by Croft, Pippa
Alexander checks his watch. ‘We’ll be late. Are you ready?’
He glances up at me, finally noticing me since he rushed in here. He smiles at me, possibly for the first time since we left Oxford. ‘You look absolutely beautiful.’
‘This will do, then?’ I touch my dress. ‘I don’t want to let you down.’
‘You could never do that.’ He holds out his hand. ‘But I’m afraid it’s time to face the enemy.’
I manage a laugh in reply, but get the impression he’s not joking.
‘Alexander, what do I call your father?’ I whisper as we hurry downstairs. I found out that a marquess is the second most senior rank in the peerage: below a duke but above an earl. I heard Robert refer to him as Lord Falconbury but that seems incredibly formal if we’re eating together.
‘ “Awkward bastard” should do nicely.’
I grab his elbow, stopping him sharply. ‘I’m serious. Help me out here.’
He curls his lip. ‘His name is Frederick but most people call him “General Hunt”. The staff will call him “sir”. You don’t have to do that.’
‘Oh, really?’ I say sarcastically. ‘So I don’t need to call you, “my lord”?’
He takes my hand firmly in his. ‘That won’t be necessary during dinner. Later perhaps …’ The look he gives me scorches my skin and diffuses the tension a little before he sighs and reverts to full-on gloom. ‘With a bit of luck, you can avoid my father as much as possible. I asked Robert to sit us at the other end of the table from him at dinner. Shall we get it over with?’
My stomach flutters as we walk across the hall and through one of the doors at the opposite side from where there’s a low buzz of conversation and the odd clink of glasses. As we walk in, Robert is pouring drinks, wearing a butler’s jacket and striped trousers.
There are only two people here, one of whom I recognize though I’ve never met him. General Hunt is an older, greyer, stockier version of Alexander. Imposing though he is, he’s eclipsed by the woman chatting to him as if she’s known him for ever. No one could fail to miss her, because she is probably the most stunningly beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life.
Chapter Eighteen
Alexander’s expression switches from grim to thunderous and back again to something I can only describe as frozen.
‘Alexander, amore!’
The girl sashays across the room to us in strappy heels so high she must need oxygen. Ignoring me completely, she throws her arms round his neck and kisses him on the lips. His hands move to her waist as if to fend her off, but she entwines her arms round him then lets out a dramatic gasp.
‘Tesoro, you look so tired! What have you been doing while I’ve been away? Look at these dark circles …’ She runs a scarlet nail down his chin. ‘And you are so pale under the sun tan.’
My stomach knots. Tesoro? While I’ve been away?
‘There’s absolutely nothing wrong with me, Valentina.’ He unwinds her arms from his neck and stands back. She pouts.
‘Alexander, I know you are being brave. Your father says you’ve been away a lot and he worries about you so much.’
‘Then he shouldn’t.’
‘I worry about you too, tesoro.’ Her long, slim fingers rest on his sleeve and she stares into his eyes.
I may as well not exist as General Hunt looks on, a broad smile on his lips. Valentina clearly by-passed the smart part of the dress code and has gone straight for no-holds-barred runway glamour. Her skin-tight black jersey and leather dress has to be couture. The long sleeves and high neckline only draw attention to the hemline, which ends mid-thigh, exposing her endless tanned legs.
She flicks her jet-black hair over her shoulder and captures Alexander’s hand in hers again. ‘I am being impolite. You have a guest with you. Aren’t you going to introduce us?’
‘If I ever get the chance,’ says Alexander crisply. ‘Lauren Cusack, this is Valentina.’
‘Valentina di Cavinato. So happy to meet you.’ She swoops down on me, brushing one cheek then the other with a kiss. Her perfume fills my nose; exotic, sophisticated and heady. ‘Come and meet Alexander’s father. He’s told me how much he’s longing to meet Alexander’s new girlfriend.’
Valentina’s entrance is as showy as a firework display and I’m reeling from the spectacle as she threads her arm through mine and escorts me to General Hunt. Alexander follows; I can’t see his face, but I can sense the indignation and discomfort bristling from every pore.
As we reach General Hunt, Alexander steps in and grabs my hand. ‘Dad, this is Lauren Cusack, Lauren, my father, General Hunt.’
General Hunt holds out his hand. ‘Lauren. Delighted to meet you.’
He says my name quickly like it might explode in his mouth, and drops my palm like a hot potato. I have to say, I never saw a man less delighted to meet me in my life.
Valentina bats Alexander’s arm playfully. ‘So this is your new American girlfriend? Your father has mentioned her to me. Yes, I cannot wait to hear all about you too, Lauren. How did you two meet?’
‘At Oxford,’ says Alexander in a clipped tone.
His brusqueness rolls off her. ‘Are you an undergraduate? I hope you don’t mind I say it, but you look very young.’
I do mind she say it, but I keep my cool and smile politely. ‘I’m twenty-one, actually, and I’m doing a master’s in art history.’
She narrows her eyes. ‘How interesting! I own a gallery in Positano and it amuses me to acquire new pieces when I visit my parents’ villa. I expect you will enjoy studying the paintings at Falconbury while Alexander and I are out hunting on Saturday. Unless you ride to hounds?’
‘No, I don’t, but I’m coming to watch the hunt.’ You try stopping me, I think.
‘You will love it, but I hear it is not the same since the ban, is it, Alexander?’
Alexander opens his mouth to speak, but his father bulldozes in. ‘Bloody interfering politicians. These people have no idea of what we do in the country.’
Valentina sneers. ‘I agree, Frederick. They should not poke their dirty noses into our business.’
‘Surely you can still get the thrill of the hunt and the social side of it by following a trail?’ I ask.
Valentina laughs. ‘It’s not the same as chasing the live animal, as you would know if you’d been born and bred to Falconbury ways.’
I notice Alexander has sloped off to the drinks table, where he’s pouring himself a large whisky.
Valentina rolls her eyes. ‘All this talk of cruelty is ridiculous, and cooked up by people from big cities who have no idea what they’re talking about.’
‘Really? I thought the ban had huge popular support. It was reported in the US.’
General Hunt manages what I take to be a ‘pshaw’ before declaring, ‘Sentimental nonsense. Foxes have to be kept under control.’
I’m stung into a response. ‘Aren’t there other ways of doing that?’
General Hunt snorts. ‘Rubbish.’
‘There is some debate about it,’ Alexander cuts in, returning with an Aperol spritz for Valentina and a glass of champagne for me. It’s his attempt, I think, to save me from a verbal roasting by the general, but I won’t back down.
The general goes on: ‘There is no other way. Foxes have been hunted in Falconbury country for three hundred years and, if I had my way, they still would be.’
‘But you can’t, of course, since they passed the Hunting Act, because that would be illegal.’ I try to keep the smile off my face.
Valentina sneers. ‘There are plenty of ways of getting around this ridiculous ban and if some silly fox gets in the way you cannot blame the hounds for “accidentally” picking up his scent instead of the trail.’ She brackets her nails round the ‘accidentally’.
‘That’s not likely to happen tomorrow, though, is it, Valentina?’ Alexander says, glaring at her before taking a sip of his whisky.
She shrugs. ‘As you know all too well, tesoro, anything can happe
n in the heat of the chase. Hunting is unpredictable and dangerous.’
‘Do you mean you might fall off?’ I ask innocently.
Her eyes are incredulous. ‘Me? Fall off? I was born in the saddle!’
‘That must have been tricky for your mother.’
Alexander struggles to hide a smile, but Valentina’s eyes are feline as she glares at me. ‘I am an expert horsewoman. I have never taken a fall, no matter how hard the ride.’
‘And you always pick up the scent?’ I add wickedly. ‘Having a nose for the chase, that is?’
Alexander gulps down his whisky as Valentina simmers like a boiling kettle. ‘I have been hunting since I was three years old. There is no one out in the field with more experience, not even Alexander!’
The general cuts in. ‘We had the grooms take him out on the lead rein on his fourth birthday.’
Alexander answers lazily, ‘You know, I really can’t remember when it was.’
‘Of course you damn well can. You fell off twice and screamed the bloody place down.’
Valentina rests her slim fingers on the sleeve of Alexander’s jacket. ‘Poor tesoro! You told me your mother didn’t want you to hunt so young.’
‘She didn’t, not that anyone took any notice of her.’ Alexander’s comment is obviously directed at General Hunt and I hold my breath as he and his father exchange glances of undisguised enmity at the mention of Lady Hunt’s name. I fully expect his father to lash back a reply, but instead he takes a gulp of his whisky and mutters, ‘He was perfectly safe, and it hasn’t done him any harm at all.’
Valentina strokes Alexander’s arm again. ‘Of course no harm was done. Look at him now. Alexander adores hunting and is always at the top of the pack. He never misses the Falconbury Hunt, although it is such a pity we are no longer allowed to chase foxes, is it, tesoro?’
Alexander smiles and downs the rest of his whisky before replying. ‘I can’t say that I cared much either way beforehand, but now it’s in place I don’t really see that it makes any difference to my enjoyment of the day.’ His reply is aimed squarely at his father, whose face turns almost puce with fury.
Valentina claps her hand to her mouth in mock shock. ‘How can you say that? You don’t mean it. You must want the ban repealed. You must think that a law like that, cooked up by … by –’
‘Peasants?’ I murmur.
Valentina’s tone is like a scrape on a violin: ‘– by tin-pot politicians and ignorant little people goes against everything that Falconbury stands for! Alexander, you must be furious.’
Alexander shrugs. ‘As long as I can still ride out, I really don’t give a flying fuck if I have to chase after a rag on a stick and if other people want to have a tantrum about it that’s their problem. These days I tend to have slightly more pressing matters to consider, like am I and, more importantly, my men, going to get shot to pieces or blown to fuck.’
General Hunt slams down his glass on the table. ‘This is not the barrack room and I will not have that kind of language in my house, Alexander. Is that clear?’
‘Perfectly,’ says Alexander, his voice laden with contempt. ‘Excuse me.’
Blood sports might have been outlawed here, but I still feel like a spectator at one. The animosity between Alexander and his father is rabid. Valentina’s hostility and snobbery I can handle, but it’s not so easy to ignore the fact that she’s obviously been incredibly close to Alexander and wants me to know it.
Alexander stalks off towards the door into the hall, past Robert. I hear Robert whisper to General Hunt, who sighs but walks out after Alexander, leaving me alone with Valentina, who sits down on the sofa, her elegant legs posed to one side.
She lets out a long sigh. ‘It is such a shame. Alexander is under such terrible pressure in the army or he would not have insulted the hunt and his father. So, will you be joining us in the field on Saturday?’ she asks as I perch on the end of the sofa.
‘I haven’t decided yet.’ It’s true. I can’t decide whether I can stand spending my day trailing after Alexander’s hunting friends if they’re all like Valentina. However, the alternative is to leave him to her and I don’t want to do that.
‘Some people, true enthusiasts, love to follow, but those who are ignorant of our ways can find it boring.’
I flash her my sweetest smile. ‘Don’t worry, I know exactly what’s going on here.’
She arches an eyebrow. ‘Well, if you decide you can’t stand the pace, perhaps you’d be better off taking Alexander’s precious dog for a walk or going shopping while we are out together, although the shops here are so parochial and dowdy compared to Roma and Milano. I flew back to our apartment in Roma especially to buy my autumn wardrobe. Have you been to Italy?’
‘I’ve been to Milan with my father when he made a trade visit to Italy.’
She pats her mouth with her hand as if stifling a yawn. ‘Oh yes, I remember now. Frederick mentioned to me that your father was a liberal politician.’
‘He’s not a liberal, he’s a Democrat.’
She shrugs. ‘It is all the same to me. Politics bores me.’
‘Really? I can’t think of anything more exciting than to be in a position to change the world and make ordinary people’s lives better.’
She curls her lip at me. ‘Ordinary people bore me too.’
Alexander enters, followed by General Hunt. I don’t know if they’ve been arguing but the general is very red-faced and Alexander looks like a pan about to boil over.
‘So you’re an old friend of Alexander’s, then?’ I ask Valentina.
‘Santo cielo! Friends? Hasn’t Alexander told you? We were engaged.’
My stomach flips over and over like someone pushed me down a hill in a zorbing ball and my words tumble out before I can stop them. ‘You were his fiancée?’
‘Of course. We were together for two years before we broke up this summer. It was in July before he went up to Oxford. He was under incredible pressure at work or I don’t think it would ever have happened.’ Her dark-brown eyes glint. ‘I cannot believe you did not know about me.’
I knew Alexander had broken up with his ex, but I’d had no idea they were actually engaged. Finding out from Valentina herself is a bit of a shock, to say the least.
‘I, uh … no, he hasn’t mentioned you, actually.’
‘Really? Perhaps he did not want to worry you,’ she sneers.
I sip my champagne. ‘Why would I be worried? I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you, but I knew he was in a long-term relationship before he met me.’
She shrugs. ‘You know, I think Alexander has struggled horribly to get over our break-up …’
She leaves her remark hanging presumably so I can ask her about the split.
‘… and his father was heart-broken.’
‘I expect he couldn’t bear to see his son hurt,’ I say icily.
‘Perhaps. Frederick worries so much about Alexander; he is a brave and exceptional man, but Frederick wants him to give up the military and take his rightful place in society.’
‘And what is his rightful place?’ I ask. ‘In your opinion?’
‘Here of course and I do agree with Frederick. Alexander is the heir to Falconbury and, as you can see, the estate is large. A son’s duty is to take over the burden and start preparing to be Lord Falconbury with all the social responsibilities that go with it, not racing off round the world playing games with his army friends.’ She hisses in contempt. ‘Any woman who truly loves him would recognize that and encourage him to live up to the role he was born for.’
‘I’ve only been seeing him for a couple of months; I’m not quite ready to direct his life choices.’
Her beautifully arched brows meet in confusion, then she tosses back her hair and ploughs on. ‘You could not be expected to understand this because you are not from the nobility. My father was the Conte di Cavinato and Alexander’s mother was my godmother, so you see I have a very special link to the family.’
‘I don’t like him going away either, but anyone can see that it would kill Alexander to be forced to leave the army.’
‘It will kill him if he stays. He’s already been shot once, even though it was only a flesh wound …’ She crosses herself and even I suppress a shudder at her revelation. ‘You must have seen the result.’ She reaches over her shoulder and touches her back where Alexander has his scar. ‘How could you miss it? You must have seen it when you are fucking him.’
Oh my God, did she really just say that? I find it impossible to formulate a coherent reply and I’m not sure what’s shocked me most, the news that Alexander was wounded or the unbelievable reference to our sex lives. ‘I wasn’t sure it was a bullet wound,’ I mumble.
She nods in satisfaction. ‘Oh yes, he got it dragging one of his men from a bombed-out house, but he only talks about it to those closest to him. Alexander is a very private man.’
Maybe he heard his name spoken because Alexander is now watching us intently. He carefully replaces his whisky tumbler on the mantelpiece.
‘In that case, I’m sure he’d hate us discussing him now.’ I put down my glass on the marble table and get up as a bell rings in the hall. ‘Is that the dinner bell?’
As we walk into the dining room, Valentina leads the way on General Hunt’s arm, with me following with Alexander. In front of us, her voluptuous bottom sways from side to side, accentuated by her spray-on dress that also emphasises her tiny waist. Alexander takes my hand in his and I feel the lightest pressure on my fingers as if he’s reassuring me, but I can’t bring myself to squeeze back. I’m still stunned by the revelation of their former engagement. Even allowing for her blatant bitchiness, she wouldn’t dare to lie about that, knowing that I only have to ask him about it. Which, I guess, is exactly what she wants.
Robert and some other guy pull back our chairs. Valentina sits opposite me, with General Hunt at the top of the table and Alexander at the far end. That’s four people at a table made for twelve at least, meaning that any conversation has to be conducted at full volume.