She also noticed a few missed calls. All Ozzie. Guess he’d discovered her vanishing act. The texts from Anne and Phillip still sat unanswered. And they’d stay that way for now. She slipped her phone into her pocket and went back to watching the river, staring down into the water, letting her mind wander.
Something up river caught her eye and she leaned forward, stepping up on the lowest rung of the railing, trying to make it out. As it drifted nearer, she could see it was a branch. Probably knocked off a tree far up river, she watched it and let her mind wander. Her imagination could almost make out a miniature Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer sitting on top, holding on to smaller branches sticking up. Wanting to watch it as long as possible, she hitched up onto her elbows. It was almost out of sight when someone grabbed her arm and pulled her backward with so much force she landed on her butt and one earbud popped out.
“Don’t do it!” a man in a police uniform yelled at her. “It’s not worth it!”
Shaking her head as she tried to figure out what the hell he was talking about, she heard cars pulling up with wailing sirens. They screeched to a halt behind her, lights flashing. From below the bridge came another siren.
Birdie threw up her hands as more cops gathered around her. “I didn’t do anything,” she yelled. “Everyone just calm the fuck down!”
Chapter 27
Oswald stared at the door to the Robinson flat and wondered how much hell he’d catch if he kicked it in.
He’d gone out to get breakfast, not even away thirty minutes, and returned home to find Courtney missing. She’d had the juice and he assumed some pain reliever. She’d showered and even gathered all her belongings, including the jumble of bracelets she’d worn the night before. When he was parking, he’d seen a cab turning the corner at the end of his street, and from her absence, he guessed that had been her bugging out.
Obviously she hadn’t liked the note he’d left for her. Women and their need for pretty words.
Okay, he could have been a little clearer that he’d be back soon. Frankly he’d expected her to still be sleeping.
His phone rang and he pulled it from his pocket. Number unknown. “Attenborough.”
“Mr. Attenborough, this is Constable Gavin Barnaby, sir. Do you know one Miss Courtney Robin Ferguson-Robinson?”
Oswald’s blood chilled. “I do. Where is she?” He started moving for the lift.
“We have her at the Vauxhall station, sir.”
But was she alive? Of course she was, otherwise it would be the coroner’s office or a hospital calling. “Is she all right? Did something happen to her?” Because for the life of him he couldn’t imagine her doing something that would get her arrested.
And where was the damn lift when he needed it now?
“She says she’s fine, but it is my belief she was about to jump off the Vauxhall Bridge. She swears she’s not suicidal, however she was observed for more than thirty minutes leaning on the bridge rail, and then she hoisted herself up…’tis the truth I managed to pull her off before she got a leg up.”
Courtney? “Suicidal you say?” Of course disbelief poured right out of him. She might have been upset, but if anyone had a brighter attitude toward life, he didn’t know them. He’d seen her bounce from disappointment to cheery optimism at the snap of two dainty fingers.
“She was up on her elbows, head down, leaning toward the water. Several people on the bridge observed the same thing.” The defensive tone of the constable puzzled him greatly.
“What does she say about all this?” The lift finally arrived and he boarded, stabbing the ground level button twice to be sure it got the message.
Fortunately he didn’t lose cell service while the car traveled downward.
“She says she was watching a stick in the water,” the man admitted grudgingly. “She’s been, well, a bit mouthy since I pulled her to safety.”
A snort of laughter left Oswald before he could stifle it. “I bet.”
“Please, sir, you were the last one to call her mobile. Would you please come get her? We can’t let her go on her own, and she refuses to talk to our psychiatrist. We must insist she have someone with her for the next twenty-four or we’ll have to commit her for observation.”
In the background he heard Courtney spluttering in protest. “YOU are the one who needs psychiatric observation!”
That did it. Oswald burst out laughing. After confirming the address, he said, “I’m on my way, Constable. I’m not far.”
“Thank you, sir. She’s quite a…handful.”
Oswald rang off with a tiny bit of pity for the poor man.
If last night was any indication of the temper she could get up to, Courtney was more than a handful; she was a force to be reckoned with. Oddly enough, his blood heated with anticipation of the battle to come, for if her exit this morning was any indication, she would not welcome his appearance at the station.
It took less than twenty minutes to get to the station and find parking. Inside he was directed to the desk of a young man who gazed at Courtney as if she were not only the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, but also the most demented one as well. Couldn’t fault the constable for that. Despite the glare and snapping energy in her eyes, the heightened color on her cheeks reminded Oswald of the night before when she’d been giving him hell and petting him at the same time. Minus the smeared makeup of course.
The second she caught sight of him she stood and grabbed her shoulder bag. Unfortunately, she was also handcuffed to the chair she’d been sitting in, bouncing her right back onto her arse, making her wince. Which didn’t do anything to improve her mood or attitude. Once more she stood, this time slowly, without pulling on the handcuffs.
From the corner of his eye, he noted the officers around them all watching her. The men and the women. Some with curiosity, a few with lust, and many with wariness. Just what had happened on the bridge?
“Miss,” the constable said as he rose with her. “You can’t just walk out. We need to go over a few things with your, um, I mean with Mr. Attenborough here.”
Contemptuous blue eyes raked up and down Oswald, then turned on the constable practically burning with a blush on his pale cheeks. “Mister Attenborough is not my anything.”
“He’s on your phone, miss, and if what you tell me is true, then isn’t he your employer?”
Courtney’s nose went up in the air. “My father is my employer. Mister Attenborough is not.”
“Ah, but in this case, Courtney,” Oswald said, “I am your father’s representative. Therefore, I am your superior in the office, as well as a trusted family friend who has been given the task of watching out for you.” He returned her glare with a single raised eyebrow, the one aristocratic gesture he’d had from birth, apparently. It was enough to make young sods like Hammond and the like beg to do his bidding. Had even worked on Lynford’s Board of Directors a time or two. Didn’t work on Courtney.
“Constable,” Oswald spoke to the nervous younger man. “Is there someplace a little more private we can discuss this?” He waved at the cuffs still holding Courtney to the chair. “I don’t think those are necessary. Unless you’re charging her?”
The eyebrow worked on the poor man who hurried to release Courtney. “Come this way, please. We have a room open….” He turned away and led them to what looked like an interrogation room, complete with one-way viewing window.
Not what Oswald considered optimal, but it was better than sitting in the open room.
He held a chair for Courtney who sat as if she were the queen, stiff and regal, arms and legs tightly crossed.
Oswald took the chair next to hers, the two of them facing the blushing constable. A moment later an older man entered the room. He certainly had the look of authority about him, wearing a three piece suit, his salt and pepper hair cropped.
“All right, now, let’s see if we can sort this out and let you two be on your way,” the older man said after introducing hims
elf as the lieutenant in charge. He settled back in his chair, hands folded over his slightly soft stomach. “Miss Robinson, I haven’t heard the story from you. Please tell me what you were doing on the Vauxhall Bridge.”
Courtney drew in a breath, then spoke with her most polite tone, dropping her hands to her lap. “I was intending to walk across the bridge. I’ve only been in London a short time, and with the rain letting up, I thought to do some exploring. Maybe have lunch. I haven’t eaten since last night, and I planned to treat myself today. However, as I reached mid-point of the bridge, I was struck by the magnificent view. I’m also not terribly familiar with large rivers, being more used to the Pacific ocean and the San Francisco Bay, and wanted to study the differences. It’s really the first time I’ve been out in the city by myself. Up until now there’s always been someone playing nanny, and honestly, it’s starting to drive me a little crazy. I just wanted the peace.”
“I understand you had music playing through your headphones. How is that peaceful?” The lieutenant cocked his head, looking puzzled. “Apparently loud enough you didn’t hear the constable calling out to you.”
“I enjoy music. With all the bands that have come out of England I’m fairly certain rock and roll is no crime. In fact, a cousin of mine was once rather famous in the music world.”
Barnaby’s eyes lit up with questions, but his superior merely nodded. “You are correct; there is no law against listening to music.”
“Music is an old friend. And today I realized I’m missing old friends. I’ve had little contact with people from my former home.”
“You’re from America, obviously. Where was home?”
“California. The Bay Area.”
Again the lieutenant nodded. “A beautiful area I believe.”
Courtney nodded back. “It is. However, if you’ve checked, you know I have a dual citizenship. My father is British. That would be Courtland Robinson.”
“Yes, CEO of Lynford International. Your mother is American.”
“Yes.”
“So you stopped in the middle of the bridge to admire the view,” he prompted.
“I did. I’ve had a difficult time lately, and with my parents wandering around Europe and my brother in China, I suddenly felt very much alone, and wanted to figure out why.”
Oswald held his blank face, but inside his gut clenched. Courtney was a social creature, and she’d had plenty of difficulties fitting into her father’s world. His world. He’d hoped the previous evening she’d have made progress in cementing one or two true friendships. He’d have to ask about that.
“And what prompted you to hoist yourself up on the railing of the bridge?”
“I was watching a branch float down the river.”
“A branch.”
“Yes. It seemed out of place and it was interesting. I leaned forward to watch it as long as possible. That was when your constable leaped to the conclusion I meant to jump.” Contempt filled her expression as she flicked a glance over the younger officer. “Without warning, he grabbed my arm and practically threw me to the ground. I’ll wear the bruises on my butt for weeks to come. And I’m pretty sure my lower back was jammed. I’ll need to see a chiropractor for an adjustment, which will mean time off work. Time off I can’t afford.”
To his credit the lieutenant barely blinked. The constable blushed furiously. Probably imaging those bruises on Birdie’s perfectly curved ass. Something Oswald planned to do his best to kiss away.
“I thought your father was the boss?”
“He is, but I requested he not give me preferential treatment. I’m a worker just like the managers and workers who keep the company running day to day. In order to earn their respect I have to show up and do the tasks assigned to me like everyone else.”
“Do you intend to claim injury against the department?”
It was a reasonable question, Oswald thought.
Courtney drew back in her chair with an extreme look of distaste on her face. “Of course not! I’m appalled you’d even think so. I was on that bridge minding my own business, enjoying the flow of the river, admiring its power, when I was rudely accosted, but I also understand where the constable was coming from. I understand he—incorrectly—feared for my life. However I’m reasonable enough to know it’s better he do what he did than hold back and wait for someone to actually jump before concluding they needed psychiatric help. I’m embarrassed he thought me so desperate. I’m angry I’m being held here against my will. But I’m not litigious and won’t seek damages.”
Relief of varying degrees crossed the faces of the men across the table from them. “I’m happy to hear that, Miss Robinson. However, you have to understand several people rushed to the scene, including the Royal National Lifeboat Institution, our river rescue volunteers.”
Oswald held up a hand to stop the man. “Would it help soothe inconvenienced souls if a donation was made to their cause? As a volunteer service, I’m sure some of their funding has been diverted to the refugee situation.”
The lieutenant’s eyes narrowed and he murmured the word, “Refugees…” Recognition hit his eyes a half second later. “You were accosted at a refugee fundraiser, weren’t you, Miss Robinson.”
Oswald watched her nose rise another quarter inch.
“Yes,” she answered shortly.
“And,” Oswald continued, “she was stung by a bee at Ascot on Sunday, and the target of a roofie in her drink that same afternoon.”
“Ozzie,” she snarled under her breath. “That’s not germane to this situation.”
The lieutenant shook his head. “Oh, but I think it is. It further illustrates the difficult time you’ve recently experienced and surely contributed to the extremely sad expression my constable here noted on your face, another indication of distress that might have sent you over the rail and into the water.”
Courtney rolled her eyes and uncrossed her legs as if preparing to stand. “May I go now? I’m not suicidal. I didn’t mean to upset your troops. I had no idea anyone was watching me. I was merely trying to sort out some thoughts and enjoy one of the major attractions of this city. End of story.”
Oswald glanced at her, then turned his attention to the officers with a shrug. “I believe her. She’s a fighter. Can’t see her giving up like that.”
With a sigh, the lieutenant shrugged. “Very well. Unless you wish to press charges regarding the roofie incident?”
Oswald shook his head in unison with Courtney.
“No? All right. However, I request that she remain in your charge for twenty-four hours at least, Mr. Attenborough.”
“Are you serious?” Courtney huffed out her exasperation. “I don’t require babysitting.”
“It’s merely a precaution, Miss Robinson. Otherwise I’ll be obligated to commit you for psychiatric observation.” The lieutenant’s expression was kind, but it also said he would do his duty if required.
Mouth open, Courtney leaned over the table, but Oswald put a hand on her arm, forestalling whatever she’d been about to say.
“I’ll keep her in sight, I promise. No harm will come to her. I give you my personal guarantee.” He shot Courtney a look that had her pressing her lips into a hard line.
“Good enough for me.” The senior officer stood. “Get the release papers ready, Barnaby.”
Chapter 28
Hunger was gnawing a hole in her spine by the time Oswald escorted her into a pub somewhere north of the river. When she caught sight of the silent Karma Temple sign across the street, she almost refused to get out of the car, but the constant rumbling of her stomach put down that particular rebellion.
The touch of his hand on her lower back sent involuntary shivers of excitement shooting out to all the extremities of her body as they passed through the door into a familiar pub. The very same where she’d been the night before. Matt nodded at them from behind the bar and shouted for Wanda.
Oswald waited for her to slide
into a booth with high sides, then slithered in beside her.
She gave him her best stare-down-the-nose glare. “I don’t think they meant you have to keep this close of an eye on me. Across the table is close enough.”
Of course he ignored her. “How hungry are you?”
“Absolutely starved. In fact, unless you move, I might take a bite out of you.”
The damn man laughed at her. Actually laughed. Complete with twinkling eyes. It would have been less shocking if he’d gotten up and danced a can-can.
“Beef sound good?”
“Either a half pound burger, or a side of beef. Either will do.”
“How about the steak pie? It’s very good here.”
“All right. Throw in a salad and a pile of fries and you’ve got a winner.” She reached for the napkin-wrapped flatware. If she had to, she could easily stab him. Fork or knife, she didn’t have a preference.
“Welcome, luvs. Didn’t expect to see you so soon.” Wanda set two glasses of water down for them, her gaze locked on Birdie. “What can I get you?”
Oswald glanced at Birdie. “Ale?”
“Oh, God, no. Lots of water, please, Wanda.”
“Rough night?” the older woman asked. “Ye look a bit dehydrated, luv. We’ll get ye settled; then you can tell me all about it.”
“Coffee American style, with a cream pitcher, and a large tomato juice for the lady.” From there Oswald continued the order for them, the steak pie for her, a half pound burger for himself. And a starter of bread and butter.
“Comin’ right up, ’andsome.” Wanda winked at Ozzie and he grinned back at her before she turned toward the kitchen.
“Come here last night?” Ozzie asked, pushing both water glasses toward Birdie.
Her Improper Affair Page 27