The First Time We Met: The Oxford Blue Series #1 (19 page)

‘And now he’s the butler?’

The word is so at odds with the modern world, though I know that they’re popular with some of the Asian and Middle Eastern dignitaries we’ve met back in Washington.

‘Of course.’

‘I’m not really sure that Helen likes calling me Lauren, but I’d feel a lot more comfortable if she did. Robert too.’

He holds me. ‘I may be able to persuade Helen to use your first name, but Robert won’t have it. I’m afraid you’re going to find some of the things we do here archaic.’ He shakes his head. ‘My father’s determined to cling on to the past.’

‘Stop worrying, it’s been great so far.’

Voices and the slamming of doors draw our attention to the forecourt below the window. A Bentley has drawn up, the same one that whisked us to Le Manoir and the ballet.

Alexander presses his lips together and it doesn’t
take Sherlock to guess that the middle-aged man stepping down from the rear is his father. A large black umbrella is held over his head by Robert and his face is obscured from view.

Alexander says nothing and pulls me away from the window and sharply to him. His mouth comes down on mine, hard and insistent. When he’s finished kissing me, he tugs the front of my wrap dress away from my cleavage, exposing my breast. The flick of his tongue over my nipple draws a whimper of pleasure from me and I let my eyes drift shut to savour the warmth and wetness of his mouth suckling my swollen nipple.

‘I know we have to be ready to go down at seven, but that still gives us plenty of time to christen the bed,’ I whisper.

He lifts his head from my breast and runs the edge of his thumbnail idly over my exposed nipple, like it’s a juicy plaything to him. ‘There’s nothing I’d like more …’ he sighs, then his tone hardens. ‘But I have some things to do before everyone starts arriving for dinner. I’ll be back well before seven, but can you manage on your own until then?’

I try to keep the disappointment from my voice. He may want to talk to his father before the other guests arrive. ‘Of course. I’ll have a bath and get ready.’

He brushes his lips over mine. ‘Good. Relax and enjoy yourself. I’ll be back soon.’

Relax, he said. Easier said than done.

In the end, I have to rush to be ready. He said the
dress code is ‘smart casual’ – the worst dress code ever invented because ten to one you jump the wrong side of the smart or casual. I’ve spent far too long wondering what to wear and after changing three times, I decide the studded Twiggy dress is a little
de trop
for tonight’s ‘informal dinner’ and go for the Donna Karan I wore for the Wyckham welcome dinner. It’s a favourite piece of mine and I need all the confidence I can get tonight. Teamed with a pair of nude slingback heeled pumps from my go-to brand, Kate Spade, I think I’ll do. I’ve left my hair down in what I hope is a Kirsten Dunst-chic-but-natural way, and kept my make-up low-key. I’m also wearing the Cartier necklace, of course.

As well as dressing, I’ve been busy online. In fact, I only switch off my phone when I hear the bedroom door open. I wouldn’t want Alexander to know I’ve been Googling Falconbury to find out a little of its history. There’s no official website because the place isn’t open to the public, which tells me the Hunts must be able to afford to run it from other sources of income without resorting to such vulgar practices. After that, I checked the Debrett’s website in the hope I won’t make faux pas tonight.

From that I found out that, as heir to Falconbury, Alexander himself has a courtesy title, as Immy mentioned. He is, in fact, Earl of Sledmere, which it’s very tempting to tease him about – but maybe not tonight.

I’ve been checking my watch every few minutes and as it passes the eleven, my door opens and he marches in with a muttered ‘Sorry’.

I’m glad I erred on the side of smart because when
Alexander arrives he looks molten in an immaculate dark navy suit and pale blue Oxford shirt. He hasn’t bothered with a tie, leaving the top button of his shirt undone, giving a glimpse of his tanned chest with its crisp dark hair. His hair is still a little damp and if we weren’t in so much of a rush I’d like to take off his suit and try out the four-poster right now. But there’s no chance because from somewhere far below, a bell rings out, followed by hurrying footsteps and shrill laughter.

Alexander checks his watch. ‘We’ll be late. Are you ready?’

He glances up at me, finally noticing me since he rushed in here. He smiles at me, possibly for the first time since we left Oxford. ‘You look absolutely beautiful.’

‘This will do, then?’ I touch my dress. ‘I don’t want to let you down.’

‘You could never do that.’ He holds out his hand. ‘But I’m afraid it’s time to face the enemy.’

I manage a laugh in reply, but get the impression he’s not joking.

‘Alexander, what do I call your father?’ I whisper as we hurry downstairs. I found out that a marquess is the second most senior rank in the peerage: below a duke but above an earl. I heard Robert refer to him as Lord Falconbury but that seems incredibly formal if we’re eating together.

‘ “Awkward bastard” should do nicely.’

I grab his elbow, stopping him sharply. ‘I’m serious. Help me out here.’

He curls his lip. ‘His name is Frederick but most people call him “General Hunt”. The staff will call him “sir”. You don’t have to do that.’

‘Oh, really?’ I say sarcastically. ‘So I don’t need to call you, “my lord”?’

He takes my hand firmly in his. ‘That won’t be necessary during dinner. Later perhaps …’ The look he gives me scorches my skin and diffuses the tension a little before he sighs and reverts to full-on gloom. ‘With a bit of luck, you can avoid my father as much as possible. I asked Robert to sit us at the other end of the table from him at dinner. Shall we get it over with?’

My stomach flutters as we walk across the hall and through one of the doors at the opposite side from where there’s a low buzz of conversation and the odd clink of glasses. As we walk in, Robert is pouring drinks, wearing a butler’s jacket and striped trousers.

There are only two people here, one of whom I recognize though I’ve never met him. General Hunt is an older, greyer, stockier version of Alexander. Imposing though he is, he’s eclipsed by the woman chatting to him as if she’s known him for ever. No one could fail to miss her, because she is probably the most stunningly beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life.

Alexander’s expression switches from grim to thunderous and back again to something I can only describe as frozen.

‘Alexander,
amore
!’

The girl sashays across the room to us in strappy heels so high she must need oxygen. Ignoring me completely, she throws her arms round his neck and kisses him on the lips. His hands move to her waist as if to fend her off, but she entwines her arms round him then lets out a dramatic gasp.

‘
Tesoro
, you look so tired! What have you been doing while I’ve been away? Look at these dark circles …’ She runs a scarlet nail down his chin. ‘And you are so pale under the sun tan.’

My stomach knots.
Tesoro? While I’ve been away?

‘There’s absolutely nothing wrong with me, Valentina.’ He unwinds her arms from his neck and stands back. She pouts.

‘Alexander, I know you are being brave. Your father says you’ve been away a lot and he worries about you so much.’

‘Then he shouldn’t.’

‘I worry about you too,
tesoro
.’ Her long, slim fingers rest on his sleeve and she stares into his eyes.

I may as well not exist as General Hunt looks on, a broad smile on his lips. Valentina clearly by-passed the smart part of the dress code and has gone straight for no-holds-barred runway glamour. Her skin-tight black jersey and leather dress has to be couture. The long sleeves and high neckline only draw attention to the hemline, which ends mid-thigh, exposing her endless tanned legs.

She flicks her jet-black hair over her shoulder and captures Alexander’s hand in hers again. ‘I am being impolite. You have a guest with you. Aren’t you going to introduce us?’

‘If I ever get the chance,’ says Alexander crisply. ‘Lauren Cusack, this is Valentina.’

‘Valentina di Cavinato. So happy to meet you.’ She swoops down on me, brushing one cheek then the other with a kiss. Her perfume fills my nose; exotic, sophisticated and heady. ‘Come and meet Alexander’s father. He’s told me how much he’s longing to meet Alexander’s new girlfriend.’

Valentina’s entrance is as showy as a firework display and I’m reeling from the spectacle as she threads her arm through mine and escorts me to General Hunt. Alexander follows; I can’t see his face, but I can sense the indignation and discomfort bristling from every pore.

As we reach General Hunt, Alexander steps in and grabs my hand. ‘Dad, this is Lauren Cusack, Lauren, my father, General Hunt.’

General Hunt holds out his hand. ‘
Lauren
. Delighted to meet you.’

He says my name quickly like it might explode in his mouth, and drops my palm like a hot potato. I have to say, I never saw a man less delighted to meet me in my life.

Valentina bats Alexander’s arm playfully. ‘So this is your new American girlfriend? Your father has mentioned her to me. Yes, I cannot wait to hear all about you too, Lauren. How did you two meet?’

‘At Oxford,’ says Alexander in a clipped tone.

His brusqueness rolls off her. ‘Are you an undergraduate? I hope you don’t mind I say it, but you look very young.’

I do mind she say it, but I keep my cool and smile politely. ‘I’m twenty-one, actually, and I’m doing a master’s in art history.’

She narrows her eyes. ‘How interesting! I own a gallery in Positano and it amuses me to acquire new pieces when I visit my parents’ villa. I expect you will enjoy studying the paintings at Falconbury while Alexander and I are out hunting on Saturday. Unless you ride to hounds?’

‘No, I don’t, but I’m coming to watch the hunt.’ You try stopping me, I think.

‘You will love it, but I hear it is not the same since the ban, is it, Alexander?’

Alexander opens his mouth to speak, but his father bulldozes in. ‘Bloody interfering politicians. These people have no idea of what we do in the country.’

Valentina sneers. ‘I agree, Frederick. They should not poke their dirty noses into our business.’

‘Surely you can still get the thrill of the hunt and the social side of it by following a trail?’ I ask.

Valentina laughs. ‘It’s not the same as chasing the live animal, as you would know if you’d been born and bred to Falconbury ways.’

I notice Alexander has sloped off to the drinks table, where he’s pouring himself a large whisky.

Valentina rolls her eyes. ‘All this talk of cruelty is ridiculous, and cooked up by people from big cities who have no idea what they’re talking about.’

‘Really? I thought the ban had huge popular support. It was reported in the US.’

General Hunt manages what I take to be a ‘pshaw’ before declaring, ‘Sentimental nonsense. Foxes have to be kept under control.’

I’m stung into a response. ‘Aren’t there other ways of doing that?’

General Hunt snorts. ‘Rubbish.’

‘There is some debate about it,’ Alexander cuts in, returning with an Aperol spritz for Valentina and a glass of champagne for me. It’s his attempt, I think, to save me from a verbal roasting by the general, but I won’t back down.

The general goes on: ‘There is no other way. Foxes have been hunted in Falconbury country for three hundred years and, if I had my way, they still would be.’

‘But you can’t, of course, since they passed the Hunting Act, because that would be illegal.’ I try to keep the smile off my face.

Valentina sneers. ‘There are plenty of ways of getting
around this ridiculous ban and if some silly fox gets in the way you cannot blame the hounds for “accidentally” picking up his scent instead of the trail.’ She brackets her nails round the ‘accidentally’.

‘That’s not likely to happen tomorrow, though, is it, Valentina?’ Alexander says, glaring at her before taking a sip of his whisky.

She shrugs. ‘As you know all too well,
tesoro
, anything can happen in the heat of the chase. Hunting is unpredictable and dangerous.’

‘Do you mean you might fall off?’ I ask innocently.

Her eyes are incredulous. ‘Me? Fall off? I was born in the saddle!’

‘That must have been tricky for your mother.’

Alexander struggles to hide a smile, but Valentina’s eyes are feline as she glares at me. ‘I am an expert horsewoman. I have never taken a fall, no matter how hard the ride.’

‘And you always pick up the scent?’ I add wickedly. ‘Having a nose for the chase, that is?’

Alexander gulps down his whisky as Valentina simmers like a boiling kettle. ‘I have been hunting since I was three years old. There is no one out in the field with more experience, not even Alexander!’

The general cuts in. ‘We had the grooms take him out on the lead rein on his fourth birthday.’

Alexander answers lazily, ‘You know, I really can’t remember when it was.’

‘Of course you damn well can. You fell off twice and screamed the bloody place down.’

Valentina rests her slim fingers on the sleeve of
Alexander’s jacket. ‘Poor
tesoro
! You told me your mother didn’t want you to hunt so young.’

‘She didn’t, not that anyone took any notice of her.’ Alexander’s comment is obviously directed at General Hunt and I hold my breath as he and his father exchange glances of undisguised enmity at the mention of Lady Hunt’s name. I fully expect his father to lash back a reply, but instead he takes a gulp of his whisky and mutters, ‘He was perfectly safe, and it hasn’t done him any harm at all.’

Valentina strokes Alexander’s arm again. ‘Of course no harm was done. Look at him now. Alexander adores hunting and is always at the top of the pack. He never misses the Falconbury Hunt, although it is such a pity we are no longer allowed to chase foxes, is it,
tesoro
?’

Alexander smiles and downs the rest of his whisky before replying. ‘I can’t say that I cared much either way beforehand, but now it’s in place I don’t really see that it makes any difference to my enjoyment of the day.’ His reply is aimed squarely at his father, whose face turns almost puce with fury.

Valentina claps her hand to her mouth in mock shock. ‘How can you say that? You don’t mean it. You must want the ban repealed. You must think that a law like that, cooked up by … by –’

‘Peasants?’ I murmur.

Valentina’s tone is like a scrape on a violin: ‘– by tin-pot politicians and ignorant little people goes against everything that Falconbury stands for! Alexander, you must be furious.’

Alexander shrugs. ‘As long as I can still ride out, I really don’t give a flying fuck if I have to chase after a rag on a stick and if other people want to have a tantrum about it that’s their problem. These days I tend to have slightly more pressing matters to consider, like am I and, more importantly, my men, going to get shot to pieces or blown to fuck.’

General Hunt slams down his glass on the table. ‘This is not the barrack room and I will not have that kind of language in my house, Alexander. Is that clear?’

‘Perfectly,’ says Alexander, his voice laden with contempt. ‘Excuse me.’

Blood sports might have been outlawed here, but I still feel like a spectator at one. The animosity between Alexander and his father is rabid. Valentina’s hostility and snobbery I can handle, but it’s not so easy to ignore the fact that she’s obviously been incredibly close to Alexander and wants me to know it.

Alexander stalks off towards the door into the hall, past Robert. I hear Robert whisper to General Hunt, who sighs but walks out after Alexander, leaving me alone with Valentina, who sits down on the sofa, her elegant legs posed to one side.

She lets out a long sigh. ‘It is such a shame. Alexander is under such terrible pressure in the army or he would not have insulted the hunt and his father. So, will you be joining us in the field on Saturday?’ she asks as I perch on the end of the sofa.

‘I haven’t decided yet.’ It’s true. I can’t decide whether I can stand spending my day trailing after Alexander’s
hunting friends if they’re all like Valentina. However, the alternative is to leave him to her and I don’t want to do that.

‘Some people, true enthusiasts, love to follow, but those who are ignorant of our ways can find it boring.’

I flash her my sweetest smile. ‘Don’t worry, I know
exactly
what’s going on here.’

She arches an eyebrow. ‘Well, if you decide you can’t stand the pace, perhaps you’d be better off taking Alexander’s precious dog for a walk or going shopping while we are out together, although the shops here are so parochial and dowdy compared to Roma and Milano. I flew back to our apartment in Roma especially to buy my autumn wardrobe. Have you been to Italy?’

‘I’ve been to Milan with my father when he made a trade visit to Italy.’

She pats her mouth with her hand as if stifling a yawn. ‘Oh yes, I remember now. Frederick mentioned to me that your father was a liberal politician.’

‘He’s not a liberal, he’s a Democrat.’

She shrugs. ‘It is all the same to me. Politics bores me.’

‘Really? I can’t think of anything more exciting than to be in a position to change the world and make ordinary people’s lives better.’

She curls her lip at me. ‘Ordinary people bore me too.’

Alexander enters, followed by General Hunt. I don’t know if they’ve been arguing but the general is very red-faced and Alexander looks like a pan about to boil over.

‘So you’re an old friend of Alexander’s, then?’ I ask Valentina.

‘
Santo cielo!
Friends? Hasn’t Alexander told you? We were engaged.’

My stomach flips over and over like someone pushed me down a hill in a zorbing ball and my words tumble out before I can stop them. ‘You were his
fiancée
?’

‘Of course. We were together for two years before we broke up this summer. It was in July before he went up to Oxford. He was under incredible pressure at work or I don’t think it would ever have happened.’ Her dark-brown eyes glint. ‘I cannot believe you did not know about me.’

I knew Alexander had broken up with his ex, but I’d had no idea they were actually engaged. Finding out from Valentina herself is a bit of a shock, to say the least.

‘I, uh … no, he hasn’t mentioned you, actually.’

‘Really? Perhaps he did not want to worry you,’ she sneers.

I sip my champagne. ‘Why would I be worried? I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you, but I knew he was in a long-term relationship before he met me.’

She shrugs. ‘You know, I think Alexander has struggled horribly to get over our break-up …’

She leaves her remark hanging presumably so I can ask her about the split.

‘… and his father was heart-broken.’

‘I expect he couldn’t bear to see his son hurt,’ I say icily.

‘Perhaps. Frederick worries so much about Alexander; he is a brave and exceptional man, but Frederick wants him to give up the military and take his rightful place in society.’

‘And what is his rightful place?’ I ask. ‘In your opinion?’

‘Here of course and I do agree with Frederick. Alexander is the heir to Falconbury and, as you can see, the estate is large. A son’s duty is to take over the burden and start preparing to be Lord Falconbury with all the social responsibilities that go with it, not racing off round the world playing games with his army friends.’ She hisses in contempt. ‘Any woman who truly loves him would recognize that and encourage him to live up to the role he was born for.’

‘I’ve only been seeing him for a couple of months; I’m not quite ready to direct his life choices.’

Her beautifully arched brows meet in confusion, then she tosses back her hair and ploughs on. ‘You could not be expected to understand this because you are not from the nobility. My father was the Conte di Cavinato and Alexander’s mother was my godmother, so you see I have a
very
special link to the family.’

‘I don’t like him going away either, but anyone can see that it would kill Alexander to be forced to leave the army.’

‘It will kill him if he stays. He’s already been shot once, even though it was only a flesh wound …’ She crosses herself and even I suppress a shudder at her revelation. ‘You must have seen the result.’ She reaches over her shoulder and touches her back where Alexander
has his scar. ‘How could you miss it? You must have seen it when you are fucking him.’