The young man checked his coded stock list and said, “Fourteen thousand pounds, sir,” as if it were loose change for a customer who shopped at Cellini.
Cyrus whistled through his teeth.
“I agree,” said Virginia, as she admired the ring on her finger. “I expected it to be far more, and it certainly would have been, had we gone to Cartier or Asprey. How clever of you, Cyrus, to have chosen Cellini.” Cyrus hesitated. “If someone wanted to marry me,” she said taking his hand, “this is exactly the sort of ring I would want.”
“God damn it you’re right, Ginny,” he said, taking out his check book. “Wrap it up.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Cyrus wrote out a check and placed it on the counter. “Do you have a men’s room?”
“Yes, sir, down the stairs on the right. You can’t miss it.”
As Cyrus slowly pushed himself up out of his chair, Virginia thought he might. She stared lovingly down at the ring before removing it from her finger and placing it in its smart leather box, also embossed with a gold “C.”
“If I were to change my mind...” she said casually.
“Just come back whenever it’s convenient, my lady. We’ll always be happy to accommodate you.”
Virginia was pulling on her leather gloves when Cyrus reappeared. She gave him one look before saying, “I think we’d better get you back to your hotel, my darling. Lucky it’s so close.”
“Good idea, Ginny,” said Cyrus as he took her arm.
The assistant handed her a small bag which contained the even smaller leather box, before accompanying them to the door. As she stepped out onto the street, Virginia checked the opening times printed discreetly on the window.
“Ellie May is going to be so excited,” Virginia said as they walked slowly down Old Bond Street toward the Ritz.
“All thanks to you,” said Cyrus, clinging firmly onto her while she guided him across Piccadilly.
“I always enjoy afternoon tea at the Ritz,” said Virginia. “But you may not feel up to it.”
“Of course I’m up to it,” said Cyrus, staggering unsteadily up the steps and into the hotel.
“Perhaps the first thing you should do,” she added as they passed the tearoom, “is put Ellie May’s ring in the safe in your room.”
“You think of everything, Ginny. Let me get my key.”
When Virginia saw the size of the Nelson Suite, she suggested they take tea in its large drawing room rather than go back downstairs to the crowded Palm Court.
“Suits me,” said Cyrus. “Why don’t you make the order while I go to the john?”
Virginia picked up the phone and ordered tea and buttered scones for two. She then took one of the bottles of Maker’s Mark out of the bag and placed it in the center of the table. When Cyrus walked back into the drawing room it was the first thing he saw. “Where did you get that?”
“I didn’t tell you, it’s also my favorite.”
“Then let’s have a small one to celebrate,” said Cyrus.
When Virginia saw what Cyrus meant by a small one, she was glad she’d ordered two bottles.
A gentle knock on the door and a trolley was wheeled in. A smartly dressed waitress set up tea for two on the table by the sofa. Virginia poured two cups, as Cyrus sat down next to her. She sipped her tea while Cyrus poured himself another whisky. He clearly had no interest in Earl Grey. She moved a little closer, letting her skirt ride up well above her knees. He stared down at her legs, but didn’t move. She edged even closer and placed a hand on his thigh. He quickly downed his glass and refilled it, which gave her enough time to undo a couple of buttons of her silk blouse, while moving her other hand farther up his leg. He didn’t resist when she began to unbuckle his cowboy belt and unbutton his shirt.
“What about Ellie May?” he murmured.
“I’m not going to tell her, if you don’t,” whispered Virginia, as she pulled down the zip on his jeans and placed a hand inside his pants. He took another swig of whisky straight from the bottle, before lunging at her.
Virginia continued to focus on the job at hand and, after she had pulled off his boots and socks, she deftly removed the rest of his clothing, until he was naked. She looked down at him and smiled. She’d never seen anything so small. He took another swig and slipped off the sofa and onto the floor, his head narrowly missing the table. Virginia sank down onto the carpet beside him. She was about to pull him on top of her, when he passed out. She rolled him over gently, so he was sprawled on the carpet.
She jumped up, ran to the door, opened it a few inches and hung the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the outside doorknob. She returned to Cyrus’s side, fell to her knees and, gathering all her strength, placed her arms under his shoulders and dragged him across the carpet and into the bedroom. She left him on the floor as she pulled back the sheets and blanket on the vast king-sized bed. She then knelt down beside him and, with one final Herculean effort, pulled him up off the floor and onto the mattress, grateful that he was only five foot five. He was snoring contentedly as she covered him gently with the sheet and blanket. She filled another glass with Maker’s Mark and placed it on the small table by his side of the bed. Virginia then closed the bedroom door, drew the heavy curtains and turned out all the lights one by one until the room was in total darkness.
When she finally climbed into bed beside him, she was only wearing one thing.
14
Virginia spent most of the night wide awake, listening to Cyrus’s thunderous snores. He tossed and turned, and when he did wake, it was only for a few moments before the snores erupted again. She couldn’t believe Ellie May had ever slept with this man.
Virginia lay there, for hour upon hour, realizing it could be a long night. Not only was Cyrus drunk, but probably suffering from jet lag. She spent her time preparing a plan that would be set into motion the moment he awoke. She even rehearsed the lines she would deliver until they were word perfect.
He woke just after six the next morning, but it was some time before he properly entered this world, which gave Virginia time to carry out an undress rehearsal. A few minutes before seven, Cyrus stretched out an arm and, after some fumbling, managed to switch on his bedside light, the cue for Virginia to close her eyes, turn over and let out a soft sigh. When Cyrus looked around and saw her lying next to him, she heard a voice say, “What the hell?”
Virginia yawned and stretched her arms, pretending to wake slowly. When she opened her eyes, she was greeted with a vision of Bottom: an unshaven face, mouth wide open, sweating profusely and stinking of whisky. All Cyrus needed was a pair of ass’s ears to complete the image.
“Good morning, my darling,” said Virginia. She leaned across and kissed him, catching a full waft of his morning breath, but she didn’t recoil, just smiled, and wrapped her arms around his damp, podgy body. She began to move a hand up his leg.
“You were magnificent last night, my little dumpling,” she said. “A lion, a veritable lion.”
“What happened last night?” Cyrus managed, snatching at the sheet to cover his naked body.
“You were unstoppable. I don’t know how many times we made love, and it was so romantic when you told me you’d never met anyone like me and we must spend the rest of our lives together.”
“I said what?”
“‘But what about Ellie May?’ I insisted. ‘How could I even think about Ellie May now I’ve met a goddess,’ you replied. ‘I shall make you the Queen of Louisiana.’ Then you got out of bed, fell on one knee and asked me to be your wife.”
“I did what?”
“You proposed, and I confess I was overwhelmed by the thought of spending the rest of my life with you in Baton Rouge. You then placed the ring on my finger.” She held up her left hand.