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Which left her with...home. She should be back in London by now, ready to pick up her next group and embark on a tour of the Italian lakes. She guessed that was off, too. She’d barely seen more of the homeland than the cheapest airport hotel at Heathrow since she left Britain a year and a half ago, and even if she hadn’t cut all ties with the friends she’d had before that, how could she just call up and say, Hey, I’m kinda stranded. Want to buy me a plane ticket?
No, the only people anyone could do that to were family. And she really didn’t want to have to call them, either.
She had no doubt that dear old Mum and Dad, the Lord and Lady Fowlmere, would welcome her back into the bosom of the family in no time. After all, the publicity of the wild child heiress returned to the Fowlmere estate would make great copy, and her father always loved anything that made him look good in the press.
Faith had left home three years ago, ready to be herself for once, not an aristocratic relic to be trotted out for charity galas and other occasions, or a standing joke in the society pages. Going home now would undo all that hard work. Not to mention bring up the reasons she’d had to leave in the first place.
But it didn’t look like she had an awful lot of choice.
Rubbing a hand across her forehead, Faith straightened her white blouse, then ripped off the hideous orange and red necktie that Marco insisted on his guides wearing and shoved it in her bag. It meant that the neckline of her blouse was a little more revealing than was entirely appropriate, but she didn’t care. If she was going to have to call her family, she needed a drink first. And perhaps flashing a little cleavage as she walked into the airport bar would mean that she didn’t have to waste any of her precious twenty euros buying it herself.
* * *
‘Explain to me again how this happened.’ Lord Dominic Beresford looked at the icy-cold bottle of Italian beer sitting on the bar in front of him with longing. He’d spent all day in meetings, worked in the cab all the way to the airport, and was just ready to switch off and relax before his late-night flight back to London, when Kevin, the Temp from Hell, called.
Dominic’s beer would have to wait until he’d fixed whatever Kevin had screwed up now.
On the other end of the phone line, he could hear Kevin frantically turning pages in one of the many files Dominic was sure he had stacked on his desk. Stupid Shelley and her stupid maternity leave anyway. Wasn’t keeping him sane a higher calling than a baby?
Dominic swept a finger down the beads of water on the neck of his beer bottle. Even he had to admit, probably not.
‘Um, best I can tell, sir, your secretary booked in the tour guide with your usual company some months ago. And then...’ Kevin trailed off nervously.
And then, Dominic filled in mentally, the owner of that usual company, Lady Katarina Forrester, also known at the time as his fiancée, had been caught on camera in a rather compromising position, leading to a media storm that had threatened his family’s reputation.
So he’d called off the engagement. And in retaliation she’d cancelled their professional relationship, too.
Which left him with six American businessmen and -women flying into London tonight, expecting entertainment and tourism to go with their meetings. And probably, now he thought about it, hotel rooms, too. Kat had always taken care of the accommodation for his business guests.
The fact that this was almost entirely his own fault for getting involved with a business contact in the first place didn’t make Dominic want that beer any less. He should have known better.
‘I think I can remember what happened next,’ he told Kevin drily. ‘But I’m more interested in what happens now. Here’s what I need you to do. First—’
‘Um...’ Kevin said, the way he always did when he was about to ruin Dominic’s day. Surely Shelley didn’t need a full year off with the baby. What if she didn’t come back at all?
‘What?’ Dominic bit out.
‘The thing is, it’s nearly eight o’clock, sir. I’m supposed to finish work at five-thirty.’ Kevin sounded more whiny than apologetic about the fact. How had Shelley ever thought he’d be a fitting replacement for her? Unless her mothering instinct had kicked in early. Kevin certainly needed taking care of.
‘Add the hours onto your time sheet,’ Dominic said, attempting reason. ‘I’ll make sure you’re compensated for your time.’
‘Thank you, sir. Only it’s not just that. I’ve got a...commitment tonight I can’t break.’
‘A date?’ Dominic tried to imagine the lanky, spotty Kevin with an actual woman, and failed.
