Lucy squeezed Max’s hand. Without her sister at her side she’d have been a bag of nerves walking into the grand entrance of the Grosvenor for the Hogmanay Ball. But Max somehow gave her confidence, as she always had.
‘I can’t actually believe how beautiful you look,’ Max had told her as she walked out of her bedroom in her gown. Lucy was relieved that, minus the pins, it fitted perfectly. The thin cream-satin fabric clung to Lucy’s curves, accentuating the swell of her breasts and her long legs. It skimmed the floor, her deep-red Manolos just visible when she walked.
While most women would have immersed themselves in Fake Bake or St Tropez tan to carry off the paleness of the dress, Lucy’s fair but peachy skin worked perfectly, giving the illusion her entire body was glowing. Her hair had been loosely pinned up with a few of the finer white-blonde locks falling at the side, framing her face.
Her blue eyes sparkled, expertly outlined with the finest black line; her lips were plump and rosy with berry-red gloss and liner. Lucy had matched her nails with her shoes and accessorized with a delicate necklace, the centrepiece a ruby with tiny diamonds around it – the finest costume jewellery Lucy could find and a dead ringer for the real thing.
‘No bloody wonder you wanted that dress. If Hartley doesn’t realize what he’s missing when he sees you in it, every other guy at the ball will.’
‘That’s not the point,’ Lucy chided Max with a grin. She was grateful for the compliment which settled her stomach a little.
‘Course it’s not,’ Max told her with a knowing wink. They both knew it did no harm whatsoever to look one’s stunning best whenever in close proximity to an ex.
‘Max, you look fabulous. Luke’s a very lucky boy.’
Max did a twirl for effect, showing off the dress which seemed to have been moulded to fit her perfectly. The deep-purple velvet bodice accentuated her tiny waist, before flowing to the ground, folds of the luxurious fabric catching the light as she moved.
‘Cheers, Luce. Right, let’s get this mutual appreciation society on the road.’
And now the Summers sisters were making their way into the ballroom. Luke was meeting them there, as were Clarissa and Clive.
Lucy felt odd knowing Hartley would be there. How differently things had panned out from her expectations of the Hogmanay Ball a few months back. She had been so excited at organizing the bash, revelling in the finer details of tartan ribbons and Scottish dances. Now she was single and attending with her sister, who was falling madly in love with her brother. Lucy looked at Max and squeezed her hand.
Max smiled back. ‘OK, sis. Now we’ve arrived the party can start.’
Max might be working the next day but she didn’t have to be in until 11 a.m. and it would be an easy ride so long as a member of the Royal family didn’t go and die or something. She would have a good few drinks – hell, it was Hogmanay, after all. Just not so many that she’d be dizzy focusing on her computer screen in the morning. And definitely not so many she thought she’d faint in morning conference – that was never a pleasant experience. And then there was Luke. It was the first time she could remember being anywhere as anything other than single. She’d been scared a boyfriend would suffocate her, stop her chatting to people at parties, would roll his eyes as she had another cocktail. But she didn’t feel like that with Luke. It took her by surprise to acknowledge the butterflies in her stomach at the thought of seeing him again.
He had called her that morning to say he had spoken to his mum. Max felt her heart flip as he said the words. She had convinced herself Luke would decide he simply couldn’t jeopardize his relationship with his mother and would pull out of the ball. Even if he did come, Patricia might have planted a seed of doubt about their relationship with all the vile things she’d said.
‘Max, I thought a lot after I spoke to you. I couldn’t stop thinking about how hurt you looked when I told you about my mum…’
Max tried hard to concentrate on what Luke was saying, but she was gripped by a horrible feeling of dread. The truth was that Luke meant everything to her. But what if the saying ‘what goes around comes around’ was true and, by some stroke of karma, this was the retribution she deserved for being so careless with the emotions of guys over the years? Maybe she didn’t deserve to live happily ever after.
‘It hit me that there was only one thing I could do.’
Oh fuck.
‘I told Mum that if she was going to make me choose, it would be you.’
‘Me?’
Luke laughed. ‘Yes, of course you. She should never have made it into a choice in the first place. I told her I wanted you to meet my family, and I dearly wanted to include her but, if she refused, I’d be taking you for lunch with Ben and Dad in the New Year.’
‘Oh my God. What did she say?’
‘Not a lot. I think Dad had stood up for himself for once too and told her he would stand by me if I wanted to be with you. Ben too.’
‘And…’ Max’s voice was quiet and worried as she took in what Luke had been prepared to do for her. ‘What does that mean? What will she do now?’
As overwhelmed with relief as she was, Max didn’t want to be the cause of him falling out with his mum.
Luke’s tone was lighter now. ‘Oh I think everything will be OK. If I know my mum, she’ll come round. Even she knows what she did was wrong. And she knows now how I feel about you.’
‘And how’s that, Luke?’ Max asked playfully.
‘I think you know, Miss Summers.’
Max smiled. How wonderful. Their relationship was not up for debate. With anyone.
With Luke in the picture, things seemed to make more sense. Max knew she would soon leave behind the world of showbiz and parties, but she also realized what a kick-ass ride it was, and that it was one she should make the most of for a few months while she figured out what it was she wanted to do next.
Hell, if she didn’t hanker after doing something that might make more of a difference, being a showbiz reporter was the best job in the world.
As Lucy and Max walked into the grand hall, they were immersed in the buzz around them. A sea of dresses – sparkly, black, backless, puff-skirted – mixed with the men, so smart in their tails and a few kilts dotted around the room. Champagne glasses clinked and the din rose to the high ceiling.
A man stopped the sisters as they approached steps leading down to the main floor and asked their names so he could announce them. Again Max squeezed Lucy’s hand.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ the man’s deep voice boomed, ‘Miss Maxine Summers and Miss Lucy Summers.’
As the words fell on the ballroom, the chatter of the guests subsided a little. Some people stopped and stared, others were nudged by a friend encouraging them to give their full attention to this unexpected guest. Some chatted on, oblivious to the fact the Earl of Balmyle’s ex had just walked in, even though by all accounts she should be far too embarrassed ever to be in the same vicinity as him.
Lucy’s stomach flipped. She hadn’t anticipated quite so public an introduction to the hundreds of guests.
She glimpsed a woman quickly turn back to the group she was with, shielding her mouth with her hand while they lowered their heads to hear what she was saying.
As the sisters walked down the stairs, Lucy couldn’t help but wonder what was being said: had she no shame? Was she here to have another go at snaring Hartley? Oh did you hear he’s back with Lady Bridget?
Most of the crowd didn’t know Hartley, or may have met him once and passed that off as a friendship with the Earl. But friends of friends in higher places ensured they were kept up to speed with the latest in his personal life.
‘Darling!’ A loud, robust voice rose above the crowd. It was Clarissa, who had gone for her trademark slightly garish choice of outfit – a lime-green, off-the-shoulder, full-length gown in raw silk. Her new svelte figure and slight tan from the Thai retreat combined to make her look like a pretty guest who stood out from the rest for having the confidence to wear something other than the staple flattering black number.
Clarissa kissed Max and Lucy, telling them they’d caused quite a stir when they walked in.
‘Of course,’ she said, ‘all the women are seething with jealousy – you look like two models.’
Blushing, Lucy took two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray. She gave one to Max and made a toast.
‘To a wonderful Hogmanay.’
‘To Hogmanay,’ Clarissa and Max repeated triumphantly.