Master of Her Virtue - By Miranda Lee Page 0,12

she had no confidence in herself. She didn’t, though Leo could not understand why. She was very attractive, and obviously highly intelligent. Henry would not have employed her as his assistant if she wasn’t. Violet was a puzzle, all right.

‘Henry’s out in the kitchen,’ he explained. ‘With the caterers. Look, let’s pop that bag of yours in Henry’s bedroom. Unless you want to carry it with you all night.’

‘No, not really,’ she said, and followed him meekly into the master bedroom where he told her to put the bag on the nearest bedside table.

‘Henry won’t mind. You can use his bathroom too, when needs be. Save you sharing the main bathroom with the other guests,’ he informed her as he led her back out into the still-empty living room. ‘Henry!’ he called out. ‘Violet’s here.’

Henry waddled out of the kitchen, his gait somewhat impaired by the pillow tied around his waist underneath his brown woollen habit. Leo watched his father do a double-take when his eyes landed on Violet.

‘Good Lord!’ he exclaimed as he came up to her. ‘I didn’t recognise you there for a moment.’

Clearly, Violet didn’t usually look as good as she looked tonight. Yet Leo could see that she wasn’t just all clothes, hair and make-up. She had lovely dark eyes, porcelain skin, nice cheekbones, a lush mouth and a good body. At least, the parts Leo could see were good. Very good. He conceded that she might not be so perfect underneath that full skirt. She might very well be pear-shaped with huge thighs and thick ankles. Impossible to tell in that get-up.

‘I didn’t recognise you either,’ Violet replied.

Leo knew exactly what she meant. Henry had totally transformed himself from his usual trim, elegant self into a portly and rather drearily dressed Friar Tuck, even going to the length of covering his thick head of well-groomed silver hair with a brown wig which had the appropriate bald spot.

‘Yes, but not for the better, I fear,’ Henry said wryly. ‘Lord knows what possessed me. Whereas you, my dear girl, look absolutely gorgeous.’

There it was again, that blush, at which point Leo totally abandoned his earlier theory that Violet might be having a secret affair with a married man. Mistresses didn’t blush like that.

At the same time, he wasn’t willing to believe she was pure as the driven snow. She was too attractive for that to be the case. Real Snow Whites did not exist in this day and age. Despite looking little more than twenty tonight, she had to be...what? Twenty-five, twenty-six, maybe? University degrees took three or four years at least, after which she’d been working for his father for about four years.

No, his first theory had to be right. She’d had a bad sexual experience at uni which had knocked her for a six and made her retreat into herself. That would certainly explain her lack of social confidence.

Poor darling, he thought, and resolved to do his best to make sure she enjoyed herself at this party. He suspected it had been a big deal for Violet to come here tonight. Maybe the lure of the fireworks had finally overridden her shyness. Though, ‘shy’ was not quite the word he would use when describing her. A truly shy girl would not have shown that much cleavage...

The doorbell ringing again stopped Leo from ogling Violet’s exceptional breasts, bringing his eyes back up to Henry’s face.

‘Do you want me to answer that?’ he asked his father.

‘No, I’ll get it. You can pour Violet a glass of that champagne I bought especially for tonight.’

‘Do you like champagne?’ Leo asked her as he led her over to the corner bar. ‘You can have something else, if you like. Henry has a bit of everything behind here.’ Leaving Violet standing next to a bar stool, he made his way behind the black, granite-topped bar which had an assortment of glasses and bottles at the ready.

‘I’m not sure I’ve ever had real champagne,’ she said, making no attempt to sit on the stool. Understandable, given the width of her skirt.

‘Don’t worry. You’ll like it. Henry only ever buys the best.’

‘Have you always called your father Henry?’ she asked as he filled two crystal flutes with the chilled champagne from the ice bucket.

‘Ever since I went to uni. His idea, not mine. I suspect he didn’t want the women he fancied knowing he had a grown–up son.’ He handed one glass over to Violet before lifting the other to his lips.

‘I thought