Page 40 of Love and Loathing

Doing his job.

How could he stand it? Even with the little crack he’d just admitted to in his otherwise indifferent shell, he’d probably continue doing it forever. That bit of grit, that germ of a conscience, ignored and buried, made smooth. No one would ever know. Just as they’d never know he loved a woman to distraction. Drove Evie herself to distraction. Saved Domnall from ketchup and Evie from ruin. Had a heart as unfathomable as those secret rifts in the ocean floor, and just as deep. No one would know. They’d see the suits and the ironic smile. He’d do his job, obey her father. And all because he chose it. Why?

“That was so nice,” Amy said, coming to sit beside her, voice low, because Evie’s father was nearby. “What he did at dinner.”

“Mm.” Evie looked away from Aubrey and sipped her drink. Liv was standing behind Domnall’s chair, her hands on his shoulders as she joined their conversation, laughing merrily at whatever Aubrey had just said, eyes fastened to his face.

“I wish I’d thought of it myself,” Amy said. “But I never would have guessed Howell would agree to it.”

“He looks scarier than he is,” said Evie, who’d always liked the man despite his loyalty to her father. He used to occasionally pass her a useful stick if he found her staring stricken at a puddle of drowning insects. Or silently hand her a handkerchief on the many occasions she was overcome by tears.

“Howell or Aubrey?” teased Amy, grinning.

Evie pulled a face. “There’s nothing scary about Aubrey Ford.”

“He’s sort of stern-looking sometimes, don’t you think? Almost severe. Even when he’s laughing, it feels like he’s mocking you.” Amy frowned to herself. “I wouldn’t want to make him angry.”

Evie laughed. “I seem to do nothing else.”

“Isn’t it scary?”

“No.” She sipped her drink. “It makes me horny.”

Amy choked on a laugh. “Oh my God…”

“I keep fantasising about being spanked.”

Amy hid behind her hand, shaking with suppressed laughter.

Evie just grimaced at her drink, thinking she’d probably had enough. “I think I’ve got issues, Amy.”

“Dozens,” agreed Amy, still quivering with laughter.

“What are you two laughing at?” said Hugo, appearing behind them and leaning on the back of the small sofa where they sat.

“You don’t want to know,” said Evie.

“You really don’t,” seconded Amy, grinning up at him.

He gave them both a suspicious look. “I suspect you’re right.” Then he glanced around the room and leant down. “I came over to warn you, Domnall has just asked if there’s going to be dancing in a bit. I suspect he’s watched some period drama and thinks we’re going to wheel in a gramophone and break into a fox trot. Amy, this is our cue to leave.”

“Yes, go, escape.” Evie flapped a hand at them—mainly at Amy, who was looking guilty at abandoning her.

“You can sleep at Redbridge, you know. Come with us.”

But Evie, thinking about a laptop in a leather case, and whether a tipsy Aubrey might get careless about leaving it unlocked, declined the offer. “Don’t worry about me. Go, flee, before we’re asked to form a quadrille.”

They left, and Evie sat alone, content to be so, half-heartedly eavesdropping on the others but learning nothing of interest. She went to the bathroom and walked back, stomach dropping as she crossed the gallery that led to the drawing room because…

A gramophone had been wheeled out, and a waltz was playing, her father, Liv, and Aubrey standing awkwardly by while Domnall gestured enthusiastically. He caught sight of her andhurried over, grabbing her by the waist before she had time to do anything but think,Oh Shit.

Domnall clasped her close against him, and she very much regretted the near backless nature of her dress, because his large damp palm was pressed on her bare skin, and his damp red face was grinning inches from hers. He stank of spirits.

“Beautiful Evie, finally we can get properly acquainted.”

“Um…”

He forced her to turn with him, moving them a few paces forwards and back, not really dancing, but rather as though she was a Christmas tree he was trying to heft through a narrow doorway. His hand creeped lower on her back, his hot breath against her ear, and his other hand dropped hers and came down to grip her waist, pulling her harder into the flesh of his stomach and bumping her up against the insistent little bulge lower down.

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