felt a stab of pain beneath her ribs, but at that moment one of the enormous doors to the drawing room opened and Jasper appeared.
‘Ah, there you are, angel! I thought you might have got lost again so I was just coming to see if I could find you.’
He started to come towards her, and Sophie saw his eyes sweep over her, widening along with his smile as he came closer.
‘Saints Alive, Sophie Greenham, that dress …’
‘I know,’ Sophie croaked. ‘Don’t say it. It’s dire.’
‘It’s not.’ Slowly Jasper circled around her, looking her up and down as an incredulous expression spread across his face. ‘How could we have got it so wrong? It might have been cheap as chips and looked like a shroud on the hanger, but on you it’s bloody dynamite.’ He gave a low whistle. ‘Have you seen yourself? No red-blooded, straight male will be able to keep his hands off you.’
She gave a slightly hysterical laugh. ‘Darling, don’t you believe it.’
‘Soph?’ Jasper looked at her in concern. ‘You OK?’
Oh, hell, what was she doing? She’d come here to shield him from the prejudices of his family, and so far she’d only succeeded in making things more awkward for him. The fact that his brother was the kind of cold-blooded, ruthless bastard who would stop at nothing to preserve the purity of the Fitzroy name and reputation was all the more reason she should give this her all.
‘I’m fine.’ Digging her nails into the palms of her hands, she raised her chin and smiled brightly. ‘And you look gorgeous. There’s something about a man in black tie that I find impossible to resist.’
Wasn’t that the truth?
‘Good.’ Jasper pressed a fleeting kiss to her cheek and, taking hold of her hand, pulled her forwards. ‘In that case, let’s get this party started. Personally, I intend to get stuck into the champagne right now, before guests arrive and we have to share it.’
Head down, Kit walked quickly in the direction of the King’s Hall—not because he was in any hurry to get there, but because he knew from long experience that looking purposeful was the best way to avoid getting trapped into conversation.
The last thing he felt like doing was talking to anyone.
As he went up the stairs the music got louder. Obviously keen to recapture his youthful prowess on the dance floor Ralph had hired a swing band, who were energetically working their way through the back catalogue of The Beatles. The strident tones of trumpet and saxophone swelled beneath the vaulted ceiling and reverberated off the walls.
Kit paused at the top of the flight of shallow steps into the huge space. The dance floor was a mass of swirling silks and velvets but even so his gaze was instantly drawn to the girl in the plain, narrow black dress in the midst of the throng. She was dancing with Ralph, Kit noticed, feeling himself tense inexplicably as he saw his father’s large, practised hand splayed across the small of Sophie’s back.
They suited each other very well, he thought with an inward sneer, watching the way the slit in Sophie’s dress opened up as she danced to reveal a seductive glimpse of smooth, pale thigh. Ralph was a lifelong womaniser and philanderer, and Sophie Greenham seemed to be pretty indiscriminate in her favours, so there was no reason why she shouldn’t make it a Fitzroy hat-trick. He turned away in disgust.
‘Kit darling! I thought it must be you—not many people fill a dinner jacket that perfectly, though I must say I’m rather disappointed you’re not in dress uniform tonight.’
Kit’s heart sank as Sally Rothwell-Hyde grasped his shoulders and enveloped him in a cloud of asphyxiating perfume as she stretched up to kiss him on both cheeks. ‘I saw the picture on the front of the paper, you dark horse,’ she went on, giving him a girlish look from beneath spidery eyelashes. ‘You looked utterly mouth-watering, and the medal did rather add to the heroic effect. I was hoping to see it on you.’
‘Medals are only worn on uniform,’ Kit remarked, trying to muster the energy to keep the impatience from his voice. ‘And being in military dress uniform amongst this crowd would have had a slight fancy-dress air about it, don’t you think?’
‘Very dashing fancy dress, though, darling.’ Leaning in close to make herself heard above the noise of the band, Sally fluttered her eyelashes, which were far too thick and lustrous to be anything but fake. ‘Couldn’t you have indulged us ladies?’
Kit’s jaw clenched as he suppressed the urge to swear. To Sally Rothwell-Hyde and her circle of ladies who lunched, his uniform was just a prop from some clichéd fantasy, his medals were nothing more than covetable accessories. He doubted that it had crossed her mind for a moment what he had gone through to get them. The lost lives they represented.
His gaze moved over her sunbed-tanned shoulder as he looked for an escape route, but she wasn’t finished with him yet. ‘Such a shame about you and Alexia,’ she pouted. ‘Olympia said she was absolutely heartbroken, poor thing. She’s taken Lexia skiing this weekend, to cheer her up. Perhaps she’ll meet some hunky instructor and be swept off her skis …’
Kit understood that this comment was intended to make him wild with jealousy, but since it didn’t he could think of nothing to say. Sophie was still dancing with Ralph, but more slowly now, both of his hands gripping her narrow waist while the band, ironically, played ‘Can’t Buy Me Love’. She had her back to Kit, so as she inclined her head to catch something his father said Kit could see the creamy skin at the nape of her neck and suddenly remembered the silky, sexy underwear that had spilled out of her broken bag yesterday. He wondered what she was wearing under that sober black dress.
‘Is that her replacement?’
Sally’s slightly acerbic voice cut into his thoughts, which was probably just as well. Standing beside him, she had followed the direction of his stare, and now took a swig of champagne and looked at him pointedly over the rim of her glass.
‘No,’ Kit replied shortly. ‘That’s Jasper’s girlfriend.’
‘Oh! Really?’ Her ruthlessly plucked eyebrows shot up and she turned to look at Sophie again, murmuring, ‘I must say I never really thought there was anything in those rumours.’ Before Kit could ask her what the hell she meant her eyes had narrowed shrewdly. ‘Who is she? She looks vaguely familiar from somewhere.’
‘She’s an actress. Maybe you’ve seen her in something.’ His voice was perfectly steady, though his throat suddenly felt as if he’d swallowed gravel.
‘An actress,’ Sally repeated thoughtfully. ‘Typical Jasper. So, what’s she like?’
Lord, all that champagne and he didn’t have a drink himself. Where the hell were the bloody waiters? Kit looked around as his mind raced, thinking of a suitable answer. She’s an unscrupulous liar and as shallow as a puddle, but on the upside she’s the most alive person I’ve ever met and she kisses like an angel …
‘I’ll get Jasper to introduce you,’ he said blandly, moving away. ‘You can see for yourself.’
Just as Sophie was beginning to suspect that the band were playing the Extended-Groundhog-Club-Remix version of ‘Can’t Buy Me Love’ and that she would be locked for ever in Ralph Fitzroy’s damp and rather-too-intimate clutches, the song came to a merciful end.
