Sommersgate House Page 9

  “The possessive arm thing, wasting no time in dragging you in front of the paparazzi as a declaration of your position and his favour. Trust me, everyone in there…” she gestured with her cigarette to the gallery, “knows who you are and why you’re here and that you are not, upon arrival in this country, being hidden away like a poor relation whose role is now nanny of her Lady Sister-in-Law’s children. No, instead, you’re out here, looking fabulous… and you do look fabulous by the way, that dress is amazing… and drinking champagne. And Douglas’s favour is a sought after commodity. He shines his light on you, not even Monique could dim it. Believe me, there is nothing, not one thing that Douglas does that doesn’t have a purpose. This…” she gestured lavishly to the alley, “is his subtle way of telling his mother, when she returns, and anyone else for that matter, to back, the hell, off. Well done him!” She finished, clapping her hands, rather dangerously in Julia’s opinion, considering the lit cigarette.

  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.

  Chapter Six

  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.

  “We’ll talk tonight,” he said, leaving her to think that he had thought better of what he was about to say… or do. Thankfully, he removed his hand and she exited the car with all haste, practically running into the house (after a brief struggle with the impossibly heavy front doors) and straight to her rooms.

  Tonight they would talk about their “arrangement”.

  This was good, she told herself. They had to get some things settled.

  No, she had to get some things settled. She had to get herself sorted, get some rest, get her thoughts together and get her body under control and find out where the rest of her life was taking her.

  One place she was determined it wasn’t going to take her and that was into some ill-advised fling with the man she was forced to live with for the next however-many years.

  No matter how damned handsome he was.

  Or how beautiful his smile.

  She changed from her lovely outfit into a pair of faded jeans and an equally faded, tight-fitting black t-shirt that said, “Harry’s Chocolate Shop – Home of the Great Indoorsman” in yellow printing which promoted a popular bar at Purdue University where she and Gavin went to school. They were comfortable clothes and reminded her of home.

  She donned them like armour.

  To prepare herself, she gathered her notes and wrote more, reading through them carefully.

  When the kids arrived a half hour after Julia and Douglas, she and Veronika dealt with them, their bags, their homework, their dinner and then put them to bed. Douglas emerged only during bedtime, looking in on Ruby, who had already been in bed for an hour and was sleeping, and taking care of Willie while Julia tucked Lizzie into bed, all the way down her sides, like she’d been doing since the first night she arrived.

  “Are you okay, Auntie Jewel?” Lizzie asked to Julia’s surprise.

  Julia’s first response was to kiss the girl on the cheek and smooth h
er dark hair back, smiling into her sad, worried eyes. She’d underestimated her niece, no doubt in her sensitive state she was sensing Julia’s agitation.

  Julia decided to be honest. Honesty, Patricia always told Julia and Gavin, was the best policy.

  “No, Lizzie-babe, but I will be. Don’t you worry about it though, go to sleep.”

  Julia kissed her niece again and left the room with the unfortunate timing of joining Douglas at the head of the stairs.

  “Is it time for our chat?” she asked with studied politeness as they walked down together.

  “I’ve a call to make,” he responded.

  “That’s okay,” she said airily, as if she had all the time in the world, “I’ll wait.”

  She went directly to her rooms, looked in the mirror and ran her fingers through her hair. She found herself wishing she had a stash of liquor for some liquid courage and then shook the thought off.

  This was a good thing, she told herself, they had years of this ahead of them and they needed some ground rules.

  She sat in the turret, went back over her notes and she waited.

  Then she waited some more.

  She supposed he would come and get her when he was ready but, after thirty minutes, she heard nothing. And with each passing minute, her anger increased.

  This was his house, of course, but did this mean she had to wait for his bidding, like Mrs. K or Veronika? Was this to be her life?

  Not bloody likely.

  Angrily, she grabbed her notes and headed to his study.

  The door was open and she walked straight in without knocking. He was on the phone again, sitting behind his desk and at her arrival he lifted his dark-eyed gaze to her.

  She had to steel herself against the gaze and just how perfectly he fit in the richly-appointed, masculine room. It, too, had an enormous fireplace that took up most of one wall, beside it an ornate cabinet sat, topped with intricately cut, crystal decanters filled with liquor surrounded by sturdy, cut-crystal glasses that were built to be held in a man’s hand. The opposite wall was lined with bookshelves and filled with books, liberally interspersed with (most likely priceless) objects d’art. An enormous, comfortable couch faced the fireplace, covered in a rich, tan suede and flanked by two matching wide-seated armchairs. In the centre of this was a heavily carved, rectangular table, its wood buffed to a dazzling shine. Two more chairs faced his desk and there was an ancient standing globe in the corner beside the floor-to-ceiling windows that faced the garden. The highly-polished wood floors were covered with deep-pile, patterned carpets that screamed money.