Vanity's Pleasure Read online

  An afternoon in the company of Vanity Devons was a game changer for him. She knew fabrics and spoke his business language. On a more personal note, she understood his dry humor and was a well read and learned woman. It also helped greatly that she was absolutely the most beautiful creature he had ever met in his life. The photos of her did not do her any justice since they failed to capture the light that emitted from her spirit. What he loved most was that she was seldom in makeup. Her natural skin glowed healthily and she had a quick wit and ability to speak intelligently on subjects from high finance to human trafficking. She was indeed a special woman.

  “I truly enjoy talking to you,” he remarked over a small breakfast of coffee and poached eggs.

  “And I, you,” she replied, pushing the eggs about her plate.

  She said nothing more and Nigel knew at that moment she was the woman for him. There wasn’t a string of questions after each sentence he spoke, just a simple reply, which is why he liked talking to her. Refreshing.

  “I noticed you are not a big eater,” he said as he forked in a bite of the Eggs Benedict.

  Her eyes came up to meet his, “I eat my fair share. I just don’t really care for eggs.”

  Nigel’s curiosity was peaked, and he thought he would gauge her sense of humor. “I have often wondered myself who the first person was to think it was a good idea to eat the white thing that dropped out of a chicken’s arse.”

  Vanity’s eyes sparkled as she laughed at his statement. “Or, who was the genius who thought to use the contents of that little white container as a binding agent when added to flour, sugar, salt, and butter to make a sweet and tasty treat?”

  Her laughter was like magic dust to his sagging heart. It began to beat at a rapid pace. That laughter... he wanted more of it. He chose each word carefully as they spoke. Even during a bit of a heated debate over the benefits of Egyptian cotton over Pima blends, he was completely stimulated by their banter. But it wasn’t easy figuring out how to unlock the chamber that housed the essence of Vanity Devons.

  It took at least a day to understand how to communicate with her since she gave away very little with her facial expressions, but those eyes, those hazel eyes were like pools of liquid silver that called to him. And that hair. She has been taught well how to comport herself around men.

  Initially, Nigel thought it was an automated response to her looks that drew him in, but her brain kept his attention. Even when they were in his home during her first visit, they argued about fabric. Not wanting to back down, yet thoroughly enjoying the exchange, he went to his home office and pulled out a sample of the Egyptian and Pima Cotton blends, sticking both in her face, daring her, “Feel this... and tell me if your argument stands.”

  Her hair was unbraided and hanging loose down her back. She grabbed a hunk of it and stuck it in his hand, “The difference in the two are as different as the feel of my hair in your hands and that of a horse’s mane.”

  She was right. “Can you feel the difference?” She asked, staring him in the face. There were many feelings coursing through him as he held the strands of hair in his hand with her standing so close. “I can feel what you are saying...” He wanted to sense so many more things with her.

  The kissed she planted on him before she left Milan maintained his interest to the point of distraction. Yet, what he wanted from her was something more permanent. Vanity Devons made him want something he was never before interested in having. A family.

  I want to make her my wife.

  {3} Ready or Not...

  The desk was covered in fabric swatches, bolts of silk, and rough sketches, and the tension in Vanity’s shoulders was making her muscles stiff. The Milan show was right around the corner and the changes would keep her up at night sewing, adjusting, and making last minute corrections. If push came to model shoving, she would model the designs herself. Her small team was at her side, minimizing distractions as she measured, measured again, and cut once. She heard the phone lines ringing, but refused to even look up from what she was doing. If it was something important, she would be notified. Right now, what was important was this show and the new line of silks from Strathmore Textiles. She had overspent on the materials, but it was necessary to make sure no one else had the fabric patterns she had purchased. Exclusivity was her trademark, and her meals depended on staying true to her brand.

  “Vanity, I have Nigel Strathmore on line 2 for you,” her assistant Jessica said through the speaker phone. She could almost feel the tension leaving her body and her shoulders coming down when she hit the button and heard his wonderful British accent.

  “Good Morning, Nigel,” she said softly, the speaker still on as she maneuvered her way around her office.

  “Did I catch you at an inconvenient time? You sound almost distressed.”

  Vanity put the scissors down on the table and walked around her desk, “I’m okay. I just have a lot to do before my brother’s wedding next week. Then I’m due in Vegas right after that...” she sighed into the air, hoping saying the words out loud would alleviate some of her stress. “Enough about me, how are you doing today?”

  “I was thinking about getting away from all of this for a mini holiday, you know, changing the pace for a bit.”

  Vanity listened closely to what he was not saying, “What is a bit for you Nigel?”

  Her voice, so melodious to his ears made him open the calendar app on his computer to check his schedule. “If I rearrange a couple of things, I could get away for about 5 days or so.”

  That made her laugh. “And what are you planning to do for about 5 days or so, Your Grace?”

  The line was quiet.

  Vanity was learning that his quietness meant he was thinking. His thinking meant he was planning.

  “Vegas,” he said. “That is the place where Americans are always jetting off to and getting married?” He asked her to wait for a minute as he spoke with someone in the background.

  “Wilhelmina, my apologies, I am back,” and she could hear him clicking away at his keyboard.

  He was up to something and she was intrigued, “Nigel what are you doing?”

  “Changing my schedule, which means now,” he paused and she heard the clicking of keys again. “I will have about 10 days or so.”

  “You still haven’t told me what you are planning on doing with the time you are allocating.” As she said the words, she looked in the mirror across the room and noticed the scowl on her face. I don’t scowl.

  “I’m planning to start a life with you,” he said calmly.

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes, it is so.”

  The laughter wafted through the room so loud and bright that both her assistant and Clarke, her makeup and set designer, turned to look at her. Nigel took the reins of the pony, gently kicked the flanks and rode it on home. “I thought we covered this already, Wilhelmina. I plan, with grand romantic gesture, to sweep you off your feet, ask your father for your hand in marriage, and whisk you off to Vegas to make you my wife.”

  “I thought we covered this already as well, Nigel. What makes you think I am going to agree to your proposal?”

  “Because you’re falling in love with me and I cannot seem to make it through the day without needing to hear your voice,” he told her in a matter of fact tone.

  “Does that mean you are falling in love with me as well, Your Grace?”

  Someone in his background was urging Nigel off the phone to get to a meeting. “I must run, Wilhelmina.”

  “You did not answer my question Your Grace.” She toyed with a pencil on her desk and began to doodle on the sheet of paper in front of her.

  “I have answered your question, my Darling. I fell hard, deeply and madly the second day I spent in your company, but I must run now,” he said.

  “Nigel wait...”

  “Yes, my Love?”

  There was the silence.

  “I never said yes to your marriage proposal Nigel,” Vanity was trying to sound firm.<
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  “That is because I have not asked in person.”

  Vanity understood that Nigel flying over the Atlantic was not going to happen. Whatever caused his fear of flying, he wasn’t going to overcome it in the next four days. She allowed herself a liberty with him she had not before. “If you truly love me that much Nigel, then come and get me. I will be yours...”

  The grinned that formed on his face was almost audible through the line between two continents, “I will hold you to those words Wilhelmina, and I will see you next week at Lake Havasu. Have a wonderful week.”

  He was gone. Vanity’s eyes were wide as shocked registered on her face. Jessica ran into the office, “Vanity, is everything alright? Did you get some bad news?”

  She looked at her assistant in disbelief. “Did you happen to mention to the Duke my schedule or where I would be next week?”

  Jessica shook her head no. Vanity flipped through the mental transcript of their conversation and she could not remember mentioning exactly where her brother’s wedding was taking place. How did he know?

  Oh Dear God! What if he actually showed up?

  Clarke walked in with a one-legged mannequin with a defective butt cheek. “Who does this remind you of?” he asked.

  “Out Clarke!” she chuckled at the reference to a semi-famous British lady who married well.

  Vanity dismissed the conversation with Nigel and set to work on the Milan show.

  {4} Always a bridesmaid...

  The wedding was beautiful, simple, and tastefully done. Vanity had never seen her twin brother Will, look happier and Elsie was absolutely glowing. As a tribute to her twin, she played the wedding march and even sang the wedding song of choice by Elsie, whose taste in music was equal to her taste in clothing. A mental countdown had begun in Vanity’s head for her escape from all the overflowing displays of love and happiness, as well as the removal and burning of the hideous yards of periwinkle taffeta fabric that Elsie called a bridesmaid dress. Although she was not one to drink, a shot of vodka, chased by a shooter of Irish Whiskey, and washed down with a swig of cold beer sounded pleasantly refreshing in comparison to the nightmare of pitiful looks which were about to be hurled in her general direction.

  It would be only a mere matter of moments before her aunts started in on her about working so hard, being single, and money not being a companion. So beautiful and yet always alone. The evening would only get worse after she danced with her father and was forced to do an Argentine Tango with David. She had already been relegated to sit at the singles’ table with Will’s haphephobic assistant and Rod’s assistant that looked like an unemployed Muppet. I have nothing in common with these women. Fifteen more minutes and she could slide out the side door and slip away to her room.

  From the corner of the table, she watched her cousin Khalea dance with her husband Stefano. Although she was only two years older, Khalea was an accomplished attorney, owned her own firm, and was a wife and a mother of two mini hell-hounds, one of whom was chasing a little girl with a rubber snake. At the last family gathering the rubber snake had been replaced with his own little wiener that he held in his hand as he chased several of his girl cousins about the room. The older of the two had a thing for matches and had to consistently be watched closely. Kids. Yeesh! But she did want her own. Lately, the desire to be a mom was rubbing at the back of her hormonal clock like raccoons scratching in a trash bin.

  Five minutes more and she was out of here. She made her way to the bar to select her companion for the evening. She was gravitating between Mr. Chardonnay or a French lover, Mr. Chenin Blanc, as companions in her lonely room. The wine was almost in her hands when she heard the sound of the death of her night, “Willie, it’s time for Elsie to throw the bouquet! They need all you single girls to line up!”

  Oh silk sheets! Just stick a hot poker in my eye. I think it would be less painful.

  The bartender could not hide his look of amusement as she hesitantly handed him back the bottle of wine and turned to face her tormentors. A well-rehearsed plastic smile was stuck upon her face as she muddled her way to the mottled crowd of single women. Aunt Sadie had embarrassed her a few months ago at David’s wedding by doing the same thing and calling her out as a single lady. The only difference was that David’s wife Halley had male coworkers and smooth-talking Southern cousins. Boy did she have a lot of cousins, friends, colleagues, classmates, and fast-talking Jersey Boys. Halley’s friends and co-workers were a very diverse crowd with lots of interesting people to chat with during the evening. That wedding was fun, this one, not so much.

  Elsie had a small family and her wedding party was limited to two other librarians and a cousin who served as janitor at a middle school in Kennesaw. Normally, it would not matter to her a person’s profession, but the man insisted upon sharing the best waxes for high volume floors. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she told him as she excused herself.

  Aunt Sadie pushed Vanity into the forefront of the pack as Elsie turned her back, readying herself to throw the handful of wildflowers. Vanity looked to her left to see more of the periwinkle fabric hanging loosely from the shoulders of the skinniest woman she had ever seen in her life. That said a lot considering she had spent the last seventeen years around models. On the other side was Will’s assistant who stood next to the Muppet queen, along with Vanity’s cousin Jaelon, the other librarian with the hairy legs, and two other wedding guests.

  I am hating life.

  Elsie counted to three. The bouquet was up, it was in the air, and it was flying and coming at her face. Vanity raised her hands and instead of swatting it away, she caught it. The bouquet was another reminder of a lonesome night and yet another family function where she was alone with no one to talk to... she let go of the flowers and they hit the floor with a thud. The room was silent and she felt her heart drop along with her spirits.

  “I think you dropped something,” she heard the British accent and was almost afraid to turn around. The small crowd of women parted and she turned to see the sparkling blue eyes, the regal chin, the thick wavy black hair, and the most perfect set of lips. There were no words needed to express how happy she was to see him, and they stood toe to toe in the middle of the floor. He had come. He had come for her and she made up her mind. I am okay to be his.

  She gave him the biggest smile, partly in relief from this nightmare and also because she was genuinely happy to see him. Nigel Strathmore didn’t disappoint. In a sharply tailored gray suit, he was a striking figure at six two and even in her high heels, his height was perfect. His thumb caressed her chin as he watched her mouth. “Sorry I am late, but intercontinental traffic was bloody awful.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaned fully into him, and initiated the long awaited second kiss. He felt like Heaven against her body and the kiss, oh the kiss swept Vanity Devons off her feet in grand fashion as Nigel dipped her low but held her close. It was a kiss that silenced everyone in the room except her very angry father who walked in and dropped his champagne glass.

  David Sr. yelled at the top of his voice, “Who is that man with his mouth on my baby?”

  {5} Keeping his word...

  The background music started with a Lionel Ritchie love song, and at the moment, Vanity honestly hated her sister-in-law and her sappy music choices. Nigel extended his hand while asking with his eyes for more than a simple, “Dance with me Wilhelmina.” She took his hand and he led her to the dance floor with every eye in the room watching. Vanity felt guilty because this was her twin’s night and Nigel was making it theirs. “Nigel, this is Will’s night and I will not steal Elsie’s limelight.”

  Nigel felt her pulling back and would not allow her to get away, not this night, not ever. “I just flew nearly 6,000 miles to get to you; allow me the three and a half minutes to come to grips with what I have just done. When reality kicks in, I am going to be buggered,” he told her as he held her close and expertly maneuvered her about the floor. The trademark scent she normally wore
was not present. Instead, something softer and lighter was on her skin. He held the warmth of her hand in his, hoping to slow his racing heart. The warmness of her breath against his neck whilst holding the woman who was forcing him to conquer his fear of flying, as well as a few others he rarely discussed, drifted him off to a place of serenity.

  He battled his claustrophobia in that sardine can of a death to fly across an ocean, then half a continent. Finley, his pilot, landed at LaGuardia to refuel, only to take off again to land in the middle of the desert at some American playground he had never heard of. It was so hot it felt as if he landed on the boilerplate of the heater to Hell. When the jet lag kicked in, he was going to be wiped out, but now he was working on pure adrenaline, his desire to hold her again, and the blossoming love affair he was about to commence. Wilhelmina Devonshire’s hand was in his and soon she would be in his life forever. He would hold her tight. He was never going to let her walk away from him again. Nigel moved to the music with her body close enough to feel the heat of her life force, but not close enough to offend or be inappropriate.

  She was staring at him, “So you have this all worked out in your head, don’t you?”

  He smiled at her with a wink, “Yes, my Love, I do. I think you are going to like it as well.”

  Nigel began by explaining the plan was to first be formally introduced tonight to her family. “However, my Darling, in order for them to be convinced, you are going to have to claim me as the man of your dreams and your one true love,” Nigel glanced about the room and spotted her brother David. He nodded his head at him. David gave him a smile.