‘Roger’s a local boy. Our lord of the manor. He trained the village junior cricket team my brother was in. And he’s our local gentry. He would have been an earl by now if his father hadn’t given up the title. Today he heads up CPI, an international conglomerate with interests in banking, mining, electronics and the media.’
‘So, he’ll have the money and maybe the right experience.’
‘Definitely the right experience. And great contacts. He’s on the executive boards of many things, from ballet companies to research institutes.’
‘He sounds like he might be perfect, if he could be persuaded. Is there a way to contact him?’
‘I’ll call him.’ Lexie smiled at Owen’s surprise as she pulled out her phone.
Five minutes later, she’d arranged a dinner meeting for Friday evening with one of the richest and best-connected men in the world, and an hour later, Owen was walking her home from Belsize tube station.
Walking side by side in the dark, it suddenly seemed safe to Lexie for her to ask the question that had been bubbling all day. Why had Owen been so upset in Trafalgar Square last Friday?
He gave her a sideways look, frowned but then, to her surprise, he shared the moments that had led up to their first meeting.
‘Why, though?’ Lexie asked, encouraged by his candour to dig a little deeper. ‘Why would she want to keep you from your daughter.’
’To inflict pain. Emi is the only way Margaret can hurt me now,’ Owen replied, then changing the subject he said, ‘That used to be my local,’ and nodded towards the Steeles pub as they turned into England’s Lane.
‘Used to be?’
‘Yes. Before I trashed my life.’
Lexie gave Owen’s hand a squeeze and said, ‘I’m sure it wasn’t all down to you.’
Owen grunted and leaned over, dropping a kiss in her hair. ‘Lex, angel, you are lovely to say that. But I am entirely to blame.’