Sommersgate House (12 page)

This news,
coming from a woman who had known Douglas for years, was so welcome
that Julia felt the tears sting her eyes.

“Oh no, don’t
do that!” Charlotte cried, coming close to Julia and squeezing her
arm reassuringly. “Your makeup is gorgeous and everyone’s going to
be looking at you. You can’t ruin it. Here, have a cigarette, it’ll
calm you down.”

“I quit ages
ago,” Julia admitted, taking a deep breath to fight back the
tears.

“
Well, I
suppose since you’re currently the moral compass for three
children, now isn’t the time to start up again. I
must
quit too or Ollie will divorce
me.” She gave Julia’s arm another squeeze before she took her hand
away. She dropped her cigarette and crushed it under the toe of her
beautifully-shod foot. She straightened her shoulders, tucked
Julia’s arm in her elbow and started forward but Julia pulled
firmly back and looked at the woman. For the first time in months
she felt less tense and less worried and those feelings lit her
green eyes to sparkles, even in the dark alley.

“I…” Julia
hesitated, not knowing how to put her feelings into words, then she
continued, “thank you. I appreciate you telling me this.”

Charlotte
shook her head and patted Julia’s arm, her eyes kind. “Enough of
this, let’s go show them how fabulous you are.”

And that was
what Charlotte did.

For the rest
of the night, Julia had a wonderful time. She was wrong, Charlotte
wasn’t just witty, she was hilarious. They drank glass after glass
of champagne and Charlotte introduced her to everyone, making
outrageous comments that made Julia laugh so hard she nearly
cried.

Douglas hadn’t
been lost in Charlotte’s determined efforts for the evening, even
as she whisked Julia from person to person, and drink to drink,
they always came back to Douglas. Charlotte would deposit Julia
firmly at his side for just enough time for him to smile down on
her or lean over and comment in her ear, showing everyone clearly,
and they were most definitely watching, that Julia did indeed have
his “favour”. Then Charlotte would whisk Julia away to show her off
again.

By the time
Julia stood on the pavement beside the Bentley with the paparazzi
flashing away and Carter calmly holding the door, Julia was still
exhausted but more relaxed than she’d been in months.

After giving
her a brief hug and kiss on each cheek, Charlotte pressed a card in
her hand.

“My info,
phone, mobile, home, my assistant, my e-mail… you need anything,
you call me, anytime!”

Julia nodded.
“You’re lovely, Charlotte.”

“Charlie, all
my friends call me Charlie.” And with those words, and the
meaningful look she gave Julia to accompany them, she and Oliver
were off.

Once they were
in the Bentley and moving safely through the streets, she heard
Douglas say, “It appears you had a good time.”

“Charlotte is
a love,” Julia declared happily, thrilled to have her first new
friend and perhaps an explanation about Douglas’s behaviour, and
Tammy and Gav’s wishes, that would make her life a lot easier.

They drove
home in silence and alighted from the car in front of the house. As
they walked to the front door, Julia tripped, her heel getting
caught in a crack in the pavement, and lurched forward. Douglas
caught her against his body, an arm going around her.

“Steady,” he
warned on a murmur, looking down at her just as she looked up, a
small relieved smile still on her face, when the bulb flashed
beside them.

“Off with
you!” Carter shouted, moving threateningly, yet surprisingly
nimbly, toward the photographer as Douglas hustled her inside.

But even with
that end to the evening, nothing could stop Julia’s feeling of
calm.

Douglas said a
curt goodnight, already preoccupied with something else, and went
straight to his study.

As for Julia,
she checked on the children then prepared quickly for bed and slept
soundly for the first time in months.

The
Arrangement

By the time
she’d put the children to bed Sunday evening, Julia’s sense of calm
had gone.

She’d woken up
that morning in the Kensington house feeling refreshed. She’d put
on a long, A-line skirt of dove grey wool, a matching turtleneck
that was ribbed from the waist to just under her breasts and from
wrist to elbow, the effect making her waist look tiny. She added a
pair of soft, soot-grey, suede boots and the diamond studs her
brother and Tammy had bought her for her birthday years ago. She
pulled her hair back in a ponytail at the nape of her neck and went
forward to face the day for the first time in a long time in a
light-hearted, maybe even good mood.

She found
Douglas, not in his study but in the lounge reading the paper. He
wore dark brown corduroys and a matching turtleneck and he looked
casual and relaxed and, for once, was not working.

“Good
morning,” she said as she walked into the room.

He looked at
her over the paper.

“Julia.” His
face betrayed nothing but his eyes again slowly trailed the length
of her body.

She ignored
his gaze and smiled at him. Charlotte’s words about him protecting
her through Tamsin’s bizarre last wishes and his quiet assumption
of the duty of protector were still at the front of her mind.

At her smile
he dropped the newspaper and lifted an eyebrow asking without words
what was on her mind.

“So… today?”
she inquired.

“Today,” he
said shortly, folding the newspaper and throwing it on the table in
front of him, “Carter is taking you and the children to Patisserie
Valerie for breakfast. I’ve a couple of calls coming through, so
I’ll need to stay behind. You’ll make a few more stops with the
kids to see the sights. You should find something to bring home for
lunch. Then we’ll go back to Sommersgate.”

She wasn’t
listening; instead, she was looking at the paper he’d thrown on the
table. In it, a large, colour photograph of her and Douglas was
displayed.

They were
walking into the gallery, their hands clasped firmly, their arms
stretched out between them as Douglas pulled her forward. He was in
profile, his expression hard and showing nothing. She was staring
at the ground, her pashmina had dropped off one shoulder and was
hanging in the crook of her elbow. To keep up with Douglas, her
stride was long and the slit at the side of her skirt had opened to
accommodate it, showing a shocking expanse of leg.

Regardless of
the distance between them and their expressionless faces, the
clasped hands conveyed a closeness that could easily be
misunderstood. In fact, if she had been looking at two other people
in the same positions, she would have assumed they were lovers.
Friends or siblings didn’t walk together like that, hands clasped
tightly, the man forging through the crowd leading, and protecting,
the woman.

“Oh my God,”
she breathed, losing her composure as she stared at the photo.

Douglas’s eyes
dropped to the paper.

“Forget it,”
he said in a tone that Julia was beginning to wonder if he expected
would be readily obeyed regardless of the ridiculousness of his
demand. She just couldn’t “forget it” simply because he told her
to.

It was the
first time in her life she’d ever had her picture in the paper, for
one thing. They looked like a couple of lovebirds on a night on the
town, annoyed at being trapped by the paparazzi.

What would the
children think if they saw it?

“But –” she
started.

“It’s
nothing,” he interrupted her, rising from his seat and then he
prompted her, “Children. Breakfast.”

And that was
all he said, leaving her in the room alone with the photo and his
final command to see to the kids.

She stared in
complete disbelief and diminishing calm at the doorway he’d walked
through. Then she grabbed the paper and ran upstairs with it,
shoving it in her bag so none of the children would see it.

Leaving
Douglas behind, they’d had a beautiful breakfast at a fabulous
patisserie. Afterwards, Carter drove them to Buckingham Palace to
the now unhidden delight of Veronika. The children had seen it
before, save Ruby who walked hand-in-hand with Veronika and gazed
in awe upon the palatial estate with its huge black gates with gold
crests. Instead of being driven, Julia decided they’d walk the
short distance to Westminster Abbey and Big Ben, then across the
bridge to stand in line for what seemed like forever eventually to
take their spectacular ride on the London Eye.

A fight ensued
between Willie and Ruby as to what was for lunch, burgers (Willie)
or fried chicken (Ruby) which Julia solved by making Lizzie decide.
She’d been trying to draw out her older niece and although she’d
managed to force her to take a shower every morning, wash her hair
and have more than a few bites to eat, Lizzie was still resolutely
withdrawn.

Upon Lizzie’s
verdict, they took home a big bucket of chicken and Julia helped
Veronika get the children settled, then Carter and Veronika
disappeared.

Julia went to
find Douglas who was in his study on the phone. She knocked and, at
his command, opened the door. He was standing rather than sitting
behind his desk, his arm outstretched and pointing to a place on a
piece of paper when he looked up at her.

Having his
gaze levelled on her made her legs feel like jelly. He was so
damned attractive, tall and compelling, his dark eyes intense.

She recovered
her composure, setting such silly thoughts aside with a silent
curse to herself.

She stood
politely in the doorway and used the universal sign language to
communicate silently that food was available (in other words, she
pretended to fork food into her mouth and chew). Realising what she
was doing, feeling like all kinds of fool, she quickly left him to
his call.

The kids were
devouring the fried, fatty, forbidden treats that had been a
hallmark of the weekend when Douglas walked into the dining
room.

“I saved you a
leg!” Ruby announced by shouting at him and Julia tamped down her
awkward feelings from before. She was letting strange things get to
her and she allowed herself to trot out what were becoming familiar
excuses – exhaustion and homesickness – and she felt marginally
better.

After they
were done, Veronika cleared the table and Julia made certain the
children were packed and they all trooped to the cars. Douglas had
his Jaguar in London and he decreed in his usual bossy manner that
Julia was to ride with him. He then swept her in the car so quickly
she had no chance to call good-bye to the children.

She had wanted
Lizzie to ride with him. Lizzie who looked at him with a longing
that tore at Julia’s heart. She was looking to replace Gavin, Julia
knew, and the only replacement available was Douglas. However, it
was clear Douglas was entirely uninterested.

Julia turned
in her seat and looked back at them. Lizzie was climbing in the
backseat of the Bentley while Veronika was settling into the front.
Willie was impatiently dancing behind Lizzie, waiting his turn, and
Ruby was jumping up and down, waving at Julia.

Julia waved
back.

Douglas
expertly manoeuvred through the streets of London and finally found
the motorway, all this was accomplished in complete silence.

Once they made
it to the far right lane, flying by the two other lanes of traffic
as if they were going a snail’s pace, to her chagrin, the smooth
ride of the car and constant sleep deprivation caused her to fall
asleep, her head on the window.

She was
awakened by a hand on her thigh squeezing it gently. Her eyes flew
open and she saw that Douglas was leaning over her, his face close
to hers, his hand still on her.

“Wake up,
we’re home,” he said, his deep voice strangely, and invitingly,
soft.

She glanced
around dazedly, shaking her head and cursing herself for falling
asleep. She hoped fervently that she hadn’t drooled or snored or
done anything else utterly humiliating.

They were
parked in the drive at Sommersgate. The sun was setting but light
still covered the house, gardens and the rolling fields to the
west. They’d enjoyed wonderful weather all weekend, chilly but dry
and mild.

Once
she’d pulled herself together, she realised
both
the jelly-feeling legs and the pleasant warmth in
her belly were present at his proximity.

Therefore,
Julia announced, “Great!” in order to dispel the intimate mood in
the car and turned to let herself out but Douglas’s hand on her
thigh tightened.

“Julia.”

She
turned back even though she didn’t want to. In fact, she
really
didn’t want to.

“Yes?” she
asked when her eyes met his.

I am innocence and light, blithely unaware of his hand on
my leg, innocence and light, innocence and light,
she repeated in her
head.

For some
reason, he grinned, the effect was a shock to her system and she
watched the wrinkles crinkle handsomely at the corners of his eyes
and those same eyes warmed lazily as they stared into hers, so very
close. She felt her stomach flip nervously as that familiar thrill
chased up her spine.

To hide it she
repeated, “Yes?” Clipping the word’s sibilant end tersely to try
and convey an impatience she really didn’t feel. In truth, even
though she hated to admit it, she could have sat there forever.

His grin
widened to a smile as if he knew her thoughts exactly, the
brilliant flash of his teeth against his tanned skin and that
deathly alluring scar on his lip disarming her completely.