Master of her Virtue. Miranda Lee
like me. Look at all the work I had to do on that bodice alone, cutting it down the middle, then adding facings and putting in eyelets and laces so that we could give your very nice bustline more room.’
Violet glanced down at the bodice of her costume, startled to find that from that angle all she could see were two half-mounds of naked flesh oozing out of the top. She hadn’t realised that so much of her breasts were on display. Standing up, her reflection in Joy’s full-length mirror hadn’t looked quite so daring. Such a sight only added to her nervous state. She wasn’t used to showing off her body.
Lady Gwendaline didn’t mind, however, came the unexpected thought. She flashed her cleavage around with panache, enjoying the effect it had on Captain Strongbow.
‘And don’t forget all the money you’ve spent on everything else,’ Joy continued relentlessly. ‘New shoes. Hair. Make-up. All wasted if you go home now.’
Strangely, it was thinking of Lady Gwendaline’s boldness which made up Violet’s mind more than Joy pointing out the money she’d spent on herself.
Violet scooped in a deep breath before unlocking her twisted fingers then breathing slowly out. ‘All right. I’ll go.’
Joy’s face lit up. ‘That’s marvellous. I’m so proud of you.’
Violet didn’t feel all that proud of herself. Not yet. Underneath, she still felt petrified. But to go back home was unthinkable now.
‘If you don’t mind my making a suggestion…’ Joy said as she started the engine once more. ‘Have a glass or two of wine when you first get there. Nothing like a bit of Dutch courage to settle the nerves.’
‘All right,’ Violet agreed, thinking it was a good idea.
‘When you really think about it, Violet, there’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just a party.’
Violet straightened her shoulders and steeled her resolve. Joy was right. It was just a party; nothing to be afraid of. It wasn’t as though she was going to be left totally alone with a roomful of strangers. Henry would be there and at least one of his authors, whom Violet had met, or at least talked to over the phone.
Unfortunately, however, there would be lots of people there she didn’t know—clever, cultured people, the kind Henry liked to socialise with. People from the artistic world. Playwrights and painters. Musicians and movie people.
‘Oh my goodness, I forgot!’ Violet exclaimed just as Joy pulled into the steep driveway which led down to the guest car park attached to Henry’s apartment block. ‘His son will be there.’
‘The movie producer?’
Henry was always talking to Violet about his son and his successes, information which she had imparted to Joy.
‘Yes. Leo. He came over from London to spend Christmas and New Year with his father.’
‘And that’s a problem?’
‘No. No, I guess not. It’s just that … Well, he’s rather famous, isn’t he?’ Not to mention very good-looking. Henry had a photo of him dressed in a tuxedo on his desk. It had been taken at an awards night when one of his movies had won best picture.
‘Did his wife come with him?’
‘His wife?’ Violet echoed blankly.
‘Isn’t he married to Helene Williams? The actress?’
‘He was. They’re divorced now.’
‘Keep well away from him, then,’ Joy warned as she pulled up next to a flashy red sports car. ‘Especially if that’s his car.’
‘For heaven’s sake, Joy, I doubt a man like Leo Wolfe would ever be interested in someone like me. For one thing, he has to be well over forty. He has a twenty-year-old son from his first marriage.’ Violet had actually met the son, Liam, when he’d been down under for a backpacking holiday earlier in the year. He’d stayed with his grandfather for a few days and had come into the office one day. A very good-looking boy. And extremely charming.
‘Older men often like pretty young girls,’ Joy pointed out drily. Especially sweet, innocent ones like you, she didn’t add. But she thought it. Lord, but she hoped she’d done the right thing, encouraging Violet to doll herself up and go to this party. It had seemed the right thing at the time, with Violet wanting so desperately to throw off her hang-ups and lead a more normal life for a twenty-five-year-old girl.
It was obvious by the look of this place, however—harbour-side apartments in Point Piper cost heaps—that Violet’s wealthy boss and his even wealthier son lived and mixed in circles where traditional values and morals were not necessarily adhered to. The rich and the famous lived life by their own rules. Perhaps she shouldn’t have told Violet to have a drink or two.
Still, she could hardly start raising her doubts now. And she wasn’t Violet’s mother, after all.
But she did feel responsible for her. Violet had become more than a boarder in the years they’d lived together. She was a dear friend. But she’d be a babe in the woods in the company she’d be keeping tonight.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ Joy piped up in what she hoped was a casual-sounding voice. ‘You’re going to have the devil of a time getting a taxi home after midnight on New Year’s Eve. What say I come back and pick you up around one o’clock?’
Violet looked taken aback by the offer. ‘I couldn’t ask you to do that, Joy.’
‘Don’t be silly. I won’t be asleep; I’ll be staying up to watch the fireworks, as always. I could leave straight after they’re finished. I’ll give you a ring once I get here. You have your phone with you, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ Violet said. ‘In here.’ And she lifted the silver clutch bag she’d bought for the occasion.
‘That’s settled, then. Off you go, now, before you start having second thoughts again.’
Violet opened the car door and got out, after which she bent down to give Joy a shaky smile. ‘Thanks for everything, Joy.’
Joy stifled a groan as she took one last look at Violet’s impressive bosom spilling out over the tightly laced bodice. ‘I, er, might be a bit earlier than one o’clock,’ she said hurriedly. ‘It shouldn’t take me too long to get from Newtown to here at that time of night.’
‘Whenever you can get here will be fine. So what’s the time now? I’m not wearing a watch.’
Joy glanced at the clock on the dashboard. ‘Nearly eight-thirty.’
Violet frowned. The invitation had said any time after eight, but everything seemed very quiet. She would have expected the guest car park to be full by now and people to be arriving every few minutes. She knew Henry had asked around sixty people, because she herself had emailed out the invitations, of which at least fifty had RSVP’d that they were coming.
‘Do you think I’m too early?’
‘Maybe. Do you want to get back in the car and wait a while?’
Violet knew if she did that she might never get out again. Her stomach was beginning to churn again. ‘No. No, best I go inside. Thanks again, Joy, for driving me. And for offering to pick me up.’
‘No trouble.’
‘Off you go, then. I’ll be fine. I know the way.’ She’d been to Henry’s apartment a couple of times, once before he bought it and once a few months after, Henry having wanted her to see what he’d done with it. Despite the place coming fully furnished, he’d added quite a few touches of his own to counter the starkly modern decor. He’d put some turquoise and silver cushions on the white leather sofas and warmed all the white walls with some brightly coloured paintings, mostly seascapes done by local artists.
There was no doubt it was a spectacular looking apartment with a spectacular