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Authors: Kristen Ashley

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BOOK: Sommersgate House
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Carter drove
them to London where they spent an excruciatingly busy day visiting
Kensington Palace, the mad, tourist-filled crush of Madame
Tussaud’s and the equally crowded Tower of London.

Still not
sleeping well, with a day on her feet fighting crowds, watching
over the children and hustling from one place to the next, Julia
was shattered.

All week, when
she did eventually sleep, it was fitful, filled with strange dreams
she couldn’t quite remember or disturbed by an odd tapping at the
window that was most likely the branch of a tree or shrub but in
the dark of night seemed something else, something sinister.

Tonight, Sam
had told her, she would be having dinner with Douglas and two of
his friends, Charlotte and Oliver Forsythe. Julia had met Charlotte
and Oliver on several occasions when she’d visited Tammy and Gav.
Charlotte was the editor-in-chief of a glossy fashion magazine and
Oliver’s family was in banking. “In banking” was Tammy’s way of
saying his family owned the controlling share of a bank with
hundreds of branches nationwide. Julia liked them both. Even though
she didn’t know either of them very well she knew they’d been good
friends to Tammy and Gav.

They would all
then be off to an art gallery opening. There, Sam warned her, she
would face the “paps”. Thus the need for Sam’s “frocks” as Sam had
informed her she wanted Julia to be confident in the face of the
onslaught.

“And every
girl knows, confidence often comes in the form a fantastic outfit!”
Sam had proclaimed (quite rightly).

This was
something Julia had not anticipated. She did not look forward to
this evening, dressing up and having dinner with people she didn’t
know very well was enough of a drain on her flagging resources. But
facing “paps” made it all the worse.

“Paps” was
English slang for “paparazzi”. Tamsin and Gavin, she knew, were
both photographed frequently at balls and other events that Tamsin
supported in her role as Lady Tamsin Ashton Fairfax. But Douglas
was positively hunted by the photographers. Julia had seen his face
dozens of times in various magazines in The States. Until Sam
reminded her, it hadn’t occurred to Julia that, in being with him,
she would also face the paparazzi. This would be a unique
experience but she couldn’t imagine they’d have an interest in her
when Douglas was there as a target. Perhaps, she thought (or more
to the point hoped), it wouldn’t be that bad.

“I thought I’d
take the kids to a movie tonight, if you don’t mind,” Sam said,
interrupting Julia’s thoughts.

“Wicked!”
Willie shouted what Julia was coming to learn was his favourite
word.


In
Leicester Square, Lizzie, where they have all the big premieres,
like
Harry
Potter
.” Sam went on
when Lizzie didn’t act as thrilled as Willie.

“Okay,” Lizzie
muttered, too well-mannered to ignore someone speaking directly to
her but also not willing to show any excitement.

“Is that
okay?” Sam asked Julia and Julia nodded and smiled. The kids would
love it and they certainly had enough of being holed up in austere,
posh houses.

She saw
Veronika standing away from the group, her face carefully blank and
Julia had an idea.

“Could you
take Veronika as well? I’m sure she’d like to see Leicester Square
and she’d help you out with the kids,” Julia asked Sam quietly,
looking at the young girl across the room and giving her a
wink.

“Sure thing.
Ronnie you’re coming with us!” Sam announced and Julia watched with
satisfaction as Veronika’s studiously controlled face positively
lit up.

The Russian
girl had been a godsend that day. She carefully looked after the
children, was immensely gentle with them, occasionally cautiously
affectionate and she obviously took her job very seriously. She’d
also noticed that, several times, Veronika lost herself in wonder
at the sights they’d seen and Julia was pleased that she’d brought
her along instead of leaving her with Carter while just she and the
kids enjoyed their activities.

“But we must
go, on the double, or we’ll miss our showing. Come on! Chop chop!”
And Sam clapped her hands as the kids and Veronika trooped into the
hall to get their coats.

Julia was
carrying her evening bag and walking beside Sam and she pulled it
open to take out some money for the kids and Veronika.

“You have a
car big enough for all of them?” she asked, sorting out two fifty
pound notes because she had no idea how much an evening out to the
movies in London would cost. Considering the exorbitant cost of
everything else that day, a hundred pounds might not even cover
it.

“No worries.
We’ll take a taxi. Haven’t experienced London unless you’ve had a
ride in a London taxi. I have one waiting outside with your frocks.
We’ll swing by my house, drop off the dresses and off we go,” Sam
assured her as they stopped several feet from the front door.

“Can you come
directly back after? Ruby shouldn’t be out late,” Julia
requested.

Sam laughed.
“I’ve got five nieces and two nephews. Don’t worry about us, I know
the drill. We’ll be fine.”

Julia started
to hand her the money when a deep voice came from behind them.

“What’s
happening here?” Douglas asked.

Julia whirled
around and saw Douglas was standing in the open doorway looking
sophisticated wearing another superbly-tailored navy suit, this one
without pinstripes. It was accompanied by a deep burgundy shirt and
monochromatic tie.

She hadn’t
seen him since Wednesday, hadn’t even spoken to him on the phone.
She’d just managed to force him, and the disturbing and confusing
rush of feelings she was having, out of her mind. At the sight of
him standing there managing to look both dashing and
unapproachable, those feelings crowded in on her uninvited and she
felt her breath momentarily quicken.

Ruby dashed to
him and threw her arms around his legs. He touched her head
lightly, this she accurately took as a signal to disengage and
Douglas nodded to Willie’s, “’Lo, Uncle Douglas,” and briefly and
distractedly touched Lizzie cheek as he walked by the girl.

“Sam is taking
the kids to the movies. I was just giving her some money,” Julia
explained.

Ignoring the
proffered notes, Sam ordered, “I’ll put it on my expense account.
Right boss?” she said with a cheeky grin at Douglas and, not
waiting for an answer, she addressed the crowd. “We’ll be late if
we don’t go and you two will be late if you don’t go… children!
Onward!” she ordered and trooped the kids to the door leaving Julia
standing there, still holding the notes in her hand.

“Hang on!”
Julia called. “Kids… kisses!” And they all came back, briefly
pressing kisses to her cheek and rushed, followed by a quiet
Veronika who appeared to be trying to make herself invisible, out
the door.

When Julia
turned around, Douglas was gone. A light was now on in what she
knew was his study and she stuffed the notes in her purse as she
walked to the doorway. He’d laid his briefcase on his desk and had
the phone in his hand.

“Carter,” he
said into the receiver, “we’ll meet you at the front door.” He
turned his head to look at her as he replaced the receiver. “Are
you ready?”

In response,
Julia put her arms out slightly at the sides, looking down at
herself.

“I see you
are,” he said, his tone no longer businesslike but vastly
different. He was looking at her, his eyes moving down her body in
a lazy way.

From the look
in his eyes, she felt that familiar tremor slide up her spine and
her stomach lurched, then clenched and she felt pleasantly warm,
unwelcomely so.

What was
he playing at? He hadn’t even said,
Hello, how were the last three days of
your new life?
Now he
was eyeing her like she was dinner.

She didn’t
have the time, or the energy, to think about it.

Instead, she
said, “I’ll just run upstairs for my wrap.”

Then she
turned and escaped, ascending the stairs to her room. She grabbed
her pink pashmina from the bed and wrapped it around her, throwing
a free end over her left shoulder. She took a deep breath and
thought,
I
can do this, just a few hours, I can manage not to fall face
forward in my soup and then it will be over and I can come back and
sleep
. Once she told
herself this (and almost believed it), she headed back down the
stairs.

At the curb,
Carter opened the door to the Bentley for them, closed it behind
them and they were whisked into the London night.

Julia stared
out the window feeling strangely shy and decided to put it down to
tiredness and Douglas’s earlier look. She had always been outgoing
and found talking to anyone from any background easy. You just
found out what their interests were and then asked questions.
Nearly everyone loved to talk about themselves. Simple.

But she was so
exhausted, she couldn’t think how to make small talk with Douglas
and then she realised belatedly that Douglas wasn’t speaking
either. She turned to look at him and saw he was staring at her
legs which were crossed. It was too dark to see his expression but
she sensed something in the car and that something made her cheeks
warm.

“How was your
week?” she asked in an attempt to dispel her bizarre feeling.

“Long,” he
answered shortly, not offering any more information as he shifted
his gaze from her legs to her face. “Yours?” he asked.

“The
same.”

And that
was it, the extent of their conversation. Not long after, they slid
to a halt at the front of a fashionable restaurant, so fashionable
that Julia had heard of it, even in Indiana,
and
all the celebrities that haunted it.

The place was
a crush at the front but the moment the doors closed behind them it
was serene, decorated with an overdose of trendy bamboo and lots of
glass. The hostess immediately stiffened and came forward, oozing
courtesy as she guided them to the table Charlotte and Oliver were
already occupying.

Julia was
pleasantly surprised when both the petite, slim, stylish,
black-haired Charlotte and the tall, straight, sandy-haired Oliver
greeted her with friendly familiarity.

They’d barely
taken their seats when a waiter appeared at the table.

“Would you
like drinks, Lord Ashton?” he asked reverentially.

Douglas didn’t
even look at Julia before saying, “Miss Fairfax will have a dry
vodka martini, up, with an olive. I’ll have the same, with gin, no
olive.”

Julia was
stunned speechless.

It was true,
she had a strict regimen of drinking. Margaritas while eating
Mexican or on hot summer evenings. Micro-brewed beer while watching
sports. Spiced rum and diet cola while lounging at home with
friends or on the rare occasions when she was at a beach. Dry red
wine with dinner. Amaretto with coffee after dessert. Mojitos when
she was feeling saucy or eating Texas chilli. And, on posh nights
out, a dry vodka martini, up, with an olive.

She didn’t
know what was more shocking, that Douglas knew her preferred drink
or that he hadn’t bothered consulting her when ordering it. No man,
not even Sean, had ordered for her without taking her request. The
sensation was alarming because even though it was irritating, it
was also somehow delicious.

She tried to
hide her contradictorily pleased annoyance but when she glanced at
Charlotte, the other woman was watching her closely.

“So!”
Charlotte cried suddenly and Julia jumped. “How are you settling
into the spooky manse? I see Monique hasn’t driven you to tearing
your hair out yet, which, I must add, is a shining testament to
you, my dear.” Then she lifted her drink in an amusing salute to
Julia.

“Monique is on
the Mediterranean,” Douglas announced, the waiter long gone,
rushing to do the bidding of a very famous and powerful client.

“Oo, what
luck. So, you’ve been spending this time counting your lucky
stars,” Charlotte asked Julia, a twinkle in her eye.

Julia didn’t
know what to make of Charlotte, nor how to respond, but was spared
by Oliver who said warningly, “Charlie.”

“She’s been
around long enough, I think she knows what she’s in for,” Charlotte
told her husband with blithe unconcern at his warning and turned
back to Julia. “I’m putting my money on you.” Her eyes still
sparkled but there was something kindly speculative in them that
told Julia that Charlotte Forsythe understood very well and not
just about Monique.

With that firm
announcement of support, Julia began to relax and enjoy the
evening.

Dinner was
delicious, even if the servings were sparse, and Charlotte and
Oliver were good company. She learned that Oliver and Douglas had
gone to school together, played rugby and cricket together and
raced cars, horses and anything else that was fast or dangerous
while Charlotte, at a sister school for girls “across the lake”,
tagged along after them, naughtily egging them on whenever she
could.

Julia realised
almost immediately that she liked Charlotte immensely. She was
witty, obviously in love with her husband and not at all
reverential of Douglas.

Julia’s
enjoyment of the meal and the company was only marred when, after
they were finished and enjoying coffee, Douglas leaned back and
rested his arm across the back of her chair.

It was
an entirely male gesture and incongruously familiar. And the way
Douglas did it was somehow…
predatory
.

What was more,
their table was the focus of a great deal of attention from the
other diners and even the staff and Douglas’s behaviour was odd in
the extreme.

BOOK: Sommersgate House
2.4Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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