The Duke's Affair

IV

"Approximately three hundred. Fifty based in your office here in Mayfair, twenty at the offices at Marbedon Manor, and the rest in the City."

Henry stirred his gin and tonic once more, poking the slice of lemon, watching it bob up and down. When he glanced up she was sitting, alert, waiting for him to reply. "Correct. Well done. And I have plans for international expansion-"

"With the focus being Asia."

"Yes. My last development-"

"Was sold almost entirely off-plan to investors in Shanghai."

Henry twisted his chair around to face her, holding her gaze for a fraction of a second longer than necessary. "I'll speak to Human Resources about your remuneration."

Her heart was racing. She knew she'd impressed him, and she felt she could relax and begin to enjoy his company. And, if he pressed her, there was more where that information came from. She was never one to turn up to an interview unprepared.

*

Henry certainly did not hold back when it came to ordering alcohol. He ordered champagne, followed by wine, and then port. When Lauren, unsettled at the thought of the wasting anything, told him she couldn't eat or drink anything else he told her it didn't matter.

He had enjoyed watching her delight in the food, and in a small way, offering her this experience soothed his guilt for treating her so badly at the Dorchester. He liked to see the way she licked her lips between bites and tucked her dark hair behind her ears when it got in the way. He felt a perverse pleasure in knowing how he controlled this situation; how he had orchestrated it. The promise of continuing to control her when she worked for him loomed in his mind like a long-desired gift.

He knew she was drunk, because her cheeks and nose were splotched with red; but he too felt a quiet inebriation detach his senses from the surroundings. All he could really concentrate on was the girl in front of him, as the alcohol loosened her up. It was as though something had been undone, a belt, a garter, that had previously held her conversation, her personality, in check. She laughed when he said something funny, but not in the fawning way other women did; this girl laughed as though it were genuinely amusing, and the laughter was something she could not restrain.

"Would you like to see the house?" he asked.

She stopped, scrunching up her napkin and placing it on the table top. "Yes."

He smiled. "My driver will be outside. Shall we?"

Lauren's hands were pressed on the table and the back of the chair as she got up. She was more drunk than he had thought, and he reached out for her arm, which she took with evident relief.

Together they proceeded from the restaurant and through the lobby. All the while he was aware of her small hand gripping his sleeve. He released her as he stopped to collect his coat.

"Henry."

The voice, the way it undulated over the sound of his name, made his spine contract.

"Henry," again.

Slowly, he turned. "Lydia."

"I saw you earlier. In the bar. I thought it was you."

She was as beautiful as he remembered, but he took no pleasure in that face.

"Are you in town for long? Do you have time for a drink?" He saw her gaze dart to Lauren, and her lips snarl into a dismissive twist.

"I don't. I'm sorry." He turned away.

"Did you like the article?" she called after him, her skittering footsteps faster behind him. He took hold of Lauren, clasping her against him as he led them towards the exit.