I leant over, chinked my glass against hers and smiled. ‘Perfect.’
4
‘You look knackered.’
‘Thanks. Remind me to write to Yves St Laurent later.’
‘OK. Any particular reason?’
‘Only because when I caught a glance of myself in the mirror late yesterday afternoon after stacking up the last of Jess’ boxes, I made a detour to the local department store and forked out on a tube of Touche Éclat. It claims to make “signs of fatigue virtually disappear”. And, judging by your immediate reaction upon seeing me, it would appear I have been diddled.’
He grinned and, tired as I was, bits of me definitely perked up.
‘Rubbish. You still look great. You always do. I just know you pretty well by now.’
I made a derisive noise. ‘It’s a bit late to start sucking up now. I’ve already worked out where I’m sticking the fee for that comment.’
‘Damn. Worth a try.’
I smiled and shook my head.
‘You do look tired though, and,’ he held up his hands, palms towards the screen, ‘I mean that in a concerned friend kind of way, not in a critical one.’
I waved my hand. ‘I know. I am. Turns out Jess has waaaay more stuff than even I anticipated.’
‘Did you have to get it all done this weekend?’ Seb had rung for a video chat with a cup of tea around eleven on Saturday morning, as he quite often did, but I’d had to quickly explain that I was taking part in Operation How The Hell Has Jess Accumulated All This Crap and couldn’t really talk.
‘Kind of. They both can’t wait to live together and she was only working herself up about getting everything done. It wasn’t good for her.’
‘I’m not sure it was that good for you. Why don’t you take the day off?’
‘No, I’m fine. It’s done now anyway, so she can stop worrying. Harry’s arranged for a firm to move all her stuff and put it in his spare room and she can just unpack at her leisure.’
‘You still look shattered.’
‘I’ll get an early night tonight. And it’s looking a bit breezy out there,’ I said, leaning back in my chair to peer out of the window, ‘so that’ll wake me up when I take Humphs out in a bit.’
‘Don’t overdo it.’
‘Says the man who probably went on a ten mile walk with his own dog this morning before dawn.’
His laugh reverberated around me, warm and deep. ‘Only five and definitely after dawn.’ He moved his screen to take in Scooby, sprawled out on the floor behind him, legs up, family jewels on display to the world, snoring softly as the tips of his paws moved in his dream. ‘Classy, eh?’
‘Must take after his master.’
Seb glanced back at me, then back at the dog, before returning his attention to me. ‘You know, I think you might have a point. Maybe that’s why we bonded so quickly.’
‘Kindred spirits.’
At this, Scooby let out an audible, and judging by Seb’s face, pungent parp. ‘Jesus, Scoobs,’ Seb grumbled, pulling his hoody sleeve down and burrowing his nose into it. ‘In the interest of accuracy, I’d like to point out that we’re not kindred in everything,’ he said, his voice now muffled somewhat.
‘If you say so.’
Above his hand, his brown eyes twinkled with amusement.
‘How did your meeting with Lady Carstairs go on Friday?’ I gave a little eyebrow wiggle. Rumour had it that the Lady Genevieve had the hots for Seb – gossip Jess had been more than eager to find out more about from Harry, whose family knew hers in the way that aristocratic families often knew each other’s business. Apparently, the rumours were entirely true. And, from what Jess could find out, this was a woman who tended to get what she wanted.
‘OK.’ Seb nodded, not quite meeting my eye. If I’d had antennae, they’d be on high alert right now.
‘Anything I should know?’ I asked, casually.
Seb lifted his gaze, meeting my apparently nonchalant one. ‘You’re enjoying this far too much for someone who professes to be a nice person.’
‘I am a nice person. And what exactly am I enjoying?’
‘My discomfort.’
I made a sympathetic face. ‘Yes. It must be awful to be pursued by a very attractive, intelligent and insanely rich woman. If I said “there, there” would it help?’ I tried not to grin, but with the way Seb was looking at me, it was an impossible feat.
‘You’re hilarious. You know that, don’t you?’
‘It’s one of my best qualities.’
He shook his head, still smiling. ‘The meeting went fine. She’s still keen on supporting the charity but wants to discuss things further.’
‘I bet she does,’ I mumbled.
‘You know I can hear you, right?’
I coughed. ‘Sorry? Frog.’ I coughed again for effect.
Seb gave me a patient look and I returned an innocent smile.
‘Yeah, right. Anyway, I mentioned that we’re hoping to arrange this summer gala thing and she immediately said she’ll take a table, so that’s a good start.’
He glanced away for a moment. I narrowed my eyes.
‘Was there a caveat to that?’
‘What?’
‘You’ve gone all shifty.’
He straightened up, laughter creasing his face. ‘I am not shifty!’
I gave him a look that suggested I disagreed with that.
‘Fine. She laughingly said it was on the proviso that she danced with me.’
‘There are far worse catches to a deal.’
Seb dismissed it. ‘I’m pretty sure she was joking. She’d had a couple of glasses of champagne by that point anyway.’
I was pretty sure Lady Carstairs was deadly serious, and from what Jess had found out, a dance was just the beginning of what she really wanted. I pushed the thought to the back of my mind and straightened my notes.
‘So, agenda?’ I said, pulling it up on my screen so that it was now split between our video chat and the document he’d sent over last week.
‘Yes, ma’am,’ he grinned and I tried not to think about Seb Marshall in a uniform.
I cleared my throat. ‘Item one. Funnily enough, the summer gala. I’ve had some more thoughts on this.’
By the end of the following week, I was shattered. Jess had moved in and Harry had very sweetly held a welcome home dinner party for her, which, of course, I’d wanted to go to. It had just coincided with a super busy week at work, including a new client, on top of the busy weekend we’d had getting Jess’ life into boxes ready for the move.
‘How’s that year of saying no working out for you?’ Seb teased me over the top of his coffee mug.
‘It’s fine.’
‘Looks it. Are you not saying no enough?’
‘I am, to things I don’t want to do. I said no to signing up to a mailing list when I got caught by a chugger on the street the other day. Plus, just last week I turned down a week’s hen do in Ibiza for someone I haven’t even seen in nearly ten years, as well as a candle party from someone at my previous office. Both of which I probably would have said yes to out of a sense of obligation before. It just so happens that this week has involved quite a lot I actually have wanted to do.’