Little Lady Agency and The Prince (45 page)

‘Alex tried to get in touch with me many times, but I knew that if we met, we’d just be tempted to start an affair, and I promised myself I’d never, ever get involved with a married man. And I was cross for a long time about the way . . . things ended.’ Granny looked quite fierce. ‘After Percy died, Alex called me and asked if he could take me out to dinner. I wasn’t sure, but he’s so charming, he persuaded me. I realised we were old enough to let things go and be friends. I’m glad he did.’ She looked down at her own diamond rings. ‘Then, when Celestine died last year . . . Well, that changed things again. I’d always like to think there’s room for forgiveness. But, what I wanted to say to
you
, darling, is . . . if I’d waited for Alexander to give me a fairy-tale life, I’d be a bitter, lonely old woman by now. And instead, I’ve been very happy.’

She touched my cheek tenderly. ‘If I hadn’t married Percy, I wouldn’t have had your mother, and there wouldn’t have been any you! Darling, I know you’re feeling down about Jonathan, but please don’t expect Nicky to provide some kind of happy ever after. Because it’s not up to him, it’s up to you.’

‘I don’t expect him to!’ I protested. ‘I mean, he’s gorgeous and much less of a moron than he seems, but really, Granny – do you
honestly
think he’s my type?’

‘We all like to
think
we know what Our Type is,’ she pointed out. ‘But hormones have a habit of bypassing that.’

‘It’s not that, there’s . . . there’s someone else.’

‘Really?’ asked Granny. ‘Who?’

I blushed.

‘Please God don’t say Jonathan,’ she groaned.

‘No!’

‘Thank heaven for small mercies. Who, then? Nelson?’

I nodded, and a little smile broke through the tension on Granny’s face. ‘Oh. Well, now he really is a prince, Melissa. Nelson Barber is everything I’d wish for you, and he absolutely adores you, that’s quite clear.’

‘Do you think so?’ I asked hopefully.

‘Oh, yes.’ She took my hand and squeezed it. ‘Hard-working and honest might not be as glamorous as a yacht and helicopters, but believe me, darling, they’re a lot more precious. Does Nelson know how you feel?’

I shook my head. ‘No. Well, I’ve been engaged to Jonathan, haven’t I? God, I’ve been so
stupid
, trying to fix him up on blind dates – and now here he is with Leonie and they’re getting on like a house on fire! She’s had a makeover, and now even Nicky’s been listening to her lectures about international tax havens. It’s amazing what a half-head of highlights and a push-up bra can do.’

Granny went silent, then said, ‘Well, what if
Nicky
suddenly took an interest in Leonie?’

‘What?’

‘Well, if Nelson thought Leonie was interested in Nicky, he wouldn’t touch her with a bargepole. And if Leonie thought Nicky fancied her – she’s an accountant, isn’t she? Which fund would you rather invest in?’

‘I see what you mean,’ I said. ‘Isn’t that a bit sneaky, though?’

‘
Ingenious,
darling.’

I looked at the red ring box on the desk, and the inner joy I’d started to feel curdled in my stomach. It didn’t change the fact that Nicky had an engagement ring in his cabin. Not only was this going to lead to a horrendous, embarrassing situation, but we were stuck on a yacht. With no taxis to spirit us to safety.

‘What am I going to say if Nicky does propose?’ I wailed. ‘I’ve only ever been proposed to once, and that didn’t go very well!’

‘You say, “I’m terribly honoured that you’d consider spending the rest of your life with me”,’ Granny began, with a suspiciously practised air, but before she could carry on, I heard footsteps pass the porthole on the deck above, and Nicky’s voice say, ‘I don’t know – I’ll just go and find her, shall I?’

I nearly jumped out of my palazzo pants. ‘Quick!’ I said. ‘Out!’

Fortunately, the boat’s palatial dimensions meant that we had just enough time to slip out, and pretend to be emerging from Granny’s stateroom when Nicky sauntered down the steps.

Granny and I both stared at him, as if seeing him for the very first time.

‘What?’ he drawled, running a hand through his thick dark hair. He raised an eyebrow in my direction. ‘Hey, I know I’m a good-looking guy, Melissa, but you’re making me feel quite shy, staring at me like that!’

‘I’m fine!’ I squeaked, not knowing what to say.

He peered more closely at me. ‘Melissa?’

‘She’s still a little shaken after your cavortings,’ Granny intervened smoothly, putting a hand on the small of my back and shoving me towards the stairs. My eyes stayed on Nicky, despite myself. ‘I prescribe a stiff gin and tonic, darling. Nicky, can you arrange that for us? We’re just going for a spot of sun.’

‘Yeah,’ he said, creasing his brow. ‘Leonie’s wondering where you are, by the way. Nelly’s boring her senseless with his reef knot anecdotes.’

‘Hahahahahahaha!’ tinkled Granny and led me upstairs.

I’d barely settled myself into the soft mass of cushions in the sunpit when a generous G & T arrived in a huge tumbler, and I drank deeply from it, my hands shaking so much the ice rattled.

Granny arranged herself and her gauzy layers of designer linen on a sun lounger next to Alexander, who was already tanned to the deep bronze of Daddy’s dinner gong. Nelson had gone off to inspect some new GPS system, according to Leonie, for which I was quite grateful, but she seemed eager to chat, for which I wasn’t.

I lay back on the cushions, in the shade of a broad green umbrella, and tried to think what Honey would do. It was all so bizarre. What
was
the etiquette on being proposed to by a prince? How could I let Nelson know how I felt?

‘Nelson’s a nice man, isn’t he?’ Leonie observed, breaking into my thoughts. ‘Bit like a Labrador.’

‘Sort of,’ I said. A twinge of jealousy bit me.
I
was the only one allowed to see him as a Labrador, thank you. ‘He’s a bit grumpy in the mornings, though. And he won’t drink non-organic milk because of dairy mastitis.’

I wondered, guiltily, just how far I could put her off, in the name of telling the truth. Not that I had any right to interfere in Nelson’s life when it was me who had set him up with Leonie in the first place. Especially if he liked her.

‘Hmm,’ said Leonie. ‘I don’t go in for organic food personally. Just ten per cent extra for a bit of mud, isn’t it? Paranoia tax. But I’m really impressed with his ethical investments,’ she went on. ‘He’s obviously very clued-up on tax breaks.’

‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘Very much so.’

‘And he’s quite handsome, I suppose.’

‘He’s
very
handsome,’ I insisted. ‘He has gorgeous eyes, and his hair isn’t even
starting
to recede, unlike most of his friends.’

‘Like a teddy bear,’ agreed Leonie.

‘No,’ I said stoutly. That was what I’d been getting wrong all these years. ‘
Not
like a teddy bear. Like a . . . very handsome man.’

One of the crew came past, and offered to refresh Leonie’s glass, at which she giggled. ‘No, shouldn’t,’ she said. ‘This is my fourth! And I’ve had nothing to eat since . . . Oh, go on, then!’

She rolled over on her side, and looked at me over her Duty Free sunglasses. Her bosom made a bid for freedom from her bikini, but she didn’t seem to notice. ‘Nelson’s very nice, but you must be looking forward to all this,’ she confided.

‘Sorry?’

‘This life . . .’ Leonie waved a vague hand around at the yacht. Four might have been a polite scaling-down of her drinks tally. ‘I’d
love
to have a lifestyle like this! Yachts, and castles, and tans, and staff and,’ she stared lustfully at her drink, ‘huge crystal tumblers . . .’

I frowned. Tipsy or not, this wasn’t the disapproving Leoneezer I knew. Those blonde highlights must have gone to her head.

‘And as for Nicky!’ She giggled again, and then sighed lustfully. ‘He’s so scrummy. So . . . naughty.’

‘Leonie,’ I said, propping myself up on one elbow. Ingenious plan or not, I had to be honest with her, as a fellow St Cathalian. ‘I don’t really think he’s your type. You know he once undid my wrap-dress in front of everyone at Petrus? For a laugh. Without even thinking how mortified I might be.’

Her eyes widened even further. ‘Oh, you lucky, lucky cow!’

I sank back into the cushions. Clearly, Leonie had a hidden side I knew nothing about.

‘And to think all this is going to be yours,’ she went on.

‘It certainly isn’t,’ I corrected her, then it dawned on me that Nicky could do a lot worse than a Very Sensible Girl with a suppressed naughty streak. ‘Nicky and I are just old family friends. You know,’ I added, ‘I rather think it’s
you
he fancies.’

‘Oh, no, don’t be silly!’ she simpered.

‘I think he does, though,’ I insisted. ‘Didn’t he tell you how much he loved your new look? And he told
me
he’s bored of brainless heiresses and gold-diggers. He wants someone with her feet on the ground, someone normal who won’t be impressed by material things, and love him for who he is, instead of what he can pay for.’

‘That’s so sweet!’ she near-sobbed.

‘He’s rather keen on strict girls, you know,’ I pressed on. ‘And now they’re all moving back to Hollenberg, someone’s going to have to step in and modernise the castle, and that sort of thing. I doubt Alexander will want to have to deal with it.’

‘The castle,’ breathed Leonie. ‘Prince Alexander’s been telling me all about it. It sounds . . . magical! But probably quite dilapidated in some respects,’ she went on, in more recognisably Leoneezer tones. ‘Have they negotiated any conservation grants to help with the restoration?’

I sank back and closed my eyes, adjusting my huge sunhat so I could lean my head on the big cushions. ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘Perhaps that’s something you could ask Nicky over dinner?’

‘Yes, I will.’ She gasped. ‘Oh God, what should I wear?’

‘The smallest outfit you’ve got,’ I said, and pretended to go to sleep.

Obviously, I didn’t go to sleep. I lay there, fretting. Fretting about Nelson, about whether Grandad Wasdalemere had been a knight in shining armour or just an old man with a red nose, about whether Alexander was going to break Granny’s heart again. And also about Nicky and that enormous diamond ring.

A shadow fell over my face, and I felt someone squat down next to me. Whoever it was smelled of cologne, and the knees didn’t click, so I knew it wasn’t Nelson or Alexander.

‘Melissa,’ whispered Nicky.

Oh, bollocks.

I kept my eyes shut beneath my shades.

‘Melissa, I need to talk to you.’ His voice sounded unusually serious, and quite urgent. ‘In private.’

This was it. My heart hammered. Right, I told myself, be dignified. Respect the fact that he really seems to have grown up recently.

An ice cube dropped on my cleavage and I sat up, scrabbling for it as it vanished into the dark caverns of my kaftan.

‘So you weren’t asleep,’ Nicky remarked, then added, as if he just couldn’t stop himself, ‘want some help fishing it out?’

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Leonie struggle between desire and disapproval.

‘Don’t do that,’ I snapped. ‘Unless you want one down your trousers?’

Nicky pretended to swoon, but I could see tension lines around his mouth. ‘I love it when you get cross with me. Come on, I need to talk to you.’ And he grabbed my hand and dragged me off the cushions.

Giving Leonie a significant look, I followed Nicky down into the saloon, mentally preparing myself to be kind yet firm.

He dropped the light-hearted banter as soon as we were out of sight, and when we were safely in his cabin, he shut the door and went over to his desk.

Oh, God, I couldn’t let him do this.

‘Nicky,’ I said hastily, ‘you know I absolutely adore you, and I really do feel we have a special friendship . . .’

And the rest
. I blanched, but drove on.

‘Which I hope we’ll never lose, but I’ve had a very upsetting time of it lately, and I just need some space and time on my own to . . . What?’

He was staring at me impatiently. Then, to my horror, he dropped to one knee.

‘Nicky, I can’t marry you! I love someone else!’ I roared, at the same time as loud music started blasting out of the carefully concealed speakers all round the cabin.

‘What?’ he said, getting up.

I realised he’d gone down on one knee to turn on the stereo, not to propose at all. The first pricklings of humiliation stabbed at my chest but, fortunately, he didn’t seem to have caught what I’d said.

‘I don’t want to be overheard,’ said Nicky, nodding towards the music. ‘Something bloody awful’s happened.’

He flipped open the lid of his laptop, and clicked on an email. Curiously, I drew nearer and saw the email was from Imogen. It was composed in capital letters. She was clearly very angry or else wasn’t familiar with the caps lock.

Nicky sank into his chair, pulled open the drawer of the desk and withdrew a hip flask, from which he took a mighty swig. ‘Read it,’ he urged.

I skimmed Imogen’s shouty email, flinching at the foul language. The gist of it was that she was very annoyed at being dumped for some ‘fat chav’, as she charmingly described me, and to repay Nicky for making her look like a fool – something I felt she was doing perfectly adequately without his help – she was going to the magazines with some ‘interesting’ photos she had of him. Which, she felt, might well provide an obstacle to his getting the keys to Castle Hollenberg. In fact, Imogen was fairly confident they might even lead to a visit from Her Majesty’s Constabulary.

I scrolled down. Imogen had attached one of the photographs to the email as an illustration. It started innocuously enough: a dark nightclub, the tops of people’s heads . . .

I reeled back from the desk at the sight of two flushed, semi-naked girls grappling with Nicky and his shouty friend Chunder. Both of them were just about wearing unravelling togas, and there were empty bottles and bits of discarded clothing everywhere. Imogen had typed IT GETS MUCH WORSE – REMEMBER THE TWINS?!?!?!?!!?! beneath.

‘Nicky, what on earth was going on there?’ I peered closer at the arrangement of bare arms and legs. ‘Were you having a wheelbarrow race?’