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‘Shall we take a turn upstairs?’ asked Peter.
Anna was beginning to feel a little out of her depth and looked around for Johnny, not that he would be much use. He was hardly anyone’s idea of a chaperon.
‘Are you all right?’ said Peter, reaching up and touching her chin. ‘I wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable.’
‘I’m fine,’ smiled Anna. Don’t wimp out now, she told herself. Okay, so this guy was called Peter and he came to Swann’s parties, but that didn’t make him Amy’s Peter, did it? She needed more information, and the only way to get that was to press on.
‘I can’t wait to see the rest,’ she said as he led her up the stairs and on to a corridor. A door to their left was open, and Anna almost gasped as she saw an overweight man, naked from the waist down, thrusting into a woman half-wearing a scarlet cocktail dress. As they passed, the woman looked at Anna and gave her a knowing smile.
‘Some people like to be watched,’ said Peter, opening a door and steering Anna inside. ‘I myself am a much more private person. How about you, Natasha?’
She found herself in a bedroom suite overlooking the gardens dominated by an old oak four-poster bed, the only light coming from a small tasselled bedside lamp. As Peter closed the door behind him, she walked quickly over to the window in a vain attempt to put distance between them.
‘The house is so beautiful,’ she said, looking out at the grounds, hoping to start a conversation about design.
‘Yes, but not as beautiful as you,’ he said in a low voice. He touched his hand to her cheek and she flinched. She knew why Johnny brought girls to the party, but she had naively thought that any relationships would be started afterwards. She turned away from him and looked out of the big bay window.
‘You are one of Johnny’s girls, aren’t you?’ he said, coming closer behind her.
Her heart was hammering. Amir Khan had volunteered to come out to Buckinghamshire with her; he knew he would not be allowed access to the party, but had offered to wait in a nearby pub until she had finished. Now she wished she had taken him up on his offer.
‘Of course,’ she replied.
‘Good,’ he said, pressing himself into her as he kissed her neck softly. ‘Take off your clothes,’ he whispered.
She swallowed hard.
‘Let’s take this slowly,’ she said quickly.
His fingers began to pull down the zip that ran the length of her spine.
‘Fine by me,’ he murmured. She felt a cool rush of air on her bare back as the dress parted. Her mouth turned dry. She knew she had to get out of here, but not before she got what she came for.
She turned around to face him. Peter had begun undoing the belt to his trousers.
‘On the bed,’ he said.
She smiled coquettishly, although she was frightened
. ‘I heard you were a good lover,’ she said, playing for time.
He looked pleased to hear it. ‘And who told you that?’
‘A friend of mine. Amy Hart.’
Peter’s face was only partly lit, but his expression told Anna all she needed to know. Amy’s name brought on surprise, quickly followed by fear, then anger. Not sadness, not shame, not even regret. You bastard, she thought.
‘Tell me, what did Amy say?’ His voice was almost a bark.
Peter Rees was Amy’s Peter.
‘She said that you were very generous,’ she replied, trailing her finger down his shirt. ‘In every department.’
His expression softened.
‘It was sad about her, wasn’t it?’ added Anna.
‘Sad?’
