Page 12 of The Life Experiment
Smirking, Clarissa picked up her champagne flute. ‘It’s a riot. Who doesn’t love Jasper’s stories? Although this one gets more outrageous every time I hear it,’ she said, leaning so close to Angus that her lips brushed his ear. ‘One wonders if perhaps our dear Jasper isn’t exactly forthcoming with the truth.’
As if sensing he was the topic of conversation, Jasper looked across the table. When his gaze met Clarissa’s, he winked.
Triumphant, she turned to Angus. ‘At least someone’s keen for a good time.’
Angus shrugged. ‘Maybe you should sit with Jasper instead.’
With a haughty glare, Clarissa snatched her embellished bag from the table. ‘You know, you can be a real dick sometimes,’ she snapped. Rising to her feet, Clarissa’s theatrical exit was hindered by the legs of her chair, which had sunk into the grass. Furious, she battled with them until finally, with a squelch, she was free.
Angus watched Clarissa sweep to the other side of the table. There, she slid onto Jasper’s lap, twisting her body until her silky dress pulled tight across her chest. As his cheeks flushed red, Jasper couldn’t hide his delight at the surprising turn of events.
Angus knew he should feel something. A kick in his gut or some ounce of anger. After all, he and Clarissa had been hooking up for years, but seeing her entangled with his best friend, Angus felt nothing.
‘Someone’s playing her usual games,’ Fergus quipped beside him. ‘When will you two make it official and save us from this never-ending drama?’
Angus downed the rest of his drink. ‘Never going to happen.’
‘My friend, marriage comes for us all eventually. Especially those with parents concerned about continuing the family name.’
‘And you think Clarissa is the right woman for me?’
‘Angus, you and Clarissa have more money behind you than most of this table combined. If that doesn’t make her the right woman, what does?’
Angus’s mouth twitched, the only response he could muster to such a depressing statement. ‘Excuse me,’ he said, standing abruptly. Without another word, he strode across the grass towards his parents’ impressive Buckinghamshire estate, aware of Clarissa’s eyes boring into his back as he went.
It would have been quicker for Angus to head to the kitchen via the veranda, but he entered the house through a side door instead. Anything to stop his mother stretching out a slender hand and drawing him into stilted conversation with whichever friend she wanted to belittle.
Inside, Angus drifted through grand room after grand room. With tasteful, opulent interiors, the stately home was luxury in its purest form. Everyone agreed that Gilly Fairview-Whitley had done an exquisite job with the latest renovations. Angus wondered if his mother would ever admit to using a top interior designer for the task.
The kitchen was a hub of frantic activity as a team of caterers rushed to ensure everything sent out met Gilly’s exacting standards. The chaos was overseen by the Fairview-Whitley’s housekeeper, Ms Tillman. Employed by the family for the last eleven years, Angus’s interactions with Ms Tillman usually centred around her rustling up a hangover cure for him.
When she saw Angus enter the kitchen, Ms Tillman frowned and moved towards him, but a chef arranging a selection of delicate desserts got to him first.
‘Is everything okay with the food, sir?’ she asked.
‘Everything is wonderful. I only came inside for a beer.’
‘Haven’t they been served?’ she replied, shooting a withering glare at a passing waitress.
‘There are plenty of drinks outside, thank you. I just fancied getting away from it all, you know?’
The woman nodded, but her expression indicated she had no idea what Angus was talking about. Get away from what – a lavish party? Being waited on hand and foot?
Shying away from the judgement, Angus headed to the fridge. As his hand wrapped around the neck of an ice-cold beer, he heard his father calling him from somewhere inside the house. Angus paused, debating whether to shout back or hide in the kitchen, but as he turned, Angus discovered Peter had already found him.
Even with his casual suit rumpled, Peter Fairview-Whitley was a man with presence. His broad frame and thick head of hair marked him as good looking despite his sixty-plus years, but even without such strong physical attributes, he would still command attention. There was something in the way he strode into every room, like it should be grateful for his presence, that made people stand straighter and try harder. Not for the first time in his life, Angus wondered how someone like Peter could have a son as pathetic as himself.
The hubbub in the kitchen doubled now Peter was there, but Angus wanted to tell the staff not to worry. Peter Fairview-Whitley was a teddy bear. Gilly, on the other hand… Well, the less said about her ability to reduce people to tears, the better.
‘Did you come inside for a drink too?’ Angus asked.
‘Actually, I followed you. I thought we could talk.’
Angus tried not to react, but in his surprise, the beer nearly slipped from his hands.
‘Don’t look so worried, son. Come on, let’s get out of the kitchen.’ Peter clapped his hand on Angus’s shoulder and steered him away.
Angus expected Peter to take him outside to join an exchange with one of his boorish friends, but instead Peter led Angus to his office. Traditionally styled with wood panels, it was filled with antiques and rare first editions. Fiction had provided escapism for Angus as a child, so his father’s book-lined office became one of his favourite places. Not that Angus had often been allowed in.
