Free Hotel du Barry by Lesley Truffle Page A

as Edwina made a short phone call but couldn’t make out what she was saying. She hung up and rang the servants’ bell. Several times. Sebastian let five minutes tick by before materialising with an obsequious face. ‘Yes, Madam?’
    â€˜Where the hell were you? Get me a martini. Double. And don’t forget the olives this time.’
    Sebastian was skilled in making them just the way she liked them. This entailed an excess of iced gin, with maybe a quick wave of the vermouth bottle over the cocktail shaker. Sometimes he merely flashed the vermouth label at the gin. Then added the three green olives that she insisted upon but never ate.
    Edwina sulked as she waited for her martini. First her brother had left her all alone, and now Daniel was never around. If only he had more interest in high society. It was a damned shame that he flatly refused to attend most parties. No matter, she’d cultivated a string of personable men eager to play the role of walkers in her husband’s absence. For Eddie du Barry liked to have a good time.
    Costume, timing and appearance were paramount in Edwina’s world. As she’d informed a Hotel du Barry beautician that morning,‘If I have to spend the rest of my fucking life hanging upside down like a bat to avoid wrinkles, I will do so.’
    The beautician had nodded. Nobody could ever accuse Mrs Toffy Tits of not being willing to go the extra mile in her quest for beauty. She slapped more mud on Edwina’s face and dropped slices of icy cucumber over her fierce blue eyes.
    â€˜Relax and try not to talk, Mrs du Barry. It will ruin the mask.’ And that way she wouldn’t have to listen to yet another spoilt rich wife gabbing on about bugger all.
    Edwina grabbed the martini off Sebastian’s silver tray and sank it in three gulps. Then she took the ice bucket into her bathroom and filled the washbasin with iced water. She immersed her face until it almost turned blue. It sobered her up a tad and lent a porcelain tone to her complexion. She savagely brushed her blonde curls until they crackled with electricity. Her latest lover was a younger man and she must look her very best. As Edwina painted her face she yelled, ‘Sebastian, fix me another double.’
    By the time Sean Kelly knocked on the apartment door, Edwina had regained her composure. She rubbed up against him and kissed him passionately. Her Mitsouko perfume nearly knocked him out.
    Edwina glanced up at him coyly. ‘Are you enjoying your new apartment, my darling?’
    She knew her eyes looked very blue in the light because she’d adjusted the lamp for effect prior to his arrival. She’d also left Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment open on the sofa, implying that even though Sean was late, she’d been using her time well.
    He flung off his Italian cashmere overcoat and tossed aside butter-soft leather gloves. ‘It’s grand. Thanks. The crystal chandelier is a nice touch. I’m not so sure about the pastel blue paintwork. You don’t think it’s a bit too feminine for a bachelor’s abode?’
    â€˜Not at all, darling. Besides, it’s my favourite colour. I’ve also ordered you a dozen silk shirts from the best tailor in Jermyn Street.’
    Sean swiftly undid the pearl buttons on her silk evening dress and caressed her small breasts. It was the only way he could shut her up. He expertly slid the flimsy garment off her shoulders, shoved Fyodor Dostoyevsky off the sofa and stated coldly, ‘You need to be punished. And I’m in just the mood. Keep your stockings, garter belt, diamonds and heels on. Bend over the sofa and spread your legs for me. Wider. Now touch yourself. Slowly. That’s it. Again. Concentrate, Eddie. Imagine you’re being watched. They can look but not touch. Ah, yes. That’s more like it. Now offer yourself up to me and get ready to receive your punishment. You’re bad to the bone and you