London Lace, #2

by Catou Martine

  The question made Eliza practically melt in her seat because it brought back every delicious memory, and because he wasn’t there beside her she felt the pain of his absence. Is that what he’d meant about memories and the pain we endure? Had he been setting the stage for a later let down?

  She swallowed the last of her drink and waved for another one. “We nearly combust when we’re together. I can’t stop thinking about him. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Really? Oh, wow. Eliza, is this serious for you?”

  “I know it was just supposed to be a few dates, but he does something to me, something that’s never happened before. And I think he feels the same way.”

  “In all the time I’ve known you, you’ve never been really serious about any guy. I thought you were completely devoted to your work, your career.”

  “I am, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to fall in love, maybe get married one day.”

  Tori looked into her drink. “I didn’t know.”

  Eliza watched her friend fish for the grape at the bottom of the glass.

  Stella finally arrived and slapped a copy of The Sun on the table. She gave Eliza a sympathetic look and then glared at Tori. “Why didn’t you tell her?”

  “What?” said Tori and Eliza at the same time.

  Stella picked up the paper and folded it back to a middle page. She handed it to Eliza. “Sorry, sweetie.”

  Eliza found herself staring at a photo of a smiling couple. She gulped. Todd made one half of this couple. He wore a top hat and an insipid grin. She’d never seen him sport either. The young woman—she seemed barely out of adolescence—stood shyly beside him, but she was smiling happily if demurely. She wore a headband with a robust silk flower attached. Simple, elegant, girlish…

  Eliza blinked. The professional milliner in her was trying to save her from her own embarrassment and shame. She did that sometimes; she’d trained herself to be practical and professional when strong feelings overwhelmed her. She was assessing the woman’s headpiece instead of feeling the pieces of her heart shatter.

  Montgomery Makes his Move

  Melissa Selfridge was seen on the arm Sir Todd Montgomery in Exeter last weekend. A close friend accompanied Miss Selfridge to the home of wedding designer, Terrence Applebee, the following day. Is Montgomery finally entering the steeple chase?

  Whatever had melted in Eliza a moment before turned to ice. All she could think was, Where did he get that hat? He didn’t buy it from me. He was a cheating lover and a cheating hat buyer.

  She put the paper down.

  “It was a fling, that’s all. A romp in the hay.” A knot formed in her throat as she thought about the Sandown stables. It was more than a knot. It had been more than a romp.

  “Excuse me,” said Eliza slipping off her stool.

  She ran to the loo and tossed up her Mojave martini.

  As she cleaned up, she berated herself for believing the tabloids. Maybe Todd had a good excuse for that picture. Maybe he’d just been caught off guard, like they’d been at the racetrack. Then again, maybe he was reliving his fantasy with a new filly. And caught off guard. No, she refused to believe that everything between them was a sham. It was real, and deep. Or had it been fake, and cheap? She choked back the hurt building inside her. How had such pleasure turned to such pain? She had to talk to him. She needed answers. She would have called him then and there except she had left her mobile on the table in her haste to reach a toilet. After patting her cheeks with cold water, she dabbed them dry and returned to her friends.

  From a distance they seemed to be arguing, but as Eliza approached the table, they stopped talking and smiled sympathetically at her.

  She settled back on her stool feeling weak but wanting to be strong. She pushed her newly poured martini off to the side.

  “Tell her, Tori. Don’t prolong this.”

  Tori looked sheepish, and apologetic, as she shifted nervously in her seat.

  “You know the family’s been pressuring him to get out in society more.”

  “Who is she?” said Eliza.

  “The daughter of one of the Lords who bought his thoroughbred, Dante’s Fire. I didn’t think there was anything serious between them.”

  “Did you know about her when you set me up with him?”

  “No! Only that the families liked the match but he wasn’t interested. Apparently, he never is. Not since… Listen, Tatum would have said something if there was anything substantial between them. Todd would have told you himself.”

  Would he have? Eliza realized she really didn’t know him at all. What she thought she knew, she might have imagined. All those great things he said, maybe he’d said them just to get up her skirt. She hadn’t made that too difficult for him, had she?

  She looked down at the picture again. It was another racetrack. One in Devon, she presumed. And there were other people in the background. An older gentleman that might have been Melissa’s father, another man, younger, who looked familiar, and a woman, too… Lady Elliot? It wasn’t a flattering picture of her. She was at the side, glancing sidelong at Todd and Melissa. She wore a strange smirk.

  “I know that woman.”

  Tori looked at the picture. “You know Jocelyn Calvin? Todd told you about her?”

  “Calvin? She’s married to Peter Elliot. Isn't she Lady Elliot?”

  “She is now, yes.” Tori paused. She glanced at Stella.

  “Spit it out,” said Stella crossing her arms.

  Tori gulped. “Turns out she was once engaged to Todd.”

  “What?”

  Eliza was shocked. This was the kind of complex history he hadn’t wanted to bother talking about?

  “He broke it off. Years ago. Made his father and her family extremely angry.”

  “You knew all this?”

  “It’s all in the past, Eliza, what does it matter?”

  Eliza gathered up her coat and scarf. “I have to go.”

  “I’ll ride with you,” said Stella.

  “No. I want to be alone.”

  Riding home in a cab, Eliza's phone vibrated. The caller ID read: My Sexy Sir. Todd chose now of all times to call her back? She stared at the blinking, vibrating phone. She ignored it. A minute later, a text came through.

  Are you still awake?

  She ignored that, too. And the following three. Even though he was writing sweet things. She turned the phone over and let the tears slide down her cheeks.

  He called every fifteen minutes. Both her mobile and the flat phone.

  She poured a bath and soaked in her own tears.

  In the morning, things looked better. Her perspective had widened. Her heart still hurt, but her mind was beginning to take charge again. They had spent two amazing days together. It had been fun while it lasted, but now it was time to move on. She had told herself she hadn't wanted things to get complicated. Now they weren't.

  She slipped into her turquoise silk robe and went to the kitchen to brew coffee. She had a lot of work ahead of her with spring’s society events on the horizon. She would throw herself into her tasks and in a few months she’d be over Todd. Work had always been her antidote to pain. Work was steady and loyal. She could always count on her work.

  Despite her determination, another wave of hurt and disappointment washed over her. It was just a fling, she told herself. It was a good time, a short wild ride. It’s over now.

  Her phone rang. Maybe it was Stella calling to check up on her. They’d been through a lot together, rising from the bottom to the top. Or maybe it was Tori calling to apologize again. They would patch things up, in time. But when Eliza saw the call display she saw that it was Todd ringing again. She would have to talk to him eventually, but not before coffee. After the ringing died off, another text buzzed through.

  Look out your window.

  The sky was gray and overcast. Looking down into the street, Eliza saw a luxurious black car parked outside her flat door. A man in a cap leaned against the driver’s side d
oor. He looked up.

  “Albert?”

  He couldn’t have heard her, but he looked up and waved just then. He smiled and cupped his waving hand, beckoning her to come down the stairs.

  Was Todd in the car? Eliza felt a mess. She pulled her hair back and tied it in a knot at the base of her neck. She tightened her robe around her waist. Should she get dressed? Brush her teeth?

  She stepped back from the window. What was she thinking? She was losing control again. Her phone buzzed.

  I’m not in the car. Please, at least talk to Albert.

  Okay fine. Albert hadn’t done anything to hurt her. It looked like he’d stay there all day if she didn’t go down and talk to him. Barefoot, hair tied back, in her robe and without her coffee, she went downstairs and opened the door.

  “Good morning, Albert.”

  “Miss Eliza,” he said with relief as he tipped his hat. “So good to see you again.”

  He opened the back door to the vehicle as if she might just hop in and drive away with him.

  “Albert, I’m not…” Something caught her eye.

  Todd wasn’t in the back seat but it wasn’t empty either. On the seat lay a bouquet of pink and red roses, a stainless steel coffee thermos, and a copy of the Daily Mirror. Scratched across the front page, in thick black felt, were the words: Ignore These Lies.

  “Please, Miss,” said Albert. “He wants you to come to Devon.”

  “I can’t do that. I’ve got work to do. And he can’t even be bothered to come himself?” She heard her own voice rise in pitch and saw Albert wince at her rejecting tone.

  Just then, Carmen turned the corner on her way to open the shop. Eliza was standing on the pavement, half-dressed, yelling at a chauffeur.

  “Miss Keating? Is anything wrong?” said Carmen.

  Obviously, a lot was wrong. Eliza didn’t know where to start.

  “It seems I’m being summoned by Sir Todd Montgomery.”

  Carmen raised an eyebrow and ineffectively held back a smile. “Interesting.”

  “And out of the question. I’ve just told Albert here that we are swamped with work and I’m not going anywhere.”

  Carmen appraised the sleek car and glanced at the roses on the back seat.

  “I’m sure I can handle it all for a few days.”

  Now Carmen was undermining her?

  “At least give him a chance to explain, Miss Keating,” said Albert.

  “Why should I?” She crossed her arms over her silk-sheathed chest, aware that people on their way to work were looking at her strangely.

  “I’m speaking out of turn now,” said Albert warily. “But I believe he needs you. He’s not the same man since he met you. He’s… It’s like he was lost for a long time and then…. Well, he seems to have found something now.”

  “Like a fiancé?” She gestured toward the paper in the back seat.

  “No. I can’t say anymore than what I’ve said. Just give him a chance to explain. Can you do that?”

  “The work will be here when you get back,” said Carmen encouragingly.

  “Why are you on their side?” said Eliza to Carmen.

  Carmen sighed. “Now I have to speak out of turn. Something changed in you when you met Sir Montgomery. And in this last while, since he’s been gone, you’ve been distracted, unable to concentrate, even making some mistakes.” Carmen bit her lip and looked at the ground.

  “What?” Was that true?

  “Not big ones, not yet,” said Carmen. “But in all my years of working for you, I’ve never seen you so affected by a man. Go and sort things out, Miss Keating. Your work may depend on it.”

  Eliza looked at Albert. Then she looked at Carmen. They both waited for her to say something.

  “Fine.” She uncrossed her arms. “I’ll get my things.”

  “There’s a packed suitcase in the boot,” said Albert. “Clothes, toiletries, everything you might need.”

  Eliza narrowed her eyes. “He was so sure I’d say yes?”

  “No, no. Not exactly. He just told me to take are of everything. Even coffee.” Albert smiled hopefully.

  “He’s lucky to have you, Albert. At least let me get my purse.” She turned to Carmen. “I won't be gone longer than one night, Carmen. Call me if you need anything. I'll see you tomorrow.”

  Carmen nodded and, smiling, proceeded to open up Candied Locks.

  Eliza went up to her flat and slipped into a pair of jeans, t-shirt, and cropped sweater. She brushed her teeth, turned off the coffee press, and looped her purse over her shoulder.

  Apparently, she was on her way to Devon.

  * the end of London Lace #2 *

  This is the second story in a planned series. For a preview of London Lace #3 (now available), turn the page.

  Show the author some support by posting a review, or liking the Orly Press Facebook page.

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  A SECOND CHANCE - PREVIEW OF LONDON LACE #3

  A sleek black Mercedes peeled away from the Piccadilly curb where the millinery salon, Candied Locks, sat open without its owner working feverishly in the back studio. The owner, Eliza Keating, sat in the back seat of the black Mercedes feverishly wondering what she was doing jumping in a car and heading to Devon to meet with a man whom the general public believed to be engaged to someone else.

  The paper sitting beside her on the seat was proof.

  Well, she conceded, it was The Sun, a social gossip rag, and the reporter had only suggested the imminent ringing of wedding bells. But there was the photo of Todd with another woman who happened to be very pretty, and young, and Todd was caught smiling as he stod beside her. Eliza knew – even though she still didn’t know Todd that well –that smiling like that was not a common occurrence for him.

  “Albert, why am I doing this?”

  Albert, Todd’s driver, glanced in rearview mirror and smiled at her.

  “Because it’s the right thing, Miss.”

  “You can’t know that.”

  “As much as I can know anything, this is the right thing. I’m sure of it.”

  Eliza sighed and looked out the window. Maybe it wasn’t about right or wrong. Something about her decision felt very right and something about it felt very wrong.

  Her body was screaming, Right, Right, Right! Her mind was beginning to make a list of everything that was wrong: she knew next to nothing about him; he had a ‘complex history’ (his choice of words to avoid discussing a prior engagement) with the now-married socialite Lady Jocelyn Elliot; half of London assumed he was now engaged to a different socialite, Melissa Selfridge, who also happened to be the daughter of one of his horse buyers; he seemed to prefer horses to people and the country to the city; he was from an aristocratic family, while she was not; and he had terrible manners.

  He was, however, also: dashingly handsome; unpredictable; passionate; virile; attentive to her sexual desires; sometimes funny, other times deep; friendly and sincere with the people he liked and the animals he cared for; not preoccupied with wealth or status or conventional ambitions, yet independent and self-motivated; and, most importantly, he was searingly, scathingly hot. Her body placed a lot of stock in this virtue and her mind was not impressed. You can’t base a relationship purely on sex, her mind-self reminded her body-self. Who said anything about a relationship? Her body had a point.

  Todd had already reached a deep place inside of her, way beyond skin deep. She might try to deny it – her body, after all, was only concerned with the depth of pleasure every inch of her skin could endure – but her mind was looking out for that tender bleeding muscle tucked behind the protective cage of her ribs. Her mind didn’t want her heart to break. Seeing Todd in the paper with another woman had pushed her to that edge. The irrational jealousy, the sharp stab of hurt, her literal physical revulsion, which had made her run to the loo, all of that showed her that she was already in over her head. She wasn’t prepared for that. And who was she kidding? If she ar
rived in Devon and saw him in person again she would have no self-control. She’d fall into his arms, into his bed, and way deeper into this mess than she was already. Her body ached with the decision she was trying to make, but her mind was firm.

  “Albert, I want you to turn—”

  Her mobile hummed in her hand. Mr Sexy Sir was calling again. Eliza sighed. She had to nip this in the bud.

  “Hullo?”

  “Are you with Albert?” said Todd. She heard a strain in his voice, a held breath.

  “Yes, but—”

  “—Oh, thank god. Thank you, Eliza.” On the other end of the line, she heard him sigh heavily with relief. “Thank you for getting in the car.”

  He was thanking her? She’d made a mistake getting in the car and now she was about to turn around and head back to her studio, her work, the only thing in her life that wouldn’t let her down because she was the one holding it up.

  “Todd, I can’t—” But he didn’t give her a chance to speak.

  “—Thank you for giving me another chance, Eliza. I know you didn’t have to. It’s been so hard to be away from you. And with everything going on here...”

  “You mean like more dates to the races? Is that why you need another chance?”

  The line was quiet for a moment. Eliza had never spoken so sharply to him before.

  “I want another chance to see you,” he said. “To show you how I feel about you.”

  There was that melt-y feeling again. Eliza shifted in her seat. “What about Miss Selfridge? What about that photo?”

  He sighed again.

  “Were you with her…” Eliza swallowed. “Like the way you were with me?” The words were hard to say. Saying them, thinking them, risked bringing on tears.

  “Nothing with anyone else is the way it is with you,” he said quietly. But he hadn’t answered the question. In fact…