200 Harley Street. Lynne Marshall

actually can’t tell you,’ he admitted. ‘I’ve another house call to make.’

      ‘You’re going to see a patient?’ Lizzie frowned because he truly did seem tense.

      ‘Yep.’

      He was knotting his tie and kept having to redo it.

      ‘So why can’t you tell me?’

      ‘Completely confidential,’ Leo said.

      ‘Isn’t everyone?’

      ‘Of course.’

      He wasn’t saying any more and Lizzie loathed herself for being so curious, but who on earth could it be? After all they’d had Marianna, you didn’t get any more prestigious than a soon-to-be European princess … maybe another royal?

      ‘What time do you have to be there?’

      ‘Six,’ Leo said. ‘On the dot. How’s that?’ He stood there, looking absolutely stunning, his hair brushed back, his suit to die for and, yes, his tie was perfect.

      ‘Can’t beat a good old Windsor knot,’ she said, and gave him an almost imperceptible wink. ‘Though maybe you should have gone for royal blue.’

      Still he refused to be drawn but she did see his tongue roll in his cheek as he suppressed a smile. ‘See you, Lizzie.’

      ‘Good luck,’ she called out to him as he headed off, and, rather than nervous now, Leo was actually smiling.

      Lizzie was far too perceptive!

       CHAPTER EIGHT

      INSTEAD OF WORKING out what she would be wearing for the ball or getting a pedicure and her nails done, Lizzie’s weekend was spent in Brighton.

      ‘I’m going to a ball next weekend,’ Lizzie told her mum, chatting away as she sorted out her mother’s clothes for the week.

      ‘Do you hear that, Faye?’ her father, Thomas, asked. ‘Lizzie’s going to a ball in London.’

      But Faye wasn’t interested in anything other than the thought that someone had taken her watch.

      ‘It’s being fixed, Mum,’ Lizzie attempted again, but Faye wouldn’t accept that. Today everyone was a thief, including Lizzie—who she thought was a stranger rifling through her wardrobe in broad daylight.

      ‘It’s Lizzie,’ Thomas said when Faye angrily confronted her.

      ‘Mum, I’m just trying to sort out your clothes,’ Lizzie explained patiently.

      ‘I’m not your mother,’ Faye shouted, and then walked off and Thomas followed her. It was normal that she didn’t recognise her, Lizzie more than knew that, and the anger and aggression was part of her illness too, but it hurt to see her mother so angry and fearful, and to not even be recognised was an agony that couldn’t always be rationalised away.

      ‘She’s having a cup of tea with the nurses.’ Thomas came back and gave Lizzie a smile. ‘So, you’re going out next week to a ball?’

      ‘It’s a work function,’ Lizzie said, ‘but it sounds very glamorous.’

      ‘Are you going with anyone?’

      ‘My boss.’

      ‘And does your boss have a name?’

      ‘Leo,’ Lizzie said. ‘Leo Hunter.’ She saw her dad’s eyebrow rise and Lizzie frowned but then realised that, of course, her dad would have heard of Leo. Even before Faye had taken ill they had lived their lives through magazines and newspapers.

      ‘Watch yourself, Lizzie.’

      ‘Leo’s lovely.’

      ‘Hmmph,’ her dad said. ‘He comes from bad stock. I remember reading about his mother. Above all the rules everyone else lived by, out partying …’

      ‘It’s a work do.’

      ‘Even so,’ her dad huffed. ‘I don’t want you getting hurt again. I remember Peter …’

      Lizzie bit her tongue. Peter had been her boyfriend nearly ten years ago and, yes, the break-up had hurt but life hurt sometimes whether or not you lived it.

      Her father just chose to live his life reading about everyone else.

      ‘Why don’t you come over to see the Hewitts when Mum’s resting this afternoon?’ Lizzie asked. ‘Just for a coffee.’ The Hewitts were old family friends who ran the bed and breakfast Lizzie stayed at when visiting, but her dad shook his head. ‘What about a walk on the beach, then?’ Lizzie attempted. ‘It would be nice to get some fresh air.’

      ‘I like to stay close to your mum.’

      ‘I know but …’

      Lizzie gave in. Even a small walk was a major event for her father. It was a long weekend and a depressing one. She loved her parents dearly and the Hewitts were lovely people too, but they were almost as locked in the past as her parents and Lizzie was guilty with relief at how nice it felt to be back in London. As she headed to 200 Harley Street on Monday morning she was certainly looking forward to work, and, even though she was trying hard to deny it, she was also looking forward to seeing Leo.

      ‘How was your weekend?’ Leo asked her as she took off her scarf and coat.

      ‘It was fine,’ she answered. ‘How was yours?’

      ‘I need another one to recover from it.’ He yawned.

      ‘Any house calls today?’ Lizzie asked.

      ‘Nope.’

      ‘You never did tell me how things went the other evening on your house call,’ she fished.

      ‘I deliberately didn’t.’

      ‘Please …’ Lizzie whimpered. ‘I have to know where you went.’

      ‘I’ll tell you if you tell me who did your surgery.’

      She poked out her tongue and then stopped because banter was just too easy with Leo and it was starting to look a lot like flirting.

      Leo had actually had an unusually quiet weekend. Yes, there had been drinks after work on Friday and he’d been out to a very glamorous dinner on Saturday but, unusually for Leo, he’d returned to his apartment alone and on Sunday he’d found himself racking his brains for a reason, or rather an excuse, to ring Lizzie.

      It would be a terrible idea, Leo knew that. Especially as he didn’t yet know the full extent of her friendship with Ethan. Yes, his brother had said it had all been professional but Ethan seemed terribly keen to look out for her.

      All morning the question built for Leo. He simply could not get Lizzie out of his mind and, as lunchtime approached, Leo came up with a very simple solution.

      He’d just ask her, Leo decided.

      But not here.

      ‘Do you want to go out for lunch?’ Leo didn’t mince his words, he was very used to asking women to join him, it was Lizzie’s response that he wasn’t used to.

      ‘Er, no,’ Lizzie said. ‘I’ve got plans …’ She frantically searched for an excuse because she was already struggling to keep things professional. ‘I’m going to the zoo.’

      ‘The zoo?’

      ‘I’ve been meaning to since I got here. It’s so close …’

      ‘It’s freezing,’ Leo said, ‘you won’t see anything.’

      ‘How do you know?’ Lizzie asked. ‘Have you ever been to the zoo in January?’

      ‘