200 Harley Street

CHAPTER SEVEN

THEY TOOK A taxi and he felt her eyes on him and Leo knew she thought he had been unkind to Ethan about choosing the charity patient. ‘If you thought about it you’d never be able to choose and my brother proves my point.’ He looked at her tight lips. ‘I don’t have to beat myself up to do charity work.’

‘Okay.’ Lizzie turned and gazed out of the window but Leo prolonged the conversation. ‘Was he as cheerful when you were looking after him?’ he asked, and sighed when Lizzie didn’t answer. ‘I’m not asking you to break confidence, I’m just making idle conversation …’

‘Terrible weather,’ Lizzie said. ‘That’s idle conversation.’

Leo was wise enough to know that Lizzie wasn’t going to reveal anything and so they drove in silence to the hotel. Leo spoke to a receptionist and Lizzie noticed he didn’t use his title and neither did he give the patient’s name.

It was just all very smooth and discreet.

They walked to the lift and Leo explained that it wasn’t just Marianna they would be visiting but Jessica too.

‘Hello.’ Leo smiled at Jessica as she let them in. ‘As Gwen explained, Iain’s in Theatre all day but I wanted to see for myself how you are doing.’

‘I’m feeling much better.’ Jessica smiled and she really did seem a whole lot better than she had on Monday. ‘And thank you, Lizzie, for the other day, I’m sorry—I was in a right state.’

‘You did really well,’ Lizzie said, because Jessica had—it had taken ages to remove the tiny sutures and even though Iain had soaked them, it had still been uncomfortable and unpleasant, on top of everything else Jessica was already going through.

Leo washed his hands and Jessica lifted her hair as Leo examined the wound carefully.

‘Iain has done an amazing job,’ Leo said. ‘How are you?’

This time she didn’t look at Lizzie to leave, and it was good to see Jessica looking far more relaxed.

‘Better. My mum’s staying with me and I’ve spoken to a lawyer …’ Then she did glance at Lizzie.

‘Lizzie’s fine,’ Leo said.

‘It wasn’t the first time,’ Jessica admitted.

‘It rarely is,’ Leo said.

‘That time I said that I fell down the stairs …’ Jessica said, and Leo nodded. ‘Did you know?’

‘I asked you outright.’

‘I know.’ Jessica screwed up her face. ‘I just wasn’t ready to tell anyone. I am now, though.’

‘Good for you. You know that if there’s anything we can do …’

‘Thank you.’

‘I mean it,’ Leo said. ‘And not just with paperwork for lawyers—we’ve got a marvellous psychologist at the clinic, Tanya is …’

‘I spoke to her.’

‘Good,’ Leo said. ‘Keep speaking to her.’

He was extremely nice to Jessica and they chatted some more but Leo declined when she offered to ring down for coffee.

‘I’m afraid we have to go.’ He glanced at his watch but still didn’t dash off.

‘Of course you do.’ Jessica smiled. ‘It’s just so nice to have company. I’m getting cabin fever.’

‘Have you been out?’

Jessica shook her head.

‘You should go for a little walk.’

‘I’m worried I’ll be seen or photographed. It’s all over the papers, it’s just all so embarrassing …’

‘Not for you it isn’t.’ Leo stood. ‘You have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about.’ He did stand then. ‘Put a big scarf on and go for a walk with your head held high.’

He wasn’t smiling when they took the lift.

‘Bastard,’ Leo grumbled. ‘I re-set his nose once. I’d love to break it again.’ Instead of going down, they were going up.

‘Are we going to see Marianna?’

‘Why else would we be going up to the top floor?’ Leo winked. ‘Unless …’ He didn’t finish. He saw her blush and, unbelievably, Leo almost did the same.

Though, of course, it must be the heating!

‘Come on, now for the nicer part of the job,’ Leo said.

He really loved his work, and there was so much more to it than Lizzie had realised.

‘I can’t believe how good it already looks!’ Marianna exclaimed. ‘I thought I would have two black eyes …’

‘I’m just brilliant.’ Leo smiled and carefully checked them. ‘I’m really pleased.’ Marianna was flying out to join Ferdinand the next day and they chatted for a little while longer before Lizzie and Leo headed back to the clinic, but as they walked through the hotel foyer and reached the doors, Leo suddenly changed his mind.

‘How about afternoon tea?’

‘We’ll never get a table,’ Lizzie said, because she’d rung up at the weekend and found out that if you weren’t a guest you had to book weeks in advance.

Not if your name was Leo Hunter, apparently.

‘They should pay me commission.’ Leo grinned as they took a seat. ‘I’ve sent more clients their way than I can count.’

Lizzie wasn’t used to being spoiled.

Afternoon tea was sumptuous and Leo was very good company. ‘Do you do this a lot?’ Lizzie asked.

‘Not too often,’ Leo said. ‘It’s nice to pause sometimes.’

She felt dreadfully gauche. It was a pause in Leo’s day and yet Lizzie felt tempted to whip out her phone and take a photo as afternoon tea was delivered to their table and the china cups filled. ‘My mum would have loved this.’ She glanced up. ‘Sorry, that sounds really maudlin. My mum loved anything to do with food—she was a wonderful cook.’

‘Was?’

‘She has Alzheimer’s.’

‘How bad is she?’

‘She had good days and bad,’ Lizzie said. ‘Mainly she has no idea who I am but every now and then her face lights up and we talk, though it’s mainly a teenage Lizzie she’s talking about. It’s good to know that she does recognise me sometimes.’

‘What about your father?’

He’s in the same home as Mum. He’s relatively well, though …’ She didn’t really want to discuss it. Yes, she’d chatted away to Ethan about how her father, despite her best efforts, refused to even come out for a coffee with her. How he didn’t even want to go out to the shops. But she just didn’t want to bore Leo. ‘This is lovely.’ She looked at the gorgeous surroundings. ‘It’s a big change from my old job.’

‘You’re from Brighton?’ Leo checked, recalling her résumé.

‘I came to London a couple of years ago, once my …’ She stopped. All her conversations seemed to lead back to her parents. ‘Mind you, I’m seeing a different side to things since I started the job. I’ve never been to a formal ball.’

‘It will be fun,’ Leo said, taking out a sweetener and flicking it into his tea.

Lizzie let out her breath and asked the question that had been plaguing her, though of course she knew the answer. She was just fishing for a hint about what Leo would expect her to wear. ‘What’s the dress code for the ball?’

‘Evening wear, formal.’ Leo was spreading jam on a scone when he glanced up. ‘You’ll be fine.’

It was all so easy for him.

‘I’m just a bit worried—’

‘You’ll look stunning,’ Leo interrupted, doing his best to put her at ease and failing miserably.

For Lizzie things came to a head just before home time when she heard Kara, one of the plastic surgeons, talking about the ball. She kindly tried to bring Lizzie into the conversation. ‘Do you know what you’re wearing yet, Lizzie? I hear Leo’s taking you.’

‘That’s right.’ Lizzie nodded. ‘I haven’t decided yet.’

God, she had to say something to him. She wouldn’t just be letting herself down. Leo expected glamour on his arm and later in that afternoon Lizzie finally caved, knocking on his door.

‘Who is it?’

‘Lizzie.’

‘Come in.’ He turned briefly from the basin as she entered. ‘I’m surprised you bothered knocking.’

‘What are you doing?’ Lizzie asked, and if she sounded brusque it was to cover up her embarrassment at the sight of Leo. He was naked from the hips up, his suit pants sat low on his hips and there was a fresh shirt over the chair. He had, she presumed, just finished shaving and was now trying to take out his own stitches. ‘You can’t take your own stitches out.’

‘It’s harder than I thought,’ Leo admitted.

They were tiny sutures, and Leo was having more trouble than he’d expected, getting the tiny blade to snip the thread, but, given where he was going, it was essential he looked his best.

‘I’ll do it.’ Lizzie sighed.

‘Sorry to trouble you!’ Leo quipped, and well he might. After all, he was paying her extremely well, but only as he sat down and put his head back did he realise her discomfort, only then was he suddenly aware of his own naked skin, because Lizzie was leaning over him, and trying not to touch him as she soaked the wound to soften it so that the stitches wouldn’t stick or catch on their way out.

Breast implants? Leo wondered as one hovered above his view, and he desperately tried to quash that thought, not just because it was inappropriate but rather more the effect it was starting to have on him. ‘Just take them out.’

‘I’m going to.’

No, there were no implants, Leo knew his silicone from his saline and these were just soft and ripe, and his jaw clamped down as he focused on the blade in an effort to keep things down!

Lizzie’s hands were shaking slightly. She could smell his cologne and his bare arm seemed to burn her skirted thigh as she leant over and tried to slip the blade beneath the suture.

‘Stay still,’ she warned.

‘I am staying still,’ Leo snapped, because ninety nine per cent of him was, it was just the flood to his groin that was the problem. He lay there refuting the body surface area charts he’d studied in his medical training, because that part of his anatomy certainly accounted for more than one per cent right now.

He did his twelve-times table backwards and breathed in the scent of antiseptic rather than focusing on the fresh smell of her, and when that didn’t work he reminded himself that Lizzie could be sleeping with Ethan.

Olivia.

With just one word he averted disaster.

‘Done.’

‘Thank you.’

‘You need a little adhesive strip here,’ Lizzie said. ‘It’s a teeny bit open in the middle.’

‘It’s fine.’

‘Whatever.’ Lizzie shrugged.

No!

Both said it in their heads as their eyes met.

This is so not going to happen.

‘You should keep it dry …’

‘I know the drill.’

‘Of course.’

‘Lizzie?’

‘What?’

He didn’t know how to ask her, yet he had to know if there was more between her and Ethan, but the time wasn’t right now—there was somewhere else he needed to be. ‘I’d better get on.’ He stood and pulled on his shirt as she cleared the dressing pack away and put the blade in the sharps box.

‘Are you going somewhere nice?’ Lizzie asked, as he opened a bag and pulled out three new ties, with the extortionate price tags still on.

‘Somewhere very nice,’ Leo said. ‘And I’m actually nervous.’

‘Oh?’

‘Which tie? I asked them to send a selection.’

‘Grey …’ Lizzie said, then changed her mind. ‘I like the silver one.’

‘Nope.’ Leo shook his head. ‘Too much.’

‘You really are nervous!’ She grinned. ‘So where are you going?’

‘I actually can’t tell you,’ he admitted. ‘I’ve another house call to make.’

‘You’re going to see a patient?’ Lizzie frowned because he truly did seem tense.

‘Yep.’

He was knotting his tie and kept having to redo it.

‘So why can’t you tell me?’

‘Completely confidential,’ Leo said.

‘Isn’t everyone?’

‘Of course.’

He wasn’t saying any more and Lizzie loathed herself for being so curious, but who on earth could it be? After all they’d had Marianna, you didn’t get any more prestigious than a soon-to-be European princess … maybe another royal?

‘What time do you have to be there?’

‘Six,’ Leo said. ‘On the dot. How’s that?’ He stood there, looking absolutely stunning, his hair brushed back, his suit to die for and, yes, his tie was perfect.

‘Can’t beat a good old Windsor knot,’ she said, and gave him an almost imperceptible wink. ‘Though maybe you should have gone for royal blue.’

Still he refused to be drawn but she did see his tongue roll in his cheek as he suppressed a smile. ‘See you, Lizzie.’

‘Good luck,’ she called out to him as he headed off, and, rather than nervous now, Leo was actually smiling.

Lizzie was far too perceptive!

CHAPTER EIGHT

INSTEAD OF WORKING out what she would be wearing for the ball or getting a pedicure and her nails done, Lizzie’s weekend was spent in Brighton.

‘I’m going to a ball next weekend,’ Lizzie told her mum, chatting away as she sorted out her mother’s clothes for the week.

‘Do you hear that, Faye?’ her father, Thomas, asked. ‘Lizzie’s going to a ball in London.’

But Faye wasn’t interested in anything other than the thought that someone had taken her watch.

‘It’s being fixed, Mum,’ Lizzie attempted again, but Faye wouldn’t accept that. Today everyone was a thief, including Lizzie—who she thought was a stranger rifling through her wardrobe in broad daylight.

‘It’s Lizzie,’ Thomas said when Faye angrily confronted her.

‘Mum, I’m just trying to sort out your clothes,’ Lizzie explained patiently.

‘I’m not your mother,’ Faye shouted, and then walked off and Thomas followed her. It was normal that she didn’t recognise her, Lizzie more than knew that, and the anger and aggression was part of her illness too, but it hurt to see her mother so angry and fearful, and to not even be recognised was an agony that couldn’t always be rationalised away.

‘She’s having a cup of tea with the nurses.’ Thomas came back and gave Lizzie a smile. ‘So, you’re going out next week to a ball?’

‘It’s a work function,’ Lizzie said, ‘but it sounds very glamorous.’

‘Are you going with anyone?’

‘My boss.’

‘And does your boss have a name?’

‘Leo,’ Lizzie said. ‘Leo Hunter.’ She saw her dad’s eyebrow rise and Lizzie frowned but then realised that, of course, her dad would have heard of Leo. Even before Faye had taken ill they had lived their lives through magazines and newspapers.

‘Watch yourself, Lizzie.’

‘Leo’s lovely.’

‘Hmmph,’ her dad said. ‘He comes from bad stock. I remember reading about his mother. Above all the rules everyone else lived by, out partying …’

‘It’s a work do.’

‘Even so,’ her dad huffed. ‘I don’t want you getting hurt again. I remember Peter …’

Lizzie bit her tongue. Peter had been her boyfriend nearly ten years ago and, yes, the break-up had hurt but life hurt sometimes whether or not you lived it.

Her father just chose to live his life reading about everyone else.

‘Why don’t you come over to see the Hewitts when Mum’s resting this afternoon?’ Lizzie asked. ‘Just for a coffee.’ The Hewitts were old family friends who ran the bed and breakfast Lizzie stayed at when visiting, but her dad shook his head. ‘What about a walk on the beach, then?’ Lizzie attempted. ‘It would be nice to get some fresh air.’

‘I like to stay close to your mum.’

‘I know but …’

Lizzie gave in. Even a small walk was a major event for her father. It was a long weekend and a depressing one. She loved her parents dearly and the Hewitts were lovely people too, but they were almost as locked in the past as her parents and Lizzie was guilty with relief at how nice it felt to be back in London. As she headed to 200 Harley Street on Monday morning she was certainly looking forward to work, and, even though she was trying hard to deny it, she was also looking forward to seeing Leo.

‘How was your weekend?’ Leo asked her as she took off her scarf and coat.

‘It was fine,’ she answered. ‘How was yours?’

‘I need another one to recover from it.’ He yawned.

‘Any house calls today?’ Lizzie asked.

‘Nope.’

‘You never did tell me how things went the other evening on your house call,’ she fished.

‘I deliberately didn’t.’

‘Please …’ Lizzie whimpered. ‘I have to know where you went.’

‘I’ll tell you if you tell me who did your surgery.’

She poked out her tongue and then stopped because banter was just too easy with Leo and it was starting to look a lot like flirting.

Leo had actually had an unusually quiet weekend. Yes, there had been drinks after work on Friday and he’d been out to a very glamorous dinner on Saturday but, unusually for Leo, he’d returned to his apartment alone and on Sunday he’d found himself racking his brains for a reason, or rather an excuse, to ring Lizzie.