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‘Nothing you don’t know. I can’t believe she sent Hugh a packet of condoms at work.’
‘Variety condoms,’ Seb added irrepressibly.
‘Does that make a difference?’
‘It does to Hugh’s secretary. You haven’t met her, but she is an absolute “spinster of this parish” type, probably never seen a condom in her life, let alone a variety pack. I know it’s not funny, but I can’t get rid of the picture of Barbara Shelton opening the parcel. Can you imagine any temp keeping something like that quiet? That’s why I thought of you.’
Amy sighed as she felt the net tighten about her. It didn’t matter how much she resented Seb’s cavalier attitude to her time, he was right. She’d seen enough of the pain of marriage breakdown to last her a lifetime. Her mother had never really recovered from her father’s leaving. The betrayal had scored in deep and left a wound that had festered until the day she’d died. If chaperoning Hugh would prevent her godfather being hurt, there was no way she could refuse.
‘Poor Richard,’ she said, watching the apricot roses softly bobbing at the window. It was so sad how everyone’s lives went wrong. Richard had waited such a long time before deciding to marry, and then he’d gone and fallen for someone like Sonya. For someone whose business acumen was a byword in the City it was a strange anomaly he’d made such a poor choice in his personal life.
‘Feel sorry for Hugh too. I know you don’t like him much, but it’s actually getting quite serious.’
She turned back to look at her brother. ‘It’s not that I don’t like him.’
‘Approve of him, then. He likes his women, but this isn’t in the usual run of things. I know I’m trying to make light of it, but she’d be giving me the creeps. It doesn’t matter what he says to her, she keeps coming on to him.’
‘But—’
‘There isn’t any “buts”. He needs someone to shield him until his PA gets back. It doesn’t seem too much to ask. You know Mum would have forced you out the door if she was still alive.’
‘It’s not fair to use Mum,’ she protested without much conviction, knowing her mother would have been among the first to volunteer the services of her daughter. She sighed and replaced her empty mug on the small table. ‘I suppose I’m just finding it difficult to believe Hugh can’t manage it all himself. I’ve watched him jettison women with a total disregard for their feelings since he turned about eighteen. Probably before that, but I was too young to notice.’
‘Sonya’s got the hide of a rhino. She’s not even deterred by Callie and she’s scary.’
‘The woman on the phone?’
He nodded, pushing off his brogues with his toes and putting his socked feet up on the table. ‘Calantha Rainford-Smythe. Hugh’s latest. Money and connections oozing from every pore. Didn’t you meet her at Christmas?’
It was difficult to forget a woman like Calantha. She was a tall streak of elegant blonde perfection who’d managed to see off any competition that evening by dint of clinging like a limpet. A typical Hugh appendage. ‘I think so,’ she said blandly, walking over to the piano. ‘Jewellery designer, isn’t she?’
His brown eyes crinkled. ‘She likes to think so. In reality other people do the work and she puts her name to it.’
‘What does she say about all this Sonya business?’ she asked, drawing her finger along the dust on the piano lid.
‘You can ask her yourself unless she’s ringing to say she can’t make it. She’s supposed to be coming down.’
‘I didn’t know that,’ Amy said, looking up.
‘She was supposed to be in Brussels, but on balance Callie decided she couldn’t miss Henley Royal Regatta. A great opportunity to see and be seen. Her business depends on it,’ he said, mimicking her flat vowel sounds. ‘All that champagne and old money about the place. Not to mention the risk that Hugh might meet someone else.’
Amy smiled. ‘You don’t like her, do you?’
‘Not my type. I don’t know what she thinks about Sonya, though. Hugh’s never said. You’ll have to ask him.’
‘About what?’ Hugh said, opening the sitting-room door.
‘Callie’s opinion of Sonya,’ Seb said, lifting his feet off the table to let him pass. ‘How did she know you were here?’
‘She’s just arrived at my mother’s,’ he said, sitting back down on the sofa. ‘I’ll finish my tea and head back. I need to pick up my blazer and tie and I think Jasper and Ben are meeting us there as well. I don’t know what time they planned on getting here.’
‘What does she say about Sonya?’
There was a small beat before he answered. ‘Callie doesn’t know about Richard’s health problems or really understand my relationship with him. Her perspective on it is therefore…different,’ he said carefully.
‘Meaning?’
Hugh’s glance flicked across at Seb before he continued blandly, ‘Meaning she thinks I should tell Richard what’s going on. If the marriage is doomed there’s no point prolonging it.’ He picked up his mug and drained the last of the tea.
‘Oh,’ Amy said inanely into the silence. There was no compassion in that. No empathy. Richard had been foolish, but he didn’t deserve to be so publicly humiliated by the people he loved. If—or rather when—the split came it would be so much better for it to have nothing to do with Hugh. ‘Will Sonya and Richard drive over for the regatta?’
‘Richard’s not well enough this year. His angina has caused him a lot of discomfort recently—for all he doesn’t want to admit it.’
‘Are you going to do it, imp?’ Seb asked, smiling at his sister’s expression.
She chewed at her bottom lip. Her brother knew her too well. ‘In theory…I suppose I could. But just for two weeks…and I’m going to charge you a ludicrous amount of money.’
‘Excellent,’ Seb said buoyantly. ‘I knew you’d do it.’
‘In theory. It’s not as simple as you two make it sound. I don’t think my overdraft is going to stretch to a bed and breakfast anywhere.’
‘Who said anything about that? You can stay at my place,’ Hugh said decisively as he stood up.
‘I can’t stay with you!’
‘Of course you can. I’ve got plenty of room.’
Which rather missed the point she was trying to make. ‘And Calantha? What will she think about that?’
Hugh frowned. ‘Why should she think anything? It’s the obvious thing to do. We can settle the final details later.’ He turned to Seb. ‘I do need to head back. Are you walking over to the house later?’
‘Give us an hour. There’s no desperate hurry. I drove the picnic over to the cricket pitch before any decent human being should be awake so we’ve bagged our spot.’
Amy let the conversation carry on without her as she slipped out of the door and up the narrow cottage stairs to her bedroom at the back of the house. Unobserved and unremarked upon, she thought, flopping on the black antique bed covered with the patchwork quilt her mum had finished the summer before she’d died.
Twenty-three today and unemployed—as Hugh had said. It was actually a bit depressing. Except not unemployed any longer. Somehow she’d agreed to become Hugh’s PA and anything more degrading she could scarcely imagine. If he imagined for one moment she was going to make his tea and field telephone calls from would-be girlfriends, he was going to be disappointed.
But protect him from Sonya? Yes, she would do that.
She looked up at the crack in the low ceiling. And she’d have to stay in his home. There was no choice. The sofa bed in Seb’s flat wasn’t very appealing and her bank balance wouldn’t stretch to the cost of commuting.
It would be nice to think Calantha wouldn’t like it. It wasn’t at all flattering for Hugh to be so completely unaware of her as a woman. She obviously hadn’t registered on his antennae as anything other than ‘little Amy, Seb’s kid sister’. Which shouldn’t bother her at all—but did. Obviously.
Jumping off the bed, she lifted the latch on the cupboard door where she kept her clothes and looked despairingly at the meagre contents. The cheque her father had sent for her birthday might have been used to buy something with ‘wow’ factor for the regatta, but it had arrived this morning and there hadn’t been time.
The dress code was so specific: no trousers, no skirts with a split, not even the kind that wrapped around. The tiniest hint of a thigh had been known to cause apoplexy in the Stewards’ Enclosure and would certainly result in being refused entrance. But then what did you expect when the rules had been created in the nineteenth century? All of which left her with no choice. The only dress she possessed that fell below the regulation knee length was a recent charity-shop buy in beige. It was pleasant, it was boring and it was as unremarkable as she was.
And who was she kidding? Hugh just had to sit there in his immaculately cut trousers and fix his deep blue eyes on her and she forgot he was shallow and arrogant with an appalling attitude to women.
Immune to Hugh? Of course she wasn’t! Never had been.
She should be immune to him, should be completely inured to his sexy eyes and throaty laugh—but she wasn’t. But at least she could make a fantastic job of making sure he didn’t suspect it.
Amy threw the dress on the bed and swiped at the fly buzzing about the room before watching it bash itself against the small glass window-pane. That just about covered how she felt about herself. Damn.
CHAPTER TWO
CALANTHA RAINFORD-SMYTHE was everything she remembered.
Amy stood next to her, completely dwarfed and feeling more sparrow-like than even she’d anticipated. There was some small consolation in watching the difficulty Calantha was having in preventing her spiky stiletto heels sinking into the soft grass of the Champagne Lawn. It made her grateful for her own flat pumps.
But there was no consolation to be found in the matter of Calantha’s soft coral dress. It fell to the regulation below-knee length but the back looped so low you knew she couldn’t be wearing a bra and the silk fabric skimmed her bottom so closely it suggested she couldn’t be wearing knickers either.
Amy sipped at her chilled fizzy alcohol and watched Calantha’s possessive hand, beautifully manicured, move to rest gently on Hugh’s cream blazer. She’d seen Hugh with beautiful women so many times over the years, but there was something about this one that really set her teeth on edge. She was so self-assured. So perfect. So…unlike her, she thought with a wave of inadequacy.
‘Hugh and I went to the Maldives this February. We had a simply marvellous time, didn’t we, darling?’ she said with a turn of the head that set her earrings swinging, drawing attention to a long and impossibly graceful neck. ‘We stayed at Kanuhura, which is only about forty minutes by seaplane from Male.’
It was obvious what Hugh saw in her. She was stunning to look at. She probably looked great in a bikini on a beach in the Maldives, but Calantha was still a condescending snob with a sweet, sickly voice that personally made Amy feel nauseous.
‘We stayed in a water villa. Totally fabulous. They’re built on stilts with steps that lead directly into the water,’ she continued, with an expressive wave of her manicured hand.
Amy looked away. Standing around eavesdropping on Calantha’s conversation wasn’t her idea of a great way to spend a birthday. Her eyes scanned the sky and watched ominous grey clouds blow across. They’d be lucky if the rain held off. She pulled her cardigan closer round her shoulders and wondered how Calantha could stand there looking elegant in practically nothing. The wretched woman didn’t even seem to have a goose-pimple anywhere.
Looking back at her, she caught Hugh’s eyes watching her. They twinkled engagingly as though it were a shared moment of amusement. Her mouth instinctively twitched as she felt his boredom radiate across the gap between them.
She allowed herself a small smile and gave half an ear to Calantha’s eulogising about other perfect holiday destinations. Ben appeared to be enthralled and Jasper’s girlfriend was gamely trying to outdo the blonde beauty in gushiness.
Seb touched her gently on the arm. ‘When you’ve finished your drink, shall we go back to the car and set up the picnic? Ben wants to be back here by two to watch some friends row.’
‘Do you need some help with that?’ Hugh asked, cutting across Calantha.
‘If you like,’ Seb agreed. ‘Amy’s not much use lifting out the hamper.’ He took her empty glass out of her hand and passed it to Ben. ‘Find somewhere to leave this. Give us half an hour and follow on. Same pitch as last year.’
Amy allowed herself to be propelled by a firm hand in the small of her back. Anything would be preferable to standing around listening to a boring conversation about places she couldn’t afford to visit and people she’d never met.
Last year she’d quite enjoyed Henley Royal Regatta—but then last year Hugh hadn’t been able to leave London. He’d been busy with a party of friends over from the States and had rung Seb to cancel. She’d quite enjoyed a day people-watching: handsome, athletic men wandering around and foolish ones drinking far too much. Ben, by virtue of now living in the quintessential English town of Henley, had become an associate member of the world-famous Leander Club and had taken them to tea. It had been pleasant.
This year, Hugh held court. When he was home everything always revolved around him and it irritated her. Even as she agreed to fall in with whatever he suggested it bothered her he should lead everyone so effortlessly. As soon as he said he was going to set up the picnic she could see the sparkle leave his girlfriend’s conversation.
‘Are you sure Calantha can spare you?’ she asked pointedly as Hugh joined them.
His eyes gleamed with amusement, evidently aware of the waspish edge to her voice. ‘I’m sure she’ll manage,’ he responded blandly.
‘Did you ask if she wanted to be left with people she scarcely knows?’
‘Do you think I should go back and ask her?’
Amy pulled her cardigan further onto her shoulders. ‘Do what you like. It’s none of my business.’ She looked back towards the group, now rudderless. Calantha’s long blonde hair blew in the breeze and the silk fabric outlined the shape of her legs. Into the silence she couldn’t stop herself asking, ‘How come she doesn’t freeze in that dress? It’s hardly a balmy summer day, is it?’
‘It’s cold, but women do that kind of thing.’
‘But not our Amy,’ Seb cut in, putting his arm around his sister.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’ve dressed for comfort.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ she asked, shaking off his patronising arm.
‘Nothing.’
‘Just that I’m not dressed like Calantha.’
Seb looked surprised. ‘Well, you’re not, are you? I’ve never seen you wear anything like Callie chooses.’
Amy glanced down at her offending simple tunic dress with its demure circular neckline. If it had been made for a petite frame it would have been more flattering, but she was acutely aware how out of proportion it was on her. Certainly it would never be described as glamorous. She felt the sting of female pride behind her brown eyes and lifted her chin defiantly.
How dared Seb do this to her?
Unthinkingly cruel. She looked like what she was—someone who’d been eking out her existence on a student loan. What did Seb expect her to wear? He knew she’d had no financial help from their father at all with her degree. Being so much younger than him, she’d felt the full force of their father’s bankruptcy whereas he’d been cosseted through his degree and launched on the London job market.
‘Shut up, Seb. She looks fine.’
Hugh’s intervention just made her feel worse. She supposed he meant it kindly, but ‘fine’ was scarcely the way she wanted to be thought of. She knew her tunic dress did nothing for her figure. It flattened her breasts to practically nothing and made her legs look too thin.
‘She doesn’t look fine,’ Seb said with a searching look at her. ‘You know, Hugh, it’s not going to work. This thing about Amy going up to London with you. It’s a great idea, but it’s not going to work unless we do something about her clothes. If you think this dress is bad, you should see the other things she wears.’
Both men turned to look at her as they walked and their scrutiny wasn’t flattering. If the floor could have opened up and swallowed her she’d gladly have disappeared. Her embarrassment, humiliation and total mortification were paralysing. It was all the worse for being true. Seb’s words continued to whirl about her with a hateful accuracy.
‘She can’t go into an office dressed like that. I’ve never seen any woman walk around Harpur-Laithwaite dressed like that. And while we’re at it she’d better do something about her hair. She looks about sixteen.’
‘She does look young,’ Hugh agreed, looking thoughtful.
‘You needn’t talk about me as though I’m not here.’
‘If she’s going to be any kind of a match for Sonya, she ought, at least, to look the part,’ Seb continued relentlessly. ‘Chief Executive’s wife and all. She’ll walk straight past her.’
The pain in her chest was becoming uncomfortable as she tried to keep up. She wasn’t part of their conversation, but since she was the subject of it she felt they should show more consideration of her. ‘Can you walk a little slower?’
‘Sorry,’ Hugh said, immediately slackening his pace. ‘We were just saying it’s a pity you don’t look older.’
Amy forced a smile to her face, but the hurt radiated from her. ‘Can’t do much about that.’ She turned to look at Seb. ‘You know perfectly well I don’t have any money. What I do have is plenty of debts.’
He had the grace to look a little ashamed of himself. ‘There’s no need to get defensive, Amy. I’m only saying it like it is.’
‘Are you?’ she said dangerously.
Seb huffed. ‘Well, it’s true. You will need to power-dress for Harpur-Laithwaite. Hugh will have to buy you something to wear.’
‘How kind of him. Do I get to choose my clothes myself or will they just arrive?’
Hugh’s soft laugh only made her feel more irritated. This was personal. This hurt.
Seb laughed back at him and placed a heavy arm around her shoulders. ‘Stop acting like a ruffled pigeon. It isn’t like you to get moody.’
She shook him off. ‘Only if I have extreme provocation. It might have something to do with the fact it’s my birthday today and, please—’ she held up a hand to stop him speaking ‘—don’t even begin to tell me you forgot because I’ve already worked that out for myself.’
His expression was comical and the look of total horror on his face went some way to assuaging the cold, resentful feeling she’d had since breakfast. She heard the small, muttered expletive and saw the look of entreaty he cast at Hugh.
‘Look, Amy, I’m sorry,’ Seb began with a nervous laugh. ‘I’ve got a hell of a memory.’
‘Fine. But I think the least you can do is not annihilate me completely. I’m perfectly aware I’ve nothing to wear. Believe me, it’s very boring dragging on the same pair of jeans each day and feeling grateful for the odd charityshop find.’ There was silence and Amy felt vaguely pleased at herself. ‘Now, let’s just set up this picnic and let the subject drop.’
She was aware of the closet glances passing between the two men, but she decided to ignore them. If they felt uncomfortable—good. She demanded very little of her brother, but his reminding her how unsuitably dressed she was for Henley’s stylish regatta was a cut too much.
It wasn’t as though she’d particularly wanted to go this year. It had been a casual assumption she’d join them and truthfully the alternative was worse. No one wanted to spend a birthday alone. She felt the hot prick of emotion behind her eyes and brushed away such foolish weakness with her hand.
Hell. This was embarrassing. In front of Hugh. She never cried. Certainly not over a lack of dresses or money. Just today she felt unbelievably lonely. One small, insignificant little boat cast adrift on a very big sea.
Hugh quietly passed her his handkerchief. She glanced up at him, surprised. His expression was soft and, for once, he wasn’t smiling. ‘Happy birthday.’
‘It’s not that. Not exactly. I’m just…well, I don’t know. Missing Mum, I suppose.’ It was true. Her birthday, her mum and Henley Regatta were all firmly entwined in her memory. When first Luke and then Seb had rowed here their mum had loved coming to watch them. Been so proud. Amy sniffed into the hanky. On certain days, on her birthday, the pain of being without her was still very raw.
Hugh didn’t say anything. Instead he put his arm around her tense shoulders and pulled her into his hard, lean body. She could smell his distinctive aftershave and feel his comforting warmth. Just being held by him made her feel better. Not small or insignificant any more. Nonsense, of course. He was just being kind.
‘Did anyone remember your birthday?’ Hugh asked softly as she relaxed into him.
She blew her nose in a small, defiant gesture. ‘Of course. I’m not completely unpopular.’ She could feel his fingers inadvertently touching her hair. He didn’t know, didn’t have any idea of how being with him was making her feel.
‘I wasn’t suggesting—’
She rushed on. ‘Some of my friends from uni sent me cards. So did your mother, actually. She always sends a card because it’s the same day as your aunt Mary’s in Brighton.’
She could feel the sympathy emanating from him and she didn’t want that. It was galling to have him feel sorry for her. She lifted her chin a little higher. ‘And Dad and Lynda sent me a cheque for my birthday.’
‘Enough to clear your debts?’
Amy let her laughter bubble up. ‘Hardly. Enough to buy a few centimetres of the silk in your girlfriend’s dress. Richard bought me these,’ she said, pushing back her hair to show the twisted gold knots in her ears. ‘They match the necklace he gave me at Christmas.’
‘They’re beautiful.’ And then, ‘I’m sorry about your birthday. We both are, aren’t we, Seb?’
She shrugged. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘It does. I can’t believe I didn’t remember,’ Seb said with real bemusement.
It was funny to watch him. Suddenly it didn’t seem to matter so much. With a half-laugh, half-sniff, she finally tucked Hugh’s handkerchief into her cardigan pocket. ‘I’d better wash this before I give it back to you.’ She put her hand out to catch Seb’s. ‘You never do remember. Not since Mum died and there’s been no one to remind you. Come on, let’s get this picnic sorted.’
Picnic was scarcely the word to describe what she’d put together. By the time they’d assembled everything onto tables covered with starched linen tablecloths it looked more like something from a film about an Edwardian shooting party than anything twenty-first century.
‘I can’t believe I got you to do this on your birthday,’ Seb remarked as he carried a large Brie to the table. ‘Damn! I forgot the keys.’
‘What?’ she asked, taking it from him.
He didn’t answer her, turning back to Hugh. ‘The folding chairs are in the back of Jasper’s Bristol. I’ll have to walk back and get his keys. Stay and help Amy with the drinks.’
Amy calmly made more space on the table for the cheese. ‘There’s a crate of wine on the passenger seat,’ she said, indicating back to Seb’s MG, ‘and that’s it, really. We’re done. Do you want to walk back and find Calantha?’
‘I’ll stay and talk to you,’ Hugh said, carrying the crate out of the low-slung car and putting it down beneath the shade of the tree. ‘They won’t be long.’
‘No.’
‘Do you want a glass of wine now?’
‘Why not?’ she agreed, looking about her for somewhere to sit. There wasn’t anywhere obvious. The ground was still very damp from the morning rain. She rummaged about in the boot to pull out the plastic sheeting Seb used to protect it. ‘We’ll have to sit on this until Seb gets back with the keys.’
Hugh picked up the corkscrew and carelessly lifted a bottle of white wine from the crate. His movements were so smooth and unconscious it looked as if he opened a bottle every day of his life. He probably did, Amy thought, spreading the sheet out. Not for him would there be little bits of cork floating in the wine.