Liz Fielding - British Bachelors - Tempting & New

‘I’m afraid the story is wrong.’ His voice was quiet, the tawny eyes oddly brooding. ‘Pete Hilton, the bass player and I studied Virgil’s Aeneid at school, and we took our name from Book Six where the oracle says, “Facilis descensus Averno”. Easy is the descent into Hell.’ He added wryly, ‘Before pointing out that very few who get there make it back again.’

He paused. ‘However, it failed to mention that sometimes the demons you find there make the return journey with you.’

Tavy stared at him. His voice had been level, even expressionless but there had been something in his words that had lifted all the hair on the back of her neck.

‘You learned Latin?’ Fiona did not mask her surprise.

‘We all did at my school,’ he said, and smiled at her. ‘Including, of course, your husband, who was in my year.’

Seeing Fiona Culham thoroughly disconcerted didn’t happen often, thought Tavy, a bud of illicit pleasure opening within her, but it was worth waiting for.

‘Oh,’ the other girl said at last. ‘You mean my ex-husband, of course.

‘I had no idea you were at the same school.’

He said gently, ‘And why should you?’

As the music ended in a wave of clapping and stamping from the other customers, he looked across at Tavy. ‘So, what did you think of that blast from the past, Miss Denison?’

‘Not much, I bet,’ Fiona said dismissively. ‘Octavia never listens to anything that can’t be found in Hymns Ancient and Modern.’

‘She’s a good judge,’ Jago said lightly. ‘As someone said, why should the devil have all the best tunes?’

‘But I didn’t think yours was a tune.’ Tavy’s voice was quiet. ‘It was too angry. It made me feel uncomfortable.’ She added, ‘But I expect that was the intention.’

There was an odd silence, then Patrick said, ‘I’m getting myself another pint.’ And went.

‘You must excuse me too,’ said Fiona, brightly. ‘I need to powder my nose.’

Leaving Tavy alone at the table with Jago Marsh in a silence which was suddenly almost tangible.

And which he was the first to break. ‘So he isn’t just the employer’s son?’

‘No,’ she said, slightly breathless, shakily aware that his eyes were travelling slowly over her, lingering shamelessly on the softly rounded curves tantalisingly displayed by the low neckline of the indigo dress, as if the fabric that covered her no longer existed. As if he was remembering exactly how much he’d seen of her at their first meeting. And, judging by his faint smile, enjoying every moment of the memory.

Making her wish almost desperately that she’d worn something less revealing, and tied her hair back instead of leaving it loose.

And that there was something altogether more substantial than a pub table between them.

Fight back, she thought as, in spite of herself, a slow tingle of awareness shivered through her body. Don’t let him do this to you.

She lifted her chin. ‘We’re—involved.’

He nodded reflectively. ‘And how does the employer feel about that?’

‘That is none of your business!’

‘Oh, dear,’ he said lightly. ‘That bad, eh?’

‘Not at all,’ she denied swiftly. ‘I simply prefer not to discuss it.’ Especially with you...

His eyes never left her. ‘So, exactly how deep is this involvement, or am I not allowed to ask that either?’

Colour rose in her face. ‘No you’re not.’

‘Which totally confirms my suspicions,’ he murmured.

‘Well, you have no right to suspect anything,’ Tavy countered, her flush deepening. ‘Or to indulge in any kind of unwarranted speculation about my personal life.’

‘Wow, that’s serious stuff,’ Jago said, grinning at her. ‘I shall consider myself rebuked.’

‘Now I’ll ask you something,’ she said. ‘What made you choose the Willow Tree of all places tonight?’

‘I didn’t,’ he said. ‘In case you think I’m stalking you or something equally sinister. In fact, the former Mrs Latimer suggested it. She and her father came up to the Manor this morning to introduce themselves, and, as they were leaving, I asked her if she’d like to go for a drink.’

He paused. ‘You see? My life, unlike yours, is an open book.’

‘But one I’d prefer not to read,’ she said crisply, seeing with relief that Patrick was returning from the bar, edging gingerly through the crowd with his brimming glass, his face flushed and sullen. ‘Just as I’d rather we kept our distance from each other in future.’

‘That could be tricky,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Hazelton Magna being such a very small village.’ He added softly, ‘Besides, Octavia, you were the one who came calling first. If you remember.’

She took a gulp of champagne to ease the sudden tightness in her throat.

She said thickly, ‘I’m hardly likely to forget.’

His smile seemed to touch her like the stroke of a finger on her skin. ‘Then at least we have that in common,’ he murmured and rose politely as Fiona also reappeared.

After that, it was downhill all the way. Once the complimentary champagne was gone, Jago, to Fiona’s open satisfaction and her own secret dismay, simply ordered another bottle.

She tried to catch Patrick’s eye to hint it was time to go, but her signal was ignored and he went off to the bar in his turn to obtain a third, or, she realised, startled, possibly even a fourth pint.

Which meant that he’d be in no fit state to drive, she thought, taking a covert peep at her watch, and trying to remember the timing of the last bus.

She’d never known him drink as much before. A pint and a half or maybe a couple of glasses of red wine were generally his limit.

I should have talked to him when I first got here, she told herself unhappily. Persuaded him to tell me what was troubling him. Why his day had been so rotten. Now, there’s no chance.

Fiona was off again, describing parties she’d been to in London, film premieres, theatre opening nights. Dropping celebrity names in an obvious effort to establish mutual acquaintances, but without any marked success.

Jago listened politely, but explained that he had spent most of the time since the band split up travelling abroad, and was therefore out of the loop.

‘Oh, but once it’s known you’re back, all that will change,’ Fiona said. ‘Besides, there was a piece in one of the papers only a few weeks ago, saying Descent might be getting back together. How marvellous would that be?’

‘I read that too,’ he said. ‘Pure speculation.’

‘I know you fell out with Pete Hilton,’ she said. ‘But surely you could find another bass player.’

‘Dozens, probably, if we wanted,’ he said, refilling her glass.

‘But you heard the reaction to Easy, Easy here tonight,’ she protested. ‘Imagine that repeated a million times over.’

‘I don’t have to use my imagination.’ There was a sudden harshness in his voice. ‘We experienced it in real life. Now we’ve made different choices.’

‘That’s crap and you know it,’ Patrick said belligerently. ‘With enough money on the table, you’d be off touring again tomorrow.’

Tavy groaned inwardly. She put her hand on his arm. ‘I think it’s time we were going.’

‘No,’ he said. ‘I want him to admit it.’

Jago looked down at the table, shrugging slightly. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Whatever you say, mate.’

‘And I’m not your mate,’ Patrick retorted. ‘Face it, you’re going to need a couple more million in the coffers to make that dump you’ve bought hab-habitable.’ He brought the word out with difficulty.

‘Which reminds me,’ Fiona broke in hurriedly. ‘I have a list of some simply marvellous interior designers—top people—that friends of mine used in London. I’ll give it to you.’