Last year she’d quite enjoyed Henley Royal Regatta—but then last year Hugh hadn’t been able to leave London. He’d been busy with a party of friends over from the States and had rung Seb to cancel. She’d quite enjoyed a day people-watching: handsome, athletic men wandering around and foolish ones drinking far too much. Ben, by virtue of now living in the quintessential English town of Henley, had become an associate member of the world-famous Leander Club and had taken them to tea. It had been pleasant.
This year, Hugh held court. When he was home everything always revolved around him and it irritated her. Even as she agreed to fall in with whatever he suggested it bothered her he should lead everyone so effortlessly. As soon as he said he was going to set up the picnic she could see the sparkle leave his girlfriend’s conversation.
‘Are you sure Calantha can spare you?’ she asked pointedly as Hugh joined them.
His eyes gleamed with amusement, evidently aware of the waspish edge to her voice. ‘I’m sure she’ll manage,’ he responded blandly.
‘Did you ask if she wanted to be left with people she scarcely knows?’
‘Do you think I should go back and ask her?’
Amy pulled her cardigan further onto her shoulders. ‘Do what you like. It’s none of my business.’ She looked back towards the group, now rudderless. Calantha’s long blonde hair blew in the breeze and the silk fabric outlined the shape of her legs. Into the silence she couldn’t stop herself asking, ‘How come she doesn’t freeze in that dress? It’s hardly a balmy summer day, is it?’
‘It’s cold, but women do that kind of thing.’
‘But not our Amy,’ Seb cut in, putting his arm around his sister.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’ve dressed for comfort.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ she asked, shaking off his patronising arm.
‘Nothing.’
‘Just that I’m not dressed like Calantha.’
Seb looked surprised. ‘Well, you’re not, are you? I’ve never seen you wear anything like Callie chooses.’
Amy glanced down at her offending simple tunic dress with its demure circular neckline. If it had been made for a petite frame it would have been more flattering, but she was acutely aware how out of proportion it was on her. Certainly it would never be described as glamorous. She felt the sting of female pride behind her brown eyes and lifted her chin defiantly.
How dared Seb do this to her?
Unthinkingly cruel. She looked like what she was—someone who’d been eking out her existence on a student loan. What did Seb expect her to wear? He knew she’d had no financial help from their father at all with her degree. Being so much younger than him, she’d felt the full force of their father’s bankruptcy whereas he’d been cosseted through his degree and launched on the London job market.
‘Shut up, Seb. She looks fine.’
Hugh’s intervention just made her feel worse. She supposed he meant it kindly, but ‘fine’ was scarcely the way she wanted to be thought of. She knew her tunic dress did nothing for her figure. It flattened her breasts to practically nothing and made her legs look too thin.
‘She doesn’t look fine,’ Seb said with a searching look at her. ‘You know, Hugh, it’s not going to work. This thing about Amy going up to London with you. It’s a great idea, but it’s not going to work unless we do something about her clothes. If you think this dress is bad, you should see the other things she wears.’
Both men turned to look at her as they walked and their scrutiny wasn’t flattering. If the floor could have opened up and swallowed her she’d gladly have disappeared. Her embarrassment, humiliation and total mortification were paralysing. It was all the worse for being true. Seb’s words continued to whirl about her with a hateful accuracy.
‘She can’t go into an office dressed like that. I’ve never seen any woman walk around Harpur-Laithwaite dressed like that. And while we’re at it she’d better do something about her hair. She looks about sixteen.’
‘She does look young,’ Hugh agreed, looking thoughtful.
‘You needn’t talk about me as though I’m not here.’
‘If she’s going to be any kind of a match for Sonya, she ought, at least, to look the part,’ Seb continued relentlessly. ‘Chief Executive’s wife and all. She’ll walk straight past her.’
The pain in her chest was becoming uncomfortable as she tried to keep up. She wasn’t part of their conversation, but since she was the subject of it she felt they should show more consideration of her. ‘Can you walk a little slower?’
‘Sorry,’ Hugh said, immediately slackening his pace. ‘We were just saying it’s a pity you don’t look older.’
Amy forced a smile to her face, but the hurt radiated from her. ‘Can’t do much about that.’ She turned to look at Seb. ‘You know perfectly well I don’t have any money. What I do have is plenty of debts.’
He had the grace to look a little ashamed of himself. ‘There’s no need to get defensive, Amy. I’m only saying it like it is.’
‘Are you?’ she said dangerously.
Seb huffed. ‘Well, it’s true. You will need to power-dress for Harpur-Laithwaite. Hugh will have to buy you something to wear.’
‘How kind of him. Do I get to choose my clothes myself or will they just arrive?’
Hugh’s soft laugh only made her feel more irritated. This was personal. This hurt.
Seb laughed back at him and placed a heavy arm around her shoulders. ‘Stop acting like a ruffled pigeon. It isn’t like you to get moody.’
She shook him off. ‘Only if I have extreme provocation. It might have something to do with the fact it’s my birthday today and, please—’ she held up a hand to stop him speaking ‘—don’t even begin to tell me you forgot because I’ve already worked that out for myself.’
His expression was comical and the look of total horror on his face went some way to assuaging the cold, resentful feeling she’d had since breakfast. She heard the small, muttered expletive and saw the look of entreaty he cast at Hugh.
‘Look, Amy, I’m sorry,’ Seb began with a nervous laugh. ‘I’ve got a hell of a memory.’
‘Fine. But I think the least you can do is not annihilate me completely. I’m perfectly aware I’ve nothing to wear. Believe me, it’s very boring dragging on the same pair of jeans each day and feeling grateful for the odd charityshop find.’ There was silence and Amy felt vaguely pleased at herself. ‘Now, let’s just set up this picnic and let the subject drop.’
She was aware of the closet glances passing between the two men, but she decided to ignore them. If they felt uncomfortable—good. She demanded very little of her brother, but his reminding her how unsuitably dressed she was for Henley’s stylish regatta was a cut too much.
It wasn’t as though she’d particularly wanted to go this year. It had been a casual assumption she’d join them and truthfully the alternative was worse. No one wanted to spend a birthday alone. She felt the hot prick of emotion behind her eyes and brushed away such foolish weakness with her hand.
Hell. This was embarrassing. In front of Hugh. She never cried. Certainly not over a lack of dresses or money. Just today she felt unbelievably lonely. One small, insignificant little boat cast adrift on a very big sea.
Hugh quietly passed her his handkerchief. She glanced up at him, surprised. His expression was soft and, for once, he wasn’t