Sommersgate House (Ghosts and Reincarnation #2)(27)
“I…” Julia hesitated, not knowing how to put her feelings into words, then she continued, “thank you. I appreciate you telling me this.”
Charlotte shook her head and patted Julia’s arm, her eyes kind. “Enough of this, let’s go show them how fabulous you are.”
And that was what Charlotte did.
For the rest of the night, Julia had a wonderful time. She was wrong, Charlotte wasn’t just witty, she was hilarious. They drank glass after glass of champagne and Charlotte introduced her to everyone, making outrageous comments that made Julia laugh so hard she nearly cried.
Douglas hadn’t been lost in Charlotte’s determined efforts for the evening, even as she whisked Julia from person to person, and drink to drink, they always came back to Douglas. Charlotte would deposit Julia firmly at his side for just enough time for him to smile down on her or lean over and comment in her ear, showing everyone clearly, and they were most definitely watching, that Julia did indeed have his “favour”. Then Charlotte would whisk Julia away to show her off again.
By the time Julia stood on the pavement beside the Bentley with the paparazzi flashing away and Carter calmly holding the door, Julia was still exhausted but more relaxed than she’d been in months.
After giving her a brief hug and kiss on each cheek, Charlotte pressed a card in her hand.
“My info, phone, mobile, home, my assistant, my e-mail… you need anything, you call me, anytime!”
Julia nodded. “You’re lovely, Charlotte.”
“Charlie, all my friends call me Charlie.” And with those words, and the meaningful look she gave Julia to accompany them, she and Oliver were off.
Once they were in the Bentley and moving safely through the streets, she heard Douglas say, “It appears you had a good time.”
“Charlotte is a love,” Julia declared happily, thrilled to have her first new friend and perhaps an explanation about Douglas’s behaviour, and Tammy and Gav’s wishes, that would make her life a lot easier.
They drove home in silence and alighted from the car in front of the house. As they walked to the front door, Julia tripped, her heel getting caught in a crack in the pavement, and lurched forward. Douglas caught her against his body, an arm going around her.
“Steady,” he warned on a murmur, looking down at her just as she looked up, a small relieved smile still on her face, when the bulb flashed beside them.
“Off with you!” Carter shouted, moving threateningly, yet surprisingly nimbly, toward the photographer as Douglas hustled her inside.
But even with that end to the evening, nothing could stop Julia’s feeling of calm.
Douglas said a curt goodnight, already preoccupied with something else, and went straight to his study.
As for Julia, she checked on the children then prepared quickly for bed and slept soundly for the first time in months.
Chapter Six
The Arrangement
By the time she’d put the children to bed Sunday evening, Julia’s sense of calm had gone.
She’d woken up that morning in the Kensington house feeling refreshed. She’d put on a long, A-line skirt of dove grey wool, a matching turtleneck that was ribbed from the waist to just under her br**sts and from wrist to elbow, the effect making her waist look tiny. She added a pair of soft, soot-grey, suede boots and the diamond studs her brother and Tammy had bought her for her birthday years ago. She pulled her hair back in a ponytail at the nape of her neck and went forward to face the day for the first time in a long time in a light-hearted, maybe even good mood.
She found Douglas, not in his study but in the lounge reading the paper. He wore dark brown corduroys and a matching turtleneck and he looked casual and relaxed and, for once, was not working.
“Good morning,” she said as she walked into the room.
He looked at her over the paper.
“Julia.” His face betrayed nothing but his eyes again slowly trailed the length of her body.
She ignored his gaze and smiled at him. Charlotte’s words about him protecting her through Tamsin’s bizarre last wishes and his quiet assumption of the duty of protector were still at the front of her mind.
At her smile he dropped the newspaper and lifted an eyebrow asking without words what was on her mind.
“So… today?” she inquired.
“Today,” he said shortly, folding the newspaper and throwing it on the table in front of him, “Carter is taking you and the children to Patisserie Valerie for breakfast. I’ve a couple of calls coming through, so I’ll need to stay behind. You’ll make a few more stops with the kids to see the sights. You should find something to bring home for lunch. Then we’ll go back to Sommersgate.”
She wasn’t listening; instead, she was looking at the paper he’d thrown on the table. In it, a large, colour photograph of her and Douglas was displayed.
They were walking into the gallery, their hands clasped firmly, their arms stretched out between them as Douglas pulled her forward. He was in profile, his expression hard and showing nothing. She was staring at the ground, her pashmina had dropped off one shoulder and was hanging in the crook of her elbow. To keep up with Douglas, her stride was long and the slit at the side of her skirt had opened to accommodate it, showing a shocking expanse of leg.
Regardless of the distance between them and their expressionless faces, the clasped hands conveyed a closeness that could easily be misunderstood. In fact, if she had been looking at two other people in the same positions, she would have assumed they were lovers. Friends or siblings didn’t walk together like that, hands clasped tightly, the man forging through the crowd leading, and protecting, the woman.