Dirty Aristocrat

The doorbell rang.

We both looked at each other.

‘Robert was a good judge of character. He could see right through people and he liked Ivan,’ she whispered.

‘Thank you for telling me that,’ I said and went to answer the door. The driver was downstairs. It was time to go.

I walked towards Ivan in a daze. Angela had brought a bouquet and I was conscious of my hands gripping its stem hard enough to snap it. There were only a handful of people. I could not

even look at them. The photographers from Hello were there too. My legs felt shaky.

There he was! So straight and tall and …

A thought popped into my head, would a day ever come when I could look at him and not fall all over myself at how hot he was? The answer was immediate and cruel. Sure honey. When he

leaves you.

I looked into Ivan’s face and my vision blurred. My eyes were filling with tears. What the hell? I wasn’t going to cry in front of these people and Hello photographers for God’s sake! I

felt so stupid. I didn’t even know why I was crying. I had no tissues, and tears started rolling down my cheeks.

When I reached his side someone had already passed him a scrap of tissue. He gently brushed my cheeks with it.

‘Don’t cry, babe. Marriage to me won’t be that bad,’ he teased, his eyes kind and warm.

I laughed shakily.

He took my hand. I clung to it like a life jacket in a swirling sea. His hand was warm and strong. He would never know how much strength I took from it. The ceremony began. I dutifully

parroted everything I was told to repeat.

‘I do solemnly declare that I know not of any lawful impediment why I, Tawny Maxwell may not be joined in matrimony to Ivan de Greystoke.’

The registrar asked. ‘Are you, Ivan de Greystoke, free lawfully to marry Tawny Maxwell?

‘I am,’ he replied.

Then he smiled and made his vow.

‘I, Ivan de Greystoke take you, Tawny Maxwell to be my lawful wedded wife.’

The registrar looked at me.

‘I, Tawny Maxwell take you, Ivan de Greystoke to be my lawful wedded husband.’

That was the end of the statutory declarations. We slipped rings on each other’s fingers and Ivan pressed his mouth on mine while flash-bulbs went off. He lifted his head and I looked

dazedly into his face. He was like a stranger. Yet I loved him. He was my first love. He was my first for everything. At that moment I loved him so much I couldn’t even imagine ever

loving anyone else. He curved his hand around my waist and turned me towards the small group of people gathered there.

His mother was the first to congratulate us. She was immaculate in an apricot dress suit.

‘Well done, darling,’ she said to her son. Kissing me on my cheek, she whispered, ‘You look absolutely beautiful, my dear. I wish you every happiness.’

There were more photos at the steps outside before we were driven to the Ritz. In the car, Ivan took my hand. ‘Are you OK?’

‘Yes,’ I said.

‘Good. We only have to down a couple of glasses of champagne and eat a few canapés then we can escape.’

‘Where will we escape to?’ I asked, not expecting the kind of answer that he gave me.

‘It’s a surprise.’

‘Oh?’

‘I’m giving you a wedding night you will never forget no matter how long you live.’

No matter how bad I felt, a few minutes in his presence always made me experience the truth of the saying, it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. No matter

what happens I will never regret how he has made me feel. I smiled at him.

‘Are you bigging up your cock again?’ I mocked.

He laughed. ‘No, I’m taking you to a very special place. It’s a secret club and it’s by invitation only.’

I raised my eyebrows. ‘And they invited you?’

‘Obviously.’

‘Is it another sex club?’

‘Sort of. It was set up by a reclusive, mysterious, billionaire Duke. It is not a sex club in the way you are thinking. People go there to have sex, yes, but you can’t go there if you

don’t already have a partner to have sex with, and while you are there you will never see another patron of the club.’

‘Hmmm. Where is it?’

‘The Square Mile.’

‘Where all the money is.’

He glanced at me and flashed a smile. ‘Exactly.’

‘What is it called?’

‘The Blue Butterfly.’

‘I like the name. Pretty.’

‘The name comes from Puccini’s opera adaptation of Madame Butterfly. Do you know the story of Madame Butterfly?’

I shook my head.

‘It’s based on a Japanese tragedy. In 1904, U.S. Naval Officer Pinkerton rents a house on a hill in Nagasaki, where he intends to live with a fifteen year old girl called Cio-cio san,

which means butterfly in Japanese. He meant it only as a temporary marriage of convenience. His real intention was to leave her once he found himself a proper American bride but, of

course, poor Butterfly falls deeply in love with him, and it all ends tragically with her slitting her own throat behind a curtain, and Pinkerton taking their small son back to the

states.’