He continued his sweep of the room.
‘Over there is Piggy Allsop; he’s some big noise in haulage. Deadly dull, but pots of money.’ He glanced down at Anna’s legs. ‘Piggy likes very skinny girls, though, so he’s probably out.’ He nodded towards a good-looking man in his late fifties. ‘And that fellow in the red tie is Peter Rees. He works in oil and engineering.’
Anna’s heart skipped a beat. Peter. Could he be Amy’s Peter?
‘And is he . . . attached? To a girl, I mean?’
Johnny looked at her, a wicked smile on his lips.
‘Do you like him?’
‘Perhaps. Is he single?’
He shrugged. ‘Wife back in Gloucestershire of course, horrible old trout, although you didn’t hear that from me. But no lady friends, as far as I know. I think he got his fingers burned a little while ago.’
‘Oh. What happened to her?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said, looking away from her. ‘Sometimes they can get a little clingy. Come on, I’ll introduce you.’
Peter was standing on his own, swilling bourbon around a glass as they approached.
‘Peter, I’d like you to meet Natasha. Natasha is a fan of the arts.’
‘Really?’ said Peter, smiling at her. ‘That’s very interesting.’
Johnny gave Anna’s arm a squeeze. ‘I’ll leave you two to chat,’ he said and melted into the crowd.
‘Actually, I’m very dull,’ said Anna. ‘Johnny was just trying to talk me up.’
‘Oh, I’m sure that’s not true. What branch of the arts are you in?’
‘Sculpture, oils, the Renaissance,’ she said vaguely, hoping he wouldn’t be a collector and call her bluff. ‘I want to hear all about you,’ she said quickly, touching his arm. ‘What do you do?’
‘I’m on the board of Dallincourt.’
‘Oh really? What’s that?’
‘We’re an engineering firm, largely we build oil rigs, do the casing for mines. Things like that. Rather dull.’ He smiled.
‘What do you do there?’
‘COO,’ he said with a hint of pride.
Anna gestured at the room with her wine glass.
‘So do you come to these things often?’
‘Well, Jamie Swann and I have interests in common, so we’re often to be found close by, yes.’
‘Business interests?’ asked Anna.
‘Sometimes,’ smiled Peter. ‘Tell me, has Johnny given you the grand tour?’
He linked his arm through hers and led her towards the rear of the house, where there was another comfortable lounge full of sofas and alcoves, the lighting somewhat more subdued.
‘This is the red room, designed by Kenneth Sway in the nineteenth century, I believe.’ Anna looked up towards the roof, which was dominated by a crystal chandelier suspended from an elaborate gold-leafed ceiling rose in the shape of an eagle in flight. ‘I thought you might be drawn to that,’ laughed Peter. ‘It’s magnificent, isn’t it?’
They walked on through an orangery looking down on to moonlit gardens, then back into the hallway.