of them a drink, the easily recognizable voice of Lydia reached Sabrina’s ears as the woman bore down on them.
She was wearing a three-quarter-length sheath dress in a brilliant purple colour, and its smooth, satiny material perfectly accentuated her hour-glass figure. Her silver hair was an elegant, shining knot on her head, her sculpted lips painted a bright glossy red. Alexander’s mother was certainly a very handsome woman who had clearly passed on her looks to her son. Her arms outstretched in welcome, she embraced Alexander carefully, offering him her cheek and making sure her make-up was not disturbed.
‘Alexander! Darling! I was afraid you weren’t going to turn up!’
Yes, mother dearest, I know exactly how that feels, he thought cynically, remembering the countless times his mother had not bothered to turn up at the regular boarding-school events to which parents were always invited. Remembering how he’d kept on hoping, until the very last minute, that she’d arrive. But she’d clearly felt that her maternal obligations ended the moment her sons left home at the tender age of seven; she had never left them in any doubt about that.
Alexander could recall her exact words as she’d waved him off on that first day.
‘Remember, Alexander,’ she’d said, ‘that you are no longer a child—and you must accept responsibility for yourself.’ She’d paused only briefly. ‘And from now on I want to be known as Lydia, not Mummy—do you understand? Mummy is a silly, childish word.’
‘But when I write to you can’t I put “dear Mummy”?’ Alexander had asked earnestly.
‘Certainly not,’ his mother had replied. ‘Someone might see it. Just put “dear Lydia”. That is my name, after all.’
Staring down at his mother now, Alexander realized that he and Bruno, who was two years his senior, had never discussed the matter but had accepted their mother’s directive without question. At least their father, Angus, had made no such demands and was always affectionately known as Dad. The older man didn’t seem to be here tonight, Alexander noticed, but that was nothing new. Their parents had lived separate lives for years.
‘Yes—a lot of traffic, I’m afraid,’ Alexander said, in answer to his mother’s remark.
‘Never mind, you’re here now. Though, of course, Bruno is otherwise engaged this evening—what’s new?’ Lydia sighed with a little pout. ‘A heavy meeting with some influential new backers, apparently. Still, there are masses of your friends here tonight, all desperate to see you again. It’s been too long since you’ve been circulating; someone said it’s as if you’ve disappeared off the face of the planet!’
‘Well, I hope this evening will lay that supposition to rest,’ Alexander said flatly. He paused, flickering a glance at Sabrina. ‘As I’m aware that your guest list is always flexible, Lydia,’ he went on, ‘I’ve brought someone along with me tonight—my personal assistant, Sabrina. Janet’s replacement,’ he added.
Sabrina was only too aware that Alexander’s mother had barely noticed she was there at all—or, if she had, she’d chosen to ignore it.
The woman turned now to look briefly at Sabrina. ‘Oh yes, I remember speaking to you on the telephone,’ she said dismissively. ‘How do you do?’ she added as an afterthought. Then she took hold of Alexander’s arm firmly. ‘Now, come along,’ she said. ‘Dinner is going to be served in half an hour, so you’ve a little time to catch up with everyone first.’
Alexander’s lips set in a hard line as he deliberately prised his mother’s hand away from him. ‘All in good time,’ he said. ‘Sabrina and I would like a drink first.’
‘Well, don’t be long,’ Lydia said, waving to someone at the other end of the room. ‘Look, there’s Danielle, I must go and talk to her…’ she said, moving away.
Waving briefly to several people who were calling out and wanting to gain his attention, Alexander poured out two glasses of white wine, handing one to Sabrina, and their eyes met for a second. He looked down at her thoughtfully, noticing for the first time that evening what she was wearing. The black dress she had on suited her dainty, curvaceous figure perfectly, he thought, and he liked her hair coiled up like that. It gave her a cool, elfin, distinctive look, and tonight those eyes which he found so fascinating seemed brighter and greener than ever. She wasn’t wearing a scrap of jewellery or make-up, as far as he could tell, but why should she bother? She didn’t need anything, her natural attributes were entirely sufficient.
Irritated at his own thoughts, and still looking at her, he took a drink from his glass. He didn’t look at women any more, he reminded himself. Not in the way he always had. The youthful, carefree days of enjoying the pleasures of the opposite sex had long gone and the experience had taught him many things—uppermost of which was in future to steer clear of the sort of women he’d so often come in contact with. Vain and self-seeking, many of them were overtly promiscuous, leading little, brittle lives.
It had all made him realize, believe, that he didn’t actually like women very much at all. He admired them, some of them; well, that was the male instinct and not his fault, he thought. But there had not been one in his past, apart from Angelica, whom he could imagine might have been prepared to settle down and be a faithful wife to someone like him, forced to spend so many hours in isolation as he worked. Nor to understand his moods when he became quiet and withdrawn sometimes, or that he didn’t particularly like the heady London life and all that went with it.
He took another swig from his glass. One thing he was damned sure about—he would never find himself in the same wretched position as his father, providing untold wealth to a fickle and demanding partner who lived solely for her own gratification. His brow knitted briefly. His solitary state—though not always entirely fulfilling, he admitted—was at least comfortable. Sorting out the lives of the characters in his books was difficult enough, heaven only knew. To have a real life woman to deal with and to try to satisfy was never going to be one of his problems. He’d come to that decision a long time ago, and it was final.
Sabrina, realizing that he had been scrutinizing her for several moments, felt her cheeks begin to burn and she glanced up quickly. ‘Are you expecting your agent to be here tonight?’ she asked innocently. ‘Or someone from your publisher’s?’ she added, wondering why she was there at all, what her role was to be.
‘Good grief, no, I hope not!’ Alexander said at once. ‘No, this is just one of my mother’s pointless parties, and I didn’t particularly want to come to it alone, that’s all.’
And that was the truth, he thought. It had been a somewhat impetuous act on his part to ask Sabrina to accompany him, but for some strange reason the thought that she would be there had made the prospect of the event slightly more acceptable. He shrugged inwardly. She was his personal assistant, after all, ready to do as he asked when the need arose, and she hadn’t seemed to mind coming along. His brow furrowed again as he remembered Lydia’s reaction when he’d introduced Sabrina just now. His mother had been totally uninterested to meet his new secretary—and was that such a surprise? Sabrina did not fit the mould of the women his mother had always liked being with.
Suddenly, like a minor earthquake approaching, three women rushed up and gathered around Alexander, all talking at once, and each embracing him effusively, almost making him spill his drink.
‘Alex!’ they chorused together. ‘Long time, no see. Where have you been hiding?’
Alexander put his drink down on the table and looked at the women. ‘Not hiding, just working,’ he said blandly. ‘How’s
