Page 71 of A Night with Damien Spur

At the neighbouring Orchid table, Nicholas sat between wife, Kate, and dainty Anna, who sparkled in rose pink. Her agent, Justin Baird, seated opposite, smiled at her proudly. Anna’s book, not only a literary hit, was set to be a Disney animation. Next to Justin sat Damien’s agent, Angus McManus and his wife.

Claudia and husband, Peter, hosted the Rose table. Theirguests were Vladimir Pushkin and a group of ritzy Russians.

Danny Archer stepped up onto the podium and started the bidding at £3,000 for the Russian icon.

So excited was Boris at the prospect of beating his enemy Vladimir Pushkin, who had raised his paddle, that he reached beneath the table to squeeze his favourite part of Lala’s anatomy, only to find that Adam’s hand was in the way.

Locking fingers, an undercover battle raged to win the lady’s favour, but finally it was Boris’s winning hand that aced with his queen in a royal flush. Thus, Lala’s peak of pleasure was intact and, not only that, but Boris had, with his final bid of £30,000, beaten off his competition and won the special treasure.

And so the auction sped along with Danny Archer’s skilful patter.

Going, going, gone: a fine pair of diamond earrings, a gold Rolex watch, an eighteenth-century rococo tall case clock, a vintage Hermès bag, the weekend at the chateau and the Premier Cru, Pushkin’s prize for £15K and then the beautiful diamond ring that had taken Sophie’s fancy.

Horatio waited as rapidly the bidding rose.

‘Twelve thousand pounds, twelve and a half, thirteen, thirteen and a half, fourteen, fifteen thousand pounds… from the gentleman at the Freesia table,’ Danny called.

Horatio patted Sophie’s hand, and playfully wagged her engagement finger. Jealous Nicholas, eyes peeled, poured another large glass of wine.

‘Do I see £16,000?’ Danny scanned the room. ‘Yes, £16,000 from the Daffodil table and here’s £17,000 back at the Freesia table.’

Sophie smiled serenely at her beau.

At the Orchid table, Nicholas, trembling with rage and alcohol, flapped his paddle. ‘£20,000.’

‘£25,000,’ Horatio coolly trounced him.

Nicholas, all rational thought obliterated by the wine, rose from his seat and, swaying back and forth, yelled, ‘£40,000. Beat that, you pompous prat!’

‘Why is this man so angry with me, Sophie? I’ve never even met him,’ Horatio said.

Sophie lowered her eyes and played with her napkin. ‘Please, Horatio, don’t ask me now. I’ll tell you later.’

But what was there to tell? That she had fallen for a married man. Seduced him and allowed herself the pleasure of his company when he had a space in his diary. Maybe best to keep it to herself.

‘£50,000.’ Boris waved his paddle from the Freesia table. Lala squeezed his thigh. ‘Thank you, darling.’

‘I’m enjoying myself.’ He picked up his wine glass and toasted Horatio. ‘But we’re missing a player. Come on, Pushkin,’ he boomed. ‘Put your money where your mouth is.’

‘£55,000, you crazy bastard,’ Vladimir roared from the Rose table.

‘£58,000,’ Horatio countered.

Nicholas was in again, quick as a whippet. ‘And £60,000.’ Kate gripped his arm. ‘Are you insane?’

‘I’m upping Horatio’s game. Pricking his vanity,’ Nicholas whispered vindictively.

‘£70,000!’ Horatio shouted.

‘Horatio, stop,’ Sophie pleaded. ‘Charity is one thing, but it’s a ridiculous price to pay for the ring.’

‘Don’t you worry. I want to see how far the guy will go.’

‘£75,000.’ Nicholas challenged his rival with an arrogant stare.

‘Do I hear £80,000?’ Danny looked around the room. Silence.

‘I’ll buy you the ring from Asprey,’ Horatio whispered to Sophie, and kissed her ear.

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