The Duke's Affair

II

But why, she wondered, would a man like that want me? Perhaps it's because I am imagining it, she told herself. Perhaps it's because I have been thinking of him so often that now I can't even work out what's real and what's not. She scolded herself for even thinking he might be interested. He had pretended he had never met her before, after all.

Or perhaps he simply does not remember you, a tiny voice whispered in her ear.

As each course was brought in and removed, Lauren could barely take her eyes off him, and at the same time felt unable to stare for any significant period of time. His skin was still golden, a slight stubble across his pronounced jaw. When he laughed his perfect lips separated, revealing even white teeth.

Every time he glanced up at her, his green eyes sparkling through dark lashes, she felt herself burning.

"So, Henry," said Emily, when the coffees had been brought out, "we have a proposition for you."

Henry raised an eyebrow and waited, his face devastatingly gorgeous in stillness. The waiter placed some petit-fours on the table for them to share amongst themselves.

"Lauren here is in need of a job. And I know you need a new PA." Emily smiled, but no one spoke. Her words fell on a bed of silence.

Lauren had no idea that this was where the evening had been headed. For a crazy hour or so she had been toying with the idea that Emily and George were trying to set her up with this man. How could she have been so stupid?

She looked up at Henry, his features taut, one fist clenched on the table. His lips were pressed into a thin line. Lauren felt the need to speak, but nothing appropriate came to mind.

"She has a degree in Ancient History," added Emily, who seemed oblivious to the tension that had descended round the table.

"What do I need an historian for?" He said, his dark brow furrowed, his eyes gleaming, furious. Lauren licked her lips nervously and tucked her hands beneath the table.

"She's been working as a receptionist and office manager. She's very organised, and knows how to manage people. Just what you need Henry," said Emily, reaching out to lay her hand over his tightly clenched fist. He jerked it away when she touched him.

Lauren was so uncomfortable watching his reaction that she felt vaguely sick.

"Excuse me," she said, rising from the table, her chair bumping over the carpet as she pushed it out. Instantly one of the waiters was behind her, pulling it out from underneath her. George and Henry stood too as Lauren left, her movements inelegant and jerky. She realised, with relief, that Emily was following her.

Henry watched her move through the tables, her curves highlighted by the dress, the way the fabric clung to her buttocks. It was too short, inappropriate, he thought, but her legs were good enough to pull it off. He felt the unmistakable tug of sexual attraction, part of him wanting to get up and follow her, to pull her aside and....he blinked. Instead, he turned to George.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, George?"

"What do you mean?" George asked, leaning away from his friend's sudden outburst.

"How dare you corner me like this. This is embarrassing, George, and thoroughly unprofessional. I'm trying to run a serious business. I've had Human Resources interviewing girls for the role for weeks. They're down to a final two or three."

"I'm sorry, I did it for Emily. She asked if you -"

"George," he interrupted, his green eyes alive with fire, "I've repaid the debt. I've paid back your deposit ten times over. And I gave you the house for the wedding. I owe you nothing."

Henry felt anger well up within him. How could George put him on the spot like that? He didn't know this girl; he hadn't even seen a CV.

"It's only a small favour Henry. For Emily."

"If she wants to apply for the job she can do so via the regular channels, the same as all the other applicants. I will not take on a girl I don't know, especially for a role as important as my Personal Assistant. It comes with huge responsibility. How old is she anyway? Twenty? You can't be serious George."

"She's an intelligent girl," said George, whose hands were clasped tightly together and resting on the table. Fine beads of sweat were pearling on his forehead. "Henry-"

"Absolutely not. I'm running a business, not a charity. Who's to say she's even capable? She doesn't look capable of much to me."

Henry was aware his voice was raised and people at nearby tables were glancing over. When he finally paused for breath he noticed George was staring at him with an uncomfortable look on his face and glancing over his head.

Henry turned slowly in his seat, certain of what he would see. Emily and Lauren stood side by side just behind him, their faces stricken.

Christ, he thought, why didn't George speak up? He let me go on...well, at least she knows what I think.

To Lauren, his words were like poison. They smashed the last bit of self-esteem she had left, and she felt as though she were about to cry. Suddenly her short dress and high shoes felt remarkably silly; she wanted to take them off and run away.

Henry stood, towering over her, and even in her distress, her resentment at this arrogant man's words, she couldn't help but be overwhelmed by his proximity, the muscles in his chest and shoulders rippling under his bespoke jacket.

"I'm sorry ladies, but I have to go. I wish you both a pleasant evening."

He bowed ever so slightly and moved with the same anger that had marked his features. Lauren turned away and collapsed into her seat, not watching as Henry retrieved his coat and exchanged pleasantries with the maitre d'hotel.

"Lauren, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault. I really didn't think he would mind," said Emily, reaching out and clutching her friend's hand.

"I feel so stupid. How could you do this to me?" she asked, her voice trembling, tears running down her cheeks. "You knew I wasn't...you knew I haven't..." She wanted to say something about how vulnerable she was feeling; how hard the past few weeks had been, but she couldn't find the words. Thankfully George spoke up:

"He's being an ass about it Lauren. Don't worry, it's not you. It's him. He's very particular about his staff."

"If he didn't keep sleeping with his assistants, he wouldn't keep having to replace them," said Emily.

George frowned across the table at his new wife, who shrugged in response. "What? Don't look at me like that. He bloody does and you know it."

Of course he sleeps with his assistants, thought Lauren. He probably chooses them based solely on their appearance. No wonder he doesn't want me.

"Can we have the bill?" asked George as a disconcerted waiter passed by their table.

"Why, the tall gentleman, Mr. Banville, he paid it on his way out," he answered.

And that, Lauren felt, was the final insult.