In Want of a Wife? by Cathy Williams

relieved of their people carrier as soon as it drew up to the front door.
    The house itself was ablaze with lights. They must have given some of the rooms in the wing that had been closed off a bit of an airing, because surely there would be numerous people staying over? She didn’t know about Nicholas, but she suspected that Louis’s pulling power and influence was so far reaching that at the snap of his finger he would easily have been able to command a full house, even in Scotland in the depths of winter.
    Although it had to be said that the weather was behaving particularly kindly at the moment—bitterly cold, but blue skies had driven back the relentless rain and snow that always threatened any event at this time of year.
    They entered the house, which was packed with people, some familiar but most not. Waiters were scurrying through the crowds, holding their trays high, and through one of the doors drifted the sound of very mellow jazz music.
    In true festive spirit, the decorations were elaborate and seasonal, and had obviously been done by professionals working with a bottomless financial fund.
    Immediately upon entering, Rose excused herself so that she could locate Nicholas, and Maisie and Leigh disappeared into the throng, buoyant and excited at the prospect of spotting some celebrities.
    ‘You’re going to mingle, aren’t you, pet?’ her father asked as he spotted a golf buddy across the room.
    Lizzy gulped. She had been relieved of her coat by one of the army of helpers employed for the event, and now felt as conspicuous as an elephant in a china shop. But mingle she would, especially as her parents were on the point of deserting her. They had recognised friends and—her mother being her mother—she, like Maisie and Leigh, would be avid with curiosity about the hordes of people there, some of whom, she muttered, she already recognised from the telly.
    ‘I’d wager there are
lots
of eligible bachelors here, Lizzy,’ she muttered with a glint in her eye, which was Lizzy’s cue to propel herself through the crowds, stopping en route to grab a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.
    The house was extensive and the rooms on the ground floor were all opened up. In several of them, buffets had been laid out for anyone who wanted to help themselves. In the massive lounging area, she discovered the source of the jazz music, a live quartet. Because this room was less noisy and less demanding than every other room she had entered, she edged towards one of the free tables and allowed herself to keep time with the music, tapping her feet lightly, and smiling because she recognised the tune.
    She looked stunning, Louis thought, sipping his drink and lounging against the door. He wondered whether he had been looking out for her or whether he had just happened to notice her the second she had walked through the front door. He also wondered how it was that, although she was classically less beautiful than her sisters—in fact classically less beautiful than a lot of the women there, many of whom made it their business to look beautiful—she still managed to drag his attention like no one else.
    He also wondered whether she was the reason he had gone all out to ensure that this party, which technically wasn’t even his, was as elaborate and impressive as it undoubtedly was. He wasn’t the kind of guy who liked parties to start with, and would certainly never have instigated an extravaganza on this scale, least of all because there had been no need for his involvement in the first place.
    But he had overridden Nicholas’s far more modest suggestions and taken time out to implement his own.
    For her—to impress her like a kid with a teenage crush? Louis squashed that unsettling thought before it had time to take root. But, hell, she had been on his mind too much, resurfacing with annoying ease even when he attempted toapply reason by telling himself that she was little more than a nuisance.
    And now … His eyes