Part 3

Catherine is with Sir Jonathon the entire evening at Government House and he is impeccable. No accidents. No mayhem. Richard sees him consult with her often, sees her check his words or motions when it seems like disaster looms. Nothing happens. It is an uneventful evening… so far. Johnny is the epitome of British aplomb.

Richard finds Bough hiding in the greenery to one side of the ballroom, watching his erstwhile charge wide-eyed, "Commissioner Poole! Who IS that woman? How is she DOing it? I can't believe it! My prayers have been answered!" Richard lays a commiserating hand on Bough's shoulder as they watch the miracle together with a perfect meeting of minds.

There is a sudden rustling behind them... the sound of a Canadian cougar in tall grass… or a Caribbean shark in shallow water. A very tipsy Lady St. Remy pushes her way in. She sees Richard's wide back in the leafy gloom and a very satisfied leer springs to her face. At last! Sweet treat is unguarded! Foolish careless women should NOT marry such delectable men. Or, at least, share them if they did. Or leave them unprotected more often. Or sell tickets. She'd staked out the wine bar all evening and watched most patiently until she'd seen her quarry split off from his marital-warden and wander in here for a moment's freedom. She had lost no time in following him… practically skipping in glee.

"So! THIS is where you're hiding. Anything to avoid that grasping wife of yours, am I right? I've waited all evening to get you to myself and patience has finally paid off! Now, let a REAL woman show you how we do things!"

Then it is HER turn to look surprised as Richard whirls around and she sees Bough standing close behind. "Oh, my god!" she gasps in greedy satisfaction, "So THAT'S the way of it, is it? A bit of shock, I must say! I never believed the rumours… but I grant you, he's tasty. Oh, this is TOO wonderful! Very well, I promise not to say a WORD if we retire upstairs to the Dignitaries East Wing right now. You can let your boy toy watch. Maybe we can include him after the preliminaries are over. Perhaps I can persuade you BOTH to switch sides."

Her targets are frozen in offended manhood as she falls upon them, wrapping her arms around their shoulders trying to kiss them, then they look at each other and begin to laugh. She rears back, indignant, "What? What's so funny?"

Richard wipes an eye and slips out of the woman's embrace, "You. Us. This."

Bough chuckles, sliding away in the opposite direction, "The very idea!" and casts a humorous eye to his companion, "What would your wife say?"

Richard chokes, "Oh, god, Bough! Don't even suggest it! I shudder to think!"

They sail off into gales of laughter.

There is more rustling, a much more dangerous sound than previously, perhaps the sound of a cougar shark streaking in for the kill and Camille is in their midst, looking hot and bothered, "Octavia St. Remy! Get your hands OFF… oh… what's happening? I thought I was coming to the rescue..." she gives her husband a hard look, "… AGAIN! Can't I leave you alone for one MINUTE?!"

Bough is highly amused to see the contrite look on Poole's face, a look he didn't quite believe. The quick sideways glance and half-smile that meets his look convinces him… the man isn't upset in the slightest. As a matter of fact, he seems a bit self-satisfied. Bough looks back to the wife, Is this some sort of game for them? Hmm, this bears closer observation.

Camille rounds on Lady St. Remy, "What are YOU still doing here?! I've told you before that unless you find an alternate universe where I'm dead, or his IQ is halved, you will NEVER get your claws into him!" She advances slowly and implacably upon the woman, "Maybe you'd like me to give you a scar to match HIS? Now beat it before I forget you're a Lady... AND I use the term VERY loosely!"

"You can't watch him every minute of every day!" St. Remy growls before turning away from yet another defeat. The Lady tramps away to vamp another day.

Camille rounds on the men and meets two sets of admiring eyes, "What?"

Bough breathes to Richard, "She is magnificent! Does she have a sister that isn't particular or maybe hard of sight?"

Richard approaches his wife, making conciliatory hand motions, "Camille, dearest, most darling... we were just having a chat when we were besieged by the enemy. But never fear, Bough had my back." There is a beat of silence then quiet laughter once more.

Camille stamps an elegantly shod foot, "Oh! English humour! I don't understand it!"

Wiping his eyes, Richard declines Bough's proffered handkerchief and gets out his own, "Sorry, love. School in-joke. Turns out Angus and I went to the same boy's school."

Camille frowns at Bough, "Oh, you poor, poor man. I wish I DID have a sister. She'd straighten you out."

The men look at her then each other then fall onto each other's shoulders laughing afresh. Camille shrugs... English! SO English! How is a lone French woman to cope with not ONE but a BRACE of Brits?

It is some time before the men regain their composure and the trio can rejoin the soiree. Certain eyes follow them speculatively. Governor Selwyn Patterson speaks to his wife. She nods and strolls off on a fact-finding mission.

Moments later, fresh drinks in hand, Camille turns to her husband, "Honestly, Richard! You don't need a wife. You need a MINDER! A keeper! Someone with a big net to throw over these women. I can't be guarding you every minute of every day. With three children at home and a fourth on the way…" she sees Bough's admiring sideways glance to Richard, "... I'm just too TIRED. You need someone special at your side."

She sees the look pass between the men, a question asked and answered in silence. She catches her breath, NO! BOTH of them? Together? What a pair they will make.

Now they will need a minder for the minder!

End – part 3