Most of the crowd didn’t know Hartley, or may have met him once and passed that off as a friendship with the Earl. But friends of friends in higher places ensured they were kept up to speed with the latest in his personal life.
‘Darling!’ A loud, robust voice rose above the crowd. It was Clarissa, who had gone for her trademark slightly garish choice of outfit – a lime-green, off-the-shoulder, full-length gown in raw silk. Her new svelte figure and slight tan from the Thai retreat combined to make her look like a pretty guest who stood out from the rest for having the confidence to wear something other than the staple flattering black number.
Clarissa kissed Max and Lucy, telling them they’d caused quite a stir when they walked in.
‘Of course,’ she said, ‘all the women are seething with jealousy – you look like two models.’
Blushing, Lucy took two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray. She gave one to Max and made a toast.
‘To a wonderful Hogmanay.’
‘To Hogmanay,’ Clarissa and Max repeated triumphantly.
THE LADY IS NOT FOR TURNING
Bridget was seething. She knew she looked fabulous. That was a given after preparing for the ball for weeks. She was down to her target weight, which was no small feat considering the party season had been in full swing for weeks. She’d stuck to champagne all December, surviving only on a little protein – prawns, fish or chicken – with salad. She had booked in for weekly facials with rich Crème de la Mer treatments and her skin was glowing. Her hair was glossier than ever in a perfect black bob that framed her face.
All that effort and every head had turned to see that little tramp Lucy Summers. What the hell was she doing here anyway? She’d heard a rumour she would be sitting at a table with Clarissa Appleton-Smythe – a name that had cropped up a few times recently. Philippa Bonner had mentioned Clarissa was getting married soon and the wedding was expected to be a rather grand affair. It might do to try to become friends with her at the ball. If Clarissa had any brains she’d invite Bridget to the wedding. She was, after all, Lady Bridget Beames, the highlight of any guest list and a huge attraction for the society magazines, which might carry a piece on the marriage as a result.
When Lucy had made her grand entrance, Bridget had been speaking to a group of friends she’d known for years – brothers Barnaby and Barclay Morrison and their cousin, Courtenay. She had been the centre of attention, accepting graciously their compliments on her black Vera Wang satin gown. She felt divine in the dress that had cost Daddy a small fortune. The neckline was high at the front, skimming her collarbones in a straight line, and low at the back, showing off the muscles she’d worked on with her trainer. It swept the ground with the trace of a train. An emerald choker she’d borrowed from her mother completed a truly regal and breathtaking look, of that she was sure.
Yet the boys had cooed like idiots when Max and Lucy Summers had been announced.
‘Wow, are they sisters?’
‘They’re gorgeous.’ ‘Is the blonde one the one Hartley dated? She’s stunning.’
Morons.
Barnaby looked a little sheepish as he realized what he’d said. Bridget had just been telling them that she and Hartley were an item once more and things were going well.
They had no reason to know the truth, that Hartley had been so angry on the phone. He would come round, of course he would.
Bridget had smiled back at them.
‘Oh dear. Poor Hartley,’ she said, and they looked at her quizzically. ‘I shouldn’t say anything but it’s so unfair,’ she said, with her best pained expression. ‘He was so hoping she wouldn’t turn up. He’s told her over and over again to stop pestering him but she won’t give up.’
Bridget was buoyed by their silence as they seemed to turn over in their heads what she was saying.
‘It’s just so callous,’ she continued, lowering her voice to let them know they were in her inner circle of trust. ‘She tricked him with the photographer that time in Scotland so she could make money and now she’s still after what she can get from him. Someone in his position is so vulnerable to that sort of woman. She’s been in the papers since they split, you know, for sleeping with other famous and rich men.’
Ha! Bridget surveyed her friends’ faces. Not so smitten with her now, were they?
‘Excuse me, gentlemen,’ she announced, preparing to spread this little gem of a story she had made up quite spontaneously. ‘I’ve just spotted a friend I’ve not seen for an age. Save me a dance, darlings, won’t you?’
HARTLEY GOES PUBLIC
Lucy looked across the table at Max and Luke. Somehow it made her feel overwhelmingly proud to see them together. Good people deserved to be with good people and they were two of the best.
Lucy was aware of a few furtive looks over dinner from other tables, but she didn’t mind. As they had walked to their table, Max had told her to walk tall. They knew the truth and that’s all that mattered, she’d told her.
Lucy had glimpsed Bridget during dinner. Amusingly, she had been placed at a table near the back of the huge ballroom, far away from the stage where a jazz band were quietly playing throughout dinner and where Lucy guessed the after-dinner speeches would be made. It struck Lucy as most odd that she wasn’t at the top table with Hartley. Perhaps Bridget had insisted on being placed at a particular table of note with some blue-blooded lord or the like.
And here Lucy was at Clarissa’s table, which was placed respectably close to the top table. As she spotted Hartley her stomach flipped with that gut-wrenching feeling only seeing someone you love, or loved, can bring. Had he seen her? Lucy concentrated on not looking in his direction and instead chatted to Clive – financial markets couldn’t be all dull, could they?
As he speculated on next year’s property prices, Lucy’s mind drifted. She noticed how many of the ideas she’d suggested for the ball had been used. Each table had the name of a Scottish clan and the linen table cloth and the tiny tartan ribbons around the stems of every crystal glass were of that clan’s tartan. Their table was Maxwell, with a bright orangey-red tartan. The top table, bigger than the others to accommodate a few more seats, was Lucy’s favourite: the dark greens and blues of the Black Watch tartan.
Dinner was exactly as she’d suggested. There was a starter of three dainty scoops of ‘haggis, neeps and tatties’ with a brandy sauce, then Aberdeen Angus steak for main followed by the Scottish dessert of Cranachan with oats, raspberries and cream.
Even the band mentioned in the programme was the ceilidh five-piece she had recommended.
The spirit of how she imagined the night would be was there. Lucy put the thought to the back of her mind. How could she read anything into a few ideas? Hartley simply wanted to make it a successful night and had remembered a few of her suggestions. So what?
As coffee and shots of whisky were served, Hartley took to the stage.
God, he was handsome. Lucy remembered the delicious feeling of being in those strong arms – so safe and peaceful. And who could fail to love a man in a kilt, especially one with strong calves like his? Lucy caught Max’s eye and lip-read her sister asking if she was OK. Lucy nodded, hoping her smile masked the sadness that she suddenly felt.
Hartley delivered his speech with supreme confidence. God, that was sexy. The audience laughed heartily at his jokes and looked moved as he talked about the Balmyle Foundation, while images of the young success stories flashed on a large screen behind him.
Lucy was aware he had stopped talking.
‘And finally,’ he said, after a considerable pause, ‘there is something I would like to say. Anyone who knows me will realize I’m rather a private person so this is most out of character. But I’ve thought long and hard about it and there’s something I have to say to someone here, in front of you all.’
Lucy felt the sting of tears in her eyes, the choke of hurt in her throat. He was going to propose to Bridget.
‘Her name is Lucy Summers.’
What? Lucy felt the heat of eyes upon her. Oh my God, was this some kind of public shaming?
The crowd stirred, unsure of the reaction they should offer. A ripple of applause spread from the top table. Was that Robbie from Peat clapping enthusiastically? It was!
Clarissa’s hands were clasped as if in prayer, willing Hartley to continue. Max looked like she was watching a tennis match, gazing from Hartley to Lucy.
Hartley took a deep breath.
‘I am aware that some bad things have been said about Lucy in a very public manner. This is the only way I can think of putting things right – even in some small way – publicly, that is, before you all. I encourage you all to tell others what I tell you here tonight.’
Like a singer making a key change, Hartley’s voice shifted. It was softer, crackling with emotion. ‘The truth of the matter is that none of it was true. I won’t go over what has been said, but I can assure you that dark powers lay behind what you may have heard. For Lucy Summers,’ his voice was louder now, brighter, ‘is the most beautiful person I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. She is beautiful both inside and out. I will be eternally sorry I ever doubted her.’
He was now looking straight at her.
‘Lucy, I was very lucky to have you and very stupid to ever lose you.’
Hartley let the words hang in the air. Max wiped away a stray tear, followed by another. Luke smiled at Lucy before turning to Max and brushing a wet cheek.
‘That’s all, folks. Thank you for supporting something so close to my heart by being here. New Year is just an hour away. I wish you all health and happiness when it comes.’
As Hartley made his way back to his table, the room erupted in applause, with glasses clinking and heartfelt cries of ‘To Hartley’.
Lucy was dumbstruck. Of all the things she had expected him to say, that particular speech wouldn’t have made the Top One Thousand list.
Did this mean… What about Bridget? Did he know she’d been behind it all? Of course, even if he did, he was too kind to say so in front of all these people. Lucy’s mind raced, her heart thumping. Clarissa looked fit to burst with happiness, jumping out of her seat and kissing Lucy on the cheek.
‘I knew it, I just knew it,’ Clarissa gushed. ‘A man doesn’t look at you the way he looked at you and suddenly fall out of love. Lucy, go and speak to him. You must.’
Lucy turned round in her seat to face Clarissa. ‘I promise I will. But look,’ she said, nodding towards Hartley, ‘everyone wants to talk to him. I’ll wait a little.’
Lucy glanced over at Hartley’s table. He was surrounded by guests shaking his hand. But, for a second, he was staring right at her.
TWO’S COMPANY…
Lucy chose her moment to speak to Hartley. She had spotted him walking away from his table towards the restroom. Thankfully, she timed it perfectly, walking towards him as he came back out.
She wasn’t sure if what she was feeling was nerves. The only thing she was certain of was that she felt alive, with Hartley in front of her, getting closer. He was smiling. She had been sure she would feel nervous when she saw him but his speech had changed everything. God, it was good to see him again. And he wanted her too.
‘Hi,’ she said softly.
‘Hello, Lucy.’ Hartley wasn’t sure he could say anything else. She took his breath away. Lucy looked like she didn’t even belong in this world; there was something so incredibly beautiful about her whole being. That creamy skin merged with the satin of her gown, those pink lips, the sexy flush of her cheeks.
Lucy wanted to bottle that image, the way he was looking at her so tenderly, longingly.
But no, his face had clouded suddenly, like he had seen something awful. He was looking over her shoulder. Lucy turned. Bridget.
‘Hartley,’ she said, ignoring Lucy and placing herself between them. Hartley stepped back.
‘I am mortified and humiliated. I’m going home, so I’ll cut to the chase.’
Hartley’s eyes narrowed.
‘No matter what you might have said up there about that… woman,’ Bridget turned slightly to Lucy as she said the word, ‘there’s something you should know.’
Bridget stepped to the side, repositioning herself at right angles to both Lucy and Hartley, who were facing each other. Hartley looked Lucy in the eye. He said nothing but Lucy thought she understood his expression. It was strong. He didn’t want to say anything to Bridget. He would let her speak, but she didn’t matter any more.
‘In fact,’ Bridget said cockily, ‘there’s something you should both know.’
She looked irritated that neither was asking her what this thing she had to tell them was.
‘I’m pregnant.’ The words came out staccato, like machine-gun fire. Rapid, horrible, awful.
Slowly, Hartley looked at Bridget then back at Lucy. It was Lucy he addressed calmly.
‘Lucy, I slept with Bridget once, a few weeks ago.’
‘Yes, you did,’ Bridget said indignantly.
Hartley’s face was emotionless as he turned again to Bridget and talked to her for the first time.
‘Bridget, I suppose there may be a slight chance you are telling the truth, though I very much doubt it.’
Hartley’s voice was even. It seemed as though he had almost expected this. He was ready. Bridget’s posture changed, her bony shoulders dropping slightly. Still, her face was like steel, hard and determined.
‘Oh you do? Maybe I’ve known for months and not told you. ’
‘I can’t quite imagine you keeping that little secret to yourself, Bridget.’ She certainly didn’t look pregnant, Hartley considered as he took in her skinny frame. ‘If you were, I’d be there for the child.’
Hartley looked at Lucy again, his eyes softening. His expression changed the instant he looked back at Bridget.
‘But I’m ninety-nine per cent certain you are not pregnant. If, by some chance, you are, you should know something, Bridget. Even if you were the last woman on earth I could never be with you again, let alone love or respect you.’
Bridget let out a mocking laugh. ‘If I was pregnant you’d have to –’
‘No,’ Hartley cut her off angrily. ‘No, Bridget, I wouldn’t have to do anything. Nothing could make that happen. Now, please, leave us alone.’
Bridget looked at Hartley incredulously, her face crumpling as his words registered. She took Lucy in with a look of unbridled hatred.
Hartley’s eyes were once more on Lucy. He stepped towards her and took her hand, pulling her away.
As they walked off, Bridget felt tears of humiliation sting her eyes. She stood there for a moment, watching them. When she looked around, everyone looked so happy, so bloody happy.
Hartley leaned in to Lucy. He’d forgotten how good she smelled.
‘I’m sorry you had to hear that.’
Lucy could see things clearly, as they really were. She was sure Bridget was not pregnant. She had slept with Hartley, that was all, and that was in the past. Lucy turned to him, his face just an inch away. She could almost feel his warm breath. Her smile told him everything he needed to know.
THE FINAL COUNTDOWN
‘Five… four… three… two… one.’
Max pulled Luke to her. They kissed, lost in each other.
‘Happy New Year!’ came a voice from the stage.
‘Happy New Year,’ Luke whispered in her ear. The people, the colours, tables – it was all a blur. He could see only Max.
‘I love you.’ The words escaped Max’s mouth before she knew it was what she was thinking. She put her hand to her mouth, blushing furiously. Hardly playing it bloody cool, she chided herself.
Luke threw his head back, laughing at her expression. ‘Don’t sweat it, kid. I love you too.’
Max threw her arms round Luke’s neck and he hugged her, lifting her off the ground. When she landed, she looked round. Lucy was at the other side of the table with Hartley.
‘Five… four…’
Lucy heard no more. She felt as though she had melted into Hartley. They were kissing. She wanted him. She had him. Nothing else mattered.
Pulling away, she looked over at Max.
Taking Hartley’s hand, she led him over to her sister and Luke. They hugged each other and kissed.
As Max embraced her sister she said in her ear, ‘I’m bloody terrified.’
Lucy looked into her little sister’s beautiful big brown eyes.
‘Me too.’ She inhaled deeply, smiling. ‘But ready too.’
‘Exactly, Luce. Let’s do it.’
WHAT HAPPENED NEXT
Bridget ran to the restroom in floods of tears. After reapplying her scarlet lipstick and powdering her nose, she bumped into Barnaby Morrison on her way out. He was very drunk and paid her another compliment. Bridget remembered he was the grandson of a famously wealthy shipping magnate, a friend of mother’s. Suddenly, her evening was looking up.
Clarissa invited two new friends to her next Friday-night supper. She looked as proud as punch as Hartley taught her the steps to the Gay Gordons. Later, she politely refused when Lady Bridget suggested they meet up for lunch.
Sheri texted Max to wish her a Happy New Year. She felt on top of the world, having been asked to front the STD campaign for a whole year following initial positive reaction. She had allowed herself a few glasses of bubbly at a friend’s party but stayed off the white stuff. God, it was tempting, but, as her sponsor said, one day at a time.
Marj and Fergal saw in the New Year by stripping all their clothes off and running into the freezing waters of the Tay opposite their home. Hell, you only live once, Fergal told Marj before they took the plunge. He laughed as his wife waded in, screaming, ‘Life begins at fifty-two.’
As they drove to the house of one of James’s MP friends in Kew to see in the New Year, Amy asked her fiancé if he would consider travelling with her for a few months. He told her they were too old to play at being gap-year students, he couldn’t put his political career on hold and they really should crack on with getting married and starting a family. She smiled at him sadly. She knew it was over.
Scandalous Page 33