The Maestro's Mistress (4 page)

‘Influential?’  Bruno mused. ‘Oh,
I doubt if there was anyone in the Law Department tonight who will throw a
shadow over my future life.’

Tara shook her head in
exasperation. ‘How long are you going to go on with this farce of studying law?
Cut loose, Bruno. Fly a little!’

‘Like you, my own gorgeous
sweetheart,’ he grinned, reaching out and pinching the end of her nose.

‘Oh sure, like me. Part time
waitress extraordinaire at the local wine bar. That really is cutting loose.’

‘No,’ he chided. ‘You’re a
student of philosophy, that’s your true identity. Waitressing’s just a little
hobby, an endearing foible.’

‘It’s a way of earning spare
cash,’ Tara declared with some ferocity. From the start of her university
career a year ago she had refused to eke out an existence on her student grant
cheque. She needed money for her razor cut at Vidal Sassoon and for all the
latest classical and pop CDs . The wine bar would do for now, but she had her sights
on landing a job at one of the big hotels - The Ritz or Claridges. You could
get simply fantastic tips in those places.

‘And I doubt if studying
philosophy has anything to do with my true identity whatever that is,’ she
exclaimed, entertained by Bruno’s innocent earnestness. ‘I haven’t been to more
than a couple of lectures this term, or handed in an essay.’

‘Well, you’re a very bad girl
then.’

Tara narrowed her eyes. ‘So what
are you going to do about it?’ she whispered provocatively.

Bruno grabbed her and threw her
over his shoulder. Tara squealed and bit his ear. Chortling with mirth and lust
they fell onto Bruno’s bed, their limbs entwined in some kind of furious
wrestling match.

‘Quick, quick! I can’t wait,’
Tara breathed.

Their sex was spontaneous, warm,
guilt-free and candid -  a celebration of high spirited youth and genuine
affection. It was over in six and a half minutes flat.

‘Mmm, love you,’ Bruno said.

‘Mmm, back’ she murmured, already
nearly asleep.

In the porter’s lodge in her hall
of residence the telephone pealed out urgently at regular intervals through the
night.

CHAPTER
4

At seven o’clock the following
evening, Georgiana stood in the doorway of her elegant drawing room with her
friend Alicia and surveyed the preparations for Xavier’s fortieth birthday
celebrations. Silently she congratulated herself on the clever and subtle way
she had side-stepped the threat to her marriage and transformed her
relationship with Xavier into something precious, lasting and unique.

Alicia had been a constant source
of help of course. As one therapist after another failed to unlock the mystery
of Georgiana’s inner psyche, yet another was suggested. Alicia was never at a
loss, had always heard of a ‘simply marvellous new man’. Georgiana had found
the whole business utterly intriguing.

She stepped forward to patrol the
majestic displays of food – pyramids of glazed duck, bread braided like the
coiffure of a Victorian belle, pink prosciutto curled around amber figs, an
entire marzipan orchestra complete with a Maestro sculpted in sugar candy and a
great cake in the shape of a treble clef decorated in white and gold icing. She
smiled in satisfaction.

‘Too gorgeous to eat,’ Alicia
murmured, sipping her champagne cocktail - 1973 Bollinger poured over sugar
crystals saturated in Armagnac.

‘Tonight is going to be really
special,’ Georgiana purred. ‘He will be over the moon. Ecstatic. Brahms and
Mahler can eat their hearts out.’

‘So what have you got for him on
this special birthday?’ Alicia enquired in her lazy drawl, sipping her drink and
smoothing the skirt of her crimson silk gown with elegant white fingers.

Georgiana, ethereally beautiful
in draped cream chiffon by Givenchy, gave a husky laugh. ‘
Who
have I
got, you mean?’

Alicia stared down into her
drink. So Georgiana was still playing her little games. Her lips twitched.
‘Naturally. I should have remembered that you have superbly original taste when
selecting gifts for your husband.’

‘This one is exquisite, the best
yet,’ Georgiana said, her voice vibrating with satisfaction, ‘mid-twenties, tall,
elegant, stunningly beautiful.’

‘Good God!’ exclaimed Alicia, uncharacteristically
rather shocked. She raised a faintly sceptical eyebrow.

‘In fact, darling, recommending
that agency was the best thing you ever did for me,’ Georgiana told her friend.

‘Delighted to be of service,’
Alicia drawled. The name and address she had discreetly supplied to Georgiana,
following their momentous lunch meeting all that time ago she had in turn
acquired from a friend of her husband’s, a cabinet minister who was familiar
with the supply markets of just about everything you could think of.

Even the worldly Alicia had been
rather surprised at the ready supply of quality young women available to act as
escorts and sexual partners for men rich enough to hire them.

Georgiana had been utterly astonished.
Her first contact with the agency had been hesitant and nerve-wracking. But she
had soon been reassured by the voice on the other end of the telephone. A
cultured female voice, its owner showing warmth and understanding and no hint whatever
of moral censure.

After a tentative start Georgiana
had warmed to her theme. She required a sympathetic, refined young woman to
care for the needs of her husband whilst she herself recuperated from a
debilitating illness. She almost felt sorry for herself as she spoke these
words. Well after all she had suffered a miscarriage some years ago and had
never really been well since, and she was booked in to consult a new psychologist
in Harley Street the very next day.

The voice on the phone had been
most concerned for her. There had been a series of relevant and discreet
questions to be answered before further action could be taken, and this had
reassured Georgiana immensely. A registration fee was required - all credit
cards taken - of an amount which suggested exclusivity and a luxury product,
and this increased her confidence further.

The voice on the phone judged
that their agency had young women on their list who would meet Georgiana’s
requirements. A small list would be drawn up and Georgiana could then come into
their offices to view the details, and have sight of photographs and CVs.

Georgiana wondered at this point
if the whole thing was a big confidence trick for extracting money. But she was
a rich woman in her own right, quite apart from Xavier’s wealth, and was not
especially concerned about losing the amount paid over. Indeed she was more
than ready to take the risk for what seemed like a miraculous gift from heaven.

On the first occasion which took
place just after Xavier returned from the US tour which Georgiana had suddenly
quitted, it was agreed that the young woman hired would be included on the
guest list for one of Georgiana’s famous dinner parties for twelve. She would be
invited to join the pre-dinner cocktail party and if Georgiana had any reservations
about her suitability would leave discreetly on the nod from the hostess before
the company proceeded to the dining room. Her fee was to be paid in full
whether or not she stayed on to the dinner and a later private rendezvous with
Xavier. It was an arrangement Georgiana found both clever and sensitive,
enabling her to feel quite at ease about the project: freed from any anxiety or
embarrassing guilt should the hired girl prove ill matched to the occasion.

In the event things had gone
better than Georgiana could every have imagined. The young woman was poised and
charming, clearly at ease with the stylish company Georgiana had assembled in
her cream and gold drawing room.

She was coolly beautiful in an
understated English rose style, wore classic clothes and a minimum of jewellery
and make-up. She also had the long straight blonde hair which Xavier admired.

Watching her from across the room
Georgiana saw some reflections of herself twenty years back. But although there
were many similarities she was pleased to conclude that she still had the edge
over the younger woman for sheer perfection of bone structure. Georgiana had
the high cheek bones that made it impossible for her to appear anything but
beautiful. They were a God-given gift, rare and precious. And women with good
facial bones went on looking good right into old age she reflected, noting that
the younger woman’s looks were mainly based on full lips and heavy breasts which
would most likely collapse when she was in her forties.

Georgiana had arranged the
seating so that the young woman was on Xavier’s left at the head of the table,
whilst she presided regally at the opposite end, flanked by the Secretary
General of the Arts Council and a minor royal who was devoted to Xavier’s
conducting.

Standing now with Alicia, sipping
champagne before the first guests arrived, Georgiana recalled her mingled
feelings of nervousness and tense anticipation as she watched the young woman
gently seduce her husband over a simple English dinner of saddle of lamb and Normandy
apple tart.

She recalled the letter she had
written to him, placing it unobtrusively into his hand as the ladies retired to
the drawing room and left the men with their brandy and port.

It was a loving letter telling
him how much she adored him; how she longed to make him happy, how it would
please her to feel that he could gain the satisfaction she had denied him with
the lovely young guest she had included in her dinner party. She had let him
know that she would be staying with friends that night, that he should use the
privacy of the house to do whatever pleased him. She entreated him not to be
angry with her. She had acted out of the purest motives. But if her actions were
not to his liking she knew that he would forgive her. Etcetera, etcetera.

It was really rather a good
letter Georgiana thought, hitting just the right note for a man like Xavier who
would warm to the underlying tenderness in her letter. He would know, of
course, that her tongue had been partially in her cheek as she wrote and that
he might not feel inclined to go along with her generous offer. But she felt
reasonably confident that he would not be disapproving or insulted.

But until the men joined them she
had felt her nerves jagged with tension and anticipation.

One glance at Xavier’s face, a
swift connection with his glittering grey eyes, told her instantly that all was
well. He was not angry in the least. He was amused, entertained, intrigued. He
was going to play the game.

The image of Xavier and the
beautiful, fresh young woman naked in each other’s arms stirred Georgiana more
than actual sex had ever done. She hardly slept that night, envisaging the two
of them making love, conjuring up scenes of combined violence and tenderness
which made her heart beat thick and fast.  And she, Georgiana, had orchestrated
all of this herself.

‘She will be wearing hyacinth
blue,’ Georgiana told Alicia. ‘Xavier loves that colour – after cream and
white, of course,’ she added, fingering her own divine gown with a calculating
smile.

‘I hope Xavier’s up to it,’
Alicia commented drily. ‘After all he’s hardly a young man any more. And he’s
had a punishing few years on the work front.’

‘He’s the definitive workaholic,’
Georgiana commented dismissively. ‘The only ways he knows how to relax are by
being active – flying his plane, skiing and so on. I would guess that sex is
fairly low key in effort and stress compared with all of those.’

Alicia winced internally. This
casual mention of sex in relation to one’s husband and other women disturbed
her. She privately considered that the whole idea of finding high-class call
girls to satisfy your husband’s sexual hunger was a decidedly dangerous
business. And if you were hoping to stay married it was definitely asking for
trouble.

‘Where is Xavier by the way?’ she
asked, looking around the room which had now filled with an assortment of
glossy metropolitan celebrities drawn mainly from the worlds of art and
politics.

‘Hospital visiting. One of the
Tudor Philharmonic players he used to work with years ago had a heart attack
just after the concert last night. It’s touch and go.’

‘Oh, how tragic.’

‘Yes, I believe he’s only in his
early fifties. Still, to go out on a burst of Brahms…Xavier will probably be
madly envious.’

Alicia glanced at Georgiana and
reflected that she really was a rather unusual woman.

The party was in full swing when
Xavier eventually arrived. He stood in the doorway surveying the scene; a tall
remote figure, austere and chillingly inscrutable until he allowed his features
to register a gentle smile in acknowledgement of the respectful attention he
was commanding from every person present. All heads had turned, all eyes
watched.

Xavier had long ago taken for
granted his ability to walk into a room and command instant attention. He was
also perfectly capable of creating a complete silence if he chose, but tonight
was a celebration, a special birthday. This was a time to dig into his reserves
of charming affability. That was what Georgiana would want and this party was
more hers than his. He moved forward into the throng.