Chapter Five
Five
Francesca Huxley might have been the actress, but Sylvie Calloway was giving her a run for her money, Baxter thought as he watched Sylvie greet Damian with an exuberant embrace.
“How wonderful to see you!” She took a step back and cast an appraising eye over Damian, who wore cream chinos with a black shirt open to the third button.
There was a small coffee stain on his left thigh, and Baxter made a mental note to deliver laundry bags to the rooms. “Francesca …” Sylvie wagged a finger at her friend in mock admonishment.
“You must let your poor husband out more often.”
Francesca laughed. “As if I could keep Damian in check.”
“Your dress is divine!” Sylvie touched the fabric with overdone reverence.
“I packed far too much, as usual.” Francesca wore black, like her husband.
Her collared dress was full length and full-skirted, nipped at the waist with a narrow tan belt.
She squeezed Sylvie’s arm. “Borrow anything you want, darling—at least then I can justify the extra suitcase I insisted we bring. Is the birthday boy here?”
“He just messaged to say they’re ten minutes away,” Alec said.
Francesca turned to Sylvie, wide eyes alert to gossip. “They?”
“Carter’s bringing his girlfriend, Jade. She’s delicious; you’ll love her. She’s trying to break into films.”
Damian groaned. “And you wonder why I usually swerve this sort of thing? A week with a wannabe actress begging me to cast her in my next film.” He was a producer, Baxter knew, with several hits to his name, including his wife’s most recent project.
“A week with your godson and your wife’s oldest friends,” Sylvie said archly.
Damian ignored her. “Speaking of films …” He angled his glass toward Alec’s.
“You’re going to bite my hand off to be involved in my next project.
” Baxter’s ears pricked up. The information Anya wanted was financial.
What investments was Alec making? Could Baxter somehow gain access to his portfolio?
Alec gave a good-natured laugh. “I’m yet to see a return on the last one, mate.” He glanced at Francesca. “Early days, I know. No offense.”
“None taken,” she said coolly, “but box office figures are looking good. I don’t think you’ll be waiting long.”
“We’ve got a really exciting new writer,” Damian continued as though no one else had spoken. “Great cast, Netflix circling already … We just need the backing and—”
“Must we have business talk on our very first evening?” Sylvie cut across the conversation. “It’s so tiresome.”
“My apologies.” Damian tipped his glass toward Alec again. “To be continued.”
Francesca smiled at Kaitlyn. “And what do you do, sweetie? Are you an actor too?”
“Lord help us if she is,” Damian muttered.
“I’m in beauty,” Kaitlyn said. “I do brows and lashes, mostly.”
Sylvie leaned closer to Alec. “You two must have so much to talk about,” she said, sotto voce.
Baxter was moving discreetly around the room, topping up glasses and removing empties.
So far, only Francesca had said thank you.
The others had behaved as though Baxter weren’t there, which was less of an insult than it might seem.
A good butler saw everything but said nothing—was on hand when needed and yet never in the way. Baxter worked hard to be invisible.
Through the open doors to the terrace came the sound of a car door slamming.
It appeared no one else had heard it, and so Baxter coughed politely.
“Sir, if you’ll excuse the interruption, I believe the guest of honor may have arrived.
” He left the guests rearranging themselves into a welcoming committee and went to answer the door.
Carter Prescott had his mother’s angular features and his father’s close-set eyes, the combination of which gave him a slightly rodenty air.
His girlfriend, Jade, had polished brown skin and the curved lips of someone easily amused.
She wore denim shorts and bright yellow trainers, with a gray T-shirt sporting a band name Baxter had never heard of.
Not that Baxter had heard of very many bands.
“Hey,” she said warmly. “I’m Jade.”
“Baxter,” he offered.
“That’s an unusual name.”
“It’s the only one I have, miss,” Baxter said lightly. It wasn’t strictly true, but it had been many years since anyone had called him by his first name. “I’ll show you upstairs, then I can take your luggage to your room.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
“I insist.” Baxter gestured toward the stairs. “After you, Miss Thorne.”
Jade flashed Carter a look. He frowned, then understanding crossed his face, and he fished a crumpled ten-euro note from the pocket of his jeans.
Baxter adopted the correct expression for one about to be tipped (really, sir, you don’t need to …
well, if you insist), but the note stayed between Carter’s fingers, and when Jade began walking toward the stairs, it disappeared back into his pocket.
“Happy birthday, darling!” Sylvie met them at the top of the stairs, pulling Carter into a hug. “Everyone’s here! And we’re having oysters—your favorite.”
Jade smiled. “Hi, Mrs. Calloway.”
“Oh, now what have I said about that?” Sylvie chided.
“It’s Sylvie. We’re family.” She kissed Jade on both cheeks.
“It’s so good to see you again, sweetheart.
” She put an arm around the girl’s shoulders and escorted her into the living room.
“Everyone, this is Jade. Jade, these are Carter’s godparents, Damian and Francesca Huxley, and Carter’s father, Alec.
” Kaitlyn took a half step forward, waiting to be introduced, but Sylvie appeared to be done.
Carter shot his mother an exasperated look. “And this is Kaitlyn, Dad’s girlfriend.”
“Hey,” Kaitlyn said.
Jade blinked. “Um, hi.” She seemed flustered, but now that the introductions were over, everyone was crowding around Carter, slapping his back and shaking his hand and wishing him happy birthday.
And so only Baxter saw the look that passed between Jade and Alec.
A look which suggested strongly this was not the first time they’d met.