Promises After Dark (After Dark Book 3)

by Sadie Matthews

  Help! I’m at a work party of Erland’s at the Travellers! I don’t know anyone. Come and have some mulled wine with me and save me if you can . . .

  Excellent. That’s what I’ll do. James will have some advice, I’m sure of it.

  I arrive at the Travellers Club on Pall Mall about twenty minutes later, having put on some lip gloss in the cab. I’m not exactly dressed for a Christmas party but never mind; I’m not out to impress anyone. I make my way up to the library at the Travellers, where the room is already crowded with people. This is an old-fashioned gentlemen’s club and the ratio of men to women is about ten to one, which I suppose also reflects the fact that tailors like Erland are most often men. I spot James almost at once because he’s so tall and also because he’s standing on his own, staring up at the plaster frieze that runs around the wall by the ceiling.

  I go over and stand beside him, also looking up at the classical figures picked out in white against a coral background. ‘Very impressive. Just like the Elgin Marbles but smaller,’ I say and James looks down at me.

  ‘Beth!’ A smile breaks over his face. ‘Hurray, you’re here!’ He drops a kiss on each of my cheeks. ‘What a treat. And yes, that lovely frieze is a copy of the Elgin Marbles. It might be all we have left if the Greeks get their way. How are you, sweetie? Let me get you a drink. Erland’s having a whale of a time flirting with half of Savile Row. We can amuse ourselves.’

  A moment later I’m holding a cup of hot wine heavily scented with cinnamon, cloves and orange, and telling James the latest developments. It’s a relief to get all the happenings in St Petersburg off my chest. He grasps the implications immediately.

  ‘Oh dear me,’ he says solemnly. ‘Poor Mark. This is bad. It’s very bad.’

  ‘I haven’t been able to tell him when he’s so ill. It’s the last thing he needs.’

  James nods gravely. ‘Absolutely. But he will need to know at some point.’

  ‘Will he? I know it sounds desperate but perhaps I could persuade Dubrovski to keep it quiet.’

  ‘Indefinitely?’ James shakes his head. ‘I don’t see how. Unless you’ve got extraordinary powers of persuasion.’ He looks at me with interest, gazing down through the lenses of his little gold-rimmed spectacles. ‘Have you got that kind of hold over Andrei Dubrovski? Does this mean our friend Dominic is history?’

  ‘Of course not,’ I say indignantly. Then, after a moment, I sigh. ‘Oh, James. It’s so complicated.’

  ‘I’ve no doubt it is. You were convinced Dominic was sleeping with the minxy Anna last time I saw you. Has that been cleared up?’

  I nod. ‘She was messing with my head, and Dominic’s head, and trying to come between us. There is one mystery though – I still have no idea how she knew so much about Dominic and me, and all the details of our relationship. Dominic swore he didn’t tell her and I believe him. But I’ve cleared up something else: Anna drugged me that night in the catacombs and it wasn’t Andrei who had sex with me. I’m sure of it.’

  ‘Well, that’s a relief,’ James says with a smile. ‘I’m glad something’s been made clearer – it generally happens the other way around where you’re concerned.’

  ‘Yes,’ I say slowly, ‘but Andrei has made it plain he’s still interested in me. He wants me to forget Dominic and be with him.’

  ‘A lot of girls would jump at the chance,’ James remarks. ‘He’s handsome and extremely rich.’

  ‘I don’t care about that,’ I reply. ‘I love Dominic and that’s all there is to it, you know that.’

  James smiles at me. ‘I do know that. You could no more be with Andrei Dubrovski than with me. You’re a true romantic, aren’t you? Love or nothing.’

  ‘Absolutely. Love or nothing!’ I smile back at him.

  ‘So where is the divine Dominic?’

  ‘He’s working abroad. It’s not going to be easy but I’m sure we’ll work out how we can be together.’

  ‘You’ll find a way,’ James says comfortingly. ‘You two will always gravitate back to each other, I’m sure of that.’

  I sip my mulled wine. It’s not quite as straightforward as I’ve made it sound, but I hope that it soon will be. This time, when Dominic and I are reunited, there will be no way we can be divided.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I sleep so deeply that night that I don’t have a single dream. I wake up to my alarm and it feels as though I fell asleep just moments before. The activities of the last few days are certainly telling on me, that’s for sure.

  Once I’ve showered and dressed, I join Laura in the kitchen for breakfast, which we usually eat standing up and leaning against the counter while we swap news. Laura looks particularly cheerful and bright-eyed as she munches on her granola.

  ‘Hey, Miss Impulse! Good to see you. Are you planning to stay in the country today or do you have a quick jaunt to Florence planned? Whizzing to Vienna for the night, perhaps?’

  I laugh as I pour out my own granola. ‘No, not today. Maybe next week I’ll fancy it, we’ll see.’

  ‘Well, actually, you’re not the only one who can decide to make some travel plans.’ Laura nods excitedly to an envelope propped up against the toaster with my name on it. ‘Open it.’

  I take up the envelope and examine it. That’s Laura’s handwriting on the front. I rip it open and inside I find a Christmas card.

  ‘Oh, that’s lovely, Laura, thanks!’ I say, surprised. We don’t usually give each other cards.

  ‘Open it!’ she insists, impatient.

  I open the card and out drops a piece of paper. I pick it up and unfold it. It’s a printout from a website, the confirmation of two flights to New York, leaving on the coming Friday and returning on the Monday

  ‘It’s the trip we promised ourselves, remember!’ Laura is practically jumping up and down with excitement.

  ‘Of course!’ I stare at the printout. ‘A girls’ trip to New York. How wonderful.’

  ‘I decided to take matters into my own hands yesterday. My boss reminded me that I had to take my final couple of days holiday this year or lose it, so I did some instant searching and found these flights. You’ll be able to get the time off, won’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure it will be no problem.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. So!’ Laura smiles broadly at me. ‘Are you pleased?’

  ‘I’m totally thrilled,’ I say. ‘I can’t wait.’

  I mean it too. It will be brilliant fun to go away with Laura. So why do I feel a tiny bit reluctant to leave London? I put it out of my mind. Who could ask for more than a Christmas trip to New York City?

  Caroline is perfectly happy about my taking time off before Christmas.

  ‘To be honest, Beth, I don’t expect you’ll be doing terribly much before the new year. Mark always said this was a quiet time unless someone decided to buy something truly incredible as a Christmas present. Take this opportunity to have some fun. I expect we’ll all be busy again in January.’

  As far as I can tell, she’s right. Everything in the office has slowed right down. Perhaps people know Mark’s sick, or perhaps the art market is just a bit quiet, but with so little else to do, I’m able to get on top of all the pesky admin. At this rate I may consider going home early for Christmas, once we’re back from our trip. I wonder how long Mark is going to be in hospital and if he will want me here while he’s recuperating. I’ll have to ask Caroline about it and discuss what’s best to do.

  Just then an email flashes into my computer inbox. I see that it’s from Andrei, and a swirl of apprehension turns nastily in my stomach. I knew it was only a matter of time before he called on me again. The last thing he said was that there was a job he wanted me to do, and there was no way he was going to let me out of his life, not after what he said on the plane.

  I know I’ve been pretending to myself that I can handle Andrei Dubrovski and shake him off as easily as Dominic seems to think I can, but the truth is that I’m just as entangled with him as ever – more, because of
Mark.

  I click on the email and open it. It reads:

  Beth

  I need you this evening. Come to Albany at seven o’clock for an important meeting.

  A

  As usual, his tone infuriates me. No pleases or thank yous or any social niceties. Andrei is incapable of basic politeness, it seems. He still assumes I’m at his beck and call whenever he likes.

  The problem is, I am. He’s got me just where he wants me.

  I fire back a response saying I’ll be there. It’s a good job that I haven’t got any other plans.

  There’s something particularly Christmassy about Piccadilly. Maybe it’s the old-fashioned feel to the buildings, the grand old houses that are now shops and galleries. Perhaps it’s the bright arcades with their tempting displays of jewels, silver and leather. It’s probably because of the landmarks like the Ritz, draped in lavish Christmas decorations and sparkling with lights, the Royal Academy and the pale blue frontage of Fortnum and Mason with its Christmas trees and the glittering window displays full of lavish food and drink. Whatever it is, it’s hard to ignore, especially in the frosty winter darkness.

  There is Albany House, set back from the main road with its small private car park in front of it. Thousands of people must walk past it every day, not knowing that behind its classical exterior lie dozens of luxurious apartments where poets, politicians and film stars have lived. This is where Andrei has chosen to make his London home, right in the centre of the glamorous heart of Mayfair, inside the establishment itself. There is privacy behind these walls, which is no doubt why he chose it. Without belonging to this place, no one can wander in. Porters guard the main entrance and a camera is focused on the back door that can only be opened with a security card. No doubt Andrei feels safe and anonymous inside this bastion of privilege.

  The porter recognises me as I enter and says a cheery ‘Evening, ma’am’ as I pass the tiny lodge. Not so long ago I came here every day to catalogue Andrei’s art collection and arrange its display in his Albany set. It feels like another lifetime.

  I go down the Rope Walk to Andrei’s staircase, wondering what he wants me to do. I’m apprehensive: not only does he have power over me, but that he knows it too. He’s not the kind of man to shy away from getting what he wants by whatever means necessary. I just have to hope that I’ve got the inner strength to face him down. If I can get away from him, I’ll have removed the final obstacle to being with Dominic.

  I knock on the front door, banging the great fish-shaped brass knocker. The door is answered at once by Andrei’s bodyguard, who beckons me inside. I can hear the murmur of voices from the drawing room and I check my watch. It’s not seven o’clock yet. Whatever this important meeting is, it seems to have started.

  The bodyguard, as silent as ever, leads me to the drawing room, opens the door and gestures for me to go inside. I step in and see several men sitting on the sofa. Andrei is in an armchair facing them, and he stands up as I come in.

  ‘Ah, Beth. You’re here. Good.’ He looks to the men. ‘Gentlemen, you’ll remember Beth from our visit to the monastery when we first saw the Fra Angelico.’

  I look more closely at the men and realise that I recognise two of them. One is the abbot of the monastery, wearing a suit and looking quite different out of his robes. The other is one of the brothers I remember from that day. I don’t know who the other two are, but one of them is regarding me strangely from dark eyes. I glance over but I don’t recognise him.

  ‘Come in, Beth, and sit down. I want you here because of course this matter concerns Mark and therefore you. Mark, sadly, can’t be here himself, so Beth is his representative.’ Andrei gestures to a chair. I go and sit down, wondering what I’ll be expected to do.

  Andrei speaks again. ‘The first thing to say is that we want all this settled quietly – don’t we, Beth?’

  I nod.

  ‘There’s no point in dragging reputations down, or making allegations of fraud or criminal activity. The abbot here is just as shocked and horrified as I am that the painting has been revealed to be a fake.’

  I glance over at the abbot but he doesn’t seem particularly shocked or horrified. In fact, he looks quite happy as he nods away in agreement.

  ‘And so we’ve decided that we will simply do an exchange. The monastery will return my money, and I will return the painting to them to do with as they will – on the condition that they do not attempt to pass it off as a genuine Fra Angelico.’

  ‘I see.’ I glance around the men again. The man with the dark eyes is still regarding me in that curious way. ‘That sounds satisfactory. I’m glad you’ve come to the agreement so easily.’

  I’m pleased – this is definitely the best solution. If the painting is quietly returned and no fuss made, then perhaps Mark’s reputation will remain unblemished. We might even be able to organise some kind of statement where Mark retracts the authentication that Andrei put out in his name and the Hermitage concurs after the event. I’m feeling quite warm again towards Andrei – he’s worked this out very well for us. He does have the kind side I saw in the orphanage. His heart is a good one. I don’t really understand why I’m here though. This has all been agreed without me so why did he want me at this meeting? Then Andrei looks over at me again.

  ‘Beth, I’d like you to organise the repayment of the funds.’

  ‘Me?’ I’m surprised. I’m an art assistant, not a banker.

  Andrei nods slowly. ‘Yes. Didn’t Mark tell you? He arranges the financing for all my art purchases. He pays through his own accounts and I refund him the money. That’s how I would like it to work in reverse as well. The abbot’s advisers will sort out the details with you. The money will come to Mark and then to my account.’

  ‘I see.’ It seems a rather pointless arrangement to me, but Andrei and Mark must have their reasons. If that’s what is always done, it must be what Mark wants.

  Andrei stands up, smiling rather coolly. ‘Good. I must leave you for a moment. I have a call to make. Beth, perhaps you could give your details to Brother Gregor?’

  As he leaves the room, one of the brothers comes over to me but it isn’t the man with the staring eyes. That one continues to observe me as I discuss the practicalities with Brother Gregor and swap email addresses so that we can facilitate the payment online. As we are completing things, he comes over and hovers near me, obviously waiting for a chance to speak. When Brother Gregor moves away to talk to the abbot, the other man steps forward.

  ‘Miss, I wanted to talk to you. To see if you have any news.’

  ‘News?’ His voice, deep and low, has a strange effect on me. It sounds familiar. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘News of Dominic Stone. He has not been to the monastery for some time.’

  My insides clench at the sound of Dominic’s name. ‘N-n-no,’ I manage to stammer out. ‘He won’t be back. He’s no longer working for Mr Dubrovski.’

  The monk’s face falls. ‘Then that means – Miss Anna . . .’

  ‘Anna?’ I echo, astonished to hear her name spoken by this monk. When James mentioned Anna last night, I wondered what she was doing since leaving Andrei’s employment so suddenly. It still bothers me that I haven’t discovered how she knew that Dominic had begun to practise self-flagellation or how she was in possession of the secrets of our life together, but as long as she keeps well away from Dominic and me, I can live with that.

  ‘Will Miss Anna be back?’ the monk asks urgently.

  I see her beautiful face in front of my mind’s eye: the smooth skin and feline green eyes, the bee-stung lips and glossy dark hair. No wonder this monk is disappointed she hasn’t been there for him to feast his eyes on: Anna’s smouldering sexuality would no doubt cause seismic waves in a house of celibate men.

  ‘I don’t know, I’m afraid. I don’t think so.’ I watch his face set into lines of disappointment and resignation. ‘I’m sorry.’

  He turns to go back to his chair and I have a sudde
n flash of memory. It’s not the face, I’m sure I’ve never seen it before. It’s that voice. I’ve heard it . . . but when? Then it comes to me. I hear him talking to me through the darkness. That’s it! This is the monk who took me to Dominic that night. Is he the one who taught Dominic how to beat himself with knotted ropes to rid himself of his base desires?

  I can hardly ask that here in front of everyone but I’m sure that this is the man who led me through the dark monastery that night and reunited me with Dominic. What was his name? I hear Dominic’s laughing voice in my memory: ‘Did Brother Giovanni freak you out?’ Yes he had, with his hooded face and lantern, like something from a horror film. That monastery was certainly a curious place. It was odd that not only did they have a Fra Angelico to sell to Andrei but his right-hand man and woman, Dominic and Anna, were both staying there too, working on Andrei’s big commodities deal.

  The meeting seems to be over. I wonder if I can leave or whether I ought to wait for Andrei to come back. Just then my phone beeps to announce an incoming text. I take it out of my pocket and open the message.

  Rosa’s master would like to see her tonight.

  I gasp. Dominic! What does he mean? Is he in London? I quickly fire a text back.

  Where?

  The answer arrives in seconds.

  In the boudoir at eight o’clock.

  I check my watch. It’s already half past seven. I can get to the boudoir from here in time as long as I can leave quite soon. Another text comes through to me:

  Where are you?

  Oh God. I don’t want to answer that one. If I say I’m in Albany he’ll know at once that I’m with Andrei, and I don’t want to face that problem quite yet.