The Lost Lover

Chapter Twenty-Seven

An old friend. That was how he treated her as they ate a three-course dinner, reminiscing about ‘times past’ as if they’d had more than a single eventful day together; as if his parting words hadn’t been shot through with blood, fists and hatred.

But all their worlds had changed since then: James had died; Edward was living in Hollywood; she was the toast of Paris; passions and tempers had long since cooled. Perhaps it had been, for Edward, exactly as James had warned her: he was quick to love and just as quick to move on, the high drama forgotten once his attention was caught by something new. Flora didn’t care either way. Edward’s fond smiles made up for George’s lingering coolness, his jokes a respite to the day’s tears. She felt warmed up from the inside as he told stories about her home.

‘I feel rather honoured to have the distinction of being the man who introduced Flora to her first ever...’

The men all waited, transfixed, as an innuendo hovered.

‘... picnic.’

‘What?’ Ronald laughed. ‘Surely not?’

‘Oh, believe me – when I say it was another world on St Kilda, what I really mean is, it was another time. Eighteen-eighty, in fact.’

They laughed again.

‘No cars?’ Ronald asked.

‘No cars? No horses!’

‘Well, radios then, surely.’

‘Not even a postal boat! One of the old boys told me they didn’t hear of Queen Victoria’s death for several weeks. Nor of the sinking of Titanic for over a month.’

‘No!’

‘Oh! That was a distinct step-up by all accounts. Apparently, a century earlier, it had been a full year before they heard of the Battle of Waterloo!’

The table was in uproar, the men slapping their hands on their thighs, cigars shaking in their fingers. Flora laughed too. She could see how it seemed funny to them, the quaintness of isolation.

‘Just extraordinary!’ Joe marvelled with a sigh, looking at her with fascination. ‘And yet, to see her sitting here, dressed in...’

‘Vionnet,’ George supplied helpfully.

‘Indeed! Vionnet and...’

‘Cartier.’

‘Cartier jewels.’ He laughed. ‘She looks as if she grew up in Bel Air!’

‘Well, cream always rises to the top,’ Edward said, looking at Flora proudly. ‘I knew the moment I saw her that she was destined for greatness.’

‘As did I,’ George chimed in quickly, not wanting to lose his claim to any proprietary deals.

The two businessmen smiled at one another as if in understanding. If Edward had met Flora first, it was George who had brought her here, to Paris.

‘But... when I saw you last, you weren’t anything at all to do with motion films,’ Flora said to him, using her voice at last. ‘You were wanting to invest in that man’s business. Oh – what was his name? When we were having dinner on the deck. You and your father...’

Edward thought back for a moment. ‘Oh, you mean Cecil Hatry!’

The men roared again at the mention of this name. They were five bottles into a ‘particularly good’ Malbec and had started on the brandy. ‘Old Hat-Trick Hatry? Christ, man, you didn’t fall for it, did you?’ Joe Carter frowned.

‘Nearly. Very nearly. But a...’ He glanced at her. ‘A good friend had reservations about his funding, and – trusting his judgement – I pulled back from my pledge. In the nick of time, it turned out.’ He shrugged. ‘So, with the money suddenly freed up, I turned my attention to Hollywood instead before Father could object. All rather serendipitous, really.’

Flora stared at the table, feeling her heart tighten at the brief allusion to James. She wanted to ask Edward what he knew of the accident – who had told him? Had there been a funeral? Did any of his family know about her? Did they know he had proposed with his mother’s ring? For the first time, it struck her that they were unaware James had a baby son, out there in the world somewhere, being raised by a woman who wasn’t his mother.

Oh, God – the feelings were surging inside her like storm waves again and it was all she could do to remain in her chair. Her fingers gripped the edge of the table as she reminded herself that this dinner, with these men, was the only way she could get him back. They controlled the purse strings, and money would give her the power she needed. It was the god she must worship if she was to find her child.

‘What did Hatry do?’ she asked, trying to look interested.

‘Committed corporate fraud on a colossal scale,’ Edward smiled. ‘He forged over a million pounds’ worth of securities as collateral for the financing of a project that would amalgamate the British steel industry.’

‘Oh,’ Flora murmured, even though she had no idea what securities or collateral were. She could feel George’s gaze upon her and she knew he could tell that she was out of her depth. Ordinarily this would have been one of his teaching opportunities; but if their contretemps today had thrown up a wall between them, her acquaintance with Edward seemed to have pulled her further out of his sphere. Suddenly he was no longer the man who exclusively controlled access to her – it had been made quite clear to everyone around the table that Edward had known her first, and she felt a new anxiety in George’s gaze.

‘What did he get in the end?’ Charlie Buck asked.

‘Fourteen years,’ Edward replied. ‘Two, hard labour.’

‘Damn.’ Charlie winced and sucked his teeth. ‘That’ll hurt a man used to the finer things. It all came to court pretty quick, as I recall.’

‘Well, he confessed. To Cecil’s credit, he knew the game was up.’ Edward reached for the humidor that had been set on the table and selected a cigar. ‘There’s something to be said for coming clean when you’re caught with your hand in the biscuit jar.’

Flora’s eyes flickered towards him – the words had felt somehow pointed – but he was focusing on cutting his cigar.

‘Well, Hatry’s loss was certainly your gain,’ Robert Kinney said, toasting his glass in Edward’s direction. ‘You’ve got the Midas touch in Tinseltown, that’s for sure.’

‘What can I say? It suits me there – the weather, the lifestyle...’

There was a pause.

‘The question is, do you think it will suit Flora here too?’ George asked him, getting at last to the point of this dinner. Everything – the best table at the best restaurant, the fur, the jewels, the gown, the champagne... all of it had been geared towards softening any resistance to Phase Two of his master plan.

The men fell silent, all eyes on Edward. Flora realized that he, out of all of them, was the one who held the power. It was his opinion that mattered.

She swallowed as she met his gaze, awaiting his verdict. He had once promised to be the one to bring her into this bright, shiny world. Perhaps this wasn’t how he had envisaged it but she could see now, from the way his eyes sparkled when he smiled at her, that those ambitions hadn’t entirely faded.

‘Well, there’s no doubt the camera would adore her,’ he shrugged, his fingers pressed together in a steeple as he considered her beauty objectively. ‘And we’ve all seen tonight that she can sing and dance. Acting, though, she remains untested. An unknown risk, and the new wave of films is far more rigorous in its demands.’

‘I’ve got Flora working with Christophe Balzac three days a week,’ George said. ‘Now the show’s up and running, we can increase that to five.’

‘Balzac? He’s good,’ Cripshank said, looking impressed.

‘And he’s very pleased with Flora. He believes she’ll have good range.’

Behind him, the band started up and several couples took to the dance floor. Flora saw how they moved in perfect synchronicity, bodies pressed together as they whirled and laughed. She had been instructed in the foxtrot and waltz as part of her dance training.

‘If Balzac thinks she can deliver, then as far as I’m concerned she’s the whole package. There’s no doubt she’s got presence. Wouldn’t you agree, boys?’ Robert Kinney asked. ‘Let’s get her over!’

But he was getting ahead of himself.

‘Ed?’ George asked. It was Edward’s say-so he wanted.

‘I have one condition,’ Edward said, slowly raising an eyebrow, his eyes locked upon Flora.

‘Oh?’ George cleared his throat, looking tense.

Edward pushed back his chair and rose, gallantly holding out a hand. ‘I get to have the first dance.’

‘Well, I think we can say that was a successful evening!’ Charlie Buck said as he was helped into his black astrakhan coat, cigar still clamped between his lips. Flora was enclosed in her sable again and clutching it tightly; the rain had stopped but there was a distinct chill in the air, heralding the city’s gradual slink into winter. Cars and taxis rushed past, the roads busy even at this late hour, whisking glamorous incumbents back to plush homes and elegant apartments.

The door to a 1925 Rolls-Royce Phantom was held open by George’s driver and Flora automatically went to his side. Everyone was saying their goodbyes, pumping his hand with zeal, all pleased with the night’s business. She smiled and offered her hand to be kissed once more as the men bade their adieus and those flying back said they would look forward to seeing her next in the Golden State.

Edward came and stood in front of George, and Flora felt a rush of panic that he was about to leave. There had been no opportunity for them to talk privately at all; even when they had danced, the music had been too loud to speak over and people had constantly interrupted them, a few even trying to ‘cut in’.

‘Well,’ George said, holding out his hand, ‘I’ll be in touch about the details for coming out. As I said, we have a three-month commitment to oblige here—’

‘Yes, yes,’ Edward said distractedly. ‘See here, why don’t I drop Flora back at her hotel?’

‘That’s not necessary.’ George’s reply was quick but firm.

‘Not necessary, no, but I think we’d both like the opportunity to talk a little in private. We’re old friends, after all.’ He looked at Flora, seeming to read her mind. ‘Would you like that, Flora?’

She knew from Pepperly’s expression that she should say no, that this was a chance to demonstrate her loyalty after a testing day. She also knew no real good could come of stepping back into the past. But Edward was her first and last link to James, and even if the temptation to grab onto it was self-destructive, she found herself nodding in reply.

George stiffened, registering it as a rejection. Did he sense his control slipping?

He tried again. ‘I’m afraid it’s been a very long day – and Flora and I, too, have things we need to discuss.’

Edward laughed, leaning forward and slapping him on the shoulder. ‘Give the poor girl a break, Pepper! There’s plenty of time for that tomorrow. Don’t spur the willing horse and all that! You don’t want to wear her out on day one!’

‘Shall we have breakfast together and discuss things then?’ Flora suggested to George, trying to build a bridge. ‘We could order some pastries from Angelina’s?’

‘Angelina’s?’ Edward chuckled, reaching over and squeezing the back of her neck affectionately. Flora fell still at the unexpected touch. ‘You really have schooled her in the art of living well.’

George looked between them both, visibly unhappy, before relenting. ‘Very well, then.’

‘à demain, Pepper,’ she smiled over her shoulder at him, as Edward offered his arm and led her away. She felt the satin dress swish against her legs as they approached a pale blue Bentley purring softly on the cobbles. The door was held open and she slid in, Edward smiling as he came around the other side.

Flora felt the tension inside her begin to ease for the first time all evening as they pulled away. She was finally alone with the man who knew James almost better than anyone, and she could feel his ghost sitting between them. It was all she could have, but she’d take it anyway.

‘My, my,’ Edward said as they walked into her room, throwing down his coat and taking in the splendid decor – cream walls and rose taffeta drapery were set off by gilded rococo mirrors and urns of fresh flowers, the pale grey carpet like velvet beneath their feet. ‘Old Pepper really did see the bright lights when he set eyes on you, didn’t he?’

‘He was certainly persuasive,’ she said, slipping off her high-heeled shoes with relief; they were not a part of this new life she would ever enjoy, and she let her toes spread as she headed straight for the comfort of the soft sofa. She curled up, grateful to relax at last.

‘Remind me – where was it you met him? He did tell me...’ he asked, walking over to the window and peering into the courtyard, now moodily lit. His silhouette was immaculately tailored, his movements more mannered than she remembered from the island as they had walked along the beach. California living clearly suited him – he was even more striking with a tan, his blond hair brightened by the sun.

She still couldn’t believe he was George’s money man – producer, benefactor, sponsor, fairy godfather, ‘however you want to think of it’, George had said in the car on the way to Maxim’s as he had impressed upon her the importance of this dinner. And yet her memory of Edward’s soft, pale feet somehow undermined the image of him as powerful Hollywood power broker. It was difficult to believe that he had the final word in all of this. Harsh though it might be, compared to James, he’d always seemed something of a fool.

‘Glasgow.’

‘Ah, yes.’ He turned back to her, looking impressed. ‘Glasgow’s a big city for an island girl.’

‘Aye.’

‘What took you there?’

She swallowed, not wanting to lie. ‘I went to have my hair cut.’ It wasn’t an untruth; she simply stopped short of telling him she’d then sold the hair that had been cut. From this new, elevated vantage point, from this silk sofa, it seemed so... undignified.

‘He said you met in a pawn shop?’

‘Oh, maybe... I don’t really remember.’

He squinted, thinking hard, jabbing a finger in the air. ‘No, it was – I recall he said he helped you to negotiate a better deal... Typical Pepper, just can’t help himself.’ He looked back at her and she saw a growing puzzlement in his expression.

‘What?’

‘Well, I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but what did you have of value to pawn?’

Flora felt her cheeks burn at the blunt enquiry, though it wasn’t an unreasonable question given what he knew of her background. But how could she tell him she had been hawking James’s engagement ring? Did he even know they’d been engaged? She had no idea what Edward knew about how far things had gone between them. James’s name hadn’t been mentioned by either of them over dinner, but they both felt it hovering in the air – and this conversation inched him closer into becoming real again. Alive once more, if only momentarily.

Edward suddenly squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head quickly and putting a hand out, as if to stop her from saying his name. ‘Good Lord – I’m sorry. Forgive me, Flora, that was unspeakably rude! Don’t answer that.’

He wandered over to the cocktail cabinet and had a good look at the contents before turning back to her with a mischievous grin she recognized. ‘What do you say – a White Lady for a nightcap? For old times’ sake?’

How could she refuse? Old times’ sake was why they were both here, after all. She had questions to ask and no doubt he did too. ‘Well, so long as it’s a small one.’

He glanced over with a sympathetic look. ‘You must be dropping.’

‘I am weary,’ she smiled, feeling the burning exhaustion in her limbs. She had been whirled around the dance floor for at least an hour and the show itself had been physically draining, but it was the ache in her heart that ran her flat. It was taking everything she had to stay here, to sit still and smile while her baby son—

Flirt, George had instructed her. Sparkle. Be light.

‘Well, this will give you a little buzz before sleep. You’ve earnt it. Did you enjoy Maxim’s?’ He poured and mixed the liquids, stirring with assurance.

‘It was wonderful,’ she sighed, twirling a wrist fancifully. ‘The room was so beautiful. And all the ladies in their evening gowns—’ She stopped as she saw him smirk. ‘What?’

He hesitated, as if startled to have been caught. ‘Oh... nothing.’

‘Please – say,’ she insisted.

‘Well,’ he shrugged. ‘There’s just a saying that Maxim’s is a place where women are seen, but never ladies...’

Flora blinked, catching the drift quickly.

‘A stupid distinction. I... I shouldn’t have laughed, it’s a silly thing,’ he said quickly. ‘Far too much brandy, clearly. I’m sorry for being so crass. Hollywood does rather blunt one’s manners.’

She stared at him, feeling somehow unnerved by the observation as he brought over the cocktails in striking waisted glasses. He sat down with a groan on the other end of the sofa, revealing black silk socks. ‘Cheers.’

‘... Cheers.’ She drank a few sips, trying not to shudder; she had forgotten the sour taste, having quickly grown accustomed to champagne.

‘Funny, isn’t it?’ he murmured after a moment, stretching one arm along the back of the sofa and looking idly around the room. ‘Us... being here together... The Paris Ritz!’ He laughed. ‘Who’d have thought?’

‘I know. Every morning, when I wake up, it’s such a shock to find myself here. I canna get used to it.’

He looked across at her understandingly. ‘Your world’s changed a lot since I saw you last.’

‘Aye, it has. But so has yours. You live in America now.’

‘It’s not the same, though. We’re divided by a common language but that’s largely it,’ he demurred. ‘For you, though, nothing at all is as it was.’

She looked down at her hands. ‘I suppose that’s true.’ Truer than he would ever know.

‘... Was it hard, the evacuation? I read about it in the States.’

‘You did?’

‘Yes. Didn’t I tell you that once – that you St Kildans have a reputation the world over? I feel sure I did. You’re no ordinary islanders.’

She marvelled at the thought that people should care about the fate of their thirty-six-strong community. ‘Well, yes – it was hard saying goodbye for good. So much happened in that last year... It was difficult leaving people behind, for one thing.’

‘Oh? I thought everyone left?’

‘Aye, they did. I meant... leaving behind the recently departed.’

He frowned. ‘Who had recently died?’

‘My friend Molly Ferguson, for one.’

‘Molly F—?’ He looked shocked. ‘Wasn’t she the girl who taught Sophia to knit?’

‘Aye.’

‘But what happened to her? Don’t say it was a climbing accident?’

‘Pneumonia. We had heavy snow early in the season and there was a drama with the sheep; she caught cold and... never recovered.’

He looked dumbstruck.

‘It was her passing that became the reason for the decision to request evacuation, actually. If we’d been on the mainland, with access to a hospital, Molly most likely would have survived. It just didn’t seem... reasonable any more, that we should all be living with such risks.’

‘No, I can see that,’ he murmured, looking upset. ‘My God, the poor girl. She was a lovely thing.’

‘Aye. One of my closest friends.’

They were quiet for a moment, letting a respectful silence build.

‘And what about that other friend of yours?’ he asked. ‘The tomboy dressed in boys’ clothes and climbing cliffs.’

‘Effie? Believe it or not, she is working for the Earl of Dumfries now. He’s an avid egg collector and... well, she knows birds’ eggs,’ Flora shrugged, wishing her friend’s name hadn’t been raised in this particular conversation. Would Mhairi have arrived with her by now?

‘Hm. It sounds very different to becoming a Hollywood star.’

‘I’m not that yet,’ she protested.

‘Oh, but you will be. George knows it. I know it. You know it too, in your bones. I said from the start that a face like yours needed to be seen by the world, didn’t I?’ He joshed her hand with his as he joked, wanting acknowledgement.

‘Aye, you did,’ she conceded, noticing that his hand didn’t withdraw.

He looked at her, his smile fading a little. ‘I just... Well, it never crossed my mind that this would be the set-up if we were to be over here together. A business arrangement.’

‘I know,’ she murmured. ‘It’s all so strange.’

James shimmered between them like a ghost, almost solid, almost real. She could see Edward sense it too, his gaze meeting hers as they finally came to the moment they had both been waiting for all night.

He gave a small smile. ‘It brings us, I suppose, around to James. He’s not even here and yet still he is somehow looming large over us.’

‘Aye,’ she said, with a small, sad smile back, summoning her courage. ‘I... I miss him so much, Edward. There’s been no one I can talk to about him. No one who knew him. Not like you.’

Edward’s smile became fixed upon his mouth as he saw the tears gather in her eyes and she knew it must hurt him – or at least his pride – to hear her talk about James this way, even after all this time. After all these changes...

‘When did you hear?’ she asked him.

‘Hear?’

She swallowed. ‘That he’d died.’

Edward stared at her, as if her words were arrows and she realized his grief was still as raw as her own; for a moment she thought he wasn’t going to answer at all, but then he jumped up suddenly and walked over to the fireplace, trailing a hand along the mantel. ‘... In the summer...’ He cleared his throat, composing himself. ‘We weren’t on speaking terms, so...’ His fingers tapped on the marble. ‘But mutual friends... passed it on, you know.’ She could tell by the strain in his voice that it was a difficult subject for him to talk about; whatever tensions there had been between the two men, they had been old friends, after all.

‘Yes.’ She looked down, not wanting to remember how she had learned the news – and what it had led to.

‘What exactly happened between the two of you?’ he asked, his gaze moving around the room before finally settling upon her.

She bit the inside of her cheek, feeling emotions rise along with memories. ‘He came back... a couple of times.’

‘To St Kilda?’ He looked surprised. ‘But I understood access wasn’t possible after the summer?’

‘That’s true, but the first time he came back was... just a couple of weeks later, while the sea was still calm. He sailed over with Sir Thomas Lipton.’

‘Ah, of course.’ Edward looked away for a moment and she could see that he was hurt. ‘Handy, having so many friends with boats,’ he murmured.

Flora didn’t know what to say to that.

‘... And the next time?’

She looked down, feeling her cheeks grow pink at the memory. ‘It was just before Christmas. He came by seaplane – from Iceland. They were just about to move up to Greenland.’

There was a long pause, as if Edward was coming to understand the effort his former friend had made in order to see her. ‘... I see.’

‘We loved each other, Edward. It wasn’t... it wasn’t just a fancy.’

‘No?’

She wondered whether that made it better or worse for him. ‘He asked me to marry him – and I accepted.’

Edward blew out through his cheeks suddenly and whirled on his heel, turning away from her. ‘Christ, right... I see.’ He tapped his fingers on the mantelpiece again, clearly agitated by the news.

She didn’t know what to say. His unsettled reaction had thrown her. All evening, his behaviour had been nothing but friendly – as if he really had moved on, and was no longer bothered about his brief flirtation with an island girl.

‘My apologies, Flora,’ he murmured over his shoulder as the silence lengthened. ‘It’s rather a lot for a fellow to take in, is all. I had no idea things had... progressed like that. Naturally I mourned the friendship I had lost. The betrayal felt unforgivable and it was difficult for me to forget the way he went about things. So underhand...’ He swallowed. ‘And Sophia was devastated, of course. My entire family... It was a difficult time, you understand.’

‘Of course... I’m so sorry. We never wanted to hurt anyone. It was just somehow... there, between us.’

He nodded and when he finally turned back to face her, it was with an inscrutable expression, all his own pain hidden.

‘Well,’ he said finally, trying to raise a smile. ‘I won’t be a sore loser and wallow in hurt pride. I made my peace with things a year ago. I lost him long before everyone else.’ He walked back over to the sofa and sat beside her again, resting his hand upon hers. ‘But I’m very sorry for you, Flora. It’s a terrible thing to lose someone so dear.’

‘Thank you,’ she whispered, although somehow she still felt as alone with her grief as she had before. They had been united by a common loss and she had hoped to find in Edward a sort of kinship – but Edward had grieved the loss of James many months before he’d actually died. It wasn’t the same thing.

‘At least...’ He gestured to the room. ‘Well, look at you now: in Paris, living every young woman’s dream.’

She knew he was trying to sound encouraging, but his words rang hollow to her ear. What did she care for sitting in silks in Paris when James was dead and her child lay in Mary McKinnon’s arms, in some distant, unknown place?

‘Flora.’ She felt the pressure of his hand on her arm and as she looked into his eyes, saw his open adoration, still. ‘Let me take you to lunch tomorrow.’ His finger stroked lightly over her bare skin and the small gesture made her want to leap up, to move away.

‘But I thought you were leaving,’ she murmured.

‘I’ll push it back a few days. I can see that you need a friend. A proper friend. Someone who really knows you.’

Did he ‘really know’ her?

‘Truly, there’s no need,’ she demurred.

‘But look at the two of us, sitting here together. Fate’s brought us into one another’s lives for a second time. That must mean something, surely?’

His finger still stroked her skin but an intensity had come into his eyes now too, and she realized with sudden alarm what was coming next. Smoothly, he slid closer to her on the sofa, reaching over and kissing her before she could protest.

His lips tasted of brandy, his tongue pressing into her mouth and urgently filling her, another hand running up her thigh, rumpling her dress. She pulled back and he smiled, as if pleased by her response – even though she hadn’t responded. Her lips hadn’t kissed his in return and she had felt only panic as he invaded her body.

She wasn’t ready. She wasn’t sure she would ever be ready for him.

‘Edward—’ she gasped as his grip tightened around her arms.

There came a sound at the door, a key slipping into the lock, and they turned to find Pepperly standing in the doorway, still wearing his evening coat and hat.

‘Pepper!’ Flora exclaimed with relief.

‘I... I...’ He was out of breath and looked wild-eyed as he took in the scene of them together, on the sofa.

‘George?’ Edward frowned, sitting up. ‘... What brings you here?’

‘I...’ Pepperly straightened up, taking off his hat as he stepped into the room. ‘I forgot to mention... The Times wants an interview with you, Flora.’

Edward blinked. ‘What, now?’

‘No – God, no.’ The producer shook his head brusquely. ‘Next few days or so, they’ll confirm nearer the time.’

There was a confused pause.

‘And this couldn’t wait until breakfast tomorrow?’ Edward asked, sounding displeased. He had pulled back and had one arm slung across the back of the seat again as he reached for and cradled the last of his drink.

‘Well, I... didn’t want to forget,’ Pepperly bumbled. ‘So much going on and whatnot, at the moment.’

‘Indeed,’ Edward agreed, watching him with a suspicious look as Pepperly strolled towards the windows and blindly looked out, already knowing what he would see. ‘... I wasn’t aware you had a key.’

Pepperly shrugged. ‘Well, it’s my name on the bill here, after all. I thought Flora might already be asleep and I didn’t want to disturb her by knocking.’

‘Very thoughtful of you, old boy,’ Edward nodded, a faint smile flickering on his lips. The two men regarded one another for a moment. George made no move to leave again, for which Flora felt peculiarly grateful; she was reminded of James loitering on deck and on the stairs that night on the yacht, determined to thwart Edward’s heavy-handed romantic manoeuvres.

The strange encounter held for a few long moments, growing increasingly awkward, until Edward finally threw back the last of his cocktail and set it down on the table. ‘Well, I ought to be heading back. You’ve had a busy day, Flora – you must get some rest. I’ll collect you at noon tomorrow, shall I?’

‘What’s happening tomorrow?’ George asked proprietorially, ever concerned about losing his cut.

‘We’re having lunch together,’ Edward said, adjusting his cufflinks. ‘I’ve decided to stay in town for a few more days.’

‘Ah, sorry, no can do,’ George said flatly. ‘We’ll be in rehearsals all day. Gilles wants to polish up some of the numbers.’

‘Does he? I didn’t notice any problems.’

‘Delighted to hear it!’ George smiled. ‘Everyone’s a true professional, after all. Smile through it, eh? Even so, there are one or two kinks that need to be ironed out.’ His tone was firm.

‘I see.’

There was another pause and Flora sensed a slight friction between the two men, though they smiled and spoke with apparent ease.

Edward turned back to her. ‘If lunch is an impossibility, Flora, then keep your diary clear after dinner tomorrow. There’s something I’d like to show you.’

‘Oh?’ George raised an eyebrow.

‘Not you, old boy! You know Paris like the back of your hand – and besides, I’m told there’s precious little you haven’t seen in this city.’

George’s smile became fixed, and Flora sensed a trace of threat in the words. Did Edward know what Flora knew about his private life?

‘I’ll walk out with you, shall I? Seeing as you’re just leaving,’ he said as Edward rose, smoothing his trousers.

Walk out, or escort from the premises? Flora wondered, getting up too.

Edward planted a kiss on her cheek, catching her gaze. ‘Sleep well, Flora. Don’t let him work you too hard – I want you fresh for our rendezvous tomorrow. You won’t be disappointed, I promise.’

Pepper was silent as he followed Edward out of the room. At the doorway he turned and gave Flora a single nod, his glance sweeping the room as if searching for potential threats. Then he stepped out to the corridor and disappeared, with Edward, back into the night.