them,’ said Brooke happily.
‘Thinking about security,’ said Wendell, stroking his chin, ‘it might be a good thing if the world thinks it’s going to be at Hudson Lodge sometime next summer. I’ll speak to my contacts in Dubai. Get in touch with the new owner. See if they’ll be in on it.’
‘It couldn’t have worked out better,’ said Brooke, throwing her arms around Leonard’s neck. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you!’
Leonard picked her up and laughed. ‘I take it that’s a yes, then?’
All her life, Tess had wanted money. Not in the way Dom liked money: to keep up with or show off to his coterie of privileged public-school friends. Tess wanted money because she had never had it growing up. The bankruptcy of her father’s business had not only destroyed the family, it had destroyed his self-worth because the bank – and your fellow men – judged you on your ability to pay your bills. Her father had died unhappy because he felt he had failed his family, failed as a man. Tess never wanted anybody to make her feel inferior, and it had fed her ambition like petrol on a bonfire. The red soles on her Louboutin shoes were a statement that she could afford nice things, but also that she could take care of herself. She loved ticking the ‘Over seventy-five thousand pounds’ income bracket on magazine questionnaires, and was one of the few people who actually enjoyed getting accosted by the charity muggers on the high street, as when she signed the direct debit form, she felt she was in control. So, if she was honest, when Meredith Asgill had offered her the job of family publicist, the only thing that had really stopped Tess taking the job immediately was that niggling feeling that the job was a mirage. After all, this was a clever, influential family who had no qualms about offering Tess a large bribe to make a story disappear. QED, there was a strong chance that the high-paying job in New York – a city that every ambitious twenty-something wanted to work in – was simply a more acceptable bribe.
During dinner at the Connaught the previous evening, Meredith had certainly spun some wonderful tales about life in Manhattan that were clearly designed to whet a young girl’s appetite for the glamorous excesses of living in New York. But Tess was still concerned that the ‘job’ was the equivalent of the ‘project development’ room at the Globe, the sideways promotion given to troublesome or failing executives. It was not a proper job, just a well-paid purgatory to keep the marked person busy until the CEO and their team of lawyers had worked out an inexpensive way to fire them.
But now, after Charles Devine’s revelations, it looked as if Tess had been mistaken about Meredith’s offer. There really was a job to be done protecting the Asgills. There were secrets. Plenty of secrets. And Tess’s gut feeling – a reliable instinct honed on the tabloid frontlines – was that there were plenty more skeletons still rattling away in the cupboard.
Tess looked out over the crowd and spotted Meredith on the other side of the ballroom. Catching her eye, Meredith began to walk across the dance floor towards her, gliding like a peacock, her chin lifted, her back straight, the silk skirt of her gown rustling as she walked. She looked like a czarina, the most refined sixty-something Tess had ever seen.
‘Tess. Are you having a good time?’
Meredith looked composed as she played with the stem of her martini glass, but her eyes had the jubilant look of a lottery winner.
‘Incredible party,’ nodded Tess. ‘I heard someone say that David’s mum pulled this all together in a fortnight?’
‘She’s very experienced at get-togethers,’ said Meredith gracefully. ‘I only wish she could have persuaded David to say a few words. He’s such a wonderful speaker. But the pair of them wanted to keep things as informal as possible.’
Tess smiled crookedly. ‘If they wanted informal, they shouldn’t have had it at Belcourt. Buckingham Palace would have been more low-key.’
Meredith just nodded.
‘So is Sean here?’ asked Tess.
‘He’s in Minnesota,’ said Meredith evenly, holding Tess’s gaze. ‘Rehabilitating.’
‘Good. I’m glad to hear he’s getting better.’
Meredith nodded over towards Dom, who was laughing with a group of young girls and waving a bottle of champagne about in illustration of some story he was telling. ‘Is your boyfriend enjoying himself?’
‘He likes it here,’ said Tess, carefully covering her annoyance at the jibe. ‘He was wondering – if I took the job – whether a visa could be sorted out for him too?’
‘It’s not impossible,’ said Meredith. ‘If you took the job. If things work out.’ She straightened the pearls around her neck. ‘But I can’t hold the job offer open indefinitely.’
‘Well, on that subject, I’ve just had an interesting insight into the family. It’s given me a greater idea of the challenges of the role.’
‘Really? Who from?’
‘Charles Devine.’
Meredith laughed gaily. ‘Dear old Charles. How on earth did he get an invitation? He’s not terribly fashionable these days, contrary to what he thinks. What nonsense has he been telling you?’
‘He told me about Olivia Martin,’ said Tess, looking straight at Meredith.
There was a minute’s pause as Meredith blinked and swallowed.
‘What about her?’ she asked.
‘About her death.’
Meredith’s expression clouded over.
‘Charles Devine is just a silly busybody,’ she said with force. ‘He’s Manhattan’s biggest gossip. Half of what he says is a figment of his imagination. He …’
Then Meredith seemed to stop herself, closing her eyes in an effort of self-control.
‘Whatever he has said to you …’
‘I have to know everything, Meredith,’ interrupted Tess. ‘I can’t help you if you don’t tell me everything. And I mean everything.’
Meredith took a sip of corner, and touched her arm to escort her into a quiet corner. ‘Forgive me, but I was not keen to tell you about private matters affecting my family when you haven’t even taken the job,’ she said, looking around to make sure no one was listening.
‘Why were there rumours about Olivia and Howard?’
Meredith laughed coldly. ‘When a beautiful starlet and a rich businessman are friends, there will always be rumours.’
‘And what do you think happened the night of your wedding?’ Tess felt stronger now she was on familiar ground – probing, getting to the bottom of the story. She was even beginning to enjoy herself.
Meredith looked at her and saw she wouldn’t let it drop. She sighed.
‘I honestly don’t know what happened. I believe that Olivia was depressed, but I barely knew her; I had only met her a couple of times before the wedding. She was only there because she was an ambassador of the Asgill lipstick range. If she is dead – and that was never proved – of course it’s a tragedy. It was certainly a black cloud over our entire wedding,
