‘How sweet of you, Perry. But unfortunately I have to attend a charity gala this evening,’ she said, looking down at an empty page in her diary. ‘But I’m free on Thursday evening.’
After that, her dance card had only one name on it.
Virginia was surprised how much she enjoyed her role as the duke’s companion, confidante and friend, and quickly grew used to a style of life she had always assumed was hers by right. However, she had to accept that the taxman was still demanding his pound of flesh, 185,000 pounds of flesh to be exact, and that if she didn’t pay up, this idyllic existence would stop as abruptly as a train hitting the buffers.
She considered asking Perry for a loan to cover her tax bill, but felt it was a little too soon, and if he thought that was the only reason she’d shown any interest in him, the relationship would surely end as quickly as it had begun.
Over the next few weeks, the duke showered her with gifts of flowers, clothes, even jewellery, and although she considered returning them to some of the more fashionable establishments on Bond Street in exchange for cash, it wouldn’t have even made a dent in the taxman’s demand. In any case, it would only be a matter of time before the duke found out what she had been up to.
However, when the weather changed from a chilly November to a freezing December, Virginia began to despair, and decided that she had no choice but to tell Perry the truth, whatever the consequences.
She selected his seventieth birthday as the day of revelation, during a celebration dinner at Le Gavroche. She was well prepared, having spent most of her monthly allowance on a gift for Perry that she could ill afford. Cartier had crafted a pair of gold cufflinks, engraved with the Hertford crest. She would need to choose the right moment to present them, and then explain why she would be leaving for Buenos Aires early in the New Year.
During the meal, which consisted mostly of vintage champagne, the duke became a little maudlin and began talking about ‘crossing the finishing line’, his euphemism for death.
‘Don’t be silly, Perry,’ Virginia reprimanded him. ‘You have many years ahead of you before you need to think about anything quite so depressing, especially if I’ve got anything to do with it. And don’t forget, I promised the children I’d keep you going.’
‘And you’ve more than kept your end of the bargain, old gal. In fact, I don’t know how I would have survived without you,’ he added as he took her hand.
Virginia had become accustomed to the duke’s little signs of affection, even a hand reaching under the table and ending up on her thigh. But tonight, it remained there while the ma?tre d’ opened another bottle of champagne. Virginia had drunk very little that evening, as she needed to be as sober as a judge when she delivered her plea in mitigation. She chose that moment to present him with his birthday present.
He slowly unwrapped it, before opening the leather box.
‘My darling Virginia, how kind of you. I’ve never had a more thoughtful present in my life.’ He leant across and kissed her gently on the lips.
‘I’m so glad you like it, Perry. Because it’s almost impossible to find something for a man who has everything.’
‘Not quite everything, my darling,’ he replied, still clutching her hand.
Virginia decided there was never going to be a better moment to tell him about her problem with the taxman.
‘Perry, there’s something I need to ask you.’
‘I know,’ he said. Virginia looked surprised. ‘You were going to ask, your place or mine?’
Virginia giggled like a schoolgirl, but didn’t lose her concentration, although she suddenly realized she should perhaps delay telling him about her imminent departure, as there might be an even better opportunity to plead her case a little later.
The duke raised his other hand, and a moment later the ma?tre d’ appeared by his side bearing a silver tray on which there lay a single slip of paper. Virginia had become used to checking the details of every bill before allowing the duke to write out a cheque. It was not unknown for a restaurant to add an extra dish, even another bottle of wine, after a guest had consumed a little too much.
It was when she opened the bill and saw the figure ￡18.50, that the idea first crossed her mind. But could she risk it? She had to admit such a gift-wrapped opportunity was unlikely to present itself again. She waited for the sommelier to pour him a second glass of Taylor’s before she declared, ‘The bill’s fine, Perry. Shall I write out a cheque while you enjoy your port?’