Becky examined his face, weighing up whether to involve him in her next task. His desire to see his cousin happy seemed genuine, and he clearly knew something about subterfuge. Ah, what the hell. She could use the help and it would be great to have him onside.
‘Mr Locke, would you mind missing the start of the ceremony to help me deal with an unwelcome guest?’
‘Not at all.’ He beamed. ‘This sounds positively underhand. How intriguing!’
‘And do you have any other cousins who might like to help? Ideally they would be big, strong and know the meaning of discretion.’
‘I have a good few to choose from. Where and when do you need us?’
Becky met Virgil five minutes later in the lobby. She briefed him on the plan and then strode off, leaving him to hurry after her down a series of corridors.
‘Let me see if I’ve got this straight,’ he said. ‘Georgie’s ex-boyfriend is going to stop the ceremony?’
‘Well, he’s planning to. Whether he would have gone through with it or not, we’ll never know.’
‘Because your assistant is going to lure him to our current destination?’
‘Lure is a bit strong. She’ll tell him the bride has asked to see him. He’ll fill in the rest himself. He’ll assume she’s come to her senses and wants to run back to him.’
They stopped in front of an unmarked door. Becky unlocked it and stepped inside. Virgil followed. Two wooden chairs were all the furniture in the room. The door they had used was the sole entrance and exit.
‘But what if this chap loves Georgie?’ he asked.
Becky picked up one of the chairs and moved it to face the door. Her tone was flat and lifeless as she said, ‘Then he should have told her that at some point during the four years he was stringing her along, cheating on her and making her feel worthless, while all the time basking in her adoration like the selfish snake he is.’ She paused to take a breath and place the other chair facing the first. ‘If he loved her, he wouldn’t be here, invited or uninvited. And he certainly wouldn’t come here to interrupt the ceremony and ruin the happiest day of her life.’
Not waiting to be asked, Virgil occupied a seat and tugged at his shirtsleeves, revealing his diamond cufflinks. ‘So he’s a selfish prick who’s incapable of putting anyone else’s happiness before his own?’
Becky looked at Virgil with a new respect. ‘Exactly.’
He rubbed his hands together. ‘Do we get to tie him up and throw him into the boot of a car?’
‘Sadly, no. We’ll keep him here until the ceremony is over. Then you and your cousins will escort him from the premises using the back door. Make him understand, gently but with a fair degree of menace, you’ll be looking out for him the rest of the day. If you’d like to add it’d be best if he stayed away from Georgina for the rest of his miserable life, I wouldn’t be against it.’
Virgil jumped up and began to pace. He unbuttoned his jacket and thrust his hands in his pockets. ‘And you do this all the time? How exciting!’
‘Not really. No one ever objects during wedding ceremonies. It only happens in movies.’
‘Maybe that’s because there are countless Ms Watsons all over the place bundling potential objectors into cars.’
She laughed. ‘I take it your day job doesn’t involve this sort of thing?’
‘God, no!’ Virgil stopped pacing. ‘Well, maybe a smidgeon of intrigue. Sometimes. But we have lawyers for all that.’ He frowned. ‘My life was far more exciting when I was in New York, and even Berlin had its moments. But since coming back to London the old man’s been working me hard.’
‘The old man?’
‘My uncle. He’s grooming me to take over the family empire.’
‘That doesn’t sound dull.’
‘It’s mostly property management. Some events—’
‘Shhh!’ Becky held up her hand and tilted her head towards the corridor.
‘God, sorry, I suppose I was boring on—’
‘No! They’re here!’
Phoebe’s voice, raised to warn them of her approach, was outside the door. Becky waved Virgil into the corner and tried to compose herself. Unaccustomed to an audience, and especially one as observant as Virgil, she was more self-conscious than usual. However, despite her misgivings, he didn’t allow a single detail of the following scene to escape his notice, took instruction well and performed his part to perfection.
Later that afternoon, when the reception had passed off without any interference, Virgil spotted Becky in a corner of the dining hall and sidled over.
‘Ms Watson, please tell me all is well and you’ll be going home soon for a rest. Working several jobs at once can be exhausting and I’m sure none of us want to see you laid low by illness.’
Becky only moved her eyes and mouth as she replied. ‘I will.’
With a glance, Virgil absorbed and copied the trick. He manoeuvred until they were standing shoulder to shoulder and became another muttering statue. ‘I have to admit, I am a little disappointed, Ms Watson. I honestly wouldn’t have minded seeing you in action again.’
Becky dipped her head a fraction.
‘I’ll leave you to get on,’ he said. ‘Although I wanted to apologise for being so indiscreet as to almost blow your cover when we first met at the gallery. And second for not taking the trouble to find out more about you before we became acquainted.’
She swallowed the sudden tickle in her throat and kept her gaze glued on the far corner of the room.
‘I admit I’m out of my depth when it comes to gallery matters,’ he said. ‘I haven’t given our visitors the attention they deserve. And I fear I have been particularly lax with those visitors who are perhaps most deserving of my attention.’
Out of the corner of her eye she could see he was glancing towards her. She nodded again.
‘I wanted to remind you I’m still waiting to hear about where and when we’re having dinner. But please take your time. I’m a patient man.’ He touched the small of her back. The light pressure, instead of making her flesh creep, produced a not unpleasant tingling in the area under the pads of his fingers. ‘I wouldn’t like to think my invitation and the manner of its delivery had given irreversible offence.’
He was a couple of steps away when she called him back. ‘Mr Locke?’
‘Yes, Ms Watson?’
‘Please. Call me Becky.’
He nodded and strolled away, whistling a merry tune. When Becky was sure he couldn’t see her face, she treated herself to a smile.
Chapter 22
It was nearly another week before Becky saw Charlie again.
To ensure he arrived after Dylan was in bed, Phoebe pushed Charlie out of the house shortly after eight and sent Becky a warning message the second his car had left the drive. Ten minutes later, Becky was scrubbing the kitchen sink and listening to the rain spitting against the window when she heard the sheepish tapping on her front door. Oh dear, she thought, not without some glee. He’d be getting wet out there.
She flicking the kettle on, gave the sink another squirt of citrus cleaning spray and resumed scrubbing.