His eyes lingered on hers, and she felt that connection, that he truly wanted to help, even though she’d let him down. Cautiously, she tucked the notes into her handbag.
Then the Champagne arrived, and Richard raised his glass in a toast. ‘To Lucy, my Sleeping Beauty! Do you know that every time I walk into my guest suite, I half expect to see you lying there, fast asleep? Can you imagine my disappointment when the bed’s empty?’
She laughed, wondering how lovely that would be, to be found by him all over again.
‘You should make a point of taking a nap there,’ he mused.
‘I’ll try,’ she replied, feeling grown-up and flirtatious, as if she drank Champagne in private clubs all the time.
The evening went on, her delighting him with the drama backstage at the beauty contest, her performances in Cornwall, how she longed to be a singer.
‘Well, I have a few other connections,’ he said. ‘Agents and so forth. Perhaps I can introduce you? I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to see a mesmerizing girl like you, and one who can sing, too.’
As he went on, she found herself glowing with excitement about her abilities, her future.
A new song had just begun, ‘My Funny Valentine’, and Richard lifted her hand, leading her to the small dance floor.
Even though she longed for him to hold her close, he danced slightly apart. It was gentlemanly, of course, respectful and correct, but he felt distant, holding her at arm’s length. How she yearned to feel his arms around her, his lips on hers, like the other couples, some in deep embraces. The Champagne was making her feel giddy and impatient. She needed certainty from him, to know that he liked her, to prove that she was worthy.
All he needed to do was to bend his head down and kiss her.
But then the song was drawing to an end, the woman’s deep voice lingering over the last notes, the couples pulling apart. As Lucy clung on, she silently appealed to him to answer her prayers.
But he pulled away to join the applause for the singer, turning to watch the stage as she took a bow.
Lucy was left trying to pull herself together.
Had she done something wrong? Had her failure to win the beauty contest made him less keen?
As the crowd began to disperse, he asked a waitress for their coats.
Unsure, she let him guide her towards the door.
It wasn’t until he’d paid the bill that he turned to her.
‘Look, I know it’s not usually the done thing, but would you let metake you back to my place? I wouldn’t ask you under normal circumstances, but I live close to here, and it seems somehow wrong to end the evening now.’
‘That would be l-lovely,’ she stammered, almost bursting into tears of relief. He did love her after all! Inviting her to his home, singling her out, it was perfect.
Only a small doubt wormed its way through her mind, though she hastily buried it as he helped her into her coat.
After a short walk, they turned down a lane that ran behind the river. The row of tall, elegant redbrick Regency houses was immaculate – probably among the best addresses in London.
‘Here we are!’ Richard said. ‘I hope it’s not too untidy. I only stay here during the week, and it gets cleaned at the weekend,’ he explained as he led the way into an elegant foyer with chequered tiles across the floor. A curved staircase led to the second floor, where he opened what was apparently the only door on that level.
The flat was more luxurious than Lucy had imagined. It was a heaving space with tall windows overlooking the Thames, which glistened with the evening lights from the bridge.
As he switched on a table lamp, she walked across to the window, gazing out over the river. ‘What an incredible place!’
But he pulled her away, closing the curtains and guiding her arm to the sofa. ‘Now, I think you deserve a nice stiff drink after your beauty contest debut.’
As he went to a well-stocked sideboard at the end of the room, she looked around the long, elegant living room. Having worked in the palace, she’d begun to recognize antiques, well-made sofas, the better-quality upholsteries. A black statuette on the sideboard was more likely an original than mass-produced, and the gleaming gold mirror wasn’t just plated.
This was real luxury, the way the true upper class lived.
‘Where do you go at the weekends?’ she asked.
‘I’m either at the country estate or travelling. The new Royal Yacht,Britannia,is being launched in Scotland in a few weeks, and I’m goingup for that. The queen will be heading to Balmoral Castle afterwards, and I’m hoping to be invited there, too.’
