PLAYING DIRTY WITH THE HOT CEO

chapter 33

Titus

Just before six, we head up the driveway to the main house. A guy dressed as an old-style butler—wearing white gloves, and his coat complete with tails—shows us through to the drawing room, where Alan, Vicky, their girls and their husbands, are already gathered, and they all cheer as Heidi and I walk in.

“Oh, you look fantastic,” Vicky says, coming up to admire our costumes. She’s wearing a silver 1930s-style dress, with a band around her forehead that bears a single feather. “Lady Victoria Eddington-Jones, pleased to meet you.”

I laugh. “Lord Lawrence Edgmont at your service,” I say in my best posh English accent.

Vicky giggles and hands the cigarette holder to Heidi. “And you must be the Countess Heidi Carlton.”

“Yes, and I’m very pleased to meet you.” Heidi’s accent is impeccable, but she finishes with a giggle, which makes us all laugh.

“I’m Sir Alan Spencer, Duke of Dottington,” Alan says, unable to stop a chuckle as he shakes my hand. “Welcome to Dottington Castle. Let me introduce you to the other guests tonight.”

He introduces his daughters and their husbands with their fake names, and asks us what we’d like to drink.

“May I recommend the forty-five-year-old Port Askaig,” Alan suggests, and I nod, eager to try another rare Islay malt. When the butler brings it over, I have a sip and sigh. The taste is exquisite—sweet and fruity with a touch of menthol which I adore, although it makes Heidi wrinkle her nose when she tries it.

She sticks with a G&T. Alan says, “Would you like to try a Morus LXIV Gin? It’s made from the leaves of an ancient mulberry tree. I was very lucky to find a bottle, and I’ve been saving it for a special occasion.”

“Ooh, yes please.”

Alan turns away to talk to the butler, and Heidi whispers, “That must be expensive.”

“I’ve read about it,” I murmur. “It’s sold in Harvey Nichols in Knightsbridge, and it’s a limited edition of only twenty-five bottles. It’s the most expensive gin in the world.”

“Holy fuck.”

I chuckle. “Try to look as if you drink this kind of thing every day.”

“It comes in a hand-made porcelain jar,” Alan explains as the butler pours the drink, “and a stirrup cup.”

The butler hands it to her—a conical-shaped cup wrapped in embossed hide leather.

“You’re supposed to sip it neat,” Alan explains, “then add a little mineral water several times as you drink it. The gin becomes more flavorful as you keep diluting it.”

“Ooh.” She sniffs the gin, then takes a delicate sip. “Aw, that’s nice. Woody and smokey, and a touch of citrus.”

Alan also accepts a glass from the butler and takes a sip. “Mm, yes, I see what you mean. Very nice. It’s also supposed to be great as a highball. Maybe we’ll try that later.”

“Definitely.”

I smile at her, surprised and yet also not surprised. She told me she was going to teach me about gins, but I hadn’t thought she was serious. I forget that she’s Huxley’s sister sometimes. I have no doubt he educated her in most of the major spirits before she left New Zealand. He’d have seen it as his brotherly duty to make sure she knew her stuff.

“So,” Alan says, “let’s go through to the dining room and we can introduce our characters while we have the starters.”

We filter through and take our seats at the oak table. Alan and Vicky sit at either end, and Heidi and I are seated opposite each other in the middle. Waiters serve us smoked salmon and prawns in a horseradish cream and lime vinaigrette topped with a small green leaf salad that’s absolutely sublime. While we eat, Alan gives an introductory speech welcoming us all to Dottington Castle, and hands an envelope to each of us containing facts about our characters that we need to reveal over the course of the dinner, including who is going to be the murderer. It’s not me, so I can relax for the rest of the evening. When I look up, I meet Heidi’s gaze, and she grins and winks, suggesting she’s enjoying herself.

We finish our starters, and then the waiter is just collecting our plates when there’s a high-pitched scream from the kitchens.

“Oh no,” Vicky says, putting down her serviette, “I wonder what’s happened?”

“We’d better go and see,” Alan suggests. “Come on, everyone.”

Laughing, we all get up and follow them into the kitchen, where we discover the butler who served our drinks now sprawled on the tiles, apparently ‘murdered’, with fake blood splashed across his white shirt.

Several members of the kitchen staff are standing around, dressed like servants from an old-fashioned country house, the women in aprons and white hats, the guys in black suits, like characters out of Downton Abbey.

“We’d better interview them,” Alan states, “and see if any of them witnessed the murder.”

The evening progresses in a similar manner, with facts gradually revealed between the courses. The meal is fantastic—they serve two mains: an incredible beef wellington, and porchetta or salty pork belly stuffed with bacon and brioche that’s just to die for. Of course I have to have a piece of both to compare. It’s served with mixed roast vegetables including the best roast potatoes I’ve ever tasted, asparagus with hollandaise sauce, and Yorkshire puddings.

The conversation is light and lively, and I find myself entranced by Heidi, who throws herself into her character with gusto. She constantly makes everyone laugh with her quips and outrageous statements, all delivered in a posh British accent. I’m so glad I asked her to come here with me.

It wouldn’t have been the same at all on my own. When I do my usual act of tipping over my wine glass and spilling red wine all over the nice white tablecloth, or backing into the umbrella stand and knocking it over as we make our way into the conservatory, she makes a joke of it and then changes the subject to draw attention away from me, which I appreciate. I know I’m clumsy, but I don’t particularly enjoy drawing attention to myself, especially with strangers.

In the conservatory, we discover the murder weapon—a bread knife, hidden in a trunk—and it’s at that point that I begin to suspect that Heidi might be the murderer, as one of the maids had mentioned at the beginning that she’d seen the Countess in the conservatory, reading.

As everyone makes their way back to the dining room for dessert, I take Heidi’s hand and pull her to one side, behind a large rubber plant in the reception hall.

“I want a word with you,” I tell her, pushing her up against the wall. She’s taken off her jacket, and while the dress she’s wearing isn’t revealing at all, it does show off her breasts in a way that’s been heating me up from the inside out all evening.

“Why, Lord Lawrence,” she murmurs, “I think you’re being most inappropriate. If someone catches us, I’ll lose my virtuous reputation.”

“I think your virtue fell by the wayside some time ago, Countess,” I tell her, nuzzling her ear, and she giggles. “I’m beginning to think you might be the murderer,” I say, sliding a hand up her thigh beneath her dress.

“That’s a shocking thing to say.”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

“I wouldn’t deign to answer that absurd accusation.”

“So it is you, then. I…” My voice trails off as my hand reaches her bottom, and finds only smooth, silky skin. I lift my head and stare at her.

“Told you I’d take my revenge,” she says.

I blow out a breath at the thought that she’s going commando in that sexy little dress. “Now I’m not going to be able to concentrate for the rest of the evening.”

“Well, I need to distract you somehow from your outrageous claims.”

I chuckle and kiss her, cupping her bare bottom.

“Hey, we’re about to start dessert, so—s**t! Sorry!”

We spring apart at John’s words, and all three of us give embarrassed laughs. “Sorry,” he says again, holding up his hands. “They sent me to let you know.”

“It’s my fault,” I reply, “I’m trying to persuade the Countess to reveal she’s the murderer.”

He grins. “Let me know if she gives you any clues.” He backs away and disappears around the corner.

Heidi giggles, and I laugh. Her cheeks have flushed, but she doesn’t seem too embarrassed.

“That was all you,” she scolds. “Naughty boy.”

“I thought the Countess needed some attention.” I nuzzle her ear again, but she slips to the side and starts walking back. “Come on, my lord. Time for something sweet.” She winks at me.

I follow her, eyes narrowing at the thought of my hand stroking up her soft skin. I’ll make her pay for that later.

We walk into the dining room, and as the others all cast us amused glances and laugh, it’s obvious that John has revealed what he saw.

“Sorry,” I apologize as Heidi and I take our seats. “I was questioning the Countess.”

They all laugh, and Heidi giggles, then says, “Ooh,” as she discovers the gin highball that Alan had promised her earlier in the evening. “Thank you so much for sharing this precious gin with me,” she says to him as she sips it.

“Of course,” he says, “anything for you two.” He smiles at me, and I know his words are genuine. I’m going to miss him and Vicky when I leave.

The waiters then bring in the desserts—served in tiny dishes, so we’re able to sample several different sorts. There are coffee and malt biscuit panna cotta, plum ripple ice cream with walnuts, chocolate brownie cheesecakes, mini apple crumble pies and lemon meringue pies, brandy custard choux buns, and banoffee Baileys pies. We work our way through them as we discuss the case, and when Rowena announces she thinks the murderer is Heidi, I mention the waitress’s comment about seeing her reading in the conservatory, and we all agree that we think it’s her.

With the meal finished, we take our drinks into the drawing room, and Alan officially accuses Heidi, who grins and says yes, she did it, and we all cheer. After that, the butler—who has miraculously sprung back to life—serves us coffee, and then we sit for a couple of hours, chatting about everything under the sun. We talk about the fertility program, but also about their jobs, their hobbies, and life in England in general.

It’s with some surprise that I realize it’s close to ten thirty by the time the evening wraps up. We all rise and make our way to the front door, and we say goodbye to Alan’s family and thank them for a lovely evening.

Alan gestures for me to stay, and so Heidi and I wait while the others filter out. When they’ve gone, he and Vicky come over and give us both a hug.

“Thank you for making it such a wonderful evening,” Vicky says. “It’s been a stressful couple of years, and our girls have all struggled in their own ways, so it was great to see them putting it all aside for a bit and just having fun.”

“We’ve had a fantastic time,” Heidi replies, “and our compliments to the chef. The meal was amazing.”

“What time do we need to get ready for tomorrow?” Titus asks.

“Five a.m.,” Alan says. “Sorry. But they only do the hot-air balloon rides at dawn.”

“We can’t wait. See you then.”

“You sure you don’t want a lift back?”

“No, we’ll be fine.”

We wave goodbye and head out into the night.

The moon is a few days off full, and the sky is cloudless, so the gardens are lit with silvery light. We wander back slowly, hand in hand, along the path behind the trees, listening to the sounds of the evening.

“I had such a fun time,” Heidi says. “Thank you so much for asking me to go with you.”

I let go of her hand and put my arm around her shoulder, and she slides her arm around my waist. “You were great. I think they were impressed with your British accent.”

She laughs. “It’s not that different to the Kiwi one so it’s pretty easy to do.”

I pull her toward me and kiss her hair. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten, by the way.”

“About what?”

“The fact that you’re going commando. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it all evening.”

She giggles. “My work here is done.”

I laugh, stop walking, and pull her into my arms. “Come here.” I slide a hand to the nape of her neck and hold her there as I kiss her. She murmurs something, then lifts her arms around my neck and presses herself against me.

I sigh, giving myself over to the kiss, enjoying the feel of her soft body, and the way she tilts her head to change the angle of the kiss, her tongue darting out to meet mine.

“Mmm…” My murmur of approval lowers to a growl as a spark lights a fuse at the base of my spine, sending fireworks shooting through me. I don’t know how she does it, but she manages to fire me up instantly.

“Are you going to f**k me until my teeth rattle now?” she whispers, lowering her hands to my chest. Through my shirt, she finds my n*****s and circles her forefingers over them.

I catch her hands, move them behind her back, and hold them there, gently but firmly. “Whatever the Countess desires,” I tell her, and crush my lips to hers, kissing her for ages, while above us the moon rises slowly, and the stars appear on the black velvet sky.