Page 147 of An Unholy Affair
‘Jack’s my boyfriend,’ Eveline said proudly.
‘Congratulations, Eveline. He’s a wonderful man,’ said Henry. ‘Is this your first official outing as a couple?’
She nodded.
‘Well then, I think that calls for champagne, don’t you think?’
Jack felt her stiffen.
‘Actually, Henry, I’ll just have a soda water,’ he said quickly. This was his first proper test of a life without alcohol and, to his horror, he was craving a drink.
Henry frowned. ‘You sure?’
‘Yes, definitely. I, er, want to keep a clear head.’
‘Fair enough. Eveline?’
‘Could I possibly have another elderflower pressé with soda please?’
‘Estelle?’
‘Champagne all the way,’ she replied cheerfully. ‘And I’m drinking their share.’
The ball was flowing accordingto plan. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, and Jan Perry, Foxbrooke Manor’s cook, had the catering in hand. As the gong sounded for the meal, Jack left Eveline’s side to do a walkthrough of the ground floor, checking there were no last-minute hiccups before it began.
In the doorway to the second dining room, he paused as people took their seats. On the largest table were Henry’s three parents—his biological mom and dad, Vivienne and Arthur, and his second mum, Dervla. Their marriage and the sex parties they ran at the Manor made his own career as an escort seem relatively tame.
On the same table was another stunning Black woman who bore a striking resemblance to Vivienne. This must be her elder sister, Simone. Next to her was—No. No way. No fucking, fucking way. It couldn’t be.
A woman in her fifties had her back to him, her blonde hair tied in a chignon to show off her slender neck.
Less than a month ago, Jack had kissed that neck, untied that chignon, and fucked that woman six ways to Sunday. A cold sweat broke out across his skin.Please God, let it not be her.
As if hearing his thoughts, the woman turned to the side, laughing at something Simone said. Jack clutched the doorframe for support. Itwasher. It was Antoinette Lavigne.
But how thefuckwas she in Foxbrooke when she lived in Nice?
Drawing back from the doorway, he breathed deeply, trying to order his thoughts. Antoinette’s husband owned an exclusive luggage company, and they split their time between Paris and the south of France.
It made perfect sense for Antoinette to know Simone. And if Simone was coming to the Duke and Duchess of Somerset’s famous Winter Ball, it wasn’t too much of a stretch to imagine her inviting a friend.
He couldn’t let her see him. She knew him as Jasper, not Jack. As an escort, not a friend of her friend’s niece and nephew. And what if Eveline saw her?
Calm the fuck down. Think. Antoinette is married. She would never make a scene. And Eveline doesn’t know who she is.
He just needed to get through the meal. After that, could he persuade Eveline to leave? She hadn’t seemed completely well earlier. Maybe it was better for her to go home and rest? But what if she wanted to stay? What then? Could he feign illness?
On the way back to his table, Jack slipped the Jasper mask back on. He was calm. He was confident. He needed a drink… Fuck! Was this how he managed it for so long? When was the last time he’d had sex with a client when completely sober? Three years ago?Fiveyears ago? He couldn’t remember.
Eveline was waving him over from across the larger dining room. He stared blankly at her, then raised his hand.Smile!With heavy feet, he crossed the room towards her and took his seat.
‘Everything tickety-boo?’ she asked.
Jack nodded as his heart cracked. Who evensaid‘tickety-boo’ or ‘fiddlesticks’? People like Eveline did. People who didn’t have a bad bone in their body. People who talked to god and never swore.
‘Have you seen the menu? It all sounds so yummy.’
He stared at her, as if trying to commit every perfect feature to memory.
