The Duke's Affair

XXI

When Henry woke, still dressed in his suit, lying on top of the bedspread, his neck and shoulders were aching. The room was freezing because he had opened the window before he fell asleep. He sat up and rolled his head, attempting to loosen his stiff muscles. He switched on the bedside lamp and waited for his eyes to grow accustomed to the light.

He glanced at his watch. Just gone eight in the morning. He had to be in the office that morning, before they went out for the office Christmas lunch. But it could wait. He wasn't going anywhere before he had seen Lydia.

He stood up and made his way through the house and down to the kitchen in the basement, where he found Marcus frying bacon.

"Would you like some?" asked Marcus, dressed in his pyjamas and an apron, tied tightly in a knot at the back.

Henry sloped across the kitchen and dropped into a high stool at the island in the centre of the room. "Don't you have someone to do that for you?" asked Henry, watching as Marcus dodged out of the way of flying sparks of fat.

Marcus guffawed. "We aren't all the Duke of Brecktonshire." He dabbed his forehead with the back of one hand. "I gave Lena this week off. I'm supposed to be flying to the Caribbean this evening."

"For Christmas?"

"And New Year." Marcus moved the frying pan off the hob and turned to face Henry properly for the first time. "You look dreadful. Coffee?"

Henry folded his lips in on one another and drew his eyebrows together. "Please." He slid his elbows over the table and slumped forward on them. "I'm exhausted. When are you expecting Lydia?"

"Any minute now actually. She wanted to come round early to pick up the evidence."

"Great. Perhaps she'll want some bacon," said Henry, sitting up again. "I don't know how you can eat right now."

Marcus untied his apron and hung it up, fetching Henry's coffee before carrying a plate with bacon, eggs and fried tomatoes on it over to the table. He set it down and sat next to Henry, reaching towards him to pull cutlery from a drawer.

"I can always eat," he said, sawing at the bacon.

As Marcus began to chew, silence fell and Henry sipped on the coffee. The doorbell rang and Henry slammed his cup down. "Is that her?"

A small pool of dark liquid had slopped onto the surface and Marcus dabbed at it with a napkin. "Very likely," he said, between mouthfuls.

"I'll get it," said Henry, and found himself almost running up the stairs, taking them two at a time, despite the fact that he had no idea what he would say to her when he opened the door.

Marcus had left the keys in the door and Henry twisted them and drew back the bolt taking a deep inhalation before he opened the door. Lydia, her long blonde hair falling in curls over her shoulders, stared at him. Henry felt a small leap of joy as he recognised her surprise. The flicker in her eyes was marginal, a split second, but he had noticed it. She hadn't expected to see him.

"Lydia," he said smiling, "won't you come in?" He stood back and let her sweep past him in a whirl of black cashmere.

"I didn't know you were in the habit of sleeping over at Marcus'," she said, as she removed a felt trilby from her head and handed it to him.

"We're very close," said Henry, placing a hand deliberately on her back and guiding her down the stairs.

Marcus had cleared his dishes into the sink and sat with a mug between his fat fingers. "Hello, Lydia."

"What is this? Some kind of ambush?" she said, one hand on her hip as she slung her handbag onto the table.

"Not at all," said Marcus. "But I have had a change of heart."