Her Improper Affair

by Shea Mcmaster

  “I’m convinced it was deliberate.”

  Randi came back with a plate of biscuits as Oswald went through the event, detailing his suspicions. Court nodded, his face scowling, while Randi’s lips drew tight. At the end of the telling, she started pouring.

  It was then Courtney came into the room, her long, wet hair combed out, a soft blue robe over hot pink pajamas, and her feet shoved into fuzzy green slippers. The shy smile she gave him reinforced the image of her as being very young. He needed to remember her innocence and treat her as if she were a much younger sister or cousin. No touching.

  “Hey,” she said softly, and her parents twisted from their seat on the sofa to look around at her.

  Randi immediately rose and went to her daughter, wrapping her arms around Courtney’s waist. She may have been shorter than her daughter, but there was no mistaking who the mother was as she comforted Courtney.

  “I’m fine, Mom. Really. Oswald got me out of there, and now that I’ve had a shower I feel one hundred percent.”

  Randi cupped her daughter’s cheek with a tiny hand. “I’m proud of you for how you behaved. You came out far and away the better woman in that attempt to draw you into a cat fight. You kept your head up and didn’t cry or fight back. It was the perfect response.”

  Courtney smiled. “Frankly I was in too much shock. Otherwise I would have slapped both of them. Catherine, whoever she is, and Deirdre.”

  “The tabloids and her father will take care of that for you. No need to drop yourself down to their level.” Randi tugged Courtney over to the sofa and plunked her down next to her father before flanking her on the other side. “And both Dad and Oswald looked over the locket. They think it looks undamaged.”

  The domestic scene was heartrending. Oswald watched as Courtney’s parents practically smothered her between them. Randi lifted the necklace from the tray and handed it to her daughter. The three of them bent over the bit of gold and examined it closely.

  After a few seconds, Court laughed. “There we go suffocating you. Are you really all right?”

  “One ruined dress, a few stains in my hair, pride dented, and locket rescued, but overall, I’m in good shape. It’s almost becoming funny. Or it would if it had happened to someone else.” Courtney slipped the chain over her head, then took the cup her mother handed her and blew on the hot liquid while first Court and then Oswald accepted their cups.

  “Well, you’ll have the last laugh. I’m pretty sure the tabloids already have the full story from multiple witnesses. Wouldn’t be surprised if they came calling to get your side.” Court sipped his tea, then smiled at his wife. “Perfect again, love.”

  Oswald’s heart skipped at little at the pretty blush on Randi’s cheeks, and the coy smile she gave her husband. The two of them again made him want the same thing for himself.

  Needing distance, he quickly drank his tea and refused the sweet. “It’s been a long night, and I’m sure Courtney will want to sleep soon. I’d best be on my way.” He stood and set his cup on the tray. “I thank you for the tea. Courtney, I hope we can have a do-over sometime. In fact, I know of several balls coming up. I’ll let you choose which ones you want to attend, and I’ll make sure no wild wine lands on you.”

  They all chuckled and rose.

  Courtney set her cup down. “Let me get your jacket for you. Or better yet, leave your shirt and jacket, and I’ll make sure they’re returned to you cleaned.”

  “No worries. I’ll take them along with me now. I have a pile for the dry cleaner already. And the shirt is probably beyond redemption.”

  Randi spoke up. “We’ll see about that. I have a few tricks up my sleeve.

  With nothing left to say, Oswald nodded, accepted Court’s handshake, and promised to see them in the office on Monday.

  Chapter 16

  Unfortunately, Birdie thought the next morning, the annoying news about the tabloids was dead-on. Embarrassing pictures of her with wine streaming down her face appeared on more than one website, along with accounts from witnesses. Fortunately, Catherine and Deirdre came off the worst in the comments.

  So far so good for Birdie.

  Not good for Deirdre’s charity.

  Birdie knew that much from the two extravagant flower arrangements and hand written apologies that arrived the next day along with dozens of phone calls to Court. He stood firm in that he’d find another organization to take his check for refugee relief. Birdie penned a reply to both Catherine and Deirdre that the apologies were accepted and left it at that.

  After spying the street filled with paparazzi, they chose to have a quiet day in. Her mother filled it with pictures of gowns for the two dozen or so events Birdie would have to attend before Christmas. And since her parents would be home for the holidays, her mother promised they’d go shopping for more dresses then.

  “Mom, when did we turn into ladies who shop and lunch?” Birdie teased her.

  Mom sighed. “I know. It’s so different from how we used to live, and I don’t do it nearly as much as the other women in the circles we now travel in. I’ve even worn the same dress to more than one event.” With a gasp of mock horror, she held a hand over her heart. “I’m a real disgrace around here.” Giggling, she rolled her eyes. “Your father doesn’t really care one way or the other, but he does insist I usually wear something recognizable as designer couture. Otherwise, he leaves it up to me.”

  Shaking her head, Birdie bent back to the computer with the intent of discovering a designer she liked.

  “I’ll set up an appointment with a stylist,” Mom said. “It will save us time.”

  “Great.” Birdie only wished she felt more enthusiasm.

  The next morning when she and her father left the building for their usual walk to work, Birdie was relieved to see only a couple cameras pointed their direction.

  “Is it crazy like this very often?” she asked.

  Dad shook his head. “There’s usually someone far more interesting stirring up scandal somewhere else. I’ve never even made the front page.” He smiled down at her. “As horrible as it was, you still looked like a lady in those pictures. I’m pretty proud of you, puddin’.”

  Birdie wrapped her hand around his arm, just like a lady being escorted by her knight. “I’m glad Ozzie was at my back. He didn’t give me time to behave badly. Given another minute, I might have chased her down and slapped her around a few times. Ozzie caught her first, then wrapped me in his jacket. He’s the one who called them on their little scheme, then got me out of there. He was in control the entire time when all I wanted to do was slap someone, then sink through the floor.”

  “Oswald has a good head in a crisis.” Dad’s eyes twinkled at her. “I tried to keep your mum away longer, but she was worried and wanted to rush right home.”

  “No reason for you to stay away from your home.”

  “Our home.” The correction was gentle, but firm nonetheless.

  “Right. Our home.” They walked a few more steps in silence. “I guess, with you two taking off, it would be silly for me to look for my own flat.”

  “It would, but I’d also understand. There’s something about having your own place when you’re just starting out. A real declaration of independence. A chance to prove you can stand on your own two feet.”

  “Exactly. But then again, with you two taking off around the world, and leaving your flat empty, it doesn’t make sense for me to spend money on my own place.”

  “Whatever you want. Of course you know your mum will want to help you get your place set up. Bet she did it when you moved into the dorms the first time. And I know she did it when you and Drew moved into the apartment off campus.”

  Birdie nodded. “And with departure imminent, she doesn’t have time to help me find a place and get moved in.”

  “Very true. So, although I understand your desire for your own flat, I’d prefer it if you stayed in ours. At least until Christmas.”

 
Birdie nodded. “It will give me time to look around and be choosy.” And save up her own money to pay for it. Although the folks were generous with the cash, it felt important to set up her own space with her own wages, which were also generous. Surely more than a normal intern would make.

  “Whew.” He pretended to wipe sweat from his brow, then grinned at her. “That takes a load off my mind. I’ll let her know. She hasn’t said anything to you, but I know she’s been worrying about it.”

  Birdie laughed. “Got to love her.”

  “Yes, yes we do.” The dreamy look on his face said it all. Courtland Robinson was as giddy as a school boy in love. For the first time, Birdie considered that was exactly the kind of love she wanted for herself.

  Once she made it to the mailroom, the teasing, and the dark looks, started. Several issues of the tabloids, all showing the same scene from many angles, were scattered about. Even Dennis was reading one when she walked in.

  “Funny, guys.”

  That cracked up most of them.

  “Look what ’appens when you try to move onto their turf,” one girl said. Since she was dressed in all black with several painful looking piercings, Birdie didn’t take her too seriously, just kept her head down, doing her sorting.

  Later when she checked in with Dennis, he said, “You made them look like spiteful bitches, which I guess they are. Good on you, but watch yer back.”

  “I plan to,” Birdie said. “Anything special to add to the first delivery?”

  “Nah. But I notice you didn’t bring any of those cinnamon buns today.” Dennis cocked a wizened hair brow at her.

  “Didn’t feel much like cooking yesterday.” She shrugged and was about to turn away when he stopped her with a hand on her forearm.

  “Stay true to you,” he said. “You’re more a lady than either of them will ever be, title or no.”

  It was the kindest thing he’d ever said to her, and she had to blink back a sudden rush of tears. “Thanks, Mr. Redford. My mom never believed in playing the social games. Guess I don’t, either.”

  “It’s Dennis to you, young lady. Just stay true and you’ll come out smelling of roses rather than wine.”

  “Thanks.” She meant it from the bottom of her heart.

  The sensation blew over quickly, Dennis got his treats, and before she knew it her parents were headed out the door with their luggage, bound for Europe. She had their itinerary posted on the bulletin board in the kitchen, and she moved from the mailroom to the accounting department. Now she was much more firmly under the tutelage of Oswald. He’d introduced her to the department head and outlined the steps she’d take, starting with filing shipping documents.

  Before he left her there, he took her aside. “Dinner tonight? To celebrate having the flat to yourself? Or were you planning on dancing naked from one end to the other?” The way his eyes twinkled belied the blank expression he held with seemingly no trouble.

  “I was planning to cook something decadent. You’re welcome to join me.” There was a giddiness already inside her at the thought of being alone in a high rise flat overlooking the Thames. She’d been growing accustomed to her father’s style of living, something far beyond what she’d grown up with. At times her mother still had a little trouble adjusting to the luxury of a housekeeper and cook, something that came in handy while she long-distance trained and worked with the accounting department she’d left behind in California. Grandpa wasn’t ready to let her cut her ties to his business just yet, so Mom didn’t always have time to cook. And she was always happy to leave housecleaning to someone else, not that Birdie would argue with her about it.

  Oswald nodded. “Red or white wine? Or have you sworn off wine for now?” A hint of laughter lightened his face.

  “Oh bring a good red. Something that will go with steak. I asked the housekeeper to find some filet mignons while doing the shopping. I plan to be most decadent for a few days at least. Then I’m sure it will all settle down into a dull, very quiet routine.”

  “Will do. I love a good piece of beef.” With that, he turned and headed for the elevator and his own office. With Dad on the road, Oswald’s tasks had more than doubled and she doubted she’d see much of him.

  “Seven o’clock,” she called after him.

  Without turning around, he raised a hand in acknowledgement.

  At the clearing of a throat, Birdie turned to smile at Abigail Smith, her new supervisor for the time being. “Ready to get started.”

  “Excellent, Miss Robinson.”

  “I’m happy to go by Courtney.”

  “Very well, let me show you the file room.”

  * * * *

  Oswald straightened his tie before knocking on the door to the Robinson flat. The bottle in his hand was a very pricey bottle of Bordeaux. As a woman raised on California wines, he hoped she appreciated it.

  The door opened and Courtney stood there with a shy smile. “Come on in,” she said, barely loud enough to be heard over the crazy laugh and the opening strains of “Crazy Train.”

  Oswald smiled at the taunt, even as he noticed she’d changed from the plain skirt and blouse she’d worn to work that day. Instead she wore a lemon colored sundress currently covered by an apron. Her feet were bare, her hair in a messy knot high on her head, only a small amount of barely there makeup on her face. Every time he saw her she looked more beautiful. What the hell was he doing here? Why had he asked her about her dinner plans? Why hadn’t she accepted his invite to go out? He ran a hand through his hair as if he could clear his mind. Coming here was a bad idea.

  “The grill is nearly hot enough,” she said stepping back to allow him in. “Dad had one installed on the terrace last summer.”

  Oswald had heard about it multiple times. Had even had some good meals Court had cooked on it. Well, the meat portion. As Randi reminded him, she’d been responsible for the salad, the sides, and the desserts. Hardly a night off from cooking for her. One American tradition that had found its way across the pond.

  “It’s nice enough I figured we’d eat outside,” she said over her shoulder, leading him deeper into the flat. The sliding doors to the terrace stood wide open. He could see the outside table was set.

  “What can I do to help?”

  “Open the wine and bring it out. Might as well lose the jacket and tie while you’re at it,” she said with a smile. “Roll up those sleeves, and we’ll kick back like we’re in California.”

  Oswald chuckled. “Can do.” He set the wine on the island and unknotted his tie.

  Birdie made a stop at the audio center and adjusted the volume down a little. “Just a little rock to get us started on relaxing.”

  “It’s good. I like metal. I like all kinds of rock.”

  Birdie gave him a look of shock, accompanied by the Robinson raised brow. “The man has hidden depths. And here I thought I’d have to introduce you to something beyond baroque.”

  Oswald tugged off his tie, rolled it up, and stuffed it into a pocket before shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the back of a bar stool.

  “I like many kinds of music. Baroque helps me concentrate on work better is all. On my own time I’ve been known to do a little head-banging.”

  “Well then, seems my music mix will be just fine tonight.” She sauntered back to the kitchen and picked up a platter with two bacon wrapped filets and a pair of tongs. “The wineglasses are on the table. If you could just grab that bread basket and follow me…”

  He also picked up the wine opener on the counter.

  Like her nickname, Birdie, she chatted lightly through the cooking of the steaks, then through dinner. He felt himself relaxing in her presence, something that didn’t happen often. Maybe the bottle of wine helped. Maybe it was the conversation. She was all on about London, asking questions about the surrounding area, where to live, where to go on a spare afternoon if one wanted to see something more than the usual tourist spots. She never mentioned clot
hes, or gossip about who was doing what or whom. She asked about the countryside and the various places he’d traveled. Although she kept sending him shy looks, the conversation never faltered.

  Neither did his unruly libido.

  Oh, he’d answered her questions, learned a little more about her—she loved lemon curd and Scottish shortbread—and what she wanted to do at Lynford. She wanted to save up and be able to travel more, getting a feel for the countryside, maybe find her own little cottage to buy. But she also wanted to get out and about London more. The museums, art galleries, a club or two where she could dance. And friends. She wanted to make friends.

  “I know I can’t really look for friends at work, but since I didn’t grow up here, didn’t go to school here, I’ve missed those opportunities.” The little slice of loneliness in her voice just about gutted him. Although he had gone to school, grown up here, he still experienced loneliness on a depth she’d probably never encountered before. But he thrived in loneliness. Courtney was a social creature and needed the whirlwind of many friends to keep her energy up. In fact, he should choose another social event for them to attend. Something other than hitting the club scene.

  “Have you considered joining a club of some sort? Ballroom dancing lessons? Hanging out at a bookstore? Painting or music lessons? You’d meet people there.”

  Birdie wrinkled her nose most adorably. “Something more active. You do martial arts, correct?”

  “Yes.” Surprised, he tilted his head and regarded her with a raised brow. “Are you interested?”

  She sipped the last of the wine in her glass, carefully devoting all her attention to it, her eyes definitely not looking his way. “I’ve considered it. Any recommendations for a beginner?”

  “I know a few senseis who would be good to work with.” Put his name at the top of the list.

  “I don’t want to embarrass myself. Think you could show me a few moves to see if I have any talent for it before committing to do it in front of a room full of strangers?” She gazed out across the river. A breeze blew a strand of long golden hair across her face, and she gently removed it with a graceful hand. He could see through her fragile veil of indifference. The pulse beating at the base of her throat and the slight pinking of the tips of her ears gave her away.