by Croft, Pippa
‘If my mother were alive, she’d probably have left you by now.’
Jesus. I can’t imagine talking to my father like that and can’t help but try to intervene. ‘Alexander …’
My words draw a fierce scowl from the general and are completely ignored by Alexander, who takes my hand and practically drags me away to the other side of the room.
He stops by a French window and murmurs obscenities under his breath.
‘What the hell was that about?’ I ask.
‘The usual. Me staying here and doing my duty instead of pissing around with my mates. If he only knew –’
‘He’s a soldier too. Are you sure your father doesn’t know exactly what you’re doing and this is his way of trying to protect you?’
He curls his lip and for a split second I’m blasted by a glare of contempt that rivals his father’s. Then it’s gone and he murmurs, ‘Take my advice and keep out of this. I know you mean well, but you can’t possibly understand.’
‘Maybe not, but I’d like to try. I knew there was something wrong when you called for me. I guess you two had a row earlier.’ I may be stinging at his brusqueness but I’m determined to keep my cool.
‘A row? All-out war is more accurate, but I’m done with him.’ He calls over a waiter and swipes a glass of champagne from the tray. ‘Bring me a whisky. A large one.’
Alexander knocks back his fizz in two gulps then spots a group of hunting friends from earlier, of which, to my dismay, Rupert is at the centre.
‘Come on,’ he growls. ‘If I have to be in the same room as my father, I’m at least going to make the evening fucking bearable.’
Rupert greets us with a raised eyebrow and a theatrical glance at his watch. ‘So, Alexander, you made it down here, then?’
Alexander allows himself a small smile. ‘Eventually.’
My face heats up, but at least I get the satisfaction of his fingers brushing the small of my back. Still, this wasn’t how I’d hoped the evening would go: once again, I’m ammunition between Alexander and his family and friends – his father, Valentina, Rupert. A weariness overtakes me though it’s only the start of the evening. Why can’t things between us be simple? Why is there always a battle?
An older couple of about forty butts into our little group and the man seizes Alexander’s hand. ‘Alexander. How the devil are you?’
He greets the man’s wife with a kiss and then she looks at me with an amused twist of her lips. ‘And this must be your new friend?’
‘Aunt Celia, this is Lauren Cusack, Lauren, meet my Aunt Celia.’
She shakes my fingers limply for a second as her husband claims Alexander.
‘Good to meet you,’ I say.
‘Oh gosh, you really are an American!’
‘I’m afraid so.’ Oh shit, I hope that didn’t sound sarcastic. Oh shit, it probably did – probably because I meant it to. ‘Even worse, I’m from Washington.’
Celia raises her eyebrows. ‘How … interesting. We went to the Bahamas in January. There were a lot of Americans there.’
‘You don’t say?’
‘Gosh, yes, hordes. You couldn’t get to the buffet in the hotel for them.’
‘That’d be us. Always first in line for the food.’
Her husband interrupts. ‘Celia, can’t you persuade Alexander to stop playing soldiers and come back to Falconbury? His father needs him.’
I hold my breath as Alexander fixes a rigid smile to his face and mutters something about having to circulate.
The smell of whisky almost overpowers me as Rupert sidles up to me. ‘That’s a nice dress you don’t have on, Lauren.’
‘Thanks. I see you couldn’t get a red coat to fit.’
‘These are drinking pinks, but you couldn’t possibly be expected to know that … Ah, Alexander, your glass is empty and we can’t have that. I do hope Lauren is going to let you off the leash tonight? I must admit, I’m surprised she didn’t find far more appealing things to do back at college.’
This is a moment when I really wish that spontaneous combustion actually existed because it would be wonderful to see Rupert go up in a puff of smoke, but Alexander shakes his head.
‘What the fuck are you on, Rupert?’
‘The same thing you ought to be on. Take the poker out of your arse, mate. You’re supposed to be enjoying yourself.’ Clapping his arm round Alexander’s back, he snaps his finger at a passing waitress. ‘Whisky for Lord Sledmere and make sure it’s a bloody massive one. He needs it.’
Alexander laughs. ‘I already ordered one.’
‘So what? Unless you’re scared of what Lauren thinks. She disapproves of hard liquor, you know.’
‘Actually, Rupert, I disapprove of assholes.’
He winces. ‘Ohhh, I’m cut to the quick.’
Alexander shakes his head. ‘You’re lucky she didn’t kick you in the balls, you arse. Now, tell me where you were for half the day because oddly enough I can’t find anyone who saw you after lunch until we met up back at the house.’
He has his arm round Rupert’s back in a guy kind of way and I can’t help thinking he’s trying to steer him away from baiting me. Within no time, a group of young guys in pinks bears down on us and Alexander is the centre of a bunch of braying testosterone of which I want no part. There’s no way I’m going to hang around the edges like some groupie. I see not one but two waiters approach with whisky tumblers. Nearby, in a room off the side of the ballroom, a small army of catering staff fusses over the buffet that’s due to be served soon, when I can reclaim Alexander. After that, there will be dancing so we’ll be together again.
With a fresh glass of champagne in my hand to steady my nerves, I skirt the room, an observer again, like I was from the window of my bedroom. Normally I enjoy people-watching; it gives me ideas for sketches and some small insight into the minds of real artists. I’ve always believed you have to be an outsider to create great art or literature and it’s good to step out of the herd.
You could also look at it another way. I’m not an observer; I’m an outcast – an interloper into this exclusive, tribal club of which Alexander is king. No amount of money or manners or education could buy you a ticket into it. Unless you’re born and bred among them, you might be tolerated, but you’ll never be truly welcome. Oxford seems a soft, nurturing world in comparison.
I’m not far from the doors of the ballroom now, and I can see a flurry of movement. Is it coincidence that the musicians strike up Handel’s ‘Arrival of the Queen of Sheba’ as Valentina makes her entrance?
Though it hurts me to admit it, she looks incredible. The boned bodice of her scarlet column dress shoves her breasts together like two apples in a basket; and if I thought my dress was low, hers barely covers her nipples. Her hair is a black silk veil shimmering in the light from the chandelier, her skin as smooth and brown as latte.
Waving away a waiter with a flick of her hand, she cuts a swathe through the crowd of guests near the door. It seems as if every head turns in her direction as she glides among the masses to the centre of the room. The women stare with a mix of admiration and envy while the guys of all ages are drooling so much I’m surprised the staff haven’t got floor mops out. Even General Hunt’s eyes are popping as if he’s about to have a heart attack.
‘Good God! I can’t stand the woman, but she knows how to make an entrance, I’ll give her that.’ The distinctly horsey tones come from a woman behind me. I sip my champagne, hoping to calm the nervous fizz in my bones.
‘Yes, if that dress was any lower, you’d be able to see her navel. Why did Alexander split up with her?’ It’s another voice, older and deeper.
‘I heard she demanded he leave the army or it was over between them. General Hunt wanted him to come out too, but you know Alexander. He’ll go out of his way to do anything that annoys his father.’
‘Including an American?’
I freeze, feeling my pulse quicken.
The older woman tsks. ‘That’s na
ughty, Stephanie, but I think you’re right. The general must be apoplectic that his son and heir is shagging one of our former colonists. Did you know she was from Los Angeles or some equally appalling place? I expect she’s an aspiring actress on the make.’
‘I don’t think so, Mummy. He met her at Oxford. She’s from New York and her father’s something to do with politics. I think they have family money too.’
‘What from? Oil or coal or some other unspeakably dreary activity, I expect. My God, that’s hardly any better, is it? Poor Frederick! No wonder he’s even more miserable than usual and Grace must be turning in her grave.’
Stephanie intones dramatically: ‘Are the shades of Falconbury to be thus polluted?’
Mummy’s whinny almost deafens me. ‘That is very wicked of you!’
Stephanie giggles. ‘She is quite pretty, though. I love her dress and I’d love to know where she gets her highlights done.’
Turning, I smile politely at the women, a girl with a nose to rival Calliope’s and a middle-aged matron with a face like an old saddle. Genes can so deal you a rough hand.
‘Enjoying the ball?’
Their faces are pictures of frozen horror. ‘Yes, thank you.’
‘Full of dreadful Americans, though, isn’t it? I can’t think who let them in.’
Stephanie giggles nervously. Perhaps she thinks I have a Smith & Wesson concealed under my gown.
I raise my empty glass to them. ‘And actually, Stephanie, they’re not highlights, they’re natural.’
With my flute trembling in my hand, I walk off towards the windows, trying to maintain a dignified demeanour. That’s not easy when my blood is boiling. These people go beyond any degree of snobbishness I’ve encountered before and that’s saying something. It’s not like me to be outwardly rude, but they damn well deserved it. But it’s a Pyrrhic victory; it only makes me more dispirited that I sank to their level.
A frisson of apprehension prickles my flesh. A few yards away, the flash of scarlet draws my eye. Valentina has wasted no time hunting down Alexander and is holding court among his friends. That’s it. I won’t be sidelined any more – I’m going to fight my corner. But as I grow near, I stop and my heart catapults to my mouth.
While everyone laughs at something she’s said she lays her hand on Alexander’s behind. I expect him to move away, but he stays where he is. She squeezes his butt and he turns to her, yet not to object as I expected, but with an indulgent shake of his head and a smile. Then as she transfers her hand to his arm his fingers rest for a nanosecond on her perfect bottom. It’s the lightest of touches, almost unconscious, then he breaks away to chat to Rupert.
Next to me, the French doors to the terrace are open a little. I down my glass and swipe another one from the nearest waiter. It’s hot in here and I feel a little light-headed.
But not light-headed enough not to recognize what I just saw. Alexander had his hand on her butt, for God’s sake! OK, maybe it was only a brief gesture, the kind of thing that could easily happen between two people who were once lovers – more than that, two people who were once engaged to be married. I’ve only known Alexander eight weeks; Valentina has been part of his life for twenty-five years and that kind of connection can’t be dissolved quickly – if ever. They are always going to share a bond and he is a man and she is completely stunning.
It’s naive of me to expect him to ignore her, but.
My stomach clenches violently as I remember my vow never to be taken for granted or treated with the casual cruelty that Todd did. Fuck them.
My glass abandoned, I slip through the open French doors. Cold air hits my lungs and chills my bare shoulders. The lawns and clipped box hedges are crisp with frost, the tranquil gardens a sharp contrast to the heat and tension inside the ballroom. Catching my breath, I try to calm my racing pulse. Should I tough it out and tackle Alexander later, or simply ignore him touching Valentina? What the fuck is going on here and with him? Hugging my body, I glance to the sky where the moon glows mournfully down at me.
‘Buona sera, Lauren.’
Keeping my eyes on the frozen garden, I answer, ‘Valentina.’
‘You liked the hunt?’ she asks, taking her place by my side.
‘I followed for a while.’ Finally, I meet her eyes and she gives a sharp laugh.
‘Followed? You should have been there with Alexander and I at the top. There is nothing like the thrill of the chase for me.’
‘Then it must be so disappointing for you when you’ve no chance of catching your quarry.’
Her dark eyes flash with anger and her voice is a hissed whisper. ‘How do you know that I haven’t caught it? The chase has only just begun and I never give up until I get what I want.’
‘Good luck with that.’ My tone is as chilly as the night air.
She tosses her hair over her shoulder. ‘I don’t need luck. Alexander is in love with me; he always has been and he always will be.’
My God. Her sheer nerve robs me of a reply.
‘Let’s not beat round a bush. This thing you have with Alexander cannot last. When you go home to your parents next week, he will soon forget all about you.’
‘You really are a very sad and insecure person, Valentina. Have you thought of getting some therapy?’
‘Therapy? I do not understand you. I do not need therapy. I know what I want and what everyone here wants, his father, his family and friends and mine. They want Alexander and I to marry. It’s what is expected of him and, no matter what he tells you, Alexander will do his duty.’
I shake my head, because I genuinely believe she’s pitiable, but my bravado is crumbling. ‘He also knows his own mind and he won’t be manipulated. By you, his father or anyone. The more you try to hound and pressure him, the more he’ll follow his own course.’
She pouts. ‘Poor little Lauren. You really have no idea of what keeps a man like Alexander happy, do you?’
‘What do you mean, a man like Alexander?’
‘I mean that he may want to fuck you all the time now, but he’ll soon grow tired of what’s on offer from his tame little American. He needs more than that. He likes a challenge and the thrill of a battle too. Did he pursue you at the start? Call you? Text you? Batter down your resistance until you gave in and opened your legs for him?’
‘Jesus. You really are disgusting.’
‘I think you mean “exciting”. That’s what Alexander loves: he lives only for competing and winning. You saw him at the hunt today; nothing else mattered but getting to his goal before anyone else. Nothing else keeps him happy. That’s why he loves the army and all the dangerous sports, because he wants to feel exhilarated and alive. Since his mother died, Alexander will not let anyone near this part of him.’ Her fingertips press on the spot where most people have a heart. ‘Except me; because I know how to keep him chasing and wanting me. He needs me, and he will always come back to me.’
Even while I know that she wants to wound me, her bitchy words stick like barbs in my heart because I have a horrible feeling that in some ways she’s right about Alexander’s need to win at all costs. There’s still no way I’m giving her a single inch.
‘If he was really anything like you say, he’d be a monster and you’d be welcome to him, but you’re wrong,’ I say.
She snorts. ‘He did pursue you, didn’t he, like a hound after a fox? Rupert told me you got the full Alexander onslaught.’
I recoil like I would from a cockroach as she lifts my necklace. ‘Did he give you this?’
‘It’s none of your business.’
She lets it drop on to my chest and nods in satisfaction. ‘I guessed he did. I have something like it. Not Cartier, that is not my taste. Bulgari is what he had sent to me. He makes it his business to know what his women like.’
‘Women? So you’re not the only heinous bitch he’s dumped then?’ As I lash back my reply, I can imagine my mother’s gasp of astonishment – and the cheering from my sorority sisters.
She
arches a slim eyebrow. ‘Oddio! Lauren has claws after all.’
‘Believe me, you ain’t seen nothing yet.’ Inside, I feel physically sick. I’m determined to give as good as I get, but I hate being dragged down to Valentina’s level, which is somewhere south of Hades.
‘Lauren?’
Alexander is silhouetted against the French doors and my heart skips a beat. I’m so relieved to see him, but at the same time reeling from Valentina’s comments. She greets him with a dazzling smile.
‘Alexander, tesoro! Lauren and I were wondering where you had got to.’
He steps between us, his hand at my elbow. ‘Lauren, I’ve been looking for you everywhere.’
‘Everywhere? Really?’ I can’t keep the edge from my voice.
‘Yes. The food’s being served. Valentina?’
She pulls a face. ‘All that fat and carbohydrate. Urghh.’
‘I would have thought the hunt would have given you an appetite,’ I cut in.
‘Not for English food.’
‘Let’s go in. Valentina, are you coming?’ he asks impatiently.
She blows him a kiss. ‘For you, amore, always.’
The buffet is a Valentina-free zone; she spends the time flirting with General Hunt while we sit down at a table with some of Alexander’s friends. I’ve simmered down a little, but my own appetite has deserted me. Alexander has moved on to more champagne and he isn’t drunk, exactly, but he’s definitely louder than I’ve ever seen him before. I’ve tried to cut him some slack. His father is determined to do battle with him and almost everyone here must remember the days of Lady Hunt, so it’s hardly surprising the younger ones still regard Valentina and Alexander as an item.
Her comments have also shown me how desperate she is; and how threatened she must feel. I should take some comfort from that fact, but I’m determined not to get into a catfight over Alexander, no matter how much she provokes me.
Alexander dances with me a couple of times, but now he’s laughing with his friends again. That’s fine; we’re not joined at the hip and I don’t think it will do any harm to show him and Valentina that I’m not some clingy ingénue who needs to hang on his every word. So when Angus invites me for a reel I don’t say no. Two dances later, I’m dizzy and exhilarated from being whirled around the floor. I love dancing, and the endorphins are pulsing through me as the music finally stops. Angus and I stroll back to our drinks, laughing and chatting.