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‘I DO NOT WANT A THREESOME.’

Heads turn.

‘Please, Freddy,’ says Kat. ‘Don’t make me wait. I’m in pain.’ She hits him with big, green eyes and Freddy is undone.

‘Okay, darling.’ Freddy offers his arms with a world-weary sigh. ‘Climb aboard the Freddy Express.’

‘Thank you.’ Kat falls against his chest. ‘Let’s get this over with.’

CHAPTER37

Freddy lifts me cleanly into his arms with ease, and I immediately doubt his story about ‘only three sessions a week in the gym.’

Luckily, I don’t need to hold onto my hat. Because it’s pinned on.

‘Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen. Mind your backs.’ Freddy carries me out into the sunshine, shouldering his way through the crowd. ‘Crippled lady coming through. She can’t walk, bless her. Multiple Sclerosis. She’s not drunk. Repeat. She’s not drunk.’

Freddy’s chest feels like a lump of shaped granite. I rest my head on his shoulder. By the time we reach the taxi rank, my joints feel warmer and less painful. Freddy lowers me, holding me steady. His eyes are sort of sparkly, like we’re sharing a joke.

‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘See you back in London?’

‘Don’t be stupid,’ says Freddy. ‘I can’t just put you in a taxi and leave. I’m coming with you.’

‘No you’re not,’ I say. ‘I’ve had MS for ten years. I travel by myself all the time.’

‘I’m going with you.’

‘Back to London? When there are so many good-looking women to flirt with? Come on.’

‘I don’t care about those women, darling. I care about you.’

It’s such an odd thing for Freddy to say that we both stand in awkward silence for a moment. Then Freddy says, ‘Oh what am I talking about? You’ll be okay. You’d be okay in a pond of crocodiles. In fact, it’s the crocodiles I’d be worried about.’ He leans over me to bang the roof of a taxi. ‘Bloomsbury, my friend. As fast as you can.’

Freddy helps me into the taxi and pushes my cane into the footwell. Then he hands the driver a sheaf of banknotes. ‘Take care of her, driver. If you don’t, I’ve got your registration number and an illegal firearm.’

The driver laughs uneasily, because it doesn’t sound like Freddy is joking.

CHAPTER38

As Freddy watches Kat’s taxi drive away, he realises three things. One, he doesn’t want Kat to marry desperate Ahmet or politically calculating Marcus. Two, he wishes he were in the taxi with Kat. And three – he’s in big trouble. Because of numbers one and two.

Truthfully, Freddy was in trouble the moment he lifted Kat into his arms. He felt exposed. All his vulnerabilities behind the watch and suit were wide open, and he saw Kat too. Sheneedsto be looked after. It’s so obvious. And he wants to be the man to do it. The revelation is both beautiful and terrifying.

As the taxi becomes a spec in the distance, Freddy’s chest aches. He suspects an emotional injury rather than angina, and he does not have a clue how to handle it. His heart is pounding, and he seems unable to disentangle himself from the memory of Kat’s warm, golden-green eyes.

A drink. That will help. And a casual fling to rid himself of many, many confusing feelings.

Freddy heads back into Ascot, making a straight line through the crowd to the champagne bar. That’s when he notices a confused Ahmet, whirling around on the spot with a wheelchair.

‘Freddy!’ Ahmet looks both lost and relieved. ‘There you are. Where’s Kat?’

‘I just put her in a taxi. Let’s have a drink, Ahmet.’ Freddy slings a heavy arm around his shoulder. ‘You and I need to have a little talk.’

‘A talk? What about?’

‘Life,’ says Freddy. ‘The universe and everything. I’ll put this wheelchair somewhere safe. You get the drinks in.’

‘What drink would you like, Freddy?’ Ahmet looks nervous. ‘I assume … a pint of Appleton’s cider?’