned into a below-stairs lover, with no real status of her own.

  She could hear footsteps behind her and she resumed her unsteady pace, but
it was a long time since she’d worn shoes this high and the dress was so tight that she couldn’t run. The servants’ corridors were like a warren—but as she heard his steps growing closer it didn’t surprise her that Titus must know them like the back of his hand.

  She made it to the boot-room and yanked off the wig—pulling all the tight clips from her hair so that she could scratch her fingers through her unbearably itchy scalp.

  And that was the moment he walked in, slightly out of breath—his grey eyes unfathomable as they met her gaze. For a moment they just stared at one another.

  ‘That was some birthday present,’ he said slowly.

  Her mind was working overtime. She didn’t know how to play this. How best to get out of his life with the minimum of hurt and aggravation. Or was that asking for the impossible? Some lingering shred of professional vanity made her lift her chin to ask, ‘Did you … did you like it?’

  ‘Did I like it?’ He gave a short laugh. ‘I’m not sure that it was entirely appropriate, but it blew me away. Or, rather, you blew me away. You were sensational, Roxanne.’

  ‘I’m glad,’ she said, but inside she could feel a sinking sense of disappointment. Appropriate? Couldn’t he forget his damned status for more than a minute?

  Titus let his gaze drift over her. Without the wig, her head now looked like Roxanne Carmichael but her body was pure Marilyn Monroe and he felt the sudden rush of desire which made him want to throw caution to the wind. Wouldn’t it be best to brazen this out? To take her back into the ballroom and enjoy her beauty and her talent and to hell with the consequences? ‘Would you like to come back to the party, and dance with me?’

  The unexpected question caught Roxy completely off-guard. She touched her messy hair, which was spilling untidily over her shoulders, completely at odds with the sleek, glittery gown. ‘You mean, like this?’