17. Harper

We're fashionably lateto the charity function. Not that anyone has sat down to dinner yet. Mother's guests are still in the mingling phase. The evening has a ‘wear it again' theme, and as we enter the ballroom, attendants ask us to donate what we would have spent on buying new suits. I put that much in and more besides, prompting Bailey to give me a wide-eyed stare. After five months, I would have thought he would have been used to me throwing money away like confetti, but apparently not.

Mother makes a beeline for us, embraces me, and kisses me on both cheeks, then does the same to Bailey.

"I was beginning to think my star guests weren't coming."

I chuckle. "We wouldn't dream of letting you down."

Bailey gives Mother a winning smile, which is more convincing than my words. It reminds me that he's probably been to dozens of these functions, possibly hundreds, on the arm of a different person each time as their date-for-hire. My stomach churns. I have no reason to be jealous of his past. I shouldn't be jealous of his future either. Besides, he's mine for a few more months. We're not even halfway through our twelve-month agreement. Not quite.

"There are so many people I want you to meet," Mother says.

I cast an eye around the ballroom. "I know everyone here." Only on a superficial level, but I could greet them all by name.

She tuts. "Not you, darling. Your wonderful husband." She pinches Bailey's cheek. "I want them all to see how adorable you are."

"Uh, thanks." Bailey rubs his cheek, which is a little red.

"Mother, do try not to embarrass Bailey."

She chuckles but makes no promises as she takes his hand and leads him towards the mayor of London and his wife. I grab two champagne glasses from the closest waiter's tray and follow in case Bailey needs me to swoop in and rescue him. Not that he does. He engages in brief small talk in a relaxed and smooth manner, leaving me with nothing to do but admire him and dream of what we'll do when we're back home, and I'm able to crush my mouth against his. Although I suppose I could do that as soon as we're in the limo.

Bailey gently nudges me in the ribs.

"Huh?" I blink.

"You were miles away, darling," Mother says. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes, I was daydreaming. What did I miss?"

"Nothing," the mayor says. "I was simply complimenting you on your choice of husband."

Odd wording, but okay. I wrap my arm around Bailey's waist and pull his hip against mine. "Hands off. He's mine."

The mayor chuckles. "I'm already taken."

His wife laughs along with him.

"I'd forgotten how boring these things are," I whisper to Bailey as Mother takes us towards another couple.

"It's fine."

"I'm already plotting our escape."

"You are?"

"Yes. If it gets too dull, I can always set the fire alarm off."

He laughs. "You wouldn't."

I sigh. "No. Probably not. Besides, the longer this evening goes on, the more money it will raise. I can put up with being bored to death as long as it's for a good cause."

"We've only been here for ten minutes."

"Ten minutes too long." I tickle his ribs through his jacket and shirt. "I'd rather be in bed with you."

"What are you two whispering about?" Mother asks.

I adopt my most innocent expression. "Nothing, Mother. How many more people do we need to talk to?"

"Oh, just a few. Bailey is the talk of the evening. Everyone wants to meet the man who convinced you to settle down at last."

"That statement would make more sense if I was forty-eight rather than twenty-eight."

"Ah, here's Mrs Parkinson," Mother says, ignoring my comment. "You remember her and her son, Emmanuel, don't you?"

"How could I forget?"

Mother setting me up with Emmanuel was the last straw. He was the man who sent me running to Clive to beg him to find a way to stop Mother from matchmaking ever again. Funnily, I have him to thank for meeting Bailey. Depressingly, he's here with his mother, the sour-faced Mrs Parkinson.

"Ah, Harper, how lovely to see you again," she says, loosely shaking my hand.

Emmanuel sneers at me.

"And you must be Harper's husband." She shakes Bailey's hand with even less conviction.

"Bailey," I say. "This is Mrs Parkinson and her son, Emmanuel."

"Pleased to meet you both," Bailey says.

"Oh, the chief of police has just arrived. I'd better go and say hello. I'll catch up with you two love birds soon." Mother dashes off towards the entrance.

"I must say, I was very shocked to hear you were married, Harper," Mrs Parkinson says. "You do know your husband cheated on you, don't you, Bailey?"

"I think you're mistaken."

"I don't see how I can be. He took my darling Emmanuel on a date, and within forty-eight hours, you and he were married. They slept together, you know. He practically promised Emmanuel a ring."

Bailey doesn't even blink. "You're mistaken. Harper and I had a whirlwind romance."

"When you know, you know," I add. "Plus, I don't know what your ‘darling' Emmanuel has told you, but we didn't sleep together. And there were absolutely no promises of rings. In fact, I was so?—"

Bailey grasps my hand and squeezes tightly enough to shut me up. "Even if you had, I'm not jealous of who you dated before meeting me. I know I'm the one you love."

I stare into his eyes. "You are. I only have eyes for you."

"How clichéd," Mrs Parkinson says. "I haven't seen you around before, Bailey. Who are your parents?"

His cheek muscles throb as he clenches his teeth.

"What does that matter?" I ask.

"One's breeding is important. Wouldn't you agree?"

Bailey's grip on my hand waivers.

"I judge people on their own merits, not the size of their parents' bank balance," I retort.

"Well, how rude. I suppose bad breeding rubs off," Mrs Parkinson says. "It looks like you made the right decision in rejecting Harper, Emmanuel. He's become one of the riffraff."

"Riffraff?" Bailey whispers.

"Now look here—" I stop as Bailey yanks his hand out of mine and flees. I glare at Mrs Parkinson, even though every fibre of my body wants to chase after Bailey. "How dare you? If anyone here is rude, it's you. Bailey is the kindest, most compassionate man I've ever met. He is a far better person than you. If having money is the only thing that makes people have value in your eyes, then you're—you're—shallow." It's not what I want to say, but I'm trying not to cross a line into being outright offensive. "I hope it's a long time before I ever cross paths with you and your son again. Good evening."

She flaps her mouth open and closed. I scan the room, but Bailey is nowhere to be seen. He must have left. Fuck. I push through the crowded ballroom to the entrance.

"Did my husband come this way?" I ask one of the waiting staff. Not that she would have a clue who Bailey is. "He's a little shorter than me, similar build. Blond hair, blue eyes, the most amazing smile you've ever seen. Not that he was smiling. He was upset." My chest squeezes.

"He went that way." She points down the stairs.

"Thank you."

"Harper, sweetheart, where are you going?" Mother asks.

"To find my husband." I run out of the room and down the stairs. I'll explain everything to Mother later. Right now, the only important thing is finding Bailey.

I rush outside the hotel. My limousine is disappearing down the street. I'll happily place a bet that Bailey is inside. Why else would my driver have decided to go on a jaunt instead of waiting like he's been paid to do? I jog towards the nearby taxi rank and dive into the back seat of the lead car.

"Follow that limo." I toss some twenty-pound notes onto the front passenger seat.

"This is just like the movies." The driver looks excited while my heart is in my throat. "As you wish. Just, uh, please do your seat belt up." He puts his indicator on and slams his foot on the gas pedal. The taxi lurches into the flow of traffic in the same direction the limousine went.