‘Oh, that’s nothing,’ he says firmly. Pulling away from me slightly. ‘Force of habit. Parental pressure. We were kids. School kids when we er…’
I cringe at the er, hoping he can get through it quickly. Luckily, he does.
‘I mean, we still see each other, but it’s more like brother and sister.’
Being an only child, I doubt Marco has any idea what that’s like. Besides, I can’t help feeling there’s a note of guilt in his eyes. Does Fitz think that’s what they’ve got, some kind of sibling relationship? But it looks like I’m not going to get to the truth anytime soon, because the bugger goes for a conversation shift.
‘And you?’ he says, taking a step away and examining me curiously. ‘Is there someone in your life?’
I laugh, shaking my head. ‘No, not at all.’
There’s a long, awkward moment. I have no idea what he’s thinking, but something is certainly going on behind those dark eyes of his. Luckily, he breaks the mood.
‘We should push on.’ He glances out of the Connaught Room into the intricate labyrinth of passageways that the Beaumont is so famous for. ‘Come.’ He offers me his hand. ‘Have you been here before?’ he asks, as we step out of the room.
‘No,’ I say, managing to wangle in a note of surprise in my voice as though it’s the oddest thing in the world that I haven’t graced the hallowed halls of the Beaumont with my presence before whilst knowing full well that this hotel is well above my league.
‘It was the Earl of Ashbourne’s place before it was called the Beaumont. Have you heard of him?’
‘I don’t think so. Ashbourne?’ I say, drawing out the name uncertainly. If it wasn’t someone attached to the First World War, Second World War, Fire of London or the Black Death, my knowledge of historical figures and events is pretty slim.
‘He was a notorious philanderer. Hence all the passageways. It’s easy to get lost.’
I can see that Marco’s right. The passageways seem identical but spin away endlessly in all directions. ‘It’s quite a place.’
‘Yeah.’
I take a deep breath, knowing I should level with him a little. The idea of us hunting down a mysterious voice, one that he’s already attached to, is just ludicrous. ‘About this voice that you’re looking for… Couldn’t you just use someone else? That woman in the Connaught Room was amazing. Couldn’t you just…?’ There’s a long pause, in which we continue to walk down one of the long corridors, and I can’t help but feel there’s something he’s not telling me. Which I guess is kind of fine because there’s a hell of a lot I’m not telling him – call me nosy, but I can’t help but be curious.
He glances around him, lowers his voice, and leans in towards me. ‘The company is not doing too well.’
I’m surprised at his honesty, but then remind myself that I work for him. I’d had to sign an NDA. But actually, it kind of all makes sense. The company used to be family owned. Times have changed. ‘Hence the shareholders?’
‘Exactly. I had to take people on. Oh, hang on a minute.’ He stops, glances down a corridor to our right, and suddenly seems amused. ‘If you haven’t been here before, you have got to see this.’
Grabbing my hand, he hurries me down a corridor, the sounds of voices and music fading behind us.
‘Are you sure we should just…?’ I look nervously back over my shoulder.
‘No. Honestly. This has to be seen to be believed. And hardly anybody knows it’s here.’
So much for looking for that missing voice. I mean, I’m not too worried about that, anyway. Besides, I’m seriously enjoying the guided tour. Whatever the Earl of Ashbourne’s motivations were, he certainly knew how to build a palace.
‘Here,’ Marco says, once we arrive in a large, white, empty room. At the far end is a row of what looks like floor-to-ceiling curtained windows.
‘Here?’
Marco pushes forward.
I glance back over my shoulder, not convinced that we should even be here. It feels a bit backstage.
‘Clara.’ He reaches out his hand, and so much for resistance – I might as well have had a spell cast over my body. My own hand raises up towards his. I practically glide in his wake as he pushes open the doors at the back of the room and we find ourselves standing on an intricate wrought-iron balcony. One that’s covered with trailing jasmine in full bloom.
‘This is amazing,’ I gasp. Below us is a small courtyard with a fountain. The place is barely lit, so the golden light from the hidden wall lamps bounces off the water, scattering the courtyard in a ripple of orange waves that dance across the walls.
‘Isn’t it? I love it up here. You can’t actually get into the courtyard. This balcony has the only entrance.’
‘A secret garden.’ Enchanted, I lean over the balcony.
