RED met his parents a week later in one of the more discreet new restaurants in central London, on a side street around the back of Knightsbridge. The entrance was no more than a domestic front door, and the dining room held only a dozen tables for evening dinner. But the decor was rich and the service extravagant. Red imagined that the bill would be too.
Alexander De Vere held out his hand to his son, and they shook. “Richard.”
“Father.”
Ellen De Vere pushed past her husband and caught Red in an expansive hug. “Red, my darlin’ boy.” She had the height and bearing of an ex-model, but he still topped her by a few inches. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Mother.” She chuckled, a loud, throaty, sexy sound that turned more than a few curious heads.
Alexander cleared his throat. “Ellen, we’re in the middle of a restaurant. And I believe Richard is trying for a less public profile nowadays?”
Ellen dismissed the rebuke, albeit made in a fond tone, with a shrug. “Sit here beside me, Red. Tell me how your new project is goin’.”
They all sat down. Most of the other tables were occupied, and Red recognized almost all the patrons. He thought, with wry amusement, it was a microcosm of the ambassador’s dinner the other month, a mix of celebrities, politicians, and minor royals. There was sufficient space between all the tables for private business to be conducted, or personal news to be exchanged. Turning back to their own table, he noticed the additional two places laid, and wondered who was going to join them. His father was infamous for mixing pleasure with business—never one to miss an opportunity to make the most of his crowded diary—so maybe he was combining this with a business meeting. Though family meals were usually sacrosanct. Ellen insisted on it, as they were all so rarely together.
He glanced at his father then back to Ellen. “There isn’t very much to tell.” Didn’t he hate to hear that self-deprecating tone to his voice? He was here to prove to his father what he could do with his life, on his own—and to ask for financial support for the center. This was no way to begin. “Well, that’s not exactly true, considerin’ how busy they all are at the center. I’ve only been there a few times, and I’m helpin’ in its refurbishment.”
“The staff?” asked his father. Red never minded his mother’s questions because he knew they were asked from genuine interest, and for his benefit too. His father’s… he wasn’t as sure.
“It’s council-run, with a variable budget. There is a full-time staff, and I’m obviously not on the books, merely a volunteer at the moment. I was introduced by Carter Davison, who works part-time there.”
“Carter?” Ellen murmured the name, and when Red glanced at her, she was smiling at him.
He frowned at her, knowing she wouldn’t take any notice of his disapproval, anyway. “Yes, Carter. He’s shown me around the place. They offer meetin’ and sports facilities for the young people. There are educational sessions, visits from local services, access to health and career advice. The young people are instrumental in helpin’ to run the place too. It builds their sense of responsibility and accountability, as well as givin’ them personal goals.” It all sounded horribly dry, compared to the lively and volatile environment he’d been shown so far, but he knew his father preferred this kind of delivery. Red had been making presentations like this for many years, though never one in the services sector like the center. Or, for that matter, he realized, one that he cared about as much. “It has huge potential, and is sorely needed in that area. The schools are limited, there are few sports clubs, particularly if you don’t have the money for membership fees, and there are no libraries or cheap cafés except farther into town. It’s a great opportunity for the local community to build somethin’ for all ages, to bring them together.”
His father tilted his head to one side. He appeared to be listening carefully. Red was grateful for that, but he knew better than to stop and ask for validation at this early stage. “I intend to keep up my involvement, where I can. It’s not appropriate for me to join the payroll, but they always need volunteers behind the scenes. And I’d like to look at contributin’ more to their facilities, maybe by sponsorship, maybe by donation. It’s somethin’ I’d like to discuss with you, Father.”
Alexander raised his eyebrows. “Is it an investment opportunity?”
“Of sorts—”
“Have you evaluated the commercial profitability?”
“Father, you know it’s not like that. It’s not a profit-makin’ concern. But we already support many charities.”
“Is this a registered charity? Does it have patrons already?”
Red sucked in a breath, trying to calm his rising anger. “No, it doesn’t. But that’s not to say it can’t have one or many in the future.”
“There are restrictions on council organizations,” Ellen offered. “On what they can do, on what they can be involved in.”
Red nodded. “I know. And I’ll look into that. I’ll work within the guidelines. But they’re always scrambling for funds. The refurbishment is being carried out with substantial volunteer help. I doubt it’d be done without that, at least, not in the short term.” This was more stressful than any business investment presentation he’d ever made, maybe because it was to both his parents, or because it was under the guise of a family dinner. Or maybe because he felt—for one of the few times in his life—out of his depth. And knew his father would see that.
“This doesn’t sound like something I’d wish to be involved in,” Alexander said, his voice terse. “You’re on your own, son.”
“I know that. I’m not asking for me.” Red felt his fist tighten at his side, and he tried to stop the volume of his voice from rising. “But the team at the center deserves support! It’s a strong, affirming environment, and I’m flattered to have been accepted, even on the periphery. What more can I say, except that it’s an inspiration.” Ellen was looking at him, eyes wide and slightly moist, but he couldn’t turn to her yet. “The commitment of the staff is a shining example of what can and will be done, for the sake of others.” There! He’d finished like some kind of TV evangelist. His father would leap on that with his legendary scorn.
But, rather surprisingly, Alexander didn’t leap on Red’s increasingly impassioned speech. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and gestured to one of the waiters for some water for the table. “Let’s discuss this again after dinner,” he said. “Your mother won’t be pleased if we talk business—profitable or otherwise—over a social occasion. And I see our guests have arrived.”
Red twisted his head to see two people approaching the table. One was Fiona Quinn-Marchant. The other was a younger woman, slim and pale, dressed in a simple lightweight dress, with her dark hair drawn back in a neat, though not severe, ponytail. Red recognized her with a shock. It was the young woman from the ambassador’s dinner who had been sick over him.
They all stood as the women approached. Ellen greeted them both with a hug almost as enthusiastic as the one she gave her son. She and Fiona were old friends, but it was also obvious that she’d already met and liked the other guest.
Red shook Fiona’s hand. For a disturbing moment, he wasn’t sure if she were here socially or professionally. “Fiona. It’s good to see you again. And in much more salubrious surroundin’s.”
Fiona smiled at that, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. After all, they hadn’t met since the rescue mission at the police station. “Yes, it’s an additional pleasure, indeed. I’m glad this is a purely informal visit, and I expect you are too.” She laughed softly at Red’s obvious look of relief. “Good to see you, Red.”
Alexander took the younger woman’s arm in an unusually gentle touch and presented her to Red. “Richard, this is Marie Atherton, daughter of Lord Atherton. You’ve met already, of course, albeit briefly.”
Ellen laughed. Red even thought he saw a twitch of amusement on his father’s lips.
“Miss Atherton. Marie.” Red held out his hand to shake hers but, rather to his surprise, she stepped forward and gave him a brief hug instead. From her hair he smelled a fresh shampoo without the usual overpowering fragrance, and he felt her too-slim body against his. He wasn’t sure, but she may have been shivering. The air outside the restaurant had a chill in it tonight, and maybe she felt the cold. Or was it nerves? “How are you now?”
She gave a genuine smile that seemed to give the lie to any nervousness. “It was a ghastly night, wasn’t it? I’m so sorry for what happened, Mr. De Vere.”
“Call me Red, please.” Her voice was steady but there was restraint in it. Of course she didn’t know him at all—they’d barely had time to strike up a conversation before she became ill—and she was probably still wary of his response. “Do you think it was the seafood? I’ve never had a problem at the Hilton, but some people just can’t stomach it.”
Marie stared at him with wide, puzzled eyes. Everyone else in the party was suddenly silent. Red felt as if he’d stepped back into a pile of dog crap that had appeared suddenly out of nowhere, like a kid’s practical joke. He felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I’ve misunderstood.” He knew it instinctively, even though he had no idea how he’d blundered.
“Red?” Ellen touched his arm. “Your father and I need to step outside for a moment. Fiona will be around, but I think you and Marie should catch up on your own.” His parents drew aside from the table and walked toward the separate lounge available for guests. Fiona walked with them for a while, their heads bent in quiet conversation. Once or twice, Fiona glanced back as if to check on Marie’s welfare.
“Please, sit,” Red said. “This is all rather mysterious, but I admit there are many instances when my parents do know best.”
Marie laughed. It was a light and cheerful sound, and even brought a splash of color to her cheeks. She settled herself rather carefully on the seat beside him. “You’re very kind, Red. It’s not fair that you think any of this is your fault.”
“You don’t have to tell me anythin’,” he said gently.
“I want to,” she replied. “My father invited me to accompany him to the dinner that night because he wanted me to meet a friend of his, a well-known oncologist. I’m sick, Red. I have cancer. I’d just started treatment, and unfortunately I misjudged how much it would immediately affect me.” She blushed very fetchingly. “Unfortunately for you, that is.”
Red didn’t know what to say, an unusual status for him.
“Also unfortunately, they sat me away from Dad, so when the nausea hit, I couldn’t throw up over him instead.”
Red blinked at her blunt humor. “So you chose my lap as the lucky one?”
Marie stared back. And, suddenly, they both burst out laughing. “Thank you,” she said. “For seeing the farce in the situation.”
“Thank you,” Red said. “For your honesty. And bravery. I’m sorry you had to suffer that.”
Marie shrugged, obviously embarrassed. “Afterwards, I wanted to let everyone know why I was ill that night, why you had to rush away, why you—”
“Got caught with my pants down in the Hilton’s men’s room?”
Marie gave a healthy, old-fashioned smirk. “I’m so sorry, but I have to admit it was funny. Or it would have been, if I hadn’t felt responsible—”
“Enough of that,” Red said.
She nodded and sighed. “As I said, I wanted to let everyone know the truth of the situation, but Father persuaded me it wouldn’t be good to let everyone know about my illness. I think he wants to protect me from public attention.”
“I can well understand that.”
“No!” Her voice was suddenly sharp. “I didn’t agree. My family is newsworthy, like yours. Father is distantly related to the Windsors, he’s been in business, and is now in the House of Lords. I’ve always accepted the public life. I suspect Father was just worried that he and Mother would be harassed by the press, instead of you.” As Red started to protest, Marie held up her hand to acknowledge him. “I know, I know. That was cruel of me. And I don’t mean it. I know they want me to be able to deal with this in private, for my own sake. But you took the brunt of that.”
Red saw his parents returning to the table. “I can handle it,” he said with a smile. “I’m used to handlin’ it. Brunt and I, we’re old friends.”
Marie laughed again, and now it was the simple sound of a young girl enjoying a joke and the attention of a handsome man. Red caught a glance darting between Fiona and Ellen, but it was gone so quickly, he’d probably imagined it. They all sat down again, chatting casually, and the waiter brought over some light hors d’oeuvres. Marie and Fiona began a conversation about what Marie could and should eat.
Ellen sat next to Red. She laid a hand over his on the table and squeezed. Leaning into him so that she could murmur directly into his ear, she said, “Thank you for makin’ Marie feel at ease. She’s been very worried about the trouble she caused you.”
Red shook his head to show he dismissed all that. “It’s little enough compared to what she must be goin’ through. Will the treatment be successful?”
Ellen stole a glance at Alexander, on her other side. Red realized his father was listening in as well. “We don’t know,” she said. “We’re hopin’.” It was said gently, but with a wealth of emotion.
“You’ve known her for a long time?”
Ellen smiled. “Your father and Lord Atherton have worked together in the past. After the embassy dinner—and after your little run-in with the police—Alex introduced Fiona to the family, to ask how Marie was.”
“Thank God! I asked Fiona if she would follow that up—”
“Yes, thank you, Red. That was very thoughtful.” She squeezed his hand again. “That’s when we learned about her illness. We’ve kept in touch since then. Your father and I will help however we can.”
Red turned his attention back to Marie. The dinner passed comfortably and well, with Red recounting some of his funnier and less outrageous escapades. Even Alexander smiled at them. Ellen entertained them with tales of her latest tour with the agency, and Marie spoke about the campaigning her father had been doing in Parliament for the benefit of better childcare. That led back to Red describing the Greenlake Youth Center and the plans that Carter, Pam, and the team had for its future.
“Have you considered setting up a fundraiser?” Marie asked. “My family has a lot of experience in that. It can boost finance, and it’s also a good introduction to ongoing sponsorship.”
Red felt his father’s gaze on him, but he ignored it for the time being. Marie was eager to talk about the idea, and he was just as keen to consider it. It was only after a few minutes that he yielded to a tap on his arm from his mother.
“Like father, like son,” she murmured, eyes bright, tone dry.
Good God, he was bringing business to the table in the same way Alexander so often did! Laughing, he agreed to call Marie at another time to discuss it, and they settled on more general topics. There was more laughter, chat, and, by the end of the evening, a friendly ease between them all that made the meeting special. It was only when Fiona murmured something to Ellen that they all considered leaving. Red noticed tension across Marie’s forehead, and smudges of tiredness under her eyes. He was the first to get to his feet and help her from the table, a discreet hand under her arm.
Alexander left the restaurant last, after praising the chef and staff for an excellent meal, and came to stand beside Red outside the building. Ellen and the others were a few yards away, waiting for their drivers to collect them.
Red glanced at his father. “What’s that look for? What have I done now?”
Alexander frowned at him. “Always so defensive, son. A guilty conscience, maybe?”
Red started to protest then saw the twinkle of amusement in his father’s eyes. “None, I assure you. But extra points to you for gettin’ me to take the bait.”
Alexander laughed. The family car drew up by the women, farther along the pavement, with another car behind it to take Fiona and Marie home. As he and Red strolled to join the group, he spoke again. “Let me know what support you need for your fundraising, Richard. Marie’s father is very willing to provide advice. Fiona is at your disposal for any legal or charitable accounting issues. And you know your mother has media contacts in the most astonishing and lucrative places. She’ll find sponsors for you when and if you need them.”
“What’s this about?” Red was startled. “I thought I was on my own.”
Alexander laughed. “You are. This is your responsibility. But you’ve proved to me you have the right objectives to carry it through.”
“Even without commercial profit?” Red couldn’t help the barb.
“Yes.” Alexander smiled over at his wife, who was beckoning them into the car. It was a soft smile that Red had only ever seen him reserve for Ellen. “You said it yourself, Red. I’m involved and invested in many more altruistic causes than people give me credit for. I’d be proud if one of them was close to my son’s heart. And of course, if it keeps you out of the papers, naked.” He held the car door open for Red, who was still bemused. “And, Red?”
“Yes?”
“Although I love your mother’s accent, it’s refreshing to hear you speak as your own man, in your own voice. That speech you gave was very enlightening—and persuasive. Well done, son.”
It wasn’t until they were halfway home, that Red realized his father had again called him Red. Twice.