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The dull ache at his groin intensified as he stared at the soft curves of her unpainted lips and he knew he had to get away from her before he gave into temptation.
‘I’ll see you later,’ he said.
Roxy licked her lips as his grey eyes seared into her. ‘You’ll be too busy with your guests.’
‘No, I won’t. I intend being very busy with you—so make sure you keep the bed warm.’
And with that, he walked away, leaving Roxy regretting her passive agreement to such a tryst. Wasn’t it a little cheap to agree to a late-night visit when the party was over? For him to spend the evening dancing with all the posh girls, but then retire with his cleaner for a little more basic entertainment? And wasn’t it a little risky, with Amy around?
But any misgivings about her lack of assertiveness were soon dissolved by the enormity of the action she was about to take. Roxy’s nerves grew, along with a bubbling sense of excitement as the guests began to arrive. She was so preoccupied that she failed to be intimidated by the more stunning women who must have raided their family vaults, judging by the amount of precious finery they were wearing. Several times she met Amy’s complicit smile as they handed out glass after glass of bubbly.
The only time she felt a twinge of something approaching apprehension was when she caught Titus’s eye across the crowded ballroom. When he glittered her a look which seemed to exclude everyone else in the room. She felt a corresponding wave of emotion sweep over her, a fierce longing which made he
r feel momentarily weak. Was he going to hate what she had in store for him? Would it taint his memory of her? She could feel her heart pounding heavily beneath her uniform dress—but she knew it was too late to back out now.
The three hundred plus guests were soon being seated for the formal banquet and Roxanne was officially supposed to be helping clear plates in the kitchen. She worked unobtrusively in the background and managed to slip away just before the dancing began, to check with the band-leader that he knew what to do. Her heart was beating like crazy as she scurried through the labyrinth passages of the servants’ quarters to where Amy was waiting in the boot-room, to help her get ready.
She had never been quite so nervous when she’d finished changing into her outfit. Not even when The Lollipops had performed at Windsor Castle, one unforgettable New Year’s Eve. Walking in the dress she’d chosen was a nightmare. It was so tight that she had to shuffle along, terrified she’d split it, and already the wig was making her head feel hot and itchy. With the white fur stole draped around her shoulders and Amy darting ahead to check that the coast was clear, Roxy slithered into the curtained area behind the specially erected stage and let the band know she was there.
After a couple of minutes, the music stopped and the sound of chatter filled the ballroom. Roxy’s heart was pumping and she was filled with a familiar hit of adrenalin as she waited to go on. It seemed ages since she’d experienced the dimming of the lights and the amplified voice of the band-leader and she could hear the room quieten as he began to speak.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he began. ‘Some time near the middle of the last century, a President of the United States of America had a very beautiful young actress sing to him on his birthday. And tonight, I have someone who wants to do the same. So here, for one night only—I give you … Miss Marilyn Monroe! ’
Titus’s head jerked up as he saw the figure who had appeared in the spotlight, her dress so tight that she looked as if she’d been sewn into it. And it was such an iconic image that he recognised her immediately, even though the actress had died years before he’d been born. He heard the collective gasp of the guests as her eyes searched the ballroom until she had located him, but he was so mesmerised by her appearance that it took a moment for her identity to sink in. And then his eyes narrowed in disbelief as he met her smoky gaze and realised just who it was.
Roxanne!
She let the white fur stole slide away from her shoulders to reveal a breathtaking vision beneath. The tight, flesh-coloured dress gave her curves where he’d never noticed curves before. And it was covered in hundreds of sparkling rhinestones so that it seemed as if she were wearing nothing but body glitter. The blonde, candyfloss wig and the red, shimmering lips made her look uncannily like the actress and as she picked up the microphone and breathlessly began to sing her eyes didn’t leave his face.
‘Happy birthday to you.
Happy birthday to you.
Happy birthday …’ her voice dipped even lower and she fluttered the outrageous black arcs of lashes which were feathering her eyes ‘… Duke of Torchester.
Happy Birthday to you.’
Titus stood perfectly still as the audience erupted with rapturous applause and he thought that was the end of it. But no. She had held up her hand for silence and suddenly he caught a glimpse of the woman she had once been. The one who could command the attention of thousands of people by the sheer power of her stage presence. How she must miss all that, he thought. She’d gone from mass adulation as a pop star to cleaning other people’s houses—without any apparent sullenness or resentment at the hand which fate had dealt her. Yet was it really appropriate for her to have turned his birthday party into some sort of showcase for her own talent?
The crowd grew quiet as she began to speak, her husky American accent mimicking the late film star perfectly.
‘A lot of people don’t realise that a second song was sung for the President that night and, because it seems somehow appropriate, I’m going to perform it tonight for the Duke. So, Your Grace—this one’s especially for you.’ She glimmered him a smile. ‘I hope you like it.’
Titus stayed unmoving as she began to sing ‘Thanks for the Memory’ and as the first strains of the old, familiar song filtered out it made the little hairs stand up on the back of his neck. He watched the shimmering sway of her body and the scarlet gleam of her lips. And he knew what she was doing. She was saying goodbye to him in her own very distinctive way. He felt the strange kick of his heart as her voice—strong with passion and husky with regret—curved smokily around the lyrics. He felt the lust he was no doubt intended to feel—the hard jerk of an erection at his groin. Yet an undeniable part of him was slightly appalled that a private message from her to him was being made so very publicly.
And then it was all over. The spotlight was cut and when the lights went up again, the stage was empty and there was a roar as the guests started clapping and whooping their appreciation.
People were surging towards him, their faces full of curiosity, and Titus knew that he had to find her. To say what? Ignoring anyone who tried to halt his progress, he walked with grim determination through the ballroom and people fell back to let him pass. Where would she be? he wondered. She must have got changed somewhere in the house because no way could she have tottered all the way from her cottage in that dress and those heels.
Outside the ballroom he saw a waitress he vaguely recognised who was looking at him with big eyes and an expression which looked a little like guilt. ‘Amy?’ he questioned uncertainly, because wasn’t this Roxanne’s housemate?
‘Yes, Your Grace,’ she said.
‘Do you know where Roxanne is?’
There was a pause as Amy bit her lip.
‘Because if you do, I’d like you to take me to her right now,’ he said, his tone leaving her under no illusion that she would be in big trouble if she didn’t.
