Appointment at the Altar

get there.’

Glitzy and glamorous. It was sounding better and better. She pulled a notebook towards her and looked for a pen. ‘When do you want to have it?’

‘That’s the trouble. The venue is booked for a month’s time.’

Lucy had just located a pen under the sandwich bag, but she froze at that. ‘A month? That isn’t long to arrange a glitzy party,’ she said doubtfully. ‘You have to book everything about a year in advance for big events.’

‘We did start last year, but it’s one of those things that’s been dogged by ill luck, for some reason. The first organiser got pregnant and had to leave because of high blood pressure, her replacement only lasted a couple of weeks before accepting another job, and the next person picked up typhoid on holiday. There was someone in between but I can’t honestly remember what happened to them,’ he said.

‘All I know is that the whole thing is a mess at the moment and if it doesn’t get sorted we’re going to have to cancel, which would be a pity. I need someone who can go in and work out what’s been done and what needs to be done to make sure the event is a huge success-and then do it!

‘I know it’s short notice now, but anything can be done if you throw enough money at the problem. Sheila hasn’t got time to sort it out, and the party really needs a touch of flair to rescue it…so we thought of you.’ He fixed Lucy with his blue eyes. ‘Are you up for it?’

‘Is this another challenge?’ she asked him.

Guy smiled. ‘This would be a real one,’ he said, ‘but I know you could do it.’

Organising a party…how hard could it be? It might be hard work, but it would be fun. Lucy’s eyes shone with sudden excitement. ‘I’ll have a go.’

‘Excellent.’ Guy got to his feet and retrieved his jacket from the back of the chair. ‘That’s settled, then. You can look at the files tomorrow, and start work properly as soon as Sheila gets back.’

Lucy was so excited at the prospect that she couldn’t wait to get into work the next morning. Leaving early, she bounced into the kitchen to find Meg by the fridge, drinking orange juice out of the carton. Meg narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Lucy’s bright-eyed expression.

‘Who are you, and what have you done with my friend Lucy?’ she asked sourly. ‘You’ve taken her over and turned her into a workaholic with a career in the City.’

Lucy laughed as she buttoned up her jacket and swung her bag over her shoulder. ‘It’s only for a month, Meg. It’s hardly a career.’

Still, she couldn’t help but think of the possibilities that could open up in the future. Lucy hung on to the rail as the tube train rocked and swayed through the long tunnels. If she made a success of this party, she could find other jobs in events management. It was the perfect career for her-fun, focused, short-term. She couldn’t believe that she hadn’t thought of it before.

Smiling, she swung up the steps and through the doors into Dangerfield & Dunn. ‘Hi!’ she called gaily to Imogen, who was absorbed in reading something below the desk.

Imogen’s head jerked up and her eyes widened. ‘Lucy…hi,’ she said, hurriedly closing the paper she had been reading.

Funny, thought Lucy as she joined the crowd waiting for the lifts. Imogen had looked at her in a very strange way.

It was the same in the lift. Lucy had the weirdest feeling that everyone was looking at her, but whenever she glanced back their eyes would slide away and they would stare studiously at the lights above the doors.

Odd. Did she have her skirt caught in her knickers or something? As discreetly as she could, Lucy felt round the back of her legs, but everything seemed to be in place. Her hair was clipped up as usual and her shoes matched, and she didn’t think she had anything on her face.

Oh, well. There wasn’t much she could do about it until she could get to a mirror, and Lucy was feeling too positive to waste too much time feeling embarrassed until she needed to. She practically bounced out of the lift and swung down to Sheila’s office, throwing her jacket over the chair and switching on the computer in one energetic movement.

‘Ah, Lucy.’

She spun round to see Guy, lounging in the doorway to his office, and right on cue her pulse went into overdrive. Everything about him seemed to be so sharply defined, so immediate, that the very air seemed to crackle around him.

‘Hi,’ she said as casually as she could. ‘I wasn’t expecting you in yet.’

‘Something came up.’ There was a peculiar note in his voice that made Lucy look at him sharply, reminded for some reason of the strange looks she had been getting that morning.

‘Have I got a smudge on my nose or something? Everyone keeps staring at me.’

Guy straightened from the door and she noticed for the first time that he had a newspaper in his hand. ‘You’re behind with the news, Lucy. I take it you haven’t seen this yet?’

‘Er, no…’Oh, God, had there been some disaster she ought to know about? She should probably care now about things like the Dow Jones Index and the strength of the pound. As it was, she had picked up a free paper on her way into the tube, but she had been too busy daydreaming about her new career in events management to read it.

‘In that case, you might like to read this.’ Guy handed her the paper, which had been folded back to the gossip column.

Lucy took it obediently and stared down at it, wondering why she was supposed to care if one of the princes had been to a party. It didn’t seem like very exciting news to her.

‘Not there,’ said Guy, seeing what she was reading. ‘Take a look at the next paragraph.’

Humouring him, Lucy began to read out loud. ‘“I understand that another eligible bachelor is soon to be off the market,”’ she read. ‘“There will be a lot of disappointed socialites out there this morning. Guy Dangerfield, whose name has been linked with some of London’s most beautiful women, including Cassandra Wolfe, has turned his back on the party circuit to marry his PA, Lucy We…”’

Lucy’s voice, which had been getting slower and slower as she realised where the article was going petered out at last. ‘Oh…my… God!’

‘Quite,’ said Guy.

Aghast, Lucy raised her eyes from the paper and stared at Guy. ‘How did they get hold of this?’

‘I was hoping you might be able to tell me that,’ he said. ‘I certainly haven’t told anyone.’

‘Nor have I. Only the Pollards know.’ Her face darkened. ‘Unless that nurse of Richard’s said something.’

Guy frowned. ‘How would a nurse know that we were engaged?’

‘Well, she was there when Frank told Ellen and Richard about you so she might have overheard. It’s not my fault,’ she protested defensively as exasperation crossed his face, and then she stopped. ‘Yes, it is my fault,’ she said in a different tone. ‘If I hadn’t said anything to Frank, this would never have happened.’

She looked back down at the paper, skimming through the rest of the piece with increasing disbelief. ‘“… inseparable…Guy barely left her side at a reception…left together…a definite chemistry…” What?’ she interrupted herself, outraged. ‘What is all this stuff?’ she demanded. ‘And where did they get it from? Richard’s nurse wasn’t there last night!’

‘I suppose, once the idea had been suggested, some journalist started sniffing around.’ Guy shrugged. ‘It wouldn’t be too difficult to find someone who was at the reception last night and then ask if they’d noticed you-as I’m sure everyone did.’

‘But why?’ Lucy was still fuming. What did they mean, “a definite chemistry”? ‘I didn’t do anything. I wasn’t trying to draw attention to myself. I just stood there and drank a couple of glasses of champagne. Why would anyone notice that?’

‘You’re the kind of girl who gets noticed,’ said Guy.

There was an odd note in his voice and she looked at him sharply, suspecting mockery, but when her eyes met his the teasing laughter she was expecting to see was entirely absent and she could read nothing in the blue depths.

Nothing that she recognised, anyway, but her heart was suddenly thudding and the air leaking out of her lungs until she made herself look away. She threw the paper on to her desk.