Her Improper Affair

by Shea Mcmaster

  “Where can’t I protect you?”

  “The ladies’ loo for one. Going about my day to day duties for another. You can’t run the company and stick to my side like glue.”

  “Got me there. Guess we’ll just have to skip the rest of your internship and move you right up the exec suite.” A solution and a problem in equal measure. “Who’s been mean to you at Lynford?”

  Since she’d just taken a bite of her fish, she waved the rest of the piece at him to wait a moment. Finally she swallowed, then delayed answering by sipping her ale. Finally, seemingly having her words sorted out, she spoke. “No one’s been mean, specifically. I can’t give you any one example. I’m probably just being hyper sensitive what with my privileged position and all. I mean, I’ve only been in accounting four days, filing invoices no less, so no one is accustomed to me being there. We’re still dancing around the issue, ya know?”

  “No, I don’t know. Explain it to me.”

  The huff of exasperation was adorable with her rolling eyes. “I can’t explain it. I mean, well, tonight on the elevator? I know you were listening. Everyone was, but that’s the first time Mrs. Smith took the time to really talk to me. You dropped me off Monday morning, she sent me straight into the filing room with a junior clerk who was polite enough, but also clearly didn’t want to show me how the filing is set up. Like she thought I should already know how it’s done just because my last name is Robinson.”

  “Your father explained this, didn’t he?”

  “Of course he did. But how long has it been since he started with the company? More than twenty years? He’d be clueless if he stepped into that file room. You too, most likely. How long has it been since you set foot in there?”

  “I can’t imagine it’s changed much in six years, but I do get your point. So nothing specifically evil has been directed at you, and yet neither has anything specifically friendly been offered.”

  “Right. Is that just the way it is? Or is it because of my family affiliation? I just don’t know.”

  “Bring in a few pounds of Belgian chocolate and neither will matter. You’ll suddenly be the rock star of the department.”

  Birdie gave him her brightest smile. “Good point. Until the chocolates arrive, maybe I can think of something else. Like cinnamon rolls.”

  Oswald narrowed his gaze. “Better call me to help you carry them in. Tomorrow?”

  A spear of chip was pointed at him. “You just want one.”

  “One dozen. You caught me.” He caught the chip she tossed at him and ate it.

  Chapter 19

  When Birdie told Oswald the news their date had been hijacked by Gran, he hadn’t reacted noticeably. Instead he’d gracefully accepted the invite to ride with Gran and met them on the street when Gran’s car arrived to pick up Birdie Saturday morning.

  Gran was polite, but not overly friendly with Oswald. He was exceedingly polite and proper with Gran. Birdie wanted to poke them both and figure out why they were so stiff with one another.

  “Let’s get settled in the box; then you two can go wandering about as much as you please. I have some friends who will join us. Oswald, please introduce Courtney to some appropriate young women. She needs girl friends.”

  “Part of my master plan, Mrs. Robinson,” he replied smoothly.

  “We want no more incidents like the last time you escorted her.” Gran peered at him intently. “Although I can see where that came completely out of the blue. Who’d expect such an attack at a fundraiser?”

  “Actually, Gran, Ozzie saved me once before they grew more determined and hit me in the face with the wine. It would have been a far smaller stain, and less humiliating, but he did get me out of the way in time. The one that landed came quickly on the heels of the first one, and you’re right, who could have anticipated that?”

  Gran’s expression grew thoughtful. “Good man, Mr. Attenborough. I’m beginning to approve of you. Keep up the good work.”

  Oswald blinked, clearly surprised. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Ascot was fun, Birdie decided as they left the car and entered the grounds. The people, the hats, the air of festivity, all of it was a party for the senses.

  And she was grateful for Gran’s advice when dressing for the event. Her first day’s dress was a silk Oscar de la Renta watercolor floral. Perfect for a summer event, the stylist had said. Large pink flowers on a white background, the dress had a fit bodice and a pleated skirt that flared and swished around her knees just right. With her hair pinned in a low bun at her nape, she wore a brimmed, flat crowned hat in deep pink that matched the flowers perfectly. The day was warm enough, her legs still tanned, so she left off the pantyhose and wore beige pumps. And Gran had insisted she carry a purse of pink as well. The one inch shoulder straps of the dress were wide enough to conform to the dress code and narrow enough to leave her arms and shoulders bare to catch the sun promised for the day. The ensemble felt fresh and flirty. And since they’d sent along the color for Oswald, his tie matched her dress and paired beautifully with his white shirt and gray suit.

  Once Gran was settled in her box, Oswald took Birdie, their picks, and a handful of Gran’s money to place their bets after looking over the horses. Based on appearances of the beasts and their jockeys, she changed her choices a bit from what Gran had chosen. She carefully kept the tickets separate.

  Oswald was the perfect gentleman, never leaving her side. Even when they met up with a group of his friends. A group that included Phillip and his sister, Anne.

  “Like the Queen’s sister,” Anne confided after introductions. “Our elder sister is Elizabeth, of course. I’m the baby,” she cheerfully announced as she shook Birdie’s hand. “I’ve heard good things about you, and I see Phillip hasn’t over exaggerated your beauty for once. He has a habit of doing that.”

  Birdie smiled at Anne’s run-on mouth while Phillip looked slightly abashed. Birdie had a feeling while she might not always like what Anne had to say, at least she’d say it up front.

  “I would have met you at the wedding, the second one, but I had a touch of the flu, and we didn’t want anyone else catching it,” Anne confided. “Could have sworn I was going to die; it was that bad. Still, I’m very glad for this opportunity.”

  Anne made sure Birdie had a drink in hand before beginning her interrogation. “So. Oswald Attenborough finally shows his face at Ascot. How did you accomplish that?”

  Birdie kept her surprise hidden. “He invited me.”

  Anne blinked in what Birdie surmised was astonishment. “Really? But didn’t you also arrive with your grandmother, the elder Mrs. Robinson?”

  A snort of laughter burst from Birdie. “Excuse me. I’m sorry, elder Mrs. Robinson? Is that what people call her? I’m not sure she’d like that very much.”

  Anne shrugged with a cheeky grin on her face. “It’s how it goes. Your mother is now Mrs. Courtland Robinson, the reigning Mrs. Robinson. Your brother’s wife is the younger Mrs. Robinson. That puts your grandmother in the background now to keep things straight. So, you also arrived with her. How did that happen?”

  “Simple. Once she heard we were coming, she took my wardrobe in hand, then told us we were riding with her and sitting in her box. When we aren’t gallivanting around the race track, that is.” Birdie sipped from her drink, a light sparkling wine Ozzie had procured for her.

  “Well, I’ll tell you this, she did an excellent job dressing you. When I saw that outfit in Harrod’s, I was sure it was meant for the middle-aged crowd, but you’ve proven me wrong.” Anne’s gaze cut sideways to where Ozzie and Phillip talked horses with a couple other men. “And the boys certainly approve. Not only can’t Phil and Oswald stop themselves from looking at you, but neither can their friends and every single man walking past us.”

  Birdie choked on her sip. “I doubt that. I want to know where you got your dress. I’m sure there are other stores besides Harrod’s, much as I love it.”

  “We�
�ll go shopping next weekend if you like. I need to find something for a wedding. One of my classmates caught herself a Viscount in line for an Earldom. Lucky trollop.”

  By the end of the day Birdie was tired, but happy. She’d made a fast friend in Anne and met half a dozen of Anne’s friends. Every single one of them seemed to like her. She’d never felt more certain when one of them called her a baggage. Had they been staying at one of the nearby hotels, Birdie and Oswald would have been included in the plans to party the night away.

  As it was, she was more than happy to trundle the hour back to London. But soon, she wanted to join Anne and her friends for a night of clubbing. Phillip had offered to squire them about. Birdie wasn’t sure if Phillip had seen the look on Oswald’s face or not. If she were to guess, it would be a cold day in Hades before Oswald let that happen, and yet, the closer Phillip had moved toward Birdie, the farther Oswald had stepped back. But true to his word, she’d remained in his sight all day long.

  “You look happy, girl,” Gran said.

  “I am. It was a very fun day.” She glanced at Oswald and found his eyes gleaming in her direction. “One of my horses won, so I’m fifty pounds richer, I made some friends, and finally laid eyes on Prince Harry.” From a distance that required binoculars, but still. She’d been within a hundred yards of him. “The sun shone all day, my tan is refreshed, I’m drunk on horsey smelling fresh air, and I get to do it all again tomorrow in excellent company. What more could a girl want this weekend?” Well, besides a good night kiss from the enigmatic man sitting across from her.

  Gran laughed softly. “Well then, a highly successful day. Your parents will be pleased.”

  * * * *

  Sunday morning Birdie was a little slow getting going. At least she’d been smart enough to load the coffee pot the night before. A check of the weather report showed sunshine was expected all day. She hadn’t needed the pashmina she’d tucked into her purse the day before, but she’d take it again. Just in case. Her brain was slow enough she was a little behind from choosing her dress for the day. In the end, she went with a simple, boat-necked sleeveless two tone dress. White linen bodice, lime green knee-length skirt of moiré silk separated by a waistband of embroidered flowers. The large white hat with a mess of fabric flowers circling the crown was just right and only needed a couple pins to hold it in place. The white pashmina from the day before would be perfect. White purse, white strappy sandals. As they hadn’t walked nearly as much as she’d expected the day before, she felt it was a safe choice for the day. The two and a half inch heel was also modest enough she wouldn’t kill herself.

  As she was locking the flat door, her cell phone rang. Gran’s tone.

  “I’m on my way down,” Birdie said first thing.

  “Fine. We’re waiting. Even Mr. Attenborough is here. I just stopped him from running up to get you.”

  “Elevator opening now”—she stepped in—“there in two mins max.” As she disconnected she noticed the battery was down by fifty percent. Oh well, she hadn’t needed the phone yesterday other than for a few photographs for the family. Not like she’d need to use it for an emergency call. Both Gran and Ozzie carried phones. And everyone else at the race track.

  Oswald was waiting when the elevator doors opened. The slight irritation in his eyes disappeared as he took in her outfit. He held out an elbow as she drew near him. “Ready to go?”

  The minute she wrapped her hand around his arm, the electric buzz she felt every time she touched him showed up with a vengeance. And that was a hand over skin covered by at least two layers of cloth. “Yes, Ozymandias. I’m ready. Sorry I’m late.” Instead of staring at him, she forced her eyes forward, the goal being the door, and then the car beyond the side walk parked at the curb.

  Ozzie tipped his head closer and spoke quietly. “Ozymandias? Really? Didn’t realize you read Shelley. Besides, you’re not so late, and looking like that makes up for it.” She could feel his minty breath on her cheek.

  “You look dapper.” She smiled at the doorman, then looked at Ozzie again. Today he wore a charcoal suit, white shirt, and a paisley tie, white and black with spots of lime in it. He also had a top hat. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with a hat.”

  “After the sun yesterday, I figured it might be a good idea today.”

  Martin smiled from where he stood by the rear door. “You two look like a very fashionable matched set today,” he said.

  “Thank you, Martin. I’m trying to fit in.” Birdie briefly touched his arm before climbing into the back of the car with Gran. Ozzie followed and took one of the rear-facing seats. The one directly across from Birdie, setting his hat on the seat beside him. Like yesterday, she had a whole hour each way to look at him. Not a hardship.

  Although, considering his behavior last night, she didn’t quite know what to think. After a fun day, once Gran and Martin had dropped them off, he’d reverted to his old stand-offish self. Sure, he’d seen her to the door of the flat, then kissed her hand, pulled the door shut between them, and waited until he heard her engage the locks.

  The fun and friendly guy had completely disappeared. She’d been hoping to invite him in for…well, anything, really. Instead she’d taken a long bath, then dropped into bed where she’d tossed and turned for an hour before exhaustion dragged her down into sleep.

  “Looking a tad peaked, my dear,” Gran noted.

  “Just a little tired, but excited for today.” Not exactly a lie. Mostly she was feeling confused and more than anything wanted to smack the man sitting across from her. To avoid his gaze, she looked out the window as Martin eased into the traffic.

  “If you’re not feeling well, we don’t have to go,” Gran said.

  Birdie turned her head to smile at her grandmother. “Of course I’m fine. Just waiting for the caffeine to kick in. I’ll be right as rain by the time we get there.”

  Gran winced. “Don’t say the R word. It’s not in the forecast, but that means nothing.”

  “Right. Sorry. We’ll talk of sunshine today. So, who are you betting on?”

  Ozzie pulled a racing form from his suit pocket and Gran pulled one from her purse. These two were serious about this racing business. Mostly she listened while Gran and Ozzie discussed each race and made notes on their forms. Birdie decided she’d take a look at the horses when they arrived and then make her choices. It had worked the day before. She could afford to buy her own food and drinks today because of it. Not that her parents kept her poor, but she liked the idea of paying for herself whenever she could. She didn’t have to be radical about it, and by living at home she was able to put most of her paycheck in the savings account. Only a tiny part of her felt a little guilty about that. So many of the people her age were struggling to start careers and live on their own. Had Dad not shown up in their lives so many months ago, she’d be doing the same, she supposed. Then again, she could have lived at home and commuted to her grandfather’s office easily. Not so much different than her situation here. Really, there was no point to make things hard just to feel like she was accomplishing something. Things would get plenty hard with each step of her internship, specialized though it was.

  Dad was right about one thing, she faced subtle accusations of nepotism every day. No one came out and said anything directly—they were far too polite for that—but there was an undercurrent. Making cinnamon rolls for Friday morning had taken some of it away. For a day. How would things go tomorrow? She’d be too tired tonight to make a treat to carry in. Maybe she’d make it a Friday only thing. But then she’d be cooking right after working out on Thursday evenings.

  If the Thursday training continued. With Ozzie’s sudden distance, she didn’t feel confident about that. Hot and cold. And here she’d thought women had reputations for sending mixed messages. He was the king of it.

  She looked away from the window to see Ozzie gazing at her. A question rested in his eyes, but she wasn’t going to play that game. Instead she
let her gaze slide right past him and turned her attention on her grandmother.

  “What do you think of this horse, Courtney?” the older woman asked. “His stats are quite impressive.”

  “Whatever you think, really. It’s not like I know anything about racing.”

  “You did all right yesterday,” Ozzie reminded her. “I’m inclined to follow your choices.”

  “Beginner’s luck. Nothing special about my betting abilities.”

  “Far too modest, my love,” Gran said. “Why don’t you just point at the form, and we’ll choose that way. It ought to work as well as any other method.”

  They all chuckled. “Might at that,” Ozzie said.

  Shrugging, Birdie reached out and pointed at the paper.

  “Who’d she pick?” Ozzie asked Gran.

  Presenting their tickets at the entry gate, they received a nod of approval from the Fashion Police. Birdie still privately chuckled at that. The Fashion Police were real and working hard at the Ascot race grounds. Anne had explained the previous day how they carried around pashmina shawls for the women who showed up not wearing dress code approved clothing. Shawls to cover strapless dresses, or dresses with too little strap. Fascinators for women without hats for the Royal Enclosure. Ties for men who’d forgotten theirs.

  Today there were just as many cameras out as there’d been the day before. Birdie smiled, but she really wanted to cringe away from them. At least she wasn’t being asked to don a shawl and her hat was modest by the standards set by other race-goers. In fact, Anne was waving them down with something huge and floppy on her head. The flowers on her hot pink hat looked like real peonies.

  Anne wrapped her arm around Birdie’s arm while greeting Gran. “You look lovely today, Mrs. Robinson.”

  “As do you, Miss Hammond. Looking forward to another day of racing?”

  “I’m hoping Courtney will share her betting suggestions with me. Oi, Phillip, bring champagne for my friends here.”