Page 19 of The Midnight Secret

‘Fine,’ he shrugged, happy to be convinced. ‘She’s a swell girl and she photographs like a dream, but in person...Well, all I’m saying is, she’s not a patch on you gals.’

Ferg Campbell’s eyes narrowed in outright disdain as Peony gave a delighted laugh. ‘You’re just saying that!’ she demurred.

‘Absolutely not—’

‘I’m a scriptwriter, actually,’ Veronica butted in. ‘Well, a writer...Playwright, really.’

‘Is that so?’ Buck asked, looking bemused at the abrupt turn in conversation. Veronica had little patience for flirting, mainly because no one ever flirted with her.

‘Yes – we’re putting on a production at Dupplin this week, in fact. You should come along.’

Peony gasped, although whether in delight or horror at the prospect wasn’t immediately clear. Effie was too distracted to pay much attention. She was struggling to sip her martini without choking, for one thing; and she couldn’t stop looking at the blond man, Rushton, standing laconically with one hand in his pocket. He seemed familiar to her somehow, and yet she couldn’t place him. She’d met so many people in the past month – faces, castles, parties – they were becoming a blur. And he wasn’t giving her much to go on; after the polite introductions he had fallen back, allowing the others to shine.

‘Well, what’s it about, this production of yours?’ Buck asked.

‘Don’task!’ Bitsy said quickly, rolling her eyes as she sipped her drink. ‘I say, have you seenPrivate Lives?’

‘Of course. We caught it while we were in London the other week. Terrifically novel premise...Have you?’

‘No, not yet. I’mdyingto see it,’ she sighed. ‘I’ve been stuck here for eternity, it’s beginning to feel.’

‘It must be terrible, being held captive in these ancient Scottish castles,’ Cripshank teased.

‘Scah-ttish,’ she mimicked, turning her attention to him now. ‘You know, your accent is perfectly darling.’

‘I might say the same about yours, Lady Cameron.’

She arched a plucked eyebrow. ‘Bitsy, please. Tripping over titles is such a bore.’

‘Bitsy, then.’

Effie watched their loaded sparring at a remove. Bitsy and Peony had very different tactics of seduction, but the results were always the same: men chased after them at every party they attended, and the day afterwards was always spent in deep discussion about the relative merits of their conquests. If Effie’s own happy ending had been dependent upon her playing these games, she knew she would have been alone her whole life. She spoke as straight as an arrow – and as sharply too, when required.

The group gradually began to break up, the Americans luring Peony and Bitsy into conversation while Veronica, Colly and Campbell made small talk with Archie Baird-Hamilton and the reluctant Englishman, Rushton.

Albie turned towards Effie and Sholto with a look of relief, pulling a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and mopping his brow.

‘Everything all right, old boy?’ Sholto murmured.

‘Let’s just say it’s been a long few days,’ Albie said under his breath. ‘Keeping them entertained has proved...taxing. I had rather thought we’d be diverting ourselves along the lines of a fish from the river, a staff from the wood and a deer from the mountain.’

‘But they have a different idea of fun?’

Albie made a low sound in his throat that Effie assumed to be agreement. ‘B-H got here for support this morning, but even he’s struggled to keep his game face on.’

Effie glanced over at the man in question. He was standing with a half-smile on his lips and his eyes slitted as Veronica opined on something, but detecting her stare, he glanced over.

Effie looked quickly away again.

‘How much longer are they staying for?’ Sholto was asking.

‘Another few days.’

‘So much for speeding the parting guest.’

‘Yes, well – if everything comes off in the way I hope, it’ll all be worthwhile.’

‘Meaning?’

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