The Austen Playbook (London Celebrities #4)(104)

Let it be pointed out, however, that while the Slytherins in the bunch had jacked up the price, it had taken a Hufflepuff to spot the obvious opportunity.

Squeezing around a group of chattering people with a murmured apology, she had to stop briefly to pose for photos, then pulled on her wool coat as she kept moving. She was running late. She exchanged smiles with a couple of younger girls from the chorus, who were standing with a group of their family and friends. As she edged past, listening to the clacking of the train wheels and the lovely sound of a child laughing with pure joy, one of the girls said in a hushed, apprehensive voice, “Shit. Isn’t that the bastard from TV who does the reviews for the Post?”

The reply was equally horrified. “It is. And I messed up my steps tonight.” The last was a wail.

“God, he even looks scary.”

Not bothering to hide her grin, Freddy just about skipped around the last obstacle between them, and saw him standing near the door. Tall and handsome, his blond head uncovered, his hands tucked into his trouser pockets, Griff turned—and a smile lit up his cool, intimidating face.

He pulled his hands from his pockets just in time; he knew her well. As she catapulted happily into his arms, Freddy boosted herself with her forearms on his shoulders and pressed her nose against his cheek. “Hello,” she said, and kissed the side of his nose.

He held her a few inches off the ground while he gave her a kiss in return, much harder and longer, on her mouth. “Hello.”

The chorus girls were watching them with identical gapes. Apparently they’d missed all the furore four months ago after the Sunset Britain interview. Sabrina had been right; the literary world was going to be picking apart the salacious details of The Velvet Room affair for a long time to come, but the notoriously icy J. Ford-Griffin’s love life had held the attention of the general public for a lot longer than the fraud.

“Come on,” Freddy said, grinning as her toes touched the ground. She tucked her hand into the crook of the arm he offered. “You’re scaring the littlies. And I want to see this surprise you’ve got for me.”

“How do you know I’ve got a surprise?”

“Charlie let it slip when he called about Christmas.” As Griff cast his eyes up in complete exasperation, she shrugged. “It’s all right. He wouldn’t tell me any details. I sensed a present on the horizon and stopped trying.”

“Not exactly a present.” Griff ushered her towards the door. In the car he turned on the heater for her and edged into the manic December traffic. It would probably take about three years to get wherever they were going, but at least at this time of year the Christmas lights made the traffic jams a bit prettier.

She was studying a mechanical window display that was nowhere near as impressive as James and Carolina’s work when Griff took her hand, linking his fingers through hers. “How was the show?”

“Awesome. I love it so much.”

Those crinkles she loved were at the corners of his eyes as he slowed to a stop again. “I know. And it shows.”

He was flat-out at the moment with the film—and the next two projects he had in the pipeline—but he was doing his column again, and he’d been sent to review Anathorn on opening night two weeks ago, despite the ragingly obvious conflict of interest.

Which had not noticeably inhibited him.

She examined her nails. “I will at some point get over the totally unnecessary comment on my solo. I was off-key for one word, and I do not purr.” Anticipating his quick grin, she added primly, “In public.”

“I believe I used the phrase ‘otherwise excellent.’”

“I was somewhat pacified.” Freddy looked at him. “Everyone absolutely loves your parents’ art.” There was no other term for it, especially after James and Carolina had gleefully accept the brief to develop it further. It was beautiful work. Expensive, but beautiful.

They’d had multiple commissions since, which her father had proved unsurprisingly adept at wrangling. Despite his history with the Ford family and the very different personalities involved, he got on unexpectedly well with Griff’s parents.

He loathed Griff, and the feeling was mutual, but she couldn’t expect to have everything in life. And regardless—

“I really appreciate you getting Dad involved. He needed the distraction.”

Rupert had avoided criminal prosecution, but his writing career had been ripped to shreds in the aftermath of the confession. And he’d voluntarily resigned as her manager, to Lisa’s transparent joy, and Freddy’s own private relief.

Griff lifted a shoulder. “When it comes down to it, he’s a savvy businessman. He’s already got them a dozen commissions. And let’s be honest. That move with the suppliers might not have been completely transparent, but it was fucking genius.”

As Charlie had once pointed out, James and Carolina, for all their faults, had very soft hearts where charitable causes were concerned. It was Rupert who’d quickly found the solution to their overspending. He’d enlisted Charlie and his endless stream of contacts to find local suppliers who could do with a helping hand and didn’t charge the earth. He’d then embellished every one of the suppliers’ hard-luck stories, and, Freddy suspected, just blatantly made one up where none existed. Griff’s parents had been extremely affected. End result: overseas couriers were making far fewer deliveries in rural Surrey.