by Lynda Renham
I stare at him totally appalled at the sudden change in his personality.
‘And while we’re at it, make sure your parents keep their fingers away from the silver.’
My hand comes up instinctively and slaps him so hard across the face that he loses his balance. I open the door as he cowers from me.
‘Get the fuck out of my room you no good piece of scum.’
‘Now that sounds like Harriet the washerwoman. Now if I were you I would think through this crazy decision of yours and get dressed for dinner,’ he mumbles, rubbing his cheek. ‘Oh, and Grandmother wants to go clay pigeon shooting tomorrow. She’s keen to see how well you do your second time around. Try not to bugger it up again.’
‘I’d stay clear then if I were you Hamilton, I may well be tempted to aim the gun up your arse, and don’t underestimate my anger,’ I say darkly.
He gives me a mean glance and heads out of the room. The temptation to whack him with a crutch is curtailed only when I see Brice walking towards us. Hamilton nods at him and strides to the stairs. I’m about to close my door when he passes.
‘Lovers’ tiff?’ he enquires with a smile.
‘Oh bugger off,’ I snap and slam the door.
I struggle to control my tears of anger. What the hell am I going to do? I find myself seriously considering shooting Hamilton tomorrow. The little git certainly deserves it. That kind of thing must happen at these posh dos all the time, there is no health and safety malarkey so what the heck. No way are my parents coming here to mix with these lunatics. I debate whether to go to Margarita’s room but I know Hamilton has me by the short and curlies. There is no way Margarita is going to believe me over him. After all, I’m a total stranger, and I do work in a laundrette and I’m not ashamed of it. Bloody men, how did I manage to get tied up with two of the world’s worst?
Chapter Twenty-Five
You could cut the tension at dinner with a knife. Melanie looks more strung than a violin. She always looks edgy but tonight even more so. She spends the first course wringing her hands. Sebastian has great difficulty keeping his eyes off Fiona, who, I have to say looks sensational in a long Monsoon Indian-style dress. Her face glows and her thick chestnut hair hangs in delicious waves behind her ears from which hang large ethnic earrings, giving her an oriental look. She looks stunning, and I can understand Sebastian being mesmerised. Hamilton is spending most of his time giving me piercing looks which I ignore, and Brice gives me an occasional sideways glance. He is sitting beside me and it is making me feel decidedly uncomfortable.
‘How’s the foot?’ he asks. ‘You’re very quiet, is it painful?’
‘The foot is fine thank you. Something else is giving me a pain,’ I say looking pointedly at Hamilton. Margarita sits beside him and looks like a woman in the first flush of youth rather than one at death’s door. She looks better than me. I’d like to know what she’s up to. She meets my eyes and nods.
‘Nice dress Harriet. Black suits you,’ she says. ‘I have a beautiful set of pearls that would complement that dress perfectly,’ she adds clicking her fingers for Emily.
‘Fetch them would you dear?’
‘Yes madam,’ says Emily, giving me a sly wink.
Hamilton looks appalled and turns to his grandmother.
‘Really Grandma, that’s not necessary. Harry wouldn’t want to take family pearls would you Harry? I’ll buy her a nice set for the wedding.’
I stroke my forehead with my middle finger while looking at Hamilton in the manner of up yours you wanker. His mouth tightens.
‘Actually, that would be lovely Margarita, thank you so much. It means a lot to wear something that has been in Ham’s family for years.’
‘Ham?’ questions Sebastian, his eyes widening.
‘It’s my little pet name for Hamilton, isn’t that right sweetheart?’ I say, kicking his shin under the table.
‘Yes, it’s quaint, don’t you think?’ he says through gritted teeth.
‘Makes you sound like a leg of meat,’ says Brice leaning across me for a bread roll.
‘Be careful you don’t kick him with the wrong foot,’ he whispers. ‘You want him to feel the pain.’
I stifle a gasp as his hand with the bread roll accidently strokes my arm.
‘Your father gave me these after your birth,’ she says to Sebastian as she takes the pearls from Emily. ‘They should be around a young woman’s throat, don’t you agree?’
‘Absolutely,’ replies Sebastian with his eyes fixed on Fiona.
I watch fascinated as Gregory steps forward with a silver platter of venison. He places it carefully onto the table and strokes Melanie’s neck as he pulls back. It is almost imperceptible but it definitely happened. Oh my God. She picks up her glass with a trembling hand. Talk about carry on with the aristocrats. How have I managed to miss this stuff?
‘Meat from the stalk, excellent,’ cries Margarita, seemingly oblivious of the tension at the dinner table.
‘By the way Fiona, excellent horse riding today, do you not agree Sebastian?’
‘Outstanding. You look splendid on horseback,’ he says dreamily.
Melanie’s head snaps up. She glances at Fiona curiously before resuming the picking at her bread roll. Jesus Christ, these people are unbelievable. How the other half live or what?
‘Are you joining us for the shoot tomorrow?’ asks Sebastian.
‘Oh yes,’ says Fiona.
She is practically panting. If only it was Sebastian who needed the future wife and Alistair the one in debt. Ignoring the fact that Sebastian is old enough to be her father, but how easily that could have been sorted. I could go back to my nice little life as a laundrette manager and finish my studies, and perhaps just perhaps I could one day follow my dream and do charity work in a third-world country.
‘Will you be able to manage the shoot with that foot?’ Margarita says grimacing.
‘Absolutely,’ I say. ‘I hope to hit something this time.’
I glance casually at Hamilton. Margarita pushes the pearls across the table to me.
‘Wear them at the party on Friday,’ she says casually.
I glare at Hamilton. What the hell? When did the party get to be on Friday?
‘Didn’t he tell you?’ barks Margarita, seeing the surprise on my face.
‘Actually, no he didn’t,’ I say angrily. ‘Ham sweetie, did you forget to mention it?’
‘Oh dear,’ says Brice under his breath.
‘You can zip it too,’ I hiss.
He laughs.
‘I can assure you madam it isn’t unzipped yet,’ he whispers. ‘But just say the word.’
I feel myself blush.
‘Grandmother thought it would be good to have the engagement party on Friday. We always have a ball the last Friday before we leave so …’
‘So you and your grandmother decide to change the date without telling me,’ I say angrily banging my glass onto the table.
‘Well …’ begins Hamilton.
‘Shut up Hamilton unless you have something worth saying, which I doubt you have. Margarita, don’t you think you should have asked, rather than told me?’ I say, meeting her steely unfaltering eyes.
‘I rarely discuss things my dear because I’m always right.’
Fiona shifts in her seat and says softly, ‘Harriet, don’t overreact.’
‘Overreact?’ I snap. ‘You haven’t seen me anywhere near overreact yet.’
‘Harriet darling, we all realise you’re in pain but it isn’t like you to get so upset,’ says Hamilton in that lovey-dovey voice that I’m growing to detest.
I push my plate away.
‘If you’ll excuse me, I really don’t think I can eat anything. Thank you for the pearls Margarita,’ I say, snatching them before Hamilton can grab them. ‘We can discuss Friday’s engagement party sometime tomorrow, and we can then see if you have made the right decision,’ I finish firmly. I don’t give a damn if the old girl is on her last legs. Frankly, I hope I
have her bleeding legs when I get to her age.
‘Yes of course dear,’ interjects Melanie. ‘You go and have a rest. We can all chat over breakfast. Isn’t that right Hamilton?’
Hamilton forces a weak smile but his eyes are cursing me. Fiona grasps my hand as I pass.
‘Do you need me?’ she asks quietly.
‘I’ll be fine.’
‘Let me give you something for the pain,’ adds Brice.
‘Oh really, this is ridiculous,’ moans Margarita. ‘We have decent venison here.’
‘It can be kept hot. I’ll be back. Don’t get your blood pressure up over a piece of venison old girl,’ he smiles. ‘I’ll just give Harriet something to help her feel better and I’ll be back.’
There’s only one thing he can give me to help me feel better, and if he’s that quick maybe it’s not worth it. Oh well, I at least still have my sense of humour. I hobble on my crutches. As I reach the foot of the stairs his hand touches my arm.
‘Let’s go for a hobble outside shall we?’ he says pleasantly. ‘There’s a bench by the rose garden. We can sit there.’
‘Weren’t you ordered to get back to the venison as soon as possible?’
‘Grandma knows I don’t obey her or anyone else’s orders come to that,’ he says, offering his arm.
I exhale and accept his offer feeling that little tingle of pleasure as soon as I touch him. We walk slowly to the bench and he takes one of the crutches before helping me sit down. The sky is clear and the stars twinkle above us. He drops my shawl around my shoulders and lets his hand rest there for a few seconds before taking the pearls from my hand and sliding them sensually around my throat before clipping them at the back.
‘She’s quite right,’ he says softly. ‘They go perfectly with that dress.’
I stroke my neck and look up at the stars. We are silent for a while and I stretch my foot out and study the bruise. I’ve never felt so helpless in my whole life. I feel so angry with this stupid foot and knowing Hamilton has got me over a barrel makes me fume. I really cannot believe how foolish I have been. Trusting Julian was the biggest mistake of my life. What in God’s name made me sign things without reading them? How could I have been so easily deceived? I always thought of myself as a sensible person. How did this ever happen. I’d kick myself but it would hurt twice as much. Fuck it all. If trusting Julian wasn’t bad enough I then went and trusted that bugger Hamilton Lancaster, and now look at the mess I am in. I feel Brice’s eyes on me and sigh heavily.
‘So, you had a girlfriend that couldn’t hack your life in Laos,’ I say, just as something to shift the thought of wanking Hamilton and cocking Julian from my mind.
I feel him nod beside me.
‘She didn’t get off on rickety boats and maggot-infested open wounds, her words not mine. She didn’t like exposing herself to the sun too much either, and considering the sun is always out and always hot, it got a bit awkward.’
‘She sounds just your type,’ I smile.
He nods.
‘She pretended to be but when she came to Laos wearing her Christian Dior swimsuit and Jimmy Choo sandals I felt the first stirrings of doubt.’
I laugh and turn to see him looking at me and my heart flutters at the naked desire that flashes in his eyes.
‘I’d like to go to Laos,’ I say quickly turning away. ‘I always wanted to nurse abroad and help those less privileged than myself.’
Oh God, what am I saying now? Blood suffuses my body and I feel on fire. I so wish I had brought my vibrator. There is a lot to be said for BOBs. Although a battery operated boyfriend I feel would be no substitute for Brice Edmunds. With a fierce determination I push the image of Brice Edmunds in my bed from my mind and attempt to stand up, but my feet seem rooted to the spot.
‘We should get back,’ I stammer, making another fruitless effort to get off the bench.
‘Why?’ he says, raising his eyebrows. ‘Are you afraid of something?’
I shake my head and push my hand onto the bench to lever myself up and find I am leaning on his knee.
‘Maybe this,’ he whispers huskily, leaning towards me. I let out a shuddering breath as his body connects with mine.
‘This thing between us that we’re both trying to ignore?’ he whispers into my ear.
His eyes travel flirtatiously over my body before his lips reach hungrily for mine.
‘Brice we mustn’t, we can’t.’
A deep instinct tells me I have to pull away, but I’m not able. As his body moulds against mine I lose all resistance and meet his tongue with my own. I feel sure I hear all the stars burst above me. My heart pounds in my ears and his lips taste like honey. My breath becomes ragged gasps. God, I have no control when this man touches me. I feel his hand slip down the front of my dress and gently cup my breast, and I fight the urge to call out. I need to think clearly but the scent of him is invading my nostrils and numbing my brain. My breasts ache for his touch and I arch myself towards him. At that moment there is the sound of a door slamming and reality strikes me like a bolt of lightning and I push him away from me roughly.
‘What are we doing? I’m engaged to your cousin and and …’ I say breathlessly.
‘You’re not really with Hamilton. If I believed that for one minute I wouldn’t be sitting here now. I don’t flirt with other people’s fiancées, it really isn’t my style. I believe you have a boyfriend. If I remember correctly his name is Julian, and I think somehow he has got you into this fix. I could be wrong. You could just be a gold-digger and a con woman. But I don’t think I could feel this for someone like that. I believe you are a genuinely nice person and that’s why I wish you would tell me what’s going on. I’m drawn like a magnet to you. I have been since Hugh’s wedding. There is something special happening between us, don’t you feel it?’
‘I can’t,’ I whisper, tears springing to my eyes. Damn and blast Julian and his goddam stupid restaurant.
‘I’m not good enough for you.’
‘That’s rubbish. You’re perfect for me. Just tell me what’s going on.’
His hand clasps mine.
‘You’ll hate me,’ I say pushing myself up onto my trembling legs.
‘Just stop it all now Harry. It can’t be that difficult surely?’
I take a deep breath. Maybe I can tell him the truth.
‘Brice.’
We turn and see Sebastian running towards us.
‘Quick, it’s Mother.’
Christ, she hasn’t gone and croaked it has she? I suppose Hamilton will blame me for this too. I can’t win can I?
Chapter Twenty-Six
‘Caron and I will pop to Debenhams tomorrow and buy something special. Oh I’m that excited Harry.’
‘It’s nothing special,’ I say, still holding out hope that I may get out of all this before Friday arrives. ‘This thing with Hamilton is, well …’
‘Nothing special,’ she shrieks. ‘You’re getting engaged and you say it’s nothing special. Bleeding hell, I’ll have to get your dad a new shirt that’s how bleeding special it is. You and some rich bloke, well that’s special all right.’
‘It’s just families getting together that’s all Mum, don’t get carried away. The thing is …’
‘Carried away? My daughter is only getting engaged to bleeding royalty.’
I sigh. Why won’t she ever let me get a word in?
‘Not quite,’ I correct.
‘Well, as close as buggery.’
The last thing I want to do is put my parents through the ordeal of meeting Hamilton and his parents, and I really cannot bear the thought of putting Hamilton and his parents through the ordeal of meeting my parents. I mean, what the fuck will they have to talk about? Mum no doubt will start helping Cedric, and Caron will want to talk fashion and trust me, Caron’s idea of fashion is whatever is the latest rage down Carnaby Street. I don’t somehow imagine Hamilton, or any of his family, has ever frequented that part of London, but then again knowing Hamilt
on I wouldn’t like to guess where he has frequented.
‘Don’t swear though will you, not when you’re here. Hamilton’s parents hate swearing.’
‘Oh goodness, how are you coping then?’
‘I don’t swear that much,’ I say indignantly.
‘Well, I’m buying a new two piece and I’ll get me hair permed properly at the hairdressers,’ chatters Mum. ‘I thought I’d have that mahogany colour again. You remember you said it suited me?’
Bleeding hell.
‘Yes it did, but maybe a more conservative colour would be better for coming here,’ I say carefully.
Shit, this is awful. Why shouldn’t my mum have her hair mahogany if she wants? Maybe I should wear more of my own clothes. Yes, that’s one way of bringing this to a head. Maybe I’ll drop all this posh talk too.
‘Well, whatever you think best,’ she says hesitantly. ‘I could just be plain brown. Anyway, I’ll get Dad to get the coach tickets; I don’t want your dad driving all that way. He’s bound to get lost. I’ll let you know what time we’ll get there and maybe you can pick us up?’
‘Right,’ I say in a depressed tone.
She lets out a little gasp.
‘Oh Lord, do we have to curtsy to them? I mean you said his father is titled and everything. What does your dad do, I mean he and Gary can’t curtsy now can they? They’ll look right daft ha’p’orths if they do.’
It’s not too late for me to run away. I could sell the pearls couldn’t I? They are no doubt worth a few bob, and then I could bugger off to Brazil. Maybe I can do a Shirley Valentine and meet some lovely foreign bloke. What I’d really like to do is walk in front of the bullets at the shoot today. Preferably Hamilton’s, just so he’ll feel guilty. After assuring Mum that no one has to curtsy I hang up and flop onto the bed. I swallow two of the painkillers Brice had given me. The thought of Brice sends a shiver down my spine and a lovely tingle up my thighs and beyond. It also produces a stab in my stomach. How can I meet someone like him now? How bleeding unfair is that? He thinks I’m perfect for him, me, Harriet bleeding Lawson. He likes me for exactly who I am. Every woman’s dream right? My body aches at the thought of him. To think I came close to telling him everything and if Sebastian hadn’t come out at that moment I would have revealed all. Fortunately Margarita hadn’t snuffed it but had just got a rather tough piece of venison stuck in her throat as if the poor stag was taking his final revenge. Brice had quickly lifted her correctly and it had flown straight out of her mouth and landed in Hamilton’s lap. All very fitting I like to think.