"So Bratty Brittany is my evil twin?"
"Exactly," he murmured, walking across to hug her. "You look so ravishing I want to take you back upstairs."
"Don't tempt me. By the way, I took my dishes to the kitchen, washed them and put them in the cupboard."
"Aren't you a good girl," he said with a wink. "Do you need anything else before we go? Unfortunately I have a lunch obligation, but I don't plan to eat very much. I want to take you to an early dinner at one of my favorite restaurants."
The mention of his lunch date sent a shadow across her heart.
"That's a shame," she said, hoping she sounded casual. "Do you think you'll be very long?"
"Not if I can help it. I'll drop you at Harrods and let you shop. I'll probably be about an hour."
"How will we meet back up?"
"I'll ring you, or you can ring me if you want, but just in case something unexpected happens I'll give you a key to the house," he said, stepping back to his desk and picking up an envelope. "It's in here, along with the address in case you forget, and instructions for the alarm. I'll have to go into the office tomorrow, so you'll be able to come and go as you please."
"Great. Thanks."
"Do you have Catherine's parka?"
"It's hanging on the coat rack by the back door. I assumed we'd be taking your car."
"Yes, we will. I'll bet you're looking forward to shopping at Harrods."
"So much," she said with a forced grin. His lunch with the mysterious Jane was all she could think about.
Reaching the garage and climbing into the car, unsettled and not sure what to do with herself, she pretended to rummage through her bag.
"Back to work for me tomorrow," Duncan remarked with a grimace, backing out onto the street. "I hope you won't be too bored."
"I should buy one of those naughty maid's outfits. I can clean the house all day and you can imagine me doing it."
"I'd never get any work done."
"Is your lunch with a client?" she asked innocently.
"I'm meeting Catherine. I would have invited you, but it's not just a casual get-together."
"Really? Catherine?"
"But you will meet her soon, and that's a promise."
"I'd like that," Brittany replied, fighting the desire to demand an explanation.
"Brittany, are you feeling all right? You seem on edge, or am I imagining things?"
She couldn't answer him. Consumed with confusion and filled with anger, she was afraid to speak.
"Brittany?"
"What? Sorry," she muttered, "I was just thinking about gifts I should buy for mom and dad."
"To be honest," he said quietly, stopping at a traffic light, "I hate the thought of you leaving."
His comment brought a lump to her throat, and staring across at him, a wistful smile crossed her face.
"To be honest, I do too."
But with heat filling the back of her throat, she wondered how she could believe a single word he said. He wasn't meeting his sister. He was meeting Jane.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Duncan had bought three hours of parking close to Harrods. It was an extravagance, but taxis could be a hassle, and he had thoughts of driving Brittany around the busy city after lunch. Holding her hand as they strolled towards the famous department store, he couldn't shake the feeling something was bothering her.
"Here you are," he declared, stopping at one of the many entrances. "A million square feet of shopping space."
"Good grief. Will I get lost?"
"You might," he said with a grin. "Beware of the food court. There are way too many scrumptious treats."
"Thanks for the warning."
"I'll call you on my way back and you can tell me where you are."
"Ah, good suggestion."
"Bye, Beautiful Brittany," he murmured, pulling her into his arms and hugging her warmly. "Try to behave yourself."
"I'll try, but I can't promise," she replied, fighting the temptation to add a sarcastic comment about the lunch he was having with his beautiful valentine.
"I'll take your confession later," he said with a wink, then turned and began walking down the street.
She was about to step inside the store when out of the blue, an idea floated into her head. She could follow him. She knew it was bad, very bad, but she needed answers! Staring after him, trying to think of a way to prevent from being seen if he should look over his shoulder, a tall, heavyset man wandered by. Falling into step behind him, to her dismay Duncan turned the corner. Though she prayed her cover would follow, the large man continued straight ahead. Pausing her step, she peeked around the building. Her eyes picked up the flash of Duncan's trench coat as he crossed the street. Waiting until he was further down the block, she continued her pursuit, but keeping pace wasn't easy. He was a swift mover, and she was almost out of breath when she saw him enter a jewelry store. Darting inside a restaurant on her side of the street, she ordered coffee in a takeaway cup. Grateful for the respite, she kept watch through the front windows as she sipped her drink, but when a cab stopped directly in front of the jeweler blocking her view, she thought she'd have to risk stepping outside.
She was not prepared for what happened next.
As the taxi pulled away, Jane stood on the footpath, appearing even more glamorous than her picture.
Brittany watched helplessly, her heart breaking, as Duncan stepped from the jewelry store and opened his arms. Jane moved into them, they hugged, then to Brittany's horror, they started across the street towards her. Panicking, she hurried to the counter and asked if there was a powder room.
"Yes, madame," the young waitress replied. "Through the dining room to the back door and across the courtyard. You can't miss it."
Pulse racing, she walked swiftly past the tables, opening the back exit to find an artfully decorated courtyard with dining tables. Darting towards the ladies room on the opposite side, she'd just entered when she heard the sound of Duncan's voice. Quickly closing the door, she leaned against it and caught her breath. Finally gathering her wits, she discovered the powder room was just as beautifully appointed as the restaurant and the patio. The counter was marble with a brass sink, over which hung a large, ornate mirror, and a small couch sat against the wall. But she also noticed a high window overlooking the courtyard. Standing on her toes, she peered through the glass. Duncan and Jane were in clear view, and to her relief, Duncan's back was facing her, but she couldn't believe her eyes as he produced a small, black velvet box and presented it to the beautiful Jane. The gorgeous woman lifted the lid, pulled out a ring, placed it on her engagement finger, and jumping from the table, she threw her arms around his neck. Stumbling backwards, Brittany caught herself just as she was about to fall, and staggering to the small couch, she flopped down and clutched her stomach.
"No, no, it can't be true," she sobbed, copious tears springing from her eyes. "What a total fool I've been. All those things he said were just bullshit. I've been played. Totally and completely played."
Flooded with heartbreak, she covered her face with her hands. When the bitter sobbing began to pass, she stumbled to the wash basin, splashed her face with water, and stared at her reflection.
"I'll go back to his house, pack my suitcase, but then what? I can't just go out to Heathrow and pray there's a seat available. Claridges! That's where I'll go. They can make my travel arrangements for tomorrow. I'll have an amazing dinner, then get plastered at the bar."
Satisfied with her plan, she took a deep breath and began to repair her makeup, but when her phone jangled, her heart stopped. Taking a deep breath, she decided what to say, then lifting it from her bag, she accepted the call.
"Hello, beautiful Brittany. Have you enjoyed yourself?"
"Sure, yes," she managed, moving to peer out the window.
"I'm on my way back to Harrods. It's about a ten minute walk. Where are you?"
His table was empty.
"I'm in the f
ood court. I couldn't resist. Meet me there."
"The food court's a big place. Where exactly?"
"Tell me where you want me, and I'll find it."
"The sushi bar."
"Okay, I'll see you there."
Ending the call before he could engage her in any further conversation, she rushed through the courtyard, but slowed her pace in the dining room. Stepping outside, peering up and down the street and seeing no sign of him, she hailed a cab.
"Where to Madame?"
Fishing in her bag she found the envelope, pulled out the paper with his address, and read it to the driver. As the taxi headed down the block, she fought back a sudden wave of emotion. She didn't want to shed another tear over him, but she couldn't stop the heavy droplets spilling down her face.
* * * * * * * * * *
Standing in the bustling food court, Duncan's worry grew. Brittany was not by the sushi bar, nor anywhere else he could see. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he typed a quick text.
In food court by Sushi. Where are you?
Waiting impatiently, he stared at the screen.
Nothing.
His frowned deepened.
"Damn and blast. I knew you were on edge," he grunted. "What the hell happened, and where are you?"
His phone beeped.
A response.
Both relieved and anxious, he opened the message.
Pet department.
Confused, and sure something wasn't right, he set off. The only pet department was a small concession on the second floor called Mungo and Maud. Striding briskly through the store, he arrived at what was left of the once-famous, Pet Kingdom. Brittany wasn't to be found, but he wasn't surprised. Grabbing his phone, he was about to text her again, but changed his mind and called her. Her phone went straight to voicemail.
"Brittany, please call me and tell me what's going on. Obviously something is horribly wrong. Where are you? I'm very worried."
Exasperated, he headed to one of his favorite haunts. A bar that offered a quiet lounge where he could nurse a drink and ponder the strange turn of events. Stepping outside, he was met by an unexpected, blustery wind. Glancing at the sky, grey clouds threatened. Thrusting his hands in his pockets, he strode forward, but just as he reached the bar his phone beeped. Anxiously retrieving it, he opened the message.
Not much fun, is it, being led on a merry dance that takes you nowhere? The gig is up, you bastard. I saw you and Jane. I'd wish you and your future bride a happy life, but I'm not that forgiving. God help that poor woman. You missed your calling. You should be an actor. You gave me an Oscar winning performance!
As if the Gods were underscoring the moment, a clap of thunder roared overhead and the skies opened up.Frustrated and angry, he pushed through the door, marched into the lounge, pulled off his coat, and dropping into a chair he typed his reply.
Whatever you THINK you saw, you jumped to the wrong conclusion. I'm not marrying anyone, I'm not engaged, and everything that happened between you and me was real. I can explain about Jane. I'm at The White Carriage. It's a bar near Harrods. I'll be here for an hour, then I'll go home.
Watching the message disappear, he slumped in his seat.
"You look like you've had better days."
Looking up he saw Daphne, a waitress who had served him many times.
"Without a doubt. I need a drink, but I need something hot."
"Irish Coffee!"
"Perfect, with a double shot. Thanks."
Dropping his phone on the table, his head swirled with questions. Why had she followed him? She'd been upset in the car, but from what? And how did she see him give the ring to Jane? The courtyard had been virtually empty.
"Are you so obsessive you followed me? Is that possible?" he muttered. "I didn't get that feeling from you, but if that's how you are, that's not good. That's not good at all."
"Your coffee, sir."
Startled, he looked up.
"Why so formal?" he asked, as Daphne placed the mug in front of him.
"We have a new manager. He told me I'm too friendly with the customers."
"That's ridiculous, and I need a friendly face today."
"Why are you so worried? I don't think I've ever seen you like this."
"I've hurt someone, someone very special, but it was...well, the thing is...she was somewhere she shouldn't have been, and she saw something she completely misunderstood."
"That's too bad. My mother always says the only way to fix something is to talk, but then you have to listen."
"Those are wise words. Tell your mother thank you."
"I hope it all works out, Duncan," she whispered, then in a regular voice, she added, "Let me know if you need anything else, sir."
It made him smile, and as he watched her walk away he felt calmer. Picking up his coffee he took a sip, then sighed, as the warm, comforting liquid slid down his throat.
* * * * * * * * * *
Brittany had told the taxi driver to wait. Fighting more tears, she'd thrown the few things she'd unpacked into her suitcase, then hurried back to the cab and directed the driver to Claridges. Now in the small office that served as the check-in counter, her eyes puffy and red, she tried to avoid the sympathetic look of the impeccably dressed clerk. His kindness made keeping her composure even more difficult.
"I'll only be here a couple of nights," she managed, "and I'd like a small suite if you have one."
"I do, but I'm going to upgrade you to our Mayfair Suite. I'm sure you'll find it most comfortable. There's a butler on the floor. Might I suggest our crumpets—"
"Crumpets?"
"Yes, they're excellent, as are our scones—"
"With cream and raspberry jam," she muttered, the lump at the back of her throat burning with a white hot heat threatening to suffocate her.
"Yes, that's how I like them too."
Pain shredding her heart, she couldn't stop the large tears falling from her eyes, and landing with a silent plop on the top of the wooden counter.
"I'm so dreadfully sorry," the young man said, his brow crinkling. "I didn't mean to upset you."
"It's not you," she sniffled. "I'm the one that's sorry."
"My name is Harry Guilford," he said warmly. "If there's anything I can do..."
"I just need to g-get to my room," she stammered, silently adding, but if you have a needle and thread, perhaps you can stitch up the huge hole in my heart.
"Yes, of course. Everything's in order. Do you have just the one piece of luggage?"
"Uh-huh."
"Here is your key. Your suitcase will be delivered to your suite momentarily, along with some refreshments compliments of the hotel."
"You've been extremely kind," she mumbled, finally lifting her eyes to meet his. "I really am very grateful."
"If you need anything, ring down and ask for me, Harry Guilford. Perhaps you should visit our spa. We have an excellent masseuse."
"Thank you. I might do that."
She was about to suggest he call her Brittany, but a porter appeared, and with a slight nod of his head, he announced he'd be showing her to her suite. Picking up her bag, she followed him through the elegant foyer to the lift, and when she was ushered into her suite, the room took her breath away. For a fleeting moment Duncan took a back seat, but as the porter explained the various amenities, her thoughts returned to Duncan, and how much she wished they were in the beautiful room together.
"Will there be anything else, madame?"
"Uh, yes. Where would you suggest I go for a drink later?"
"There's The Fumoir, decorated in a 1903s theme, or Claridges Bar, very beautiful with a huge chandelier. They offer a light menu if you care for something to eat."
"Thank you," she said, reaching into her bag and retrieving a five-pound note. "You've been most helpful."
"Thank you very much, madame."
As he left and closed the door, she carried her bag into th
e bedroom and pulled out her cell phone. Dropping on the bed, tired and filled with despair, she stared at Duncan's text. She'd read the message as she'd entered the check-in office, but she'd been so upset she'd barely processed the words.
Whatever you THINK you saw, you jumped to the wrong conclusion. I'm not marrying anyone, I'm not engaged, and everything that happened between you and me was real. I can explain about Jane. I'm at The White Carriage. It's a bar near Harrods. I'll be here for an hour, then I'll go home.
She read it through several times, then placed her phone on the nightstand.
"Wrong conclusion?" she muttered angrily. "I saw what I saw. You gave her a ring, and she put it on her finger!"
Swinging her legs off the bed, she stood up, ambled into the bathroom and stared at the tub.
"A long hot soak, and maybe I won't wait until tonight. Maybe I'll get totally plastered right now."
CHAPTER NINE
Sitting in his easy chair, sipping a large scotch in front of the fire and listening to the rain splash against the windows, Duncan had never felt so out of sorts. Idly glancing around the room, he noticed the portrait of Brittany's eighteenth-century lookalike leaning against the wall waiting to be unpacked.
"Now is as good a time as any, I suppose," he muttered, placing his glass on the side table and pushing himself out of the chair.
Ambling across the room and picking it up, he carried it into the kitchen, cut the string and ripped off the protective wrapping. The dark-haired girl stared at him, whimsy flickering in her eyes.
"It's astonishing how much you look like her. Damn and blast, Brittany, what have you done to me, and where the hell are you?"
Taking it back to the living room, he propped it up on the sofa, and picked up his scotch.
"Here's to you, Bratty Brittany," he declared, raising his drink, "and of course, you too, Beautiful Brittany. Why did you follow me? We should be enjoying an early dinner in a lovely restaurant. No! You should be here and over my knee getting your glorious bottom spanked. I'm living a Shakespearean tragedy, and I think I might be slightly drunk."
WET 2: London: A Steamy Holiday Romance Page 6