His American Fling (18 page)

It was then that I realized how pitiful I was. I snapped out of it and smiled, “No, I’m being stupid. I’ll wear Levis and one of your nice sweaters. It will be big, but it will be better than the sweater I brought.”

“You know...I think we can sneak back over to Fiona’s treasures for something.  She really doesn’t mind. These are her second string clothes anyway. They’re just back up for what she usually brings with her. She won’t mind.”

“I suppose she’ll be there?”

He winced and nodded.

“Can I call her first?”

Henry dialed the phone, made a few sheepish apologies, and told Fiona, “I didn’t think.” Then he handed the phone to me.

Fiona found it amusing, “What was that twit thinking?  Not telling you about the unwritten dress code of the upper ‘asses.’ That was unforgivable. By all means Mags, wear anything you like from the closet.  Make him give you my cell phone number and from now on when the prat asks to take you somewhere you can ring me and I’ll give you the fashion report.”

By making Henry the object of her anger and cause of my anxiety, Fiona had given me a real boost. I now didn’t have to blame myself for being so naive; it was all Henry’s fault!  Still, I didn’t chastise him because I now felt sorry for him. Fiona had already cuffed his ears. He looked truly contrite as I rummaged through her closet.  My change in attitude had been noted because Henry seemed to tip-toe around me.

He finally put his arms around my waist and gave me a kiss. “Mags? You do forgive me don’t you?  I really didn’t stop to think.”

I had been thinking about it too. “Henry, if you had told me about the parties and what was going to happen, I would have declined. I don’t have clothes the caliber of these.  I’m really no match for you and your friends.”

He looked crushed. “You’re a higher caliber than most of the women I’ve met—they just have better clothes. Believe me, I would rather spend time in your company any day.  Clothes can be bought. You can’t buy what makes you Maggie.”

Okay, I’m a sucker for sweet talk. He blew me out of my funk. We kissed and I pulled a blouse and sweater off of the shelf. I also grabbed some slacks but they were several inches too long for me. I picked out a brown wool skirt that probably came just below Fiona’s knees.  On me it cut my leg at the calf.  After putting it on along with the Cole Hahn loafers, I looked like what you would expect a Vassar graduate to look like—“tweedy.” Henry gave me an appreciative pat on the butt and we took off.

His family’s grandstand position on the route was perfect. We could see the entire procession which consisted of thousands of participants, bands and floats. It was quite a spectacle. Henry had his arm around me and we were watching a rather sassy band from Newcastle swing by when I heard a familiar voice yelling over the brass.

“Sorry I’m late, bloody traffic was horrid.  What have I missed?”  I looked around Henry and saw Campbell sit next to Fiona who was on the opposite side of Henry. 

“Only Arsenal. They marched by about five minutes ago. You didn’t miss the English Cricket Team. They haven’t been by yet.”

Campbell locked eyes with me and gave me a curt nod. “Hello Maggie.”

I gave a curt nod back. “Hello Campbell.”

We both sat up and continued to watch the procession. Henry and Campbell teased each other constantly about their drinking habits, feigned sexual proclivities, sports
abilities; just about everything was fair game.  Fiona, however, always seemed to get in the best jab, shutting the two men up abruptly.  I had a feeling that Fiona had always been the one to keep the men in line.

After one heated discussion about the Scottish vs. British soccer teams, Fiona finally raised both hands. “Don’t they ever shut up on your planets?”  She looked at me, “You know Maggie, not all men are arses, some are dead.  And these two are going to be dead very soon.”

Campbell remained defensive. “Fiona, he knows I’m right, they should have been penalized when his hand touched the ball.”

“Oh for God’s sakes Campbell, why don't you try practicing random acts of intelligence and
senseless acts of self-control?  You’re not going to convince him.  Just let it be.  Which, speaking of lack of self-control, where is my brother?”

We all looked around, but he wasn’t around. “Does Nigel usually come?” I asked.

“Almost always, except for the time he had that wonky knee. He was on crutches and mother didn’t want him to get knocked about by the crowd.” Fiona continued to look around.

Several minutes passed by and I saw Nigel with a young woman rushing up the street towards us. “Fiona, there he is.”

A sneer flashed across her face, “Oh great, he has Philippa with him.”

Campbell put a hand up to cover the sunlight from his eyes to look for Nigel. “Now, now, she’s not too bad. You just have to stick to three subjects, horses, hunts and dogs.”

Fiona gave Nigel a curled lip that said it all. She was not pleased with her brother’s choice.

Nigel waved airily at us. “Maggie!  So good to see you.  Are you here with Campbell or Henry?”

Campbell immediately volunteered, “Henry!”

I looked at Campbell who seemed a little too anxious to set the record straight. I
quipped, “He’s right, I wasn’t Campbell’s type—I’m not inflatable... and I know how to count to ten.”

There was an uproar on the bench from everyone in ear shot. I felt somewhat ashamed for slamming him.  He gave me a haughty glare. “You don’t have to be a bitch.”
                           

Fiona jumped in, “Campbell, you say bitch as if it’s a bad thing.  Mags got you fair and square. Don’t be a sore loser.”

The procession ended around 2:00 p.m., but we had to stay an extra hour for all the photographs. I watched as Fiona, Campbell, Henry, and Nigel all take turns standing with the Lord Mayor and other dignitaries to be photographed.  After a while, they all looked alike—polished and bored. We made our way back to Henry’s flat to get ready for the party. 

“If you’re the host, why aren’t you at your family’s townhouse getting the place ready for the party?” I asked.

“I employ a staff of six. Surely they can put a party together for me.”

“Six? For a townhouse?”

“We have three housekeepers that rotate, one valet, one driver and one cook. My valet also serves as the butler.”

“Oh dear, I have a feeling that I need another change of clothes.”

He lowered his head. “I’m afraid so.  You’ll probably want a dress of sorts.”

“God, I just pray that Fiona has something in her closet that will do.” 

I went to the guest bedroom as Henry got ready. I started rummaging, but the only evening outfit I could piece together that fit was a lacy top and black slacks. There was a knock on the front door and Henry went to open it.

“Robert, what are you doing here?” I heard Henry ask.

“Miss Fiona Raleigh asked me to deliver this to your flat sir. She said I was to give it to Miss McGee.”

I heard my name and walked out to find a man, in a tailored pinstripe suit, standing with a garment bag. Henry took it from him and handed it to me. I was
stunned; I didn’t have a clue whether or not I should take it.

Robert cleared up the confusion, “Miss Raleigh asked me to let you know that you will not find anything in the closet adequate for tonight.  She sent this over for you to wear.”

I opened the garment bag and there was a gorgeous dress. Not quite a cocktail dress, but more formal than business. It was a red, knee-length, long-sleeved, clingy, acetate dress that I knew would drape well when I put it on.  The Stuart Weitzman shoes would go perfect with it.

“Oh, it’s lovely!  Perfect.”  I showed it to Henry.

“Well done, Fiona.”

Robert cleared his throat,
“Is there anything else I can do for you ma’ am? 

I looked around and saw my purse on the floor. I grabbed it to retrieve some money for a tip. Henry and Robert both looked perplexed.

“Maggie, what are you doing?”

I whispered, but I know Robert heard, “Trying to find money for a tip.”

Robert gasped and turned red. Henry laughed. “Robert’s my valet. This is what I employ him to do. There’s no need for a tip.”  Henry turned back to Robert and said, “We’ll be over in a couple of hours. Have you heard from my mother?”

“She’s still in the Maldives I believe.  She sends her best.  Your sister has asked that you try to make it before six o’clock so she
can go over the seating arrangements.”

“Oh, bloody hell. I could care less where everyone sits.”

Robert nodded. “Right. Well, sir, if there’s nothing more, I have things to do back at Sloane.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you, Robert.”

Robert was gone. I ran into the bedroom to try on the dress. It hung perfectly on my body, although it was a lower cut than I usually wear. I juggled my breasts into place so that my bra didn’t show and slipped on the Stuart Weitzman’s. Pulling my shoulders back, I walked out to the living room.

“Cor...Fiona is a bloody saint.  You look lovely.”  He stopped. “You know, we don’t have to be there right away.”  He started to pull me into him, his mouth covering mine.

I chuckled. “What happened to being knackered?”

He winced and pulled back. “Maybe you’re right. I need to be on my game tonight.  Let’s go.”

I was a little shocked and hurt by the 18
0
turn.  We got to the door and he pulled my arm back and laughed like a madman while throwing me over his shoulders and carrying me into his bedroom.  I thought he might tear the dress, but he walked that fine line between urgency and delicacy.  We had sweaty sex that left us both gasping for air and laughing.  I could have wrapped myself up in his arms and gone to sleep at that point, instead we found ourselves rushing into the shower and making a mad effort to get ready all over again.

My idea of a townhouse is a row house in Philadelphia or the phony Mediterranean boxes in California. We drove up to Sloane House, in Chelsea, about half a mile from Buckingham Palace and my jaw dropped to the floor.  We entered and we might as well have been in the mansion we were in last night, without the massive gardens. 

Henry opened the door and we were immediately greeted by Robert. “Welcome to Sloane House, Miss McGee, your Lordship.”

The foyer was massive with the staircase set off to the left.  “Miss McGee, would you like to sit in the reception room or perhaps the library while Lord Guilford attends to the seating arrangements?”

A woman burst into the room. She was about my age and agitated. Her short blonde hair, cut in a modern angle, flew up as she sprinted towards Henry. “Henry, this is unacceptable!  You should have been here ages ago.”  She finally caught me in her crossbows. “Oh, pardon me.  I’m Sarah, Henry’s very angry sister.”

Henry put an arm protectively around me. “Sarah, this is Maggie McGee. I’m here now. What’s the problem?”

“They’ve put Kera Mymms next to Lord Wently.”

Henry chuckled, “Well, Lady Wently won’t appreciate that. So change them around.” 

We both saw the exasperated look on her face.

Henry exhaled in frustration. “
Fine,
Maggie, would you excuse me while I deal with this national crisis? If I were you, I’d choose the library, at least there’s a television in there.”

Robert motioned forward and then led me through two twelve foot doors and into a “reception” room the size of the entire downstairs’ floor of my parent’s house.  We went through a second set of doors into a short hallway and into a library.  It had a desk, leather couch, wingback chairs and a large flat-screen television.

I was shown to the couch and then Robert took off. Within minutes a woman came in with a tray. She served me tea and “biscuits”, little shortbread cookies.  I was so nervous; I couldn’t watch television so I stared out the window onto the street. The cars in the neighborhood said it all. There were Mercedes, Volvos, Land Rovers, Bentleys, all luxury models.  

I started getting more and more anxious.  Despite the fact that the room was large, I felt confined, like a caged animal. I decided that I just needed to step out back for some air. I was standing next to a beautiful oak door in the back of the room. I pulled it open and found myself in a narrow hall going down through the entire width of the building. There were several doors along the hall and one at the end. I ran through the hall and burst through the door at the end. Panicked, I was hyperventilating, my heart pounding. 

I ran straight into what looked like a pantry area.  A young man in tails and a woman in a servant’s uniform looked up at me, eyes wide, and mouth open, both shocked.

The man gently grabbed my upper arm to support me. “Miss McGee? You look very pale, you should sit down. Mary, please get Miss McGee some water.”  

I saw the woman run through a swinging door. Glancing up, I saw the outline of his body, but his details were fuzzy. I could hear the man yell out, “Get Lord Guilford, quickly.” I was cold, but sweaty and everything looked and sounded like it was far away.

“Mags?  Mags?” 

I could hear Henry’s voice and feel my head cradled in his arms.

“Where’s that water?” He demanded with the voice of a Lord.

I looked up into his beautiful blue eyes. He looked so genuinely concerned for me, his eyebrows were knitted and he kept looking into my eyes for signs that I was better. He gave me a sweet smile, “Hallo?  Mags, are you back with us? I’m going to take you upstairs and let you lie down for a while until you’re feeling better.” 

He picked me up like a sack of potatoes and carried me to a small two-person elevator next to the stairway. I was hanging onto him, trying to get my eyes to focus on his face. He held me like I weighed nothing.

“You have an elevator?”

He glanced at me, cocked his head and blinked. “Oh! The lift! Yes, my grandfather had it installed in the fifties when he started to lose the use of his legs to diabetes.”

We exited and he took me into a bedroom with gorgeous eggshell and sage drapes, gold leaf and deep sage green wallpaper. It was a regal room, with a bathroom attached.  Placing me gingerly on the bed, Henry sat next to me. 

“Get some sleep. When you feel able to come downstairs, then join us.”

“Henry, I’m so sorry. Really.”

“For God’s sake, Mags, you don’t need to apologize. I’ve pushed you into the deep end. It was unfair of me. I’ve made a mess of it. You’ve done nothing wrong.  When you’re feeling better, come downstairs.”  He bent over and kissed my forehead. I watched him walk gracefully to the door, turn and wink, then leave. I wondered if they gave prospective earls deportment lessons.  Both Henry and Campbell were more graceful on their feet than I could ever be. I closed my eyes. It didn’t take long for me to feel the comfort of sleep.

I woke up and looked around. It was dark except for a small lamp on the opposite side of the room which had been left on for my safety. I got up, went into the bathroom, and checked out my hair and makeup. It wasn’t too bad. After sprucing up a little and taking a deep breath, I began the ascent down the stairs.

As I approached the foyer, Robert was welcoming guests. I stopped in my tracks when
I saw the beautiful woman enter. My heart squeezed together in pain. It was Gemma, dressed in a regal green satin dress with the beautiful pearl necklace I had found in Campbell’s bag hanging around her neck like a large neon sign that flaunted my failure. The pearls floated on her rather large breasts which made her tiny waist look tinier.

I was about to turn and run back upstairs when Campbell saw me. “Maggie?”

“Hello Campbell. How are you?” I walked down the stairs. “Gemma. I see you found your pearls.”

She smiled like the Cheshire Cat. “I understand I have you to thank for their return.  And for the return of something more valuable.”  She grabbed Campbell’s arm possessively. “Obviously, Campbell just needed to be reminded of how good we are together and being with you gave him that push.”

I was hurt. Campbell was looking sheepish, as if he was annoyed by what she had said. I looked at him and swallowed hard, trying to keep the emotions in check. I must have looked sad and uncomfortable, because he looked down at his feet and refused to meet my eyes.

“I’m glad that I could be helpful. It’s great to know that I could be the catalyst to
bring you two back together. I hope that you will be happy.”

I didn’t really mean it. I hoped his penis would rot and fall off and those boobs of hers would deflate. And those pearls. I wanted the string to break, the pearls roll in all directions, out the door and down a drain. But, I didn’t want to look like I was the ungracious loser. I finished walking down the stairs, head held high,
and shoulders back. Campbell finally looked over at me and gave me a forced smile. I turned and followed the voices coming from the parlor. 

There were two dozen guests standing and sitting with drinks, waiting for dinner to be announced. Some were sitting on the velvet sofas, leather wingback chairs, or on the
 corners of the sturdy oak tables scattered through the room. The others were standing by the fire or next to the bar. Henry looked up and winked at me. He walked over, grabbed my elbow and kissed me on the cheek. “You look lovely and rested. Come meet some of my friends.”  He started over to a crowd when he saw Campbell and Gemma.

“Campbell, mate. Where have you been? “

Gemma smiled smugly, “He was waiting for me to get ready. You know it takes time to look this beautiful.” It was meant to be a joke, but it seemed gauche. Gemma was beautiful and she knew it, she didn't need any extra time to make her look good. I watched her greet people with her head held high and her whitened teeth gleaming.  The guests obviously knew Gemma and Campbell as a couple, because everyone commented on how ‘lovely’ it was to see the two of them back together.

Gemma clung to Campbell as I skulked behind them, following in their wake. I looked around for Henry who was across the room by the fireplace. I tried to duck around the popular couple, but found my path blocked by several well-wishers. Campbell saw my dilemma and stepped aside, smiling kindly down at me as I slipped through. I returned the smile, trying not to appear flirtatious as I did.

Gemma was regaling the crowd with her travels, leaving Campbell the opportunity to say something just before I continued through the crowd over to Henry.

“You look beautiful tonight,”
 Campbell said.

I looked up into his eyes, “You do too…I mean you look handsome.”

“Thank you. Henry is very lucky. I hope the two of you make a go of it. He needs someone like you.”

I cocked my head. “Like me?”  I wasn’t sure what that meant.

“Beautiful, kind, vivacious, intelligent and a little bit barmy.” He grinned.

“You make me sound too good to pass up.” I didn’t comment further, but he got my drift.

“Mags, it wasn’t you —”

I snickered. “It never is.”
I turned away and crossed the room to Henry. He put an arm around my waist and pulled me to his side as he continued his conversation with a couple.  The man was very tall — well over six feet, judging from the lack of wrinkles on his face, he was prematurely silver-haired, but somewhat plain to look at. The woman, who held a tumbler in her manicured fingers, was about Henry’s age, with a sharp nose and eyes too close together. They were standing next to the fireplace which had a large painting of a mid-evil hunt hanging over the carved oak mantel.

Henry held out his arm in introduction, “Viscount Greenwood and Lady Greenwood, may I present Maggie McGee.  Mags, Greenie is my cousin, Kristen is his wife and related distantly to me on my mother’s side. I believe she’s my fifth or sixth cousin. It’s all so
deliciously incestuous.”

I was dumb-
founded; I didn’t know what to call them. I knew there was a protocol for the aristocracy, but I didn’t have a clue what it was. I nodded, “It’s a pleasure to meet you Sir, Mrs. Greenwood.”

Lady Greenwood smiled condescendingly at me while smoothing her size four St. John’s knit dress and snickered to herself.  She looked like royalty, like fragile English Bone china.  Viscount Greenwood gave up a sharp cough to indicate I had embarrassed him.

Henry put his lips up to my ear, “Darling, you can call him Viscount, Lord or Greenwood.  You can call Kristen, Lady Greenwood or, if she gives you permission, by her first name. She won’t give you permission though, she’s a toffee nose. She loves her title.”  He nuzzled his nose and then pulled away.

I was blushing ten shades of red at my faux pas. But Henry was sweet; he kissed me on my ear and whispered, “If it helps, I once shagged her in a cow pasture. She rolled in some manure and had a fit.”

The thought of this very proper woman, looking down her nose at me (although I was a couple of inches taller), rolling in cow shit, brought back my self-confidence. I turned to Henry. “Henry, I’m going to go get a drink.”

“Of course darling, would you like for me to get it for you?”

“No, stay with your cousin, I can get it.”

I went over and discovered that there was no ice which didn’t surprise me since the Brits were fairly stingy about ice anyway. I ducked through the door which I now knew led back to the butler’s pantry.

Discovering one of the cook’s helpers in the pantry, she practically fainted when she saw me in the service hall.

“Madam?  Can I be of service?”

“Ice?  Do you have more ice?”  I handed her the ice bucket.

Robert bustled in upon hearing my voice. “It’s alright
Charlotte; I’ll take care of it.  Miss McGee, do you desire something?”

“Ice, Robert?”

He took the ice bucket from my hands as if it were a bomb, handing it to Charlotte.  He motioned with his hand and she ran off. “Yes Ma’am, we’ll take care of it. Next time you need something, please just use the cord for the Butler’s bell and we’ll come to you.”

I had been given a good telling off by the manservant. I blushed once again. “Yes, of course.”  Turing around, I started to go back
through the servant’s door, but saw the look of horror on Robert’s face. He gave a slight motion towards another door; the one to the foyer which I assumed was the proper door for a guest to exit. I tiptoed my way to the door and walked through ending up next to the staircase when I heard women’s voices.

“So who’s the Yank with Henry?”

I tried to figure out whose voice it was, but I didn’t know.

“Oh she’s a piece of fluff that he and Campbell have been passing around until they get tired of her. Just a bit of amusement. I caught Campbell boffing her.” The voice was Gemma’s. “A few days later he was through with her and passed her along to Henry. I don’t know why Henry took up with her. Perhaps he just wanted a piece of apple pie.”  There was a tittering amongst the women as they walked off.