Page 10 of Journey to the Scottish Highlands

Morganite man pushed his face closer to Fox, who took a faltering step backwards. ‘I’m not your friend. And I didn’t do it for you. I did it for this young lady here.’

I watched, open-mouthed, as the ruddy-faced Fox gulped and dropped his eyes to the polished floor.

But that wasn’t the end of the drama. Before I knew what was happening, I found myself being steered by the elbow out of the garden room by the man with the cufflinks. I was aware of intrigued guests watching us leave. The handsome stranger spotted a quieter part of the hall, over by the grand staircase and guided me over there. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ I gasped, wriggling my elbow free. My face was sizzling with consternation.

Now that I was out of the garden room and not the spectator sport, I seized another chance to look again at the man who’d taken the glass from me and removed me from the situation.

He towered over me. I reckoned he was in his mid to late thirties. The pinstriped three-piece suit he was wearing was beautifully cut. Lord knows how much it cost.

‘In answer to your question, Miss, I was trying to stop you from being sacked. Tipping drinks over guests – even if they are behaving like an utter knob – isn’t a good look.’

I glowered up at him. ‘I didn’t need your help, thank you very much. The twat deserved that champagne all over that posh suit of his.’

He raised his two slashes of dark brows at me. ‘Would he really have been worth losing your pay over? I think not.’

His enviable black lashes thrust down at me. I cleared my throat. ‘I’d better go. The boss is looking for me.’

My dark-haired rescuer appraised me. ‘Aren’t you going to thank me?’

‘For what?’ I bristled. ‘For stopping me from teaching him a lesson for once?’

Underneath, buried deep inside my common sense, I knew that he’d done the right thing by stopping me from doing something so rash. I would’ve been dismissed on the spot and not paid a penny. Probably been in the papers as well. Octavia would’ve loved that. I just didn’t want to lose face and admit it.

Cold, hard reality started to bite. I folded my arms. ‘Come to think of it, I could still lose my job. No doubt that idiot will complain about my attitude anyway, if he hasn’t already.’ Shit! I should’ve taken a breather. Counted to ten. A sliver of panic shot through me. I really needed the money from this event today. Oh bugger!

The man pushed both hands into the pockets of his suit trousers. ‘No, he won’t. I’ll talk some sense into him. Make sure he doesn’t say anything to your boss.’

I blinked in surprise. I stood there, feeling self-conscious and laced and unlaced my fingers together. ‘Oh. Er. Thank you.’

‘Hey Daisy, sorry to interrupt.’ Iris had materialised at my elbow. She was grasping a tray of assorted, sharply cut sandwiches. She blushed up at my rescuer. ‘Sue is looking for you.’

I gave my dashing rescuer a brief nod of gratitude and hastened away, tapping furiously across the black and white tiled hall and back towards the kitchen.

* * *

For the last hour of the event, the cold, hard realisation that Fox might and very well could still lodge a complaint about me, throbbed away in my head. I could feel my chest prickling with worry.

But he didn’t complain. In fact, not long after our showdown, he vanished with his two friends, and I didn’t see him again for the rest of the lunch.

The more I thought about it, the more convinced I was that the knight in shining armour had kept his word and persuaded Fox not to speak to Sue about me.

As I helped clear up in the kitchen, I thought again about what had almost happened. I’d let my emotions almost spiral out of control. And although it would’ve been satisfying seeing that expensive champagne trickling down that bulbous face of his, I was taken aback at how glad I was that Cufflink Man had stepped in when he had. So was my bank balance.

Fox wasn’t worth losing today’s generous pay over. And if I was to succeed in the acting profession, I’d have to learn to suck up negative reviews. Although, there were negative reviews, and then there were the infamous ones penned by the likes of Fox. They weren’t constructive reviews, they were annihilations.

Monty and Minnie Lockwood, who it turned out were the owners of Carston Manor, told us to avail ourselves of the downstairs shower room if we wanted to get changed at the end of the event.

We dashed in there once we’d cleared up. I enjoyed the hot needles of water, and once I dried off, I threw my jeans, glittery trainers and one of my pretty, sparkly cotton T-shirts back on. I stuffed my sweaty uniform back in my bag.

Relief swamped me as we prepared to leave. At least I hadn’t ruined my reputation in the hospitality industry.

We’d already been thanked profusely by Monty and Minnie, who said she’d had the most wonderful birthday. Monty also owned a very exclusive eatery in London’s West End, at which the rich and famous dined regularly, and so his list of celebrity friends over the years had become the stuff of legend.

Most of the guests had vanished by now, as had countless bottles of the champagne.

Sue and the rest of us made our weary way out of the side kitchen door, towards the staff parking. ‘What are you up to for the rest of your Saturday, folks?’ she asked us all.

‘A soak in the bath,’ sighed Iris, followed by Jasmine, who informed us she was going to take her dog for a walk and then collapse in front of the TV.