Just after midnight, guests prepared to leave and as Margaret shook Katherine’s hand and thanked her, Simon moved through the throng and managed to position himself so he could walk her outside to where the chauffeur was waiting with the Daimler.
“It’s such a beautiful evening, Your Grace, and one that I don’t wish to end just yet. I love to stroll by the river at the time of night and I don’t suppose you would like to accompany me,” he asked, gesticulating at the nearby Thames, water glistening from the lights of pleasure craft and on the walkways running beside it. The evening was warm and the idea was very inviting but Margaret, although desperate to be with him, encircled in those strong, bronzed arms, with his lips on hers, knew others, including his mother, were watching and she had to maintain discretion at all costs.
She smiled up at him. “Unfortunately not, Simon. I have a headache and really must get home.”
“Are you sure you don’t need someone to come with you, bathe your fevered brow, all that sort of thing,” he asked, his eyes boring into hers and keeping his voice so low she could hardly hear him.
Margaret didn’t answer and turned toward the chauffeur who was holding open the car door for her. She eased elegantly onto the back seat, well aware Simon’s eyes were fixed on her stunning legs.
“Thank you so much, Simon, but I think I can manage this evening. It was lovely to meet you,” she said tremulously, knowing he was as conscious as she of the sexual tension between them.
As the car pulled away, she waved to Katherine who was saying goodbye to other guests and nodded to Simon who was standing back with his hands in the pockets of his jeans with a knowing smile on his face.
Margaret was totally besotted and was intrigued, cross, and frustrated when he made no move to contact her in the coming days. She paid more visits to Pampered People and managed, with careful questioning, to ascertain from staff and Katherine herself, the type of venue Simon frequented and how he spent his time and who he was friendly with. Gradually she managed to edge her way into his life; always on the fringes, smiling sweetly, laughing gaily but never, never allowing him to think she was easy game. It lasted for a couple of weeks, this game of cat and mouse, although exactly who was the cat and who was the mouse was an interesting question.
Knowing Simon and his friends frequented Franco’s, a nightclub in Soho, which was fast becoming the place where anyone who was anyone wanted to be seen, and Lady Annabelle often accompanied them, Margaret contacted her and asked if she could join them on their next visit.
“Oh, darling,” Lady Annabelle cooed, “we would be delighted! It's great fun. One never knows who one is going to meet … and then, of course, there are the extras.”
“Extras?” Margaret had asked, unable to think what Annabelle meant.
“You know, darling. The delicious white powder. Gives one a simply wonderful evening. A real lift. Don’t tell me you haven’t tried it!”
“Actually, no,” replied Margaret thoughtfully. She had known and seen people take it but had never dared dabble herself.
“Simon will get us some,” said Annabelle knowingly. “If it’s your first time he will look after you.”
As it happened, nothing was mentioned about drugs. Margaret was not sure if it was because she was a member of the party and he didn’t dare but was glad, as although she was willing to have a good time, that road wasn’t for her.
Franco’s had turned out to be a great venue. The dance floor was packed; the music loud, raunchy and wild. Beautiful lights of all colours crossed and re-crossed the room and it’s heaving occupants and the fragrance of so many expensive perfumes and after-shaves mixed with marijuana sent the senses reeling. Everyone dressed in the latest trendy fashion with short skirts, long hair and beads in abundance were out to enjoy themselves to the full and Margaret, as hot as everyone else, drank glass after glass of water in order that she could savour every moment of it, especially dancing with Simon. He monopolised her, never leaving her side, dancing dance after dance, fast and slow. The slow ones were the best; her head nestled into his chest, his hands slowly moving up and down her spine and neck but although he tried to kiss her, Margaret with all the willpower she could muster, managed to avoid such contact. It was too public. She wanted him fully in private and wanted more than anything to get him back to Canleigh House … but not yet … she wanted to keep him dangling just a little longer.
An hour before the club was to close, she slipped a note to Annabelle to say she was leaving, pretended she was popping to the ladies to freshen up, and managed to sneak out and take a taxi home.
He had rung her within minutes of her entering the mansion.
“Your Grace! How could you leave me in such a state of flux? My arms are missing you. My heart is missing you … and as for the lower part of my body … well, I won’t tell you how that is reacting.”
Margaret had nearly melted there and then but she was sober and could think clearly.
“I am so sorry you are having such a reaction to my absence Simon but I am very
