Naturally, William had been asked to cater. And it was a brilliant idea, getting me to be one of the servers at the very secret dining club.
But why Pamela?
I tried to stand behind her and shake my head urgently at William, but he was dazzled by her charm, drawn into her web, as everybody was when they first met her. It was only when they’d been choked by silk threads and sucked dry of any life that they realized what she’d done. By then it was too late.
“Wonderful,” she said as though the epitome of her ambition was to be a waitress at a private party. She reached out to shake William’s hand. “I’m Pamela Forbes.”
“Forbes?” I asked. Everything had tipped sideways since she walked in.
She looked at me as though I was thicker than my chunkiest wool. “My married name. I married Conrad Forbes. Sadly, we’re divorced now.” She looked down as though she couldn’t bear to think of the tragedy. Conrad Forbes was a name I knew. He was a huge property developer in Boston. He’d inherited the company, and a fortune, from his father and continued to increase it. Pamela had married well.
And why was she stooping to be a waitress anyway? Pamela craved the high life. She’d started social climbing before most of us were old enough to know what it was. Something was wrong here.
Naturally, because I so didn’t want her to take the job, Pamela immediately agreed. She got out her phone and ostentatiously put the date in her “The world revolves around Pamela” app.
“The location’s secret. So the best thing is if we meet here at Lucy’s shop this Thursday at five forty-five p.m. I’ll drive you both in the van.”
It didn’t seem to occur to either of them that he hadn’t asked me, and I hadn’t accepted. However, there was no way Pamela was going to be cozying up to William without me there to supervise. William might be domestic help, but thanks to his family being connected with Rafe for so long, I suspected he was quietly very wealthy. One sniff of that, and Pamela would be wrapping himself around him like a Venus flytrap around an unsuspecting bluebottle.
She gave me a hug and a brilliant smile as she was leaving. “I’m so excited, Lucy. We’ll be able to have a proper catch-up. I can’t wait.”
When she left, I turned on William. “What on earth made you offer her a job?”
He looked stunned at my outburst. “I thought she was your friend. And coming from the United States, she’s very unlikely to cause any trouble here. One has to be so careful in Oxford. So many people know each other. And you know what those boys are. That’s why we’re catering. To make sure they don’t get out of hand again.”
“Rafe’s going to be there?”
“That’s right. A few of the older members are coming back for the evening, just to keep an eye on things.”
“I don’t trust Pamela. She’s not a good person.”
He looked like I’d cheated him in some way. “Well, then, why were you acting so friendly to her? Now look what you’ve made me do.”
As he walked out of the shop, my mouth was hanging open. How was this my fault?
Chapter 2
The night of the dinner, Rafe surprised me by paying me a visit. He rang the intercom, and I let him into my flat above Cardinal Woolsey’s. I’d be seeing him soon enough at the Gargoyle dinner, but we wouldn’t be chatting other than me asking him if he’d like more gravy. In British social terms, he’d be upstairs and I’d be downstairs.
“Wow,” I said, when he walked in. He was always effortlessly gorgeous, but dressed so fancy, he took my breath away. He wore a navy blue tailcoat, the tails of the jacket long at the back and the button-up part only slightly longer than the cream silk waistcoat. The jacket had silk lapels and a velvet collar. His crisp white dress shirt was finished off with a maroon-colored bow tie. “Is this left over from when you used to party with Dickens?” I had to ask. All he needed was the top hat and cane, and he could walk straight out of my shop and into Great Expectations.
His eyes glinted as he gazed down at me. “Certainly not. This, my pretty innocent, is the uniform of the Gargoyle Club.”
I was astonished. “You mean ordinary mortals wear that getup? Today?”
“Yes.”
The brass buttons had a curious embellishment on them. I looked closer. “What’s that? Your royal coat of arms?” Oh, and he had one. William showed it to me once.
“It’s a simplified version of the Order of the Garter. You see, Henry Somerset, Duke of Beaufort, was the one who started the club. He was a Garter Knight, and this insignia is a nod both to the Order of the Garter and to his own coat of arms.”
“I have a handbag that says Gucci on it.” I got it secondhand, and I suspected it was a knockoff to begin with.
He didn’t rise to the bait. He changed the subject. “You look nice.”
I made a face. I had my long, blond hair tied up in a bun to keep it out of the way. And I was dressed in proper serving attire.
