Daydreamer

Felix

In true Little Buckingham fashion, Lucy ordered a steak and ale pie and a pint of cider. I got the scampi because I knew that was also her favourite. I’d eaten enough times with the Mayweathers in the past to know what they all liked.

“How’s Mike?” I asked when our food arrived, and Lucy’s face lit up. She’d always adored her brother. We talked about life back home – Mike’s carpentry business (he made bespoke, high-end rustic pieces that sold for massive amounts), her mum, her old mates in Little Buckingham (I remembered Emily – she was a feisty kid and the opposite of Lucy, but they’d always been thick as thieves).

But, when we got onto the subject of my family, despite the warm fire, the cider and the comfort food, I clammed up. I didn’t want to bring the evening down by talking about them and all the reasons I hadn’t gone back to Little Buckingham for years. My father was a very successful corporate lawyer for one of my competitors. The only thing he really understood was money. I had hated him even before his serious betrayal five years ago, but since then I avoided him at all costs. So, I made damn sure that I built up my company into an empire which made his financial situation look like child’s play. I can still hear my dad’s sneering voice to me as a ten-year-old child:

“You’ll never make anything of yourself. No backbone. You have to be ruthless in this world, or you’ll get trampled over.”

Well, I’d proved him wrong. It was well known how ruthless I was. The amount of business my own father’s company had lost to mine was proof of that. But then, sitting here opposite Lucy, my dad’s voice faded, and another took its place:

“Aren’t we lucky?”

Henry Mayweather would say that sentence nearly every week. Even just on an ordinary Tuesday afternoon with his family and me squashed round the kitchen table, sharing a packet of ginger biscuits. And he meant it too. The Mayweathers didn’t have any money really. Henry was a gardener for my parents and for the Buckingham Estate; Hetty was my nanny. Neither job paid particularly well, but success and happiness for Henry wasn’t about that. It was about a tiny kitchen full of laughter and the people in it whom he loved.

I blinked at the sudden jolt of grief I felt for Henry Mayweather. Lucy tilted her head to the side as she looked over at me, but luckily, before she could probe any further, Ollie chose that moment to arrive.

“Well, this is cosy,” Ollie said from the side of our table, and Lucy jumped in surprise, dropping the scampi she’d been about to steal from my plate.

“Bucks,” I said, standing to do a man hug, back slap. Ollie’s official title was the Duke of Buckingham, but for as long as I could remember, I’d called him Bucks – everyone at school had. “Right.” I moved back and then around to Lucy who’d stood from the table and was looking between us with wide eyes. “Don’t paw her like the last time, you bastard.”

Ollie laughed and did pull Lucy into a brief hug, making me grind my teeth, but he didn’t push his luck as far as before.

“Hey, freckles,” Ollie said in a smooth tone, and I rolled my eyes. He’d always had a crazily powerful effect on women. In addition to the whole duke thing, there was the fact that even I could admit he was objectively good looking, and he had this innate charm that seemed to impress the opposite sex. He was well aware of it too, the cheeky sod. I wasn’t having him use his knicker-melting abilities on Lucy.

Lucy blinked up at him after he released her and then did something that made amusement chase away my jealousy. Holding the sides of her denim skirt and sinking so low that I thought, given her clumsiness, she would topple over, she performed some sort of weird curtsy. Ollie’s shoulders started shaking, and I had to hold back my own burst of laughter.

“Your Honour,” she said reverently, which was when I lost the battle with my amusement as I steadied her and pulled her into my side to laugh into her hair.

“Baby, you don’t have to curtsy to him.”

Lucy abruptly straightened, her face bright red as she scowled at me.

“You could have told me that before,” she whispered furiously. “Ollie’s a duke now, for God’s sake. What am I supposed to do?” Ollie moved forward, having suppressed his own laughter but still with humour dancing in his eyes. He placed his hand on Lucy’s arm to get her attention, and I stiffened.

“It’s actually Your Grace,” he told her, and her mouth dropped open before he let out another laugh. “Joking! Please call me Ollie still.”

Lucy managed a small smile for him. “Right, okay, Ollie. If you’re sure I won’t get locked up in the Tower of London for insubordination.” Her expression softened. “I’m sorry about your dad, by the way.” Ollie only inherited the title after his dad died of a heart attack five years ago. His eyes warmed as he looked down at her.

“Thanks,” he said softly, reaching up to give her arm a small squeeze. “But no more curtseying or Your Graces. I’m only thirty-fifth in line to the throne, you know. I’m not sure anyone cares what you call me. And even my cousins don’t expect curtsying.”

“Right, your cousins. Right,” Lucy breathed, a fair amount of awe in her tone. We all knew who Ollie’s cousins were. The whole world knew that. He still had his bloody hand on her arm. I moved her back with me so that he was forced to break contact. Ollie tucked his hands back into his pockets and tilted his head to the side, looking at us with curiosity. I didn’t blame him. I’d never been a very territorial guy in the past.

“Hello,” Vicky’s voice cut through the tension, and we all turned to her. She looked between the three of us, and her eyebrows went up. “Lucy. You’re here.”

“Er, hi,” Lucy replied with a small wave.

“Felix has his arm around you,” Vicky put in, and I cleared my throat. This seemed to be Vicky’s talent – uncomfortable observations. “Are you sleeping together?”

“Vicky,” Lottie made it over to us then, slightly out of breath. “Remember, we talked about questions that are okay.”

Vicky turned to Lottie. “But you want to know this too, correct? As far as we knew Felix was not sleeping with Lucy. But he’s here, and he has an arm around her. Why can’t I be direct?”

“Lucy’s embarrassed, hun,” Lottie said softly, touching Vicky’s wrist briefly. Vicky looked at me.

“Oh,” she said.

“You ask whatever questions you want to, Vics,” Ollie said in an irritated tone. He’d stepped next to Vicky and she looked up at him. When they made eye contact, he hesitated until Vicky gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, then he hugged her. It was brief, but it was more affection than I’d seen Vicky accept in the past from anyone else. When he moved back, he gave Lottie a filthy look. “Don’t tell her what to do, Forest.”

Ollie’s hatred of Lottie was getting old now. The problem was that originally Lottie had worked for Ollie, not as his personal assistant… as his cleaner. And back then, he certainly hadn’t hated her, not by a long shot. I never got to the bottom of it, but one minute Ollie had been complaining about having a crush on his cleaner, then next he’d fired her, hated her guts. He was furious when Vicky, who’d met Lottie when she was working for Ollie, hired her after he fired her.

In my opinion, Ollie could be a stubborn prick and would never have considered that maybe he’d got this one wrong. He certainly wasn’t going to stop me having Lottie as part of my company. She worked brilliantly with Vics, and her ability to read the room was almost supernatural and great in difficult negotiations. Ollie was just jealous.

He told me he had good reason not to trust her, but she’d been a permanent fixture in Vicky’s life for months. She was her personal assistant in name, but in reality her role was much more involved. Everywhere Vicky went, Lottie wasn’t far behind. Ollie insisted that Vicky was vulnerable and that Lottie was on the make. Apparently, he had evidence to that effect, but Vicky wouldn’t hear a word against Lottie. Ollie was used to getting what he wanted, so he found the whole situation very frustrating. His solution was to be an unrelenting prick to Lottie, hoping to make her go away. But Lottie wasn’t so easy to break. She took a grey rock approach with him: not reacting to any of his insults or barbs, pretending they didn’t affect her.

It was only if you observed her very carefully that you could see the small flinches, often just a slight tightening around her eyes or a brief despondent look when he was in full prick mode. I’d told him on a few occasions to lay off, but he just maintained that she was a scheming user.

True to form, Lottie acted as if Ollie hadn’t spoken, turning to me and Lucy instead.

“I knew that jumper would suit you,” Lottie said as she hugged Lucy. “You look like a fierce, wool-wearing badass.”

Lucy laughed. “I’m not sure how many badasses wear fleece-lined tights.”

“So, am I allowed to ask if Lucy is your girlfriend?” Vicky asked. She was staring at me now. I heard Lottie sigh and saw Lucy stiffen as she released Lottie from the hug. Immediately, I grabbed Lucy’s hand and pulled her to my side.

“Yes, Vicky,” I said with conviction. “Lucy is my girlfriend.”

“I am?” Lucy squeaked, and I frowned down at her.

“Of course you are.” Then it was like the others didn’t even exist for her anymore. She looked up at me with a soft look. A slow smile spread across her face, her eyes shining with happiness.

“Awesome,” she breathed. No artifice, no game playing, no hiding how absolutely into me she was. I couldn’t help it, I had to kiss her. Lucy tensed in my arms when Ollie cleared his throat, bringing her back to reality.

“Does Mike know about this?” Ollie asked, a hint of accusation in his tone. We all knew the rule: no messing about with little sisters. My throat felt tight as I imagined Mike’s face when I told him.

“Not yet,” I said. “But he will, alright? I’ll sort it.”

Ollie whistled. “He’s going to lose his shit. Please, let me have a front-row seat to that nightmare.”

“Mike’s not my keeper,” Lucy put in. “And I’ll tell him. He’s my brother.”

“I’ll come to your funeral, mate,” Ollie said to me, and Lucy growled in frustration.

“Well then,” Vicky cut in. “At least we’ve established what’s going on.” Lucy tore her gaze from mine to look at Vicky. “I’m sorry, Lucy,” Vicky explained. “But I’m much better with social interactions if all the dynamics are made super clear at the start.”

“Vicky’s not good with grey areas. It’s just that…” Lottie broke off midsentence when Ollie made an annoyed noise at the back of his throat. She slid him a nervous look, then forced a smile. “Shall we sit?”

“I can’t sit here,” Vicky snapped, glancing at the table.

“I know, hun,” Lottie muttered. “We’ll sit in a booth, all right?”

Vicky nodded and her shoulders relaxed. In all my time knowing Vicky, I’d never eaten with her. She always arrived after a meal. I’d asked Ollie about it and he said that it was just “one of her things”. Personally I thought it went deeper than that, but that family had always been secretive around Vicky’s difficulties, so playing down her quirks around food was not unexpected.

Once we were settled in the booth, and despite the frosty atmosphere between Lottie and Ollie, surprisingly the conversation flowed. I’d assumed that adult Lucy would be even more shy than the Lucy I’d known as a child, but it was clear that in the right environment she was anything but shy. In fact, in a small group in this relaxed pub atmosphere, she was very animated. I’d forgotten how naturally curious she was. How many questions she’d ask. How she’d really listen to your answers, as if what you were telling her was fascinating. She was a daydreamer at work, but it was clear that when it came to other people her concentration could be laser-focused.

We didn’t even get onto the Hyde Park development until two hours had gone by. By then we’d already talked extensively about horses, something Ollie and Vicky shared a passion for, boarding school, what it was like to be a duke. It was actually Lottie who held herself back from the conversation the most, not Lucy.

Lottie, I’d noticed, was very adept at deflecting personal questions. I had no idea where she was from, or who her family were. But somehow Lucy managed to get out of her the fact that she had actually worked for Ollie before Vicky. I was surprised as neither of them had ever mentioned that connection usually.

“Oh, wow,” Lucy said. “I had no idea you worked for the Buckingham Estate before. Did you ever go to Little Buckingham?”

“I only worked at the London house,” Lottie said in a small voice as she shifted on her chair, clearly uncomfortable.

“Less said about that the better,” muttered Ollie into his beer and Lottie’s face reddened as she shrank further into her seat. “And now you’re a personal assistant to one of the leading financial brokers in London. Cleaner to executive. Perfectly logical transition.”

“Lottie’s very good at what she does, Ollie,” Vicky said, frowning at her half-brother. Often Vicky didn’t seem to notice Ollie’s digs at Lottie, as they were too subtle for her literal brain to catch, but this one didn’t seem to go over her head.

“Right,” Ollie drew out the word. That was when Lottie stood up from the booth.

“I think I’d better leave,” she muttered, avoiding eye contact with Ollie and turning to Vicky. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“But—” Vicky started, and Lottie leaned down towards her. “Ollie’s here, hun,” she said softly. “You’ll be good with him. You know that.” Vicky looked panicked for a moment, then glanced at Ollie, who was frowning at them both.

“Of course, I’ll sort you out, Vics,” he said. “Let the girl go home.” Just the girl, not Lottie. I kicked him under the table, but he just shrugged at me. Lottie said a brief goodbye and made her escape.

“Okay, arsehole. Now that you’ve successfully acted like a prick, not for the first time. How about we talk about the Hyde Park development?”

Ollie was watching Lottie’s retreating back with a frown on his face. “What the fuck kind of coat does she think she’s wearing for this weather?” he muttered, completely ignoring me. I looked over my shoulder to see Lottie shrugging on an, admittedly thin, denim jacket. When I looked back at Ollie he was still frowning.

“Er, why the hell do you give a fuck?” I asked in surprise. “Given how much you dislike her, I’d have thought you’d be glad of the chance for her to freeze to death.”

Ollie barely acknowledged me. Instead, without a word of explanation, he shoved his chair back and strode after Lottie. We all watched as he blocked her way to the exit, causing her to run into him and nearly fall. His hands shot out to steady her before she could land on her arse but once she was upright he released her as if she’d burned him. They exchanged a few words then she dodged around him out of the double doors and we lost sight of them both when he stormed after her.

“What is his problem?” Lucy muttered.

“My half-brother is totally illogical when it comes to Lottie,” Vicky told us. “I’ve given up trying to reason with him.”

After a couple of minutes Ollie was back, looking windswept and pissed off.

“Vics, make sure she wears a proper bloody coat,” he said as he took his place back at the table. “She must be able to afford one on the salary you’re paying her.”

Vicky shrugged. “I don’t police what other people wear. That would be weird. You’re being weird. Stop being horrid to Lottie. I need her.”

Ollie sighed. “You don’t need her, Vics. I just⁠—”

“Anyway, Felix’s right,” she said, cutting him off. “We need to talk about Hyde Park and there’s another opportunity that’s just come up from the Framlingham Estate.”

Ollie sighed and rubbed his hand down his face. He glanced at Lucy. “Luce, we can trust you, right? This is all confidential stuff, not to go any further.”

Lucy sat up straight in her chair, and I could feel her discomfort coming off her in waves. She put her hands on the table and went to stand. “Oh, don’t worry, guys,” she said, flustered, which pissed me off. I wanted relaxed, chatty Lucy back. “I’d better get going anyway. If you need to talk super-secret, businessy stuff, I’ll just be in the way.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” I said in a firm tone, my hand on her leg pushing her to sit down. “I trust Lucy completely. And she’s not exactly corporate spy material.” Ollie gave me a look, and I frowned at him. He knew what had gone on five years ago. I hadn’t really trusted anybody since then. That I was willing to trust Lucy now was a huge step – Ollie understood that.

Lucy let out a shocked laugh. “Corporate spy!” She laughed again. “Sorry, Ollie, but the idea of me even understanding enough of what you might talk about to use it as a corporate spy is funny. But seriously, I can just grab an Uber and⁠—”

“No, it’s fine,” Ollie said with a smile at Lucy. “I’m sorry, but I just wanted you to know that this is really sensitive stuff. Don’t go. Felix’ll be grumpy if you take off and we won’t get anywhere. I’ll try to keep it brief so you’re not too bored.”

“Okay,” Lucy agreed. “If I can have another cider. Ooh and a chocolate pudding.”

So, Lucy drank her cider and ate her pudding whilst the three of us hashed out the details of Ollie’s investment in Hyde Park, then laid out the Framlingham Estate plan. I kept my hand on Lucy’s thigh, rubbing small circles on her tights. About ten minutes after she finished her pudding, I felt her lean a little more heavily into my side, her body relaxing. When I looked down at her, she was fast asleep. I leaned back onto the wall in the corner of the booth and put my arm around her so that she could snuggle into my chest more comfortably and held her to me. I couldn’t really blame her for being tired. I hadn’t let her sleep much last night. Ollie looked between us and raised an eyebrow.

“She’s not that into finance and property development then?” he observed.

I laughed quietly. “Good for her. Finance is bloody boring, and we’re all boring bastards.”

“What is she into?” asked Vicky.

I blinked at her, opened my mouth to reply and then snapped it shut when I realised I had no idea, not anymore.