He smiled, slipping an arm around my shoulder. Go on, a voice whispered. Tell him about Darcy now. We walked past the pool. “I’ve had a great time,” he said. He took me into his arms and he kissed me. I knew I should resist, but it was such a practiced, gentle kiss—and what girl would turn down the chance to be kissed by Craig Hart?

“Excuse me. Your ladyship,” a man’s voice called from the darkness. “Sorry to interrupt, but I’ve a young man at the front desk asking for you. I didn’t like to send him out to the bungalow alone. Not at this time of night.”

Oh Lord. It was obviously the wretched Algie again. Probably Tubby had left and he was trying to cadge a place to stay now. Or it might even be Tubby himself, angling for that interview with Mummy. “Tell him to come back tomorrow morning. I’m busy now,” I said.

“I can see that for myself,” said a second man’s voice. One that I recognized.

And to my utter horror Darcy stepped into the torchlight.

Chapter 15

THE BEVERLY HILLS HOTEL

THURSDAY, AUGUST 2, 1934

I broke away from Craig Hart, my mouth open with disbelief.

“Darcy. What on earth are you doing here?” I stammered.

“More to the point, what have you been doing here?” Darcy was staring at me coldly. “No. Don’t answer that. I can see for myself perfectly well. ‘Don’t bother me now. I’m busy. While the cat’s away, the mice will play.’ Well, you are certainly full of surprises, Georgiana Rannoch.”

Craig stepped up beside me. “You know this guy, honey? Is he bothering you?”

“He’s my”—I was about to say “fiancé” when I remembered the rest of the world wasn’t supposed to know that—“boyfriend,” I said.

“Hey there, fella,” he said in his deep, rumbling voice. “Just a friendly little kiss, you know. No harm done. And all’s fair in love and war, they say.”

“Do they?” Darcy demanded. “I’ve heard about creeps like you, taking advantage of innocent girls. I should punch your pretty nose.”

“Darcy, no.” I stepped between them. “Look, there was nothing in this. This is Craig Hart—”

“Oh, I know who he is.” Darcy gave a bitter laugh. “He’s rich. He’s famous. You’re naïve. No wonder you were swept off your feet.”