I hated it instantly.
Meg squeezed my arm and I smoothed my face. “It’s very loud,” I called over the noise.
“Everyone’s here,” she said, gazing around. “Everyone.”
“Everyone in the world, it seems like.”
She gave me a mock-glare. “Let’s get a drink.”
I let her take me the bar where we were served by a beautiful blonde with a lilting Slavic accent. Meg searched the room over the rim of a glass of gin and tonic the size of a goldfish bowl. The bartender handed me my tumbler and I sipped the single malt appreciatively, grateful that there was at least something here I could enjoy.
“There’s Mayor Frederick’s son,” Meg said in my ear, nodding over to a man who was standing at one of the tables. “And he’s brought his mistress. How interesting.” I made a noise of acknowledgement and took another mouthful. Meg sipped too, continuing to scan the crowd. “There,” she said, pointing. “Olivia Ogdell-Paige. And I think that’s her brother. Come on.”
She slipped away without even checking to see if I was following. I finished my drink, willing the alcohol to give me strength, ordered another then wove through the crowd to join her. She was shaking hands with a very tall, very thin woman in lavender and white with platinum hair pulled into what looked like a painfully-tight chignon.
“Ah, Miss Carlisle, of course. So glad you could make it. This is my brother, Jon,” she said, indicating the hard-faced man next to her, who was so much shorter and stockier that nothing except the identical way they watched everything like hungry hawks would have convinced me they were related.
“Mr. Ogdell.” Meg held out her hand. “It’s a pleasure.”
“Pleasure’s all mine,” the squat, mousey-haired man replied, his mouth turning up as his narrow eyes flickered over Meg.
“I think I told you at the conference that Jon’s firm is looking for representation,” Olivia said. “I’ve recommended your firm, Joseph & Arthur.”
“That’s wonderful,” Meg said. “We are expanding right now, so soon will have even more capacity to—”
“Yes, we’re starting another subsidiary,” the short man interrupted. “Redeveloping old property in the north, mainly. I heard J&A might be a good fit.”
“I’m certain we will be,” Meg said with her warmest smile, subtly pinching my thigh. “Mr. Arthur was hoping to attend to discuss this in more detail with you but unfortunately couldn’t make it tonight. But this is my friend, Alec MacCarthy.”
Both the Ogdells turned their suddenly slack faces toward me.
“Well, I owe you a drink, Olivia,” Ogdell said, holding out his hand to me. “The legendary Viscount of Aviemore himself.”
“‘Alec’ is fine,” I said flatly, shaking his wide, hot hand.
“You’ll have to forgive us, my lord,” Olivia said, her pale eyes round and shining. “But this is like meeting a ghost…or someone from a storybook.”
“The title really isn’t necessary,” I replied, keeping my voice level with an effort. “And I promise the reality is less than fantastical.”
“Alec doesn’t stand on ceremony,” Meg put in. “But he was so pleased to be invited along tonight.”
“Did you know our father knew yours quite well?” Olivia went on, not even looking at Meg. “He was a barrister on a number of your father’s cases.”
“Christ, yes, I remember old Judge MacCarthy,” Ogdell said, eyeing me with wary curiosity. “Dad had him over for dinner once or twice. Hard-assed bugger. Scared me shitless.”
“He was a formidable man.”
Ogdell barked a laugh. “I’ll say. Dad said he was the toughest old boot to ever take the bench. There was no getting anything past him. He meant it as a compliment, of course. We were all terribly saddened to hear about what happened.”
“Yes,” I responded flatly.
“You’ve not followed in his footsteps then, Alec?” Olivia inquired sweetly.
“I’m not interested in the law.”
“Alec runs his own business, restoring classic cars,” Meg put in.
“Ah, now we’re talking,” Ogdell beamed. “Dad’s got that old Jaguar up on blocks in the back garage, gathering dust. Such a waste. Where are you based, Alec? Maybe I could have it sent through for you to take a look.”
“My workshop’s on my estate,” I said after a pause. “Glenroe Motors. You can google it.”
I wasn’t sure if I imagined the gleam that came into his eye. “I shall.”
“Quite a turn-out tonight,” Meg said, gesturing at the around the bar.
“Yes, better than I expected,” the short man observed. “With all that rigmarole on the door, I half-expected everyone to turn back.”
“Don’t be flippant, Jon,” Olivia said with a delicate frown. “People want to feel safe. That’s all.”
“Lure can’t afford bad press in its first damn week,” Ogdell muttered, with the air of one repeating a much-trodden line of argument. “If anyone gets a sniff that we’re screening members—”
“It wouldn’t stand up in court for a second,” his sister interrupted. “Health and safety legislation is perfectly clear.”
“I don’t want haemos in my club any more than you do,” Ogdell grated, whilst Meg and I awkwardly pretended not to listen. “But they’ve got representation now. They’re passing laws as we speak.”
“Until they make it illegal, Lure is a human-only club. I’ll not have my members at risk. Alec”—Olivia pointedly turned to me—“why don’t I show you the rest of it? Let these two talk business.”
She took my arm and led me away before I could answer. I cast a longing look back but Meg had already drawn Jon Ogdell into conversation.
“Now, tell me all about Glenroe,” Olivia crooned as we passed into a smaller room with lissome girls on pedestals wearing nothing but tacked-on gemstones and undulating in time to slow, swaying music. “I’ve only ever seen it in pictures.”
“It leaks,” I muttered.
She waved for the attention of a waiter. “There are parts of it that date back to the sixteenth century, I believe? And are there really caves under the house?”
I watched her narrowly, but all I could see in her face was polite curiosity. “Yes.”
“Used for everything from hiding priests to smuggling, if I remember my history.” Her eyes glinted. “Dad often talked about the Cairngorms. A beautiful spot. He loved the hiking—and the hunting, of course. You must have had a wonderful childhood.”
Luckily, our drinks arrived so I was able to sidestep replying. I sipped the whisky and pretended to watch the nearest dancer as she did something inventive with a pair of LED streamers. Olivia continued to chatter sweetly to me, practiced nothings that kept the conversation going without me having to make any input at all. I recognized the tactic from a hundred formal gatherings I had been forced to attend growing up and was more than pleased to let her think she was charming me whilst I concentrated on my drink.
“Do you want to get away from the crowds?” she said when I’d emptied my glass. She was obviously watching me closely.