Cinderella and the Surgeon

He shot her a glance. ‘Yeah, but am I the hero, or the villain?’

Her hand threaded over the top of his, which was still on her leg. ‘Oh, I think we can safely say you’re the hero.’ Her eyes glinted. ‘But I’ll let you know if you slip.’

He couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Don’t worry. These people are actually fine. They realised pretty quickly that I wasn’t a good match for either Penelope or Priscilla.’

‘Penelope and Priscilla? That’s really their names?’ He could hear the disbelief in her voice.

‘Oh yes. That’s their names. They used to be part of a larger group of friends but I haven’t seen either of them in a while. Priscilla is a barrister and last I heard she was dating some millionaire businessman. Penelope has had three engagements—maybe four—each ring bigger than the last. I think she’s dating some actor now.’

Esther looked a little stunned. ‘Hmm, how the other half lives,’ she said quietly.

All of a sudden he realised she might be a bit intimidated by all this. He squeezed her thigh. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘Tonight should be fun.’ He wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure her, or himself.

‘Hmm...’ Esther fixed her eyes on the view outside. He could tell she was thinking. Had he read all this wrong?

He’d wanted to take her out. He’d wanted to take her somewhere special. Of course he did. And this invitation had given him the perfect excuse. Didn’t people like balls?

The girl he’d first met as a crabby midwife was sitting next to him looking like perfection, but he could see her knotting her hands in her lap. He hadn’t meant to make her uncomfortable. Or maybe it wasn’t the ball. Maybe it was the fact he’d just revealed a bit more about himself and his difficult relationship with his parents. He knew that she adored her mother, and maybe she hadn’t liked the fact he’d been so up front about how things had been totally different in his household.

He’d tried his best to forget about that part of his life. His heritage was always there. The title a daily reminder. But Harry actively chose not to use it on a regular basis. He introduced himself to everyone as Harry Beaumont, neonatal surgeon. Not as Harry Beaumont, Duke of Montrose.

As he pulled his car up the long, winding drive of Eglinton Hall, he’d already made up his mind. They’d only stay as long as they had to. If he had to, he could use a patient as an excuse for leaving. But the truth was, Billy, his mother and baby Jude were all doing well. He had four more surgeries scheduled in the next few days, with two babies being transferred from other hospitals, and two mothers whose babies had cardiac issues delivering in the Queen Victoria especially so their babies could go straight for surgery with Harry.

This was practically his only night off for a while, so he intended to use it well.

‘Busy place,’ murmured Esther as they joined the line of cars filing up to the main doors with liveried staff opening the doors, then whisking the cars away again.

Harry gave her a worried smile as they pulled up next. Waiting as she walked around the car and holding out his arm for her as they climbed the steps.

This night would be good. He’d make sure of it.

* * *

Cinderella had arrived in a horse-drawn carriage, and Esther arrived in an Aston Martin. She wasn’t sure which one was better.

Carly’s dress was a dream. She gathered the skirts in her hand as they climbed the stairs and stepped into the biggest reception hall she’d ever seen.

This whole place was magnificent. From the impressive sand-coloured stone building, the elegant windows and the four towers at each corner of the house. Except it wasn’t a house. Not in the normal sense. It was one of those gorgeous mansions owned by the rich, the very rich and the very, very rich. The size and scale reminded her of Kelvingrove Museum in Glasgow that she’d visited as a school kid when it housed Egyptian relics and dinosaur bones.

Who actually lived in a place like this?

The huge reception hall had tiny white and black tiles on the floor that looked like marble. The walls were covered in dark wood panels but the whole place felt light and airy, brightly illuminated by the biggest chandelier she’d ever seen.

Staff stood with silver trays of long-stemmed glasses at the entrance way to a room on the right. Harry nodded at a few people casually. He wasn’t stunned by these surroundings at all. He seemed quite at home as he led her through to the next room. Voices were low as people chatted and sipped their champagne.

Thank goodness for Carly. Although Esther was quite sure the dress she was wearing had probably cost a lot less than most of the other female guests’ gowns, she didn’t feel out of place at all. Most wore full-length gowns. Some beautiful. Some daring. And some just a little...strange.

But Esther’s felt fine in comparison. Nearly every gentleman wore a tux like Harry’s. She shot him a sideways glance. But every gentleman didn’t look half as good as Harry did. She could see him getting admiring glances from other women. But his arm had slid around her waist as they’d entered this room, and there it firmly remained. It made her heart flutter in a way she wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

‘Harry!’ came a deep voice near to them. A tall man came over, arm outstretched, and shook Harry’s hand enthusiastically, gripping his arm with his own hand. ‘I’m so glad you’re here.’ He leaned over conspiratorially. ‘You can always help me hide when it gets too much.’

Harry’s smile was broad and genuine. ‘Lord Breckenridge—David—I’d like you to meet my good friend Esther McDonald.’

The older man turned towards her, shaking her hand just as enthusiastically as he’d shook Harry’s. ‘It’s a real pleasure—any friend of Harry’s is always welcome.’ He turned and waved over to a woman behind them. ‘Sabrina, Harry’s here.’

The woman was dressed in black satin, her grey hair pinned elegantly back. She didn’t walk; instead, she seemed to glide over to meet them, encompassing Harry in a hug. He kissed both of the woman’s cheeks. ‘So nice to see you.’

After his comments in the car she’d wondered what to expect. But his affection for this pair was obvious, and Esther was secretly relieved. What must it have been like to grow up with parents who treated you as if you were merely part of the furniture?

The woman wasn’t only elegant, she had an old-world charm about her. She spoke to Esther, asking her questions about her job, and seemed genuinely interested in her answers.

For the first time, the initial fear of fitting in, in a place like this, finally started to leave Esther.

‘It’s so nice to see Harry bring a friend,’ Lady Brackenridge said in her ear.

‘Thank you for having me.’ Esther smiled. ‘Harry told me you have the ball every year in memory of your son. I was so sorry to hear about him.’

Lady Brackenridge put her hand on Esther’s arm and gave it a little squeeze. ‘It was a long time ago. But I still miss him every day. Just like I should.’ She put her hand up to her heart. ‘Harry and Gavin were such good friends. I’ve always looked out for him.’

There was genuine affection in her eyes and Esther spoke carefully. ‘He seems so comfortable around you both—and comfortable here too. That’s nice. He told me about his difficult relationship with his father.’

‘He did?’ Lady Breckenridge’s eyes went wide. She glanced at Harry and her head gave a little nod. Her lips gave a h

int of a smile and she shot Esther an approving look. ‘I’m glad. Harry is nothing like his father—or his mother for that matter. I always hoped that Harry and his father would make up before the duke died. But it wasn’t to be. Old age didn’t suit the duke. It just made him more ill-tempered and irrational than before, and poor Harry always bore the brunt of it.’ She leaned towards Esther and cupped her cheek. ‘You, my girl, might just be the joy that Harry has always been looking for.’

Esther jerked a little at the unexpected affectionate movement. It made her stomach flutter, partly with warmth, and partly with the fear of the expectation that seemed to have just descended on her. Lady Brackenridge spun around as someone came up behind her, greeting her loudly.

There was a loud announcement at a door just ahead. ‘Guests, you are kindly invited to take your seats for the Avistock Charity Ball.’

Harry appeared out of thin air and held out his elbow for Esther again. She was still digesting what Lady Brackenridge had said, a tiny swell of panic in her chest. This was temporary. This was just supposed to be fun. She slipped her arm through his and followed the crowds through the double doors.

The ballroom was opulent, decorated in gold and white. Large round tables, covered in white linen with twenty seats at each, covered the expanse of the room. Harry gave their names and they were given a table number. As they sat down, Esther picked up the little card in front of them.

It was a programme for the auction and her stomach muscles tightened. Of course. A charity auction. Realisation flooded over her as other guests took their seats at the table.

Of course. A charity auction with a programme of items up for bids. A shopping trip at one of London’s most exclusive stores. Four seats at an extremely popular football cup final. Four seats and travel to an even more popular European football cup final. A box at a show in New York that had a years-long waiting list for tickets. VIP tickets to a gig by one of the biggest pop stars.

Esther’s hand went automatically to her champagne glass, which she instantly downed—her mouth had never felt quite so dry. One of the staff placed some plates of hors d’oeuvres on the table. Esther hid her smile. The food was actually so small it could hardly be seen.