“Yes, Vicky?”
“Miss Wells is waiting in your office.”
Beatrice? It wasn’t like her to turn uplike this.
“Thank you. I’m on my way.”
When it came to romance, he had a routine. Friday night followed by breakfast on Saturday morning. Going out for breakfast allowed him to terminate the date painlessly by going to the office for a half day of work. Which was another reason he liked to schedule conferences onSaturdays.
Beatrice was unique in never trying to drag things out; she never asked to tag along, or demanded keys in order to go back to his flat to wait for him. She was easy going and gave him lots of space. There must be a reason for her tocome now.
He dropped the files on the desk of one of his junior associates and continued to his own office.
Beatrice was on the sofa, texting with both thumbs, her feet surrounded by colourful shopping bags.
“Bea.”He smiled.
“Darling.” She looked up with a huge smile and put her phone away. “You look happy. Successfuloutcome?”
“Rather.” He closed the glass door behind him. “You all right?”
“More than all right.” Beatrice stepped over a Harrods bag and came over. She held his face in both hands and kissed him.
“Bea. My office has glass walls.”
She giggled and pressed herself to him for another kiss, and this one she deepened. Despite himself, his body responded. He used the hug to move her sideways and walk her back to the sofa. Letting her sit there, he went to his chair behindhis desk.
He held his finger up to let her know he needed a minute as he buzzed Vicky. “Victoria, can you hold my calls for a few minutes, please.” When he called her Victoria, it was his code forinterrupt me in five minutes.
He stayed behind his desk and smiled at Bea. “So, what’s brought allthis on?”
“I went shopping with mummy. She’s in town for the day, and we’re having dinner tonight at L’Auberge. Why don’t you join us if you’re free?”
His heart fell. This had come up with past girlfriends, never Bea, though. He really had hoped not to have to deal with this, not to hurt her byrefusing.
“I doubt it. Do you want to go to the theatre on Friday? Or movie?” Always follow a rejection with a consolation prize.
“Either. Anyway, my mother was talking about Christmas. Don’t make any plans, you’re stayingwith us.”
Absolutely not. No families, no house parties. “Bea, it’s June, how can you be thinking about Christmas?”
“I can’t, but Mummy plans house parties six months in advance. So you’ll get her invitation inthe post.”
He tried to think of a polite refusal. This was harder than negotiating an employment dispute. “Isn’t Christmas a time for family?”
“But you are one of the family now.”
No, I’m not. They don’t even know me.
True, but they knew enough. His name was enough to mark him as marriage material. And this invitation was step one in the society matrimonial merry-go-round. House parties, followed by skiing holidays with the family, followed by summers in their country house, and culminating with a ring. As soon as he accepted one, he was on the ride and wouldn’t be able to get off until “I do.”
“Beatrice, I’m really sorry. Christmas is difficult. I always spend it with my father, alone.” He sounded too brusque, so he added, “My father’s very old, and since his stroke, he has become more difficult...” he trailed off. The meaning should be clear enough.
He hadn’t lied. His father was oldanddifficult, but that wasn’t the whole truth.
Vicky knocked and popped her head round the door. “The courier just delivered the case papers. Do you want them?”
“Not just yet, Victoria.” The second “Victoria” would give him another interruption in five minutes.
