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‘Well, yes.’ There was a pause and when Amy next spoke, her voice was wary. ‘But you’re far too sensible to have gone and fallen in love with him, aren’t you, Roxy?’
‘I don’t do love,’ said Roxy quickly, parroting the answer to a question she’d been asked by journalists a million times before. But for the first time in her life, her words didn’t ring true. She could see Amy watching her and she wondered if her momentary lapse in concentration had given away the fact that she was being economical with the truth. ‘But I do like him,’ she admitted cautiously.
‘Liking can be dangerous, Roxy.’
‘I know it can. But it’s not going to be dangerous for much longer. I’m only working here up until his party,’ Roxy said. ‘Which means I’ll be leaving soon. And I’m not …’ She hesitated—wanting to say the words out loud. No, it was more than that. Needing to say the words out loud. As if saying them would make them feel real. Would make her start believing them. ‘I’m not holding out any unrealistic thoughts about the future. I’m not that naive. I know better than anyone that life never turns out the way you want it to. I just wish I could give him something for his birthday, that’s all. Something he’d really like. Something to remember me by.’ Rather self-consciously, she shrugged. ‘I know. It’s a stupid idea.’
‘No, it’s not.’ Amy’s eyes narrowed. ‘I think it’s a brilliant idea.’
‘In theory, maybe. But there’s nothing I could possibly give him which wouldn’t fade into insignificance next to all the expensive gifts he’ll get from other people. I can’t possibly compete with that crowd.’
‘Oh, I think you can.’ Amy gave a slow smile. ‘You could give him something which nobody else could—and I’m not talking about your amazing body.’
Roxy frowned. ‘Then what are you talking about?’
‘He’s gone away for a couple of days, hasn’t he? Which gives you just the opportunity you need to prepare a very special birthday present.’
‘Which is?’
‘What all the best presents should be.’ Amy grinned at her. ‘A surprise.’
CHAPTER NINE
VALEO Hall had never looked more magnificent.
Adjusting his cufflinks so that the leonine Torchester crest gleamed against the whiteness of his dress shirt, Titus looked around the great hall. Initially, he had given his consent to this birthday party more out of duty than desire. He had agreed with the trustees that it should be a semi-formal declaration of his elevation to the Dukedom—but inside he had been quietly dreading it. The buzz of expectation and the sense of being assessed had filled him with a mixture of boredom and dread. Yet now that the evening was finally here, he couldn’t deny feeling a glow of pride and satisfaction as he gazed around his ancestral home.
The vast dimensions of the rooms, which sometimes dwarfed smaller gatherings, always lent themselves superbly to parties such as these. The opulence of the décor meant that there was no need for any embellishment. No balloons or banners or party-poppers. He shuddered. Perish the thought! Just lots of fresh, cut flowers and tall, fat candles illuminating the many beautiful artefacts. The kitchens were producing a giant version of his favourite Sachertorte as a birthday cake and the finest vintages had been brought up from the Torchester cellars. A band had been hired and a pyrotechnician was currently setting up the fireworks, which would be lit soon after midnight.
There was only thing which was missing …
Titus frowned. He had spent a day longer in London than he had intended. He’d done it because it had seemed to make good sense. He had found plenty to do and he had wanted to shake off the pervasive hold which Roxanne Carmichael somehow seemed to have exerted over him. Because she seemed to have crept into his thoughts rather more than he had intended and that needed to stop.
He had approached this dilemma with ice-cool logic—comparing it to one of those practice exercises he used to do during army manoeuvres, at school. He’d reasoned that once he was back in London he would easily be able to put her from his mind. After all, he’d never had any trouble compartmentalising lovers in the past—particularly ones who’d had such a shadowy presence in his everyday life. But the unpalatable truth was that he’d missed her. He’d missed her supple body in bed and the tickle of her long hair brushing against his belly. He’d missed the irreverent little asides she sometimes came out with when they were in the middle of some vehement debate and which he suspected he wouldn’t tolerate from anyone else but her.
He flexed his fingers, objectively observing the whitening of his knuckles as he cursed his inexplicable obsession with her. Maybe he just hadn’t had enough of her yet. Maybe he just needed to …
‘Roxanne?’ His voice rose on a note of surprise as he saw a familiar figure approaching, yet one whose appearance was slightly out of kilter.
‘Good evening, Your Grace.’
‘What the hell are you doing?’
Roxy glanced around, just in case Vanessa was on the prowl. She had been jittery all afternoon—terrified that the housekeeper would discover what she was intending to do. Time after time she thought of the audacious plan she’d concocted with Amy’s aid and wondered if it was too late to get out of it. And now it all seemed like the craziest idea in the world, especially as Titus looked so toweringly formal in his dress suit, with his tawny hair gleaming beneath the cascading chandelier. He looked like a man who had the world at his fingertips—who wanted and needed for nothing. Was her birthday surprise going to look like some tacky gesture he would secretly be appalled by?
‘What does it look like I’m doing?’ she questioned brightly.
He frowned. ‘Why are you dressed as a waitress?’
‘Because tonight I am a waitress. And tonight, Your Grace—I will be serving you and your guests limitless glasses of the finest champagne the Torchester cellars can offer. Vanessa has asked me and Amy to help with the catering,’ she explained, when she saw his frown deepen. ‘And we’re actually being paid double time to do it.’
Her flippant comment about payment made him wince but it served to remind him that at least she was being pragmatic, even if he wasn’t. But how the hell could he be anything but lustful when she looked like one of those women who graced the pages of men’s magazines? Like a fantasy come to life. Her slim figure was shown off to perfection by the little black dress and those black stockings were making her long legs look positively sinful. Titus fought against the seductive taste of desire as he contemplated dragging her behind the nearest ornate pillar to kiss her.
‘And why wasn’t I consulted about this?’ he questioned testily.
‘Are you usually consulted about staffing levels at parties?’
He glared at her, knowing that she had a point. Such a thought wouldn’t even cross his mind under normal circumstances—and it would be highly inappropriate if he brought up the matter with Vanessa now. But it meant that he’d have to spend the evening watching Roxanne dressed up in that sexy outfit, serving his guests—and the thought of that disturbed him far more than it should have done.
