Highly Unsuitable: Mr and Mischief / The Darkest of Secrets / The Undoing of de Luca

‘I didn’t realise he worked quite as much as he did,’ Helen admitted. ‘And I don’t understand a word of it—’

‘Neither do I,’ Emily confessed cheerfully. ‘And I’ve worked here for five years.’ She was interested in people, not mathematical formulas or desalination plants, for that matter. ‘Surely he’s been around sometimes, though?’ she asked, and Helen gave a little shrug.

‘Occasionally,’ she said softly. She hesitated, then confessed in an anxious rush, ‘I suppose it’s bound to be different than you think, isn’t it? We’ve been friends for so long, you know, and of course things will be bumpy at first—’

Bumpy? Emily felt a swell of self-righteous indignation. Surely Helen deserved a bit better than bumpy, a little more than sitting at home waiting for Richard to ring. ‘Tell you what,’ she said suddenly, an idea lighting her mind and firing her heart, ‘I’ve an invitation to a party tonight—it’s a launch for a new clothing designer, I think.’ Actually, she wasn’t sure what it was for; she received dozens of invitations every week, so that Emily mixed them up in her mind. Yet any of them would be a good opportunity to dance and laugh, and that was just what Helen needed. ‘Why don’t you come with me?’

Helen’s face slackened in shock. ‘Me? You want to go with

me?’

Richard had already done a number on her, Emily thought sourly. ‘Of course. It’ll be fun.’

‘I don’t have proper clothes—’

‘You can borrow something of mine.’ Emily eyed Helen assessingly, acknowledging that she was probably a size or two smaller than Emily was. Well, she had a few things she didn’t fit into any more, alas. And the idea of a makeover energised her. ‘We’ll have a real girly evening getting all done up,’ she said, ‘and then have a night on the town! Richard won’t know what’s happened to you.’

Slowly, shyly, Helen brightened. ‘That does sound lovely,’ she began, ‘but—’

‘No buts. It will be fun.’ And successful, as Jason liked to say. Quickly, she pushed him out of her mind. He didn’t need to know about this.

By eight o’clock that night Emily was shepherding Helen into the foyer of one of London’s grandest hotels. Helen was looking around in awe, clearly overwhelmed by the sheer luxury of the venue, with its glittering chandeliers and marble floor, the ballroom bustling with a thousand guests, all of them well-connected and wealthy.

Helen had transformed into a swan quite wonderfully, Emily thought in satisfaction. The black cocktail dress was unfortunately two years out of date as it was one of the only things of hers that had fitted Helen, but its lines were simple and classic and made the most of the younger woman’s slight frame. Emily had piled her luxuriant dark hair on top of her head, and emphasised Helen’s huge grey eyes with dark shadow and eyeliner. And she’d given her a manicure. She looked gorgeous.

Buoyed by her own efforts, Emily worked her way through the crowd, plucking two flutes of champagne from a circulating tray as she introduced Helen to the numerous acquaintances she’d cultivated over the years. No matter that Helen mumbled her greetings as she ducked her head; she’d get the hang of it soon, and she was pretty enough that it hardly mattered what she said.

‘How have I missed you two gorgeous ladies?’ A smooth voice interrupted Emily’s latest introduction and she turned to see Philip Ellsworth standing just a little too close, his gaze taking in Helen even as he smiled at Emily. Philip was charming, wealthy and definitely had an eye for the ladies. Emily watched Helen blush under Philip’s appreciative stare. Well, her confidence could use a little bolstering.

‘So charmed to meet you,’ Philip said after Emily had made the necessary introductions. ‘I can’t believe I haven’t come across you before. I’m sure I would have remembered.’

‘Helen is new to London,’ Emily interjected. Philip was still gazing at Helen with obvious admiration, and it compelled her to say, ‘The music is just starting up. Philip, I’m sure Helen would love to dance.’ All right, it was a little obvious, but he clearly enjoyed her company, and why shouldn’t Helen have a dance? ‘You do like to dance, don’t you, Helen?’

‘Yes,’ Helen admitted in a shy whisper.

‘In that case, I’ll have to oblige,’ Philip said with a charming and very white smile. He must use artificial whitener, Emily thought with a tiny flicker of distaste. Yet there could be no denying he was incredibly handsome and suave. And just the thing to cheer Helen up a bit. ‘I’m always at Emily’s command,’ he added, throwing Emily a sleek and even sly look. She firmly ignored it.

‘Go on, then,’ she said, and watched in satisfaction as Philip led Helen to the dance floor with obvious expertise. And Helen wasn’t too bad a dancer herself. Who knew what could happen there, Emily mused. Philip was in his thirties. Perhaps he was looking to marry, as well. Settle down. She smiled wryly at her own choice of words. No doubt Jason would accuse her of matchmaking again, but she could hardly be blamed if Helen and Philip made a go of it—

Emily laughed aloud. Those unfortunate phrases really had got stuck in her head. Her gaze returned to Philip and Helen. He was holding her quite close, and she was looking up at him with a rather dazed smile. Emily could not suppress the sharp stab of triumph at seeing Helen out and enjoying herself, flourishing under the approval and attraction of a handsome man. Take that, Richard Marsden.

She lifted her champagne flute, only to pause with it halfway to her lips as her body tensed of its own accord, a shiver of awareness rippling over her. She felt as if she were being watched, and before her brain had processed this her body already knew.

Her gaze swivelled to the entrance of the ballroom and she felt as if an electric current had just pinned her in place. Jason Kingsley stood there, and he was looking right at her.

CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_02b885e7-02c2-57d8-86db-5c177b66233c)

EMILY took a hasty sip of her champagne, then promptly choked, causing an ageing socialite to give her a frosty frown. Such behaviour was hardly decorous.

Emily smiled weakly and watched as Jason made his way towards her, threading through the well-heeled crowd with an arrogant assurance, seemingly indifferent to the people mingling around him. He was a head taller than most of them, and they looked no more than a swarm of insects buzzing about him, an annoyance he dealt with easily as he made his way towards her. Emily swallowed, her chest still burning from when she’d choked. Jason didn’t look angry precisely, but he didn’t look happy either. Nervously, her gaze flicked to Helen and Philip, now swaying to the music. She had a feeling he wouldn’t be happy about that.

Jason surveyed Emily and tried not to scowl. She wore a tiny slip of a silver spangled dress that glittered like water on the scales of a fish, her hair falling down her back in golden waves. She looked, he thought, like an X-rated mermaid.

‘What a surprise to see you here,’ she said, tilting her head and giving him a flirty smile, her cat’s eyes slanted at the corners, alight with mischief.

Jason held on to his temper, but just. He’d arrived a few minutes ago with Margaret Denton, a girl he’d gone to Cambridge with and who was now a solicitor, very elegant, understated and perfect wife material. And then he’d seen Emily … and Helen. He’d watched as Emily pushed Helen towards Philip Ellsworth, who was the biggest waste of space Jason had ever encountered and was steadily partying his way through his daddy’s trust fund. Jason’s annoyance had increased as Philip took Helen to the dance floor and Emily practically preened with satisfaction. She was matchmaking. Again. And this time she—or at least Helen—was quite out of her element. He’d left Margaret with a cluster of mutual acquaintances and headed towards Emily, drawn to her with a force he could neither stem nor stop.

He smiled at her now, coolly. ‘I do attend social events, Emily,’ he said, keeping his voice mild, ‘although perhaps not as many as you do.’ He nodded towards Helen and Ellsworth. ‘Now I am surprised to see her here.’

‘I invited her,’ Emily informed him with a hint of defiance beneath her blithe tone. ‘I thought she could use a night out—’

‘Don’t you think this might be a bit much?’ Jason surveyed the crowd with a jaundiced eye. Most of the guests were shallow, petty, vain and insipid. And they’d devour Helen Smith in one bite.

‘It’s just a good time,’ Emily said with a defensive shrug. ‘And it’s better than Helen waiting for Richard Marsden to ring.’

‘You’ve really got it in for him, haven’t you?’ Jason said. He took a flute of champagne from a tray and downed half of it in one sip. He’d never seen a dress quite as revealing as Emily’s. Her legs looked endless, ending in silver skyscraper heels. She’d painted her toenails silver to match. He yanked his gaze upwards, but there was no hope to be found there. Admittedly, the dress wasn’t particularly low cut, but the silver material moulded itself to Emily’s breasts, outlining every luscious curve. He settled his scowl on Emily’s face, for he was indeed scowling now. She seemed to have that effect on him.

‘I don’t have it in for anyone,’ Emily told him, sounding defensive. ‘But I don’t see any harm in inviting Helen out—’

‘And are you going to pretend you didn’t just push her towards Ellsworth?’

Emily flushed, and Jason couldn’t help but notice how the heightened colour brightened her eyes. Her chest heaved, drawing his attention downwards again. His scowl deepened. ‘All I did was ask him to dance with her—’

‘Usually, it’s the man who does the asking.’

‘This is the twenty-first century, in case that had escaped your notice—’

‘You’re matchmaking again, Emily,’ Jason cut her off softly. ‘And this time I’d really rather you wouldn’t.’

‘Why? You’re matchmaking as much as I am, clearing the way so she can be with someone like Richard.’

Jason stilled, every muscle tensed. He didn’t like her scoffing tone. Or her implication. ‘Someone like Richard?’ he repeated, his voice lowering dangerously. He felt dangerous.

‘Yes,’ Emily replied with some heat, ‘someone earnest and dull who can’t be bothered to romance the woman he allegedly loves—’

‘You’ve witnessed this? Talked to Richard, perhaps?’

Emily’s flush deepened. ‘It’s fairly obvious from talking to Helen,’ she finally said. She bit her lip, taking its fullness between her teeth, and Jason’s fingers clenched around his flute of champagne.

‘What does it matter to you?’ he demanded roughly. ‘I didn’t think you were a great believer in love anyway.’

‘I do believe in love!’ Emily returned with sudden force. Her voice rose and Jason wished he had thought to have this conversation somewhere more private. She was making a scene. ‘I believe in it very much,’ she continued, her voice thankfully a notch lower. ‘Just because I haven’t found it for myself—’

‘But you’re looking after all?’ Jason enquired. Why was he asking? Why did he care?

Emily looked troubled, and trapped. She lifted one shoulder in a shrug, and the skinny strap of her dress fell down her arm. Her dress had just become a bit more revealing. ‘I’m happy as I am,’ she said firmly, ‘and I don’t have anything against Richard Marsden.’

Jason’s mouth curved in a cool smile. ‘No, indeed, you just find him—let me think—boring. Predictable. Cautious.’