Heiress on the Run (Harlequin Romance) (10 page)

‘You don’t know?’ she asked. ‘But you specifically asked me to arrange for us to see it.’

He covered a yawn with his hand. Apparently late nights and long days weren’t compatible with theatre visits. ‘Sylvia said it was the biggest show opening this week. Although I think she just told me that so I’d get her a ticket, too.’

She stared at him. ‘You’re going to sleep through the whole thing, aren’t you? The lights will go down, the theatre will be warm, the seats will be cosy, and I’ll spend the entire evening trying to pretend you’re not snoring.’

Actually, that didn’t sound all that bad. ‘I’m sure I’ll wake up for the interval drinks.’

Faith rolled her eyes, but then he felt her body tense beside his.

‘Lord Beresford? Perhaps I could get that shot of you with your friend now?’

Photographers. Knowing his luck, they’d get one of him fast asleep halfway through the first act. And now worrying about that was going to keep him awake.

‘Faith? Is that okay?’ He turned to where she’d been standing just moments ago, but the space was empty.

Where the hell had she gone now? And why?

‘Sorry,’ he told the photographer unapologetically. ‘She’s camera shy.’

And then he set about finding Faith, and some answers.

CHAPTER TEN

F
AITH
HAD
FIGURED
that the tiny alcove on the back stairs leading up to the Upper Circle was a decent enough place to hide. Plenty of people passing by, none of them likely to recognise a used-to-be-notorious girl in a boring navy dress.

She hadn’t counted on Lord Dominic Beresford’s tenacity, though.

‘What the hell are you hiding from?’ He planted himself outside her hiding place, hands on his hips.

‘I’m not hiding,’ Faith lied. ‘I just got a bit claustrophobic. You know, with all the crowds up there. Thought I’d get some air.’

A group of theatre-goers trying to reach their seats forced Dominic off the staircase and into her alcove, and suddenly Faith really couldn’t breathe. He was too solid, too attractive—and too close! How was she supposed to keep her story straight when she was surrounded by the scent of his aftershave, when she could feel the heat of his skin through his shirt?

‘Claustrophobic.’ Disbelief coloured Dominic’s words. ‘So you hid here. In a ridiculously small alcove with hundreds of people walking past.’

‘I was
trying
to get outside,’ Faith said, knowing he didn’t believe her. ‘I just got a little turned around.’

‘Then let’s go.’ Grabbing her hand, Dominic led her down the staircase and out through a side door. Faith sucked in the cool evening air, letting it fill her lungs and calm her.

That had been close. Too close. If that photographer had got her photo and run it with a caption about Lord Beresford...it wouldn’t matter where she went next, Dominic would still have to deal with the fallout when someone realised who she was.

He’d still end up hating her.

‘Feeling any better?’ Dominic asked as the side door slammed shut behind them.

Faith nodded. ‘But I don’t think we’re getting back in that way,’ she said, motioning at the handleless door. ‘And I left our tickets in my bag, upstairs in the bar.’

‘I’m fairly sure they’ll let us back in.’ Dominic leant back against the brick wall of the theatre, arms folded over his chest. ‘If I ask them to.’

He was watching her too carefully and his words from the night before flooded her brain.

I just wish you’d stop lying to me and let me see the real you.

How did he know? And how much did he suspect?

‘Are you going to?’ she asked.

‘That depends,’ Dominic said.

‘On what?’

‘On if you’re going to tell me the truth.’

Fear crawled through her middle. ‘I told you. I just needed some air—’

‘Not about tonight. Well, not just about tonight,’ he amended. ‘You’ve been lying to me since the moment we met, and I want to know why.’

Faith stilled, and looked up into his dark eyes.

‘No,’ she said. ‘You really don’t.’

* * *

Her words hit him in the gut. That was it then. Whatever her secret was, it was too big for them to move past. Too huge for her to even trust him with.

It was over, before it ever really started.

He should walk away now. Head back into the theatre and his clients and his sister. Let Faith work out the rest of the trip, without letting her any closer to his heart. Then he should put her on a plane and resign himself to never seeing her again.

He knew exactly what he should do.

But instead he said, ‘Then we’re not going back inside.’

She looked desperate now, her eyes wide and pleading. ‘Dominic, don’t be ridiculous. We’ve got your clients to sort out; my handbag is in there...’

‘I’ll text Sylvia. She can deal with everything.’ In fact, he rather thought his sister might cheer approvingly.

‘So what are we going to do?’ Faith asked.

It wasn’t a plan, wasn’t something he’d thought out or weighed up and decided on. And it might be the most un-Lord-Beresford-like thing he’d done in his entire life.

But somehow Dominic knew it was the only thing to do.

‘We’re going to take a night off.’

‘A night off?’ Faith’s forehead crinkled up.

He nodded. ‘One night. Just one night, where I’m not Lord Beresford and you’re not my employee. One night to just be Dominic and Faith.’

She wanted it, he could tell. Her eyes were wider than ever, filled with amazement, and the slight flush on her cheeks told him she hadn’t missed any of the possibilities of the suggestion.

‘For just this one night,’ he said, moving closer, ‘it doesn’t matter about the truth. Doesn’t matter about our pasts, or our futures. For tonight, all that matters is us.’

He took her hand, rubbing circles on her palm with his thumb, and held his breath when she looked up at him, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

‘Just one night?’

‘Just one night,’ he echoed.

‘What will we do?’ she asked, and Dominic’s mind filled with possibilities, most including getting her out of that ugly dress as soon as possible.

No. Too quick. If he only had one night with her, he needed to do this properly.

‘First, I’m going to take you out for dinner. Anywhere you choose.’

Some of the tension dropped from her stance at that, and she smiled. ‘I know just the place.’

* * *

The crowds were still gathered out front, but by keeping close to the side of the building they managed to avoid them as they dashed across the street behind the theatre, the warm evening air smelling of freedom and possibility.

One night. Just one night. That was what he’d said. And even though Faith knew she shouldn’t, knew that this could end in disaster, or at least a broken heart, she couldn’t resist that kind of temptation. Surely she could keep her secret for just one night?

Covent Garden buzzed with life, filled to overflowing with tourists, buskers, after-work socialisers, people wanting to sell something and people looking to buy. Faith let the sights and sounds warm her, make her feel at home again. She hadn’t realised she’d felt so out of place in her own London that week, until now.

‘So, where do you want to go?’ Dominic asked. ‘Somewhere around here?’ He cast an arm around him at the market piazza, almost hitting a tourist in shorts and a Bermuda shirt as he did so. ‘Looks like there’s plenty of places to choose from.’ Seeing Faith’s horrified look, he added, ‘What? I know it’s not exactly up there with the meals you’ve been organising this week—’

‘That’s not it,’ Faith interrupted. ‘Just...Covent Garden’s for the tourists. It’s the equivalent of eating pizza right next door to the Coliseum in Rome. You’ll get perfectly ordinary pizza at three times the price.’

They’d stopped walking, Faith realised, and were standing still in a sea of people, swelling and ebbing around them. Dominic’s hand came down to rest at her waist, pulling her in closer, anchoring her against the tide. Heat spread out through her body from the place where they touched, and she swallowed, hard.

‘Follow me,’ she said, and grabbed his hand with her own.

It was easy to get trapped in the slow-moving crowds if you didn’t know what you were doing. Dominic would have been far too polite to do the essential barging through if she’d left him to his own devices. That was the only reason she held his hand, she reasoned.

Of course, once they’d escaped the market and were walking more casually away along Long Acre, she didn’t let go. By that point, it felt far too natural.

‘Where are we going?’ Dominic asked, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand in a relaxing rhythm.

‘A little Italian I know.’ Marco had taken her there, back when he was trying to hire her for his fledgling tour company. He said it would give her a real taste of Rome.

Dominic’s thumb stopped its comforting movements. ‘Missing Italy already?’

‘Not really,’ Faith said, giving him a smile. ‘Mostly just the pasta.’

He returned the smile and started stroking her hand again.

Faith suddenly found herself wishing that she’d bought the dress Sylvia wanted her to have, the backless, wine-red dress that cascaded down her legs and showed off every single curve, instead of the boring navy shift she’d chosen.

Tugging on his hand, she led him down a hidden backstreet into the cooler shadows where the sun never reached, even at noon on midsummer. Halfway down the alley, a tattered red sign hung above a dirty window, and read simply, ‘Lola’s’. No one would recognise them there.

‘This is it?’ Dominic asked, looking dubious.

‘Trust me,’ Faith said, and he sighed.

‘Seems to me, trusting you could get me into a lot of trouble.’

Faith smiled brightly to try and pretend that didn’t hurt, just a little. After all, he was right. ‘Oh, I don’t know. You’re doing okay so far.’

‘This is true.’ He pushed against the door and a bell clattered tinnily. ‘Come on, then.’

Inside, the restaurant was even darker than Faith remembered. But then, most of her memories were of the picture Marco had painted of Rome in the summer, and of the Italian lakes. Well, that and the fantastic walnut pasta and red wine that went down like water.

A waiter in jeans and a T-shirt led them to a table at the back, and Faith watched in amusement as Dominic realised nearly every other table in the place was already occupied.

‘Am I the only person who doesn’t know about this place?’ he murmured as they took their seats.

Faith slipped her cardigan from her shoulders and placed it on the back of her chair. White cashmere didn’t go well with red wine. ‘There are a lot of people in London,’ she pointed out. ‘Not everyone can afford to eat at the finest restaurants every night. Besides, the food’s better here.’

‘Can we see a menu, please?’ Dominic asked, as if looking for proof, but the waiter shook his head.

‘No menus,’ he said, his rich Italian accent adding extra amusement to his tone. ‘We’ll bring you the best we have.’

As he spoke, a younger girl appeared, also in jeans, and filled their glasses with red wine. Dominic raised his eyebrows, but lifted the glass to his lips anyway.

‘Not bad,’ he said as the servers disappeared.

Faith tried her own. ‘Liar. It’s gorgeous.’

The smile Dominic gave her was warm and intimate, and suddenly Faith knew it didn’t matter if the food had gone drastically downhill since the last time she was there; this would still be a better evening than the one with Marco. Apparently all she needed for a fantastic evening was the presence of Lord Dominic Beresford.

She wondered if that worked for everyone. She could use him on all her tours...

‘What are you thinking?’ Dominic asked, and Faith shook herself back into the real world. He wasn’t Lord Beresford right now, anyway. He was just Dominic. Maybe even
her
Dominic, just for the night.

‘Absolute nonsense,’ she admitted. ‘And worrying a little about abandoning my post.’ Getting out of the theatre had seemed like the best plan, given that dodging every single camera was probably impossible. But, on the other hand, she’d been hired to do a job and she wasn’t currently fulfilling those obligations.

‘I’m the boss,’ Dominic pointed out. ‘You can look on this as...a mid-project appraisal.’

‘Is that so?’ Faith leant back in her chair and watched as he nodded. ‘In that case, how am I doing?’

‘Fantastically.’

Faith hoped the candlelight was forgiving enough to hide her blush. ‘Anyone would think you were biased.’

Dominic’s eyes turned dark. ‘Oh, but I am.’ Reaching across the table, he took her hand again. ‘Utterly, utterly biased. Because I want you to stay in London with me.’

Maybe it was the wine, but suddenly Faith felt reckless. They weren’t at the hotel, or at an event. There were no clients around. There was no chance of bumping into anyone who might recognise Lady Faith Fowlmere at Lola’s. This was their one night. There was nothing at all to stop her asking for the truth.

‘Because you want me to work for you?’

His smile was slow. ‘Faith. I promise you that, for once, work is the furthest thing from my mind tonight.’

* * *

It wasn’t quite a lie, Dominic reasoned and, even if it was, she’d told enough of her own. He’d offered her a night off, a night away from who they really were, because he couldn’t bear the idea of her leaving without doing
something
about whatever compulsion it was that burned between them.

It wasn’t easy, though. Business, sure. He could forget about contracts and meetings in a heartbeat. But the title, the heritage, they were scored deep into him in a way she couldn’t understand. You had to be born to that kind of obligation. Still, just being with Faith made it easier. It was impossible not to relax around her, harder still not to lean into her, touch her, flirt and caress, however much he’d planned to take things slow.

Around the third glass of wine, he stopped even trying.

The servers, for all they looked as if they’d been yanked in off the streets, knew what they were doing. Dominic barely noticed when they topped up his glass or cleared away their empty plates. The food—incredible-tasting food on plates for sample-sized portions—just kept on coming, course after course. Antipasti, pastas—three kinds—fish, meat, and then, when they were almost fit to busting, a sorbet so sharp it almost cut the mouth. The tiramisu to finish would have been beyond him, but Faith grabbed her own spoon and dug into the shared plate, and the expression on her face as she tried it made him want to know what made her look like that. If he could replicate the experience for her in other ways...

‘Oh, that is good,’ he admitted, taking his own bite.

Faith gave him a smug smile. ‘I knew you’d enjoy letting go for once.’

Suddenly, his head was filled with all the ways he could make her let go. How she would look if he kissed her breathless. How he could touch her until she forgot who she was, never mind him.

He swallowed down the last of his wine. Too much, too soon. ‘So, what do you want to do next?’ he asked, as the waiter brought over two tiny glasses of Limoncello, along with the bill.

Faith picked up her glass, took a sip, then licked her sticky fingers. Dominic felt something tighten in his chest at the sight. ‘Well, that depends on you,’ she said.

‘On me? How?’