The Billionaire's Housekeeper Mistress(49)

‘And I bet James Ellicott is second prize in her book, so watch out, Daisy. Serena can be a bitch when she doesn’t get her own way,’ Shannon put in.

It amazed and warmed her that they were all on her side. While it might be out of loyalty to and support for Ethan, they did seem to genuinely like her.

The first course of their gourmet lunch was served, a delicious chicken and pistachio nut terrine, accompanied by a glass of a very good Chardonnay. Daisy relaxed and enjoyed herself. The mood of the party was highly convivial and Ethan was looking after her as though she really was a prize he’d won.#p#分页标题#e#

They had just started their entrée—a smoked salmon parcel containing crab and avocado and tomato—when James Ellicott led his party into the restaurant, making a somewhat boisterous entrance. He descended on their table, loudly but good-humouredly declaring, ‘I see the opposition is here already. Got to say Mickey’s got Midas Magic running well, Ethan, but I’m betting on my horse for The Slipper.’

‘Each to their own, James,’ Ethan answered equably, standing up to shake hands with the man, who had a stunningly beautiful blonde in tow—skin like porcelain, cornflower blue eyes, an hour-glass figure poured into a high-fashion black-and-white suit with a matching hat that only an amazingly creative milliner could have made.

‘Who’s your little filly? ’the big man demanded, eyeing Daisy with interest. ‘Haven’t seen her around before.’

‘Daisy, may I introduce James Ellicott and Serena Gordon. Daisy Donahue.’

‘What a quaint name!’ Serena drawled, icy blue eyes sizing Daisy up as she stood to acknowledge the introductions.

‘I think it’s a great name, full of sparkly sunshine,’ Ethan quickly slid in, smiling his approval of it.

It probably stopped his ex-fiancée from saying it was usually attached to a cow.

‘Hello to both of you,’ Daisy said brightly, shaking James’s offered hand.

‘A pleasure to meet you, Daisy Donahue,’ he replied, as though relishing the roll of her name off his tongue, twinkling hazel eyes flirting with her. The man was definitely a womaniser with a big personality to go with his even bigger pockets.

‘I see you’re wearing Liz Davenport,’ Serena remarked, naming the designer who’d created neon butterfly.

‘Yes,’ Daisy answered in surprise, not being so familiar with the fashion scene that she could actually recognise individual styles.

‘She seems to have gone all gaudy this year.’

Daisy smiled to take the sting out of the snipe. ‘I guess, with your colouring, you don’t wear bright colours well.’

‘Each to their own,’ she said, giving Ethan a mocking look as she parroted his words. ‘I much prefer European designers. James bought this Christian Dior suit for me in Paris.’

‘How lovely for you!’ Daisy said sweetly. ‘I hope your outfit gives you as much pleasure wearing it as I’m having wearing mine.’

She sniffed haughtily and patted James’s arm. ‘Let’s move on to our table, darling. I’m dying of hunger.’

‘Got to feed the beauty and the beast,’ he said jokingly, grinning at Ethan. ‘Good luck with Midas Magic!’

‘Good luck with your choice, too,’ Ethan replied.

They moved on.

As she and Ethan resumed their seats at the table, Shannon raised a hand and said admiringly, ‘Daisy, I salute you. That was a brilliant piece of sticking it right back at Serena.’

‘Believe me, give Daisy a challenge and she rises to it every time,’ Ethan declared, making them all laugh again at how challenging she had been to him.

Daisy was awash with pleasure. Ethan was proud of her. And he’d said so many complimentary things about her, leaving his friends in no doubt he held her in high regard, she was beginning to believe anything was possible between them, no limits at all on their relationship.

The races were watched and commented upon between the many courses of their lunch. Mickey had to leave the party when two other horses he’d trained were running. He returned each time in a celebratory mood after the horses had performed well, one coming second, the other third.

‘Waiting for the big one,’ he told Ethan with ebullient confidence.

The big one was preceded by an amazing ceremony. A helicopter hovered over the field beyond the finishing line as a man carrying a box descended on a rope to a podium which had been set up over there. A string of models wearing gold catsuits moved out across the racetrack, forming a line between the podium and the stage in the parade ring. The man unlocked the box to reveal what actually was a golden slipper. He presented it to the model closest to him, who passed it to the next, and so on down the line to the stage while an operatic tenor sang ‘Nessun dorma’.