200 Harley Street. Lynne Marshall

did very little.’

      ‘Nonsense,’ Francesca scolded. ‘Tony, can you give us a minute?’ The moment Tony had left, Francesca asked for Lizzie to fetch her bag. ‘Can I ask you to do a couple of little jobs for me?’ She was a star, a diva, and she made Lizzie smile. ‘Amelia has to go and look after her children but I have run out of my body lotion and naturally I don’t want to ask Tony.’

      ‘Of course.’

      ‘And I need my favourite hair conditioner.’ She wrote quite a list as she spoke on. ‘I hope it’s no trouble.’

      ‘It’s not,’ Lizzie answered truthfully. ‘I have to get a few things anyway. I’m going to a ball …’

      ‘The Princess Catherine’s ball?’ Francesca beamed. ‘What are you wearing?’

      ‘I’m not sure,’ Lizzie admitted. ‘I’ve got my black dress …’ Francesca’s rather shocked features weren’t helping matters.

      ‘You’re not getting something new to wear?’

      ‘I’m going to look for something tonight,’ Lizzie admitted. ‘I’ll make up my mind then. I might find something I like …’

      ‘Who’s doing your hair and make-up?’

      ‘Me.’

      ‘No, no,’ Francesca, rather frantically, shook her head. ‘You have to plan this. It’s not just a dress, think of it as a costume, think of who you are going to be that night … If I wasn’t so drained I could help you with your make-up.’

      Lizzie smothered a smile as she imagined Leo’s expression if he picked her up in full prima ballerina make-up mode. ‘I’ll manage,’ Lizzie said, but she had lost her audience. Francesca was looking over her shoulder and beaming again and Lizzie assumed that Tony was back but jumped slightly when she heard Leo’s voice.

      ‘You didn’t have to do that.’

      ‘Leo!’ Francesca dismissed his concerns with a flick of the wrist. ‘As I said to Lizzie, it wasn’t so bad. I nearly died on Monday and I am vain enough that, dying or not, the last thing I wanted was Tony to see me looking as I did. It was embarrassing, it was awful, but I survived it. I don’t think anything could embarrass me after that.’ She gave a cheeky smile. ‘According to the lady who interviewed me, I am the new face of ageing apparently—seventy is the new fifty!’

      ‘You’re scandalous!’ Leo said.

      ‘I intend to be to the day I die.’

      ‘I’m going to go.’ Lizzie gave Francesca a kiss as she took the list and an awful lot of cash. ‘I’ll pop in later with your things.’

      ‘Thank you, darling.’

      When Lizzie had gone, Leo came and took a seat. ‘Thank you,’ he said. Despite insisting to everyone he was fine and that his reputation could handle it, the week had been hell. An unnamed source had gone to great lengths to tell the press that he’d long thought the surgeons at the Hunter Clinic were a touch over-zealous and Leo’s gut had churned at the thought of the ball and facing so many peers with his integrity up to such public scrutiny. Still, now that Francesca had spoken to the press, it would be all false smiles and hand-pumping.

      ‘You’re sure you’re okay with people knowing?’ Leo checked.

      ‘I like attention.’ Francesca smiled then turned serious. ‘Thank you, Leo—you saved my life but, even so, I am cross with you.’

      ‘Why?’

      ‘Sending that beautiful woman into that snake pit when she hasn’t a clue. Lizzie is talking about doing her own make-up and hair and she still hasn’t worked out what she will be wearing.’

      ‘Lizzie’s not some hick.’ Leo was surprised by the defensiveness in his voice. ‘Stop trying to control the world from your hospital bed.’

      ‘You have no idea about women.’

      ‘Hey,’ Leo snapped. ‘I work with women, I know exactly—’

      ‘I’ll tell you exactly,’ Francesca interrupted. ‘Sort this, Leo.’

      ‘How?’ Leo asked, just a little bit worried now and not for himself, more for the stress he would have caused Lizzie. ‘I can’t tell her I’m worried that she’s not going to look the part …’ He rolled his eyes. ‘I can’t do this without offending her.’

      ‘Of course you can,’ Francesca said. ‘And you will do it now.’

      Lizzie answered her phone just as she was buying body lotion for Francesca—the price of which would feed a family of four for a week and it certainly wasn’t available at the chemist!

      ‘Where are you?’ Leo asked, and Lizzie frowned at his response when she told him the name of the iconic store. ‘That’s convenient.’

      ‘Why?’ Lizzie asked. ‘Do you need something?’

      ‘You’ve got an appointment on the fourth floor.’

      ‘With who?’

      ‘Her name’s Melinda, she’ll help you pick a dress and make appointments for make-up and things.’

      ‘Excuse me?’

      He tried a fib. ‘Francesca said that you are worried about going to the ball.’

      ‘I never said that I was worried,’ Lizzie said tartly. ‘I think it’s Francesca who’s worried about me.’ Her face was on fire in embarrassment. ‘Don’t worry, Leo, I shan’t let the side down.’

      ‘So you don’t want a new dress and shoes and your hair and make-up done on the day, all paid for by the boss?’ Leo said. ‘What woman wouldn’t want that?’

      ‘Well, if you put it like that …’ Her angry blush was fading, a smile stretching her lips at the deep purr of his voice.

      ‘Goldilocks, you shall go to the ball.’

      ‘It’s Cinderella.’ Lizzie laughed.

      ‘Yes, well, I don’t think reading fairy-tales was my mother’s forte. Enjoy yourself, Cinderella,’ Leo said. ‘That’s an order! ‘

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

      TO THE LETTER!

      Lizzie stood back from the mirror. She had followed Leo’s order to the letter to enjoy herself and had taken Melinda’s advice, because never in month of Sundays would she have even tried on this dress and coat, and that was aside from the price tag!

      It was either beige or pink, Lizzie couldn’t decide which. The fabric was the softest velvet and it clung everywhere and was so low at the back she had been worried it bordered on indecent.

      ‘It’s stunning,’ Melinda had assured her.

      It was. And seeing it with her new hair and make-up, Lizzie couldn’t believe that the woman in the mirror was really her.

      Her body had been waxed and massaged and that had been just the start. Her brown hair had been curled and pinned up and her make-up was amazing—Lizzie’s eyes had been dressed in smoky grey eye shadow and her lips … well, she couldn’t decide if they were beige or pink either.

      She was shaking, she was nervous and excited too, but that had more to do with the fact that in ten minutes she’d be facing Leo. And then there was the question of dancing with him …

      Stop.

      She didn’t need an evening bag, she needed a table-tennis bat to flick away the thoughts about dancing with him. Even spraying on her perfume, she imagined his face in her neck, inhaling it …

      No.