by Rebecca King
“Pie?” Florrie studied him closely.
The man was about as far from a pie as she could ever find. He was huge. Taller than practically everyone else there, with reddish-brown short cropped hair and ferocious green eyes that were now trained on her; studying and assessing her to the point that she had to struggle not to squirm under his intense stare. She wondered if this was what it felt like to be interrogated by him and felt immensely sorry for people who were stupid enough to cross him. It was all she could do not to take a huge step backward. His towering presence was almost overwhelming. While he had been nice enough in the church, he had been sitting down and had felt far less of a threat.
Pie fought a smile and shared a sardonic look with Archie, who began to laugh.
“Pie is his nick-name. He is really called Patrick Masters, but we call him Pie because that is practically all he ever eats.” Archie didn’t add that Pie, Patrick Masters, was also Viscount Westerby, the fifth son of Lord Bucklebridge. Through the nature of their job, Archie knew that it wasn’t wise for anyone outside of the Star Elite to know too much about them, even Jamie’s cousin, unless they were considerably better acquainted and had been approved by Hugo, or forced into a situation where they needed to know more. If Pie wanted her to know all about him, that was his decision to make and his information to give.
Florrie’s response was rudely interrupted by the arrival of Tabatha. After brief introductions they all turned as raucous cheers exploded around them. Rose petals flew through the air amid loud clapping and calls of good wishes to Jamie and Cecily, who appeared in the doorway of the church and began to slowly make their way toward the waiting carriage.
Florrie was happily throwing rose petals and rice toward the new couple when she suddenly froze. Every ounce of ebullience she had been experiencing suddenly vanished. She stared in horror at the all too familiar face of the man several feet away. He was standing perfectly still amid the crowds, who were busy calling out their congratulations and enjoying the gaiety of the atmosphere. In contrast, this one man stood watchful and alone, his hard eyes fixed on Florrie and Tabatha to such an extent that he appeared to be completely oblivious to everything that was going on around him.
She swallowed, her stomach dipped nervously. She glanced at her aunt who was oblivious to the imminent threat and busily throwing rice at the carriage as it moved off. A sharp sting of annoyance washed through Florrie at her aunt’s ignorance of the trouble she had brought with her.
Why should she feel nervous? Florrie reasoned. She hadn’t done anything wrong. It was her aunt who had gotten herself into this mess, and had dragged Florrie into her problems. It should be Tabatha who should have her enjoyment of the day leeched out of her. Frowning darkly, she threw a glance at the woman she had called her aunt for more years than she cared to count.
“Don’t look so miserable Florrie dear, you may still get your turn one day,” Tabatha snapped, glaring at Florrie who merely lifted an elegantly arched brow in return, and stared at her aunt in cool disdain. Rather than return her aunt’s spiteful comment as she wanted to do, Florrie pressed her lips together and continued to coldly stare at Tabatha. It seemed to take the older woman an age before she realised that there was something wrong. When she began to look wary, Florrie sighed.
“I suggest you look a good look at the well wishers.” Florrie struggled to keep the anger from her voice. In reality she was terrified of the sinister man who had threatened them so often, and swallowed sickly at the thought of him actually getting the opportunity to carry out his threats.
Still, it was thankfully not going to be my problem soon, Florrie reminded herself. It was best to get through the wedding celebrations, return to Oxfordshire to collect her things, and then she could leave Tabatha to sort her own problems out.
She turned wintry eyes on her aunt who was staring back at her in alarm. Florrie turned her head slowly back to look straight at the man with the steel grey hair and wintry grey eyes. He was one of Tabatha’s creditors, and it was clear that he was here to collect the money she owed him. She looked down at the cruel fingers Tabatha had now wound tightly around her wrist. Slowly prising them off her bruised flesh, she glared at her aunt. She could only hope that the fear the man had instilled in Tabatha would be a stern warning to the older woman that she needed to start to come to terms with her horrifying gambling addiction that had recently spiralled out of control, and now threatened the very house they lived in.
“I suggest you go and speak to him, before he disrupts the festivities,” Florrie declared coldly and turned away. She ignored the instinctive protest Tabatha made and stalked through the crowd, her shoulders thrown back defiantly. She struggled not to run. It was what she wanted to do. Run as far and as fast as her legs could carry her, preferably all the way to Norfolk where she would be far away from Tabatha, her creditors, and the half empty house she had spent the past few years watching her aunt desecrate.
Although she had enjoyed this wonderfully festive occasion, she was looking forward to the day when she could move closer to her uncle Silas and his brood in Norfolk. She held the image of her small stone cottage in her mind like a candle in the night. It gave her the strength to get through the next few weeks.
“Florrie! Florrie!”
Florrie kept walking and ignored her aunt’s cries. She stalked away with long, ground eating strides, her eyes firmly locked on the newlywed’s carriage as it turned into the main driveway of Melvedere Manor. The walk back to Crompton wasn’t nearly far enough for Florrie to be able to burn off her nervous energy, but it was going to have to suffice. She couldn’t exactly go for a walk around the grounds now without running the risk of crossing paths with Arnold Dexter, owner of one of Oxfordshire’s most notorious gaming houses, and creditor to her aunt’s huge gambling debt.
“Florrie? What is it?” Portia called, staring in alarm at Florrie’s rapidly retreating back.
“Nothing, everything’s fine,” Florrie replied and continued her quick march back to Crompton. She sensed Archie’s frown of concern but couldn’t exactly explain to them what her problem was. It wasn’t really her problem, it was her aunt’s but, thanks to Tabatha’s selfish ignorance, Florrie had been dragged into the situation. Not least because she was currently living in the house Tabatha owned; a house that was gradually being emptied of anything remotely saleable to finance her aunt’s thirst for gambling.
Pie watched the woman, Florrie, stalk down the lane. He had seen the dread that had swept over her face when she had seen the man standing in the crowd. Although the Star Elite were here to celebrate the union of Jamie and Cecily, they never relaxed, and it had been Simon and Pie who had noted the man in the crowd.
The focus of their concern was dressed as a rudimentary middle-class squire although looked more like one of the dockside’s pugilists. There was a hardness about him that was at odds with the locale even if you ignored his lack of enjoyment of the afternoon’s events. He had stared hard at Florrie and Tabatha until he had captured their attention. The impact on Florrie had been astounding.
Her face had been suffused with laughter and teasing but suddenly changed within the blink of an eye. The scared look she had thrown her aunt had made Pie want to rush to her side to see what the matter was. Instead, he had stood back to watch the silent interplay between the three people.
“What do you think he wants?” Simon murmured. He had kept within striking distance of the man should he have made any sudden move toward anyone in the congregation. As it was, within a few minutes of having made eye contact with the women, the man had vanished into the crowd.
“I don’t know, but it has frightened those two,” Pie replied, nodding toward Florrie. He had been working within the Star Elite for so long now that he didn’t think he could ever completely retire. There was something going on and, as a trained agent used to working in the secretive world of spying, he had grown adept at reading the situations around him and had seen the visible threat the man had
presented. He wanted to find out what the man held over Jamie’s relatives. After all, if it affected both ladies so severely, there was a risk that it could affect Jamie and his happiness with his new bride. They were the Star Elite and they watched each other’s backs at all times. As a result, that made it imperative that Pie set about finding out who the man was, and what he wanted with the ladies, in order to find out how he could help Florrie resolve her problems.
He could only hope that the man wasn’t Florrie’s husband.
CHAPTER TWO
The following morning Florrie awoke feeling edgy and restless. The hour was still early; the house was deathly quiet. She rolled onto her side and allowed her thoughts to return to the day before.
Following the wedding, everyone had enthusiastically waved the bride and groom off before continuing their celebrations at Crompton, well into the early hours of the morning. The food had been lavish and plentiful, the wine had flowed continuously until they had all been a little tipsy by the time they had succumbed to exhaustion and headed off to bed.
Florrie, who was used to a much quieter life, had found the whole day almost overwhelming. There were a total of about fourteen guests staying at Crompton and they were made up of Hugo, his wife Harriett, their twins, Sophia and Richard; Simon and Francesca and their baby, Ben; Cecily’s sister Portia and her fiancé, Archie, along with other members of the Star Elite; Jonathan, Rupert, Pie, not including herself and Tabatha. Cecily and Jamie were staying in the main house, Melvedere Manor, which was located further down the driveway.
When Florrie had finally headed off to bed sometime after one in the morning, it had been a relief to get away from the men. Individually, they had a wary watchfulness about them that was unnerving to say the least. When they were all together, they were a powerful group who were at ease in their surroundings but emanated a certain danger that seemed inherent to them. It was as though they didn’t seem to realise how unnerving they appeared to normal people or, if they did, it didn’t seem to matter to them. If it wasn’t for the presence of the other ladies, Florrie would have taken to her room and stayed there.
As it was, everyone lingered in the sitting room. They had laughed and talked openly with each other, often teasing and joking in such a way that any offense was removed by the jocularity of the situation and their easy-going camaraderie. Everyone had relaxed and enjoyed being together.
Being able to be a part of their almost familial closeness was wonderful. However, her joy had been slightly marred by the fact that she had spent the better part of the evening under almost continual scrutiny of the man the Star Elite had nicknamed ‘Pie’. His gaze had never strayed far from her all evening, to the point that she had felt positively awkward under the intensity of his watchfulness. It was as though he was waiting for her to reveal all of her secrets and it was strangely unnerving. She knew instinctively that he wasn’t a man to cross.
She almost wished that she did know him better and was able to take him into her confidence about her problems with Tabatha, but there was something dark and forbidding about him that warned her that she probably wouldn’t like his input. He was the very last person she would tell even if she ignored the fact that he was one of the Star Elite. Even if Florrie was silly enough to confide in Pie or Jamie, there was little they could do, or would do, to help. They couldn’t and probably wouldn’t pay off Tabatha’s debts for her and allow Tabatha to continue gambling, but her aunt was a grown woman whom they had no control over, so they couldn’t actually stop her from doing the same thing all over again.
Florrie had no idea why she was even including Pie in her musings. He wasn’t even related to her and had no prior acquaintance with the family, so it was ridiculous to even consider the notion that he would even be willing to get involved. The man was there to celebrate his friend’s nuptials, not get involved in her problems.
Most of the day after the wedding had been spent trying to avoid the quite determined approaches of her aunt who had proceeded to follow her around the house in an attempt to talk to her. Florrie knew what she wanted, and there was no possibility that she was ever going to consider taking Arnold Dexter his money, or liaising with the man on what the first payment should be. That was Tabatha’s problem and, as far as Florrie was concerned, could stay that way.
Her thoughts immediately turned to one particularly awkward situation that had occurred just after dinner last night.
She had been busy talking with Portia when she felt a prickle of awareness on the back of her neck. The towering presence behind her had told her who it was before she had even turned around. Her heart had begun to thump heavily in her chest as he moved to stand beside her.
“Ladies.”
Florrie shivered at the sound of the deep rumble of his voice. It really was the deepest, richest voice she had ever heard.
“Hello,” she murmured. She kept a polite smile on her face while Pie and Portia traded friendly banter.
“Pie, there you are. I was just telling Florrie about my first experience on a horse,” Portia said, smiling at Archie across the room.
“Do you ride, Florrie?”
“I am afraid not. It is something that I have always wanted to do but never got around to it, I am afraid,” Florrie sighed. She found the whole concept of riding a huge beast like a horse intriguing and didn’t know if she would like it or not, but reasoned that practically everyone else did it so she should at least have a go.
“Then we shall have to see what we can do about getting you to try while you are here.” Pie’s gaze met and held hers for several moments.
As happened in the church, Florrie felt the room dim. Every fibre of her being was locked on the man before her. She couldn’t break the gentle snare of his gaze, and wasn’t sure if she wanted to.
“I should like that,” she whispered softly. She didn’t see Portia smile or leave them to whisper something into Archie’s ear, or the conspiratorial smiles that passed between the couples within the room.
“I will see what I can arrange,” Pie promised.
Any response Florrie was going to give was once again rudely interrupted by the arrival of Tabatha.
“There you are girl. I have been trying to speak to you all afternoon.” The older woman glared at Florrie as though she were no more than a mere child. It was on the tip of Florrie’s tongue to remind her step-aunt that she was six and twenty and should be spoken to as an adult, but out of respect to the others in the room, kept quiet. It wasn’t really any of Pie’s business and she didn’t see why she should furnish him with innocuous details about herself.
“I am merely enjoying the occasion aunt. Unless you are seriously ill, I can see no reason why you should want to discuss anything right now,” Florrie replied flatly.
“Oh but it really is most important,” Tabatha bit out through clenched teeth.
“I am sure you are perfectly capable of sorting out your own problems,” Florrie snapped. She threw a look at Pie along with a brief smile and left.
Florrie had stalked out of the room temporarily and sought sanctuary in her room. Unsurprisingly, her aunt followed her and had knocked on the door for several moments, determined to have her chat, but Florrie ignored the summons, the threats and the insults, and had merely sat on the window seat and stared out over the gardens while she tried to come to terms with the affect that Pie had on her senses, seemingly without trying. She was still a wild jumble of nerves and he had only offered to introduce her to horse riding. Instead she had enjoyed the brief respite from the careful scrutiny of one particular man, and had began to mentally pack and prepare for her new life in Norfolk.
When she had eventually returned to the celebrations, there had been no sign of Tabatha. Portia had informed her that her aunt had decided to call it a day, for which Florrie was very grateful.
The celebrations after that had gone smoothly and for Florrie. Exhaustion had weighed heavily on her sometime around midnight and she had headed off in search of her
bed.
After the busy day, she should have slept soundly but, instead, had tossed and turned as her mind struggled to forget the achingly familiar face of one of the Star Elite’s finest men.
Florrie sighed and rolled over to stare at the canopy above the bed. It was evident from the faint mustiness within the room that the house hadn’t been used in some time, but it was still opulent in an old fashioned kind of way. However the dark wood panelling and heavy brocade draperies were so dark in colour that they almost felt oppressive. So much so that she suddenly longed to be outside where she could enjoy the sunshine before the looming rain clouds gathered enough force to dampen the day.
Fuelled by the determination to get some fresh air, Florrie dressed and ignored the persistent rumbling of her stomach as she made her way toward the door. She could only hope that everyone was still sleeping off the excesses of the previous night. For some reason she didn’t want to stop and converse with anyone. The ladies were wonderful, but always seemed to have children with them, or want to talk about children and that gave her a pang of longing for things she knew she would never have. It created a distance between them that Florrie bitterly regretted but struggled to find a way around.
Portia had been warm and friendly, but was facing her nuptials to a man who quite positively adored her. Florrie meanwhile was facing a life of a reclusive spinster who had willingly shunned the world around her to live in a remote, stone cottage by herself. The contrast between their lifestyles was stark and made Florrie feel more out of place than ever.
With nobody to share her concerns with, it made the weight of the burdens she carried all the more heavier and that in turn made her resent her aunt even more. Tabatha had made no bones about the fact that she hadn’t wanted Florrie to move in with them when she had been orphaned. Although she hadn’t been overtly nasty, she hadn’t been entirely welcoming either and had willingly handed Florrie’s care to a governess rather than getting involved in Florrie’s upbringing herself. Even her uncle had patiently accommodated her rather than shown any particular interest in her welfare or whereabouts.